7. All Children, Except One, Grow Up
All Children, Except One, Grow Up
W endy was still in a temper when she returned to the kitchen. Lifting the metal lid off the soup, she set it down noisily, enunciating her mood. “Cassian, taste this.”
Cass rushed over to the stove, happy to be of assistance.
She held out the spoon, cupping her hand underneath. “Careful. It’s hot.”
“I can handle some heat.” He took a bite and closed his eyes. “Mmm…” He swallowed. “I can’t remember the last time I tasted anything so delicious.”
She smiled, and her frustration faded. There was no rule saying her enjoyment on this trip needed to rely on Peter and his horny, mercurial moods. “Did your mother cook?”
“My mother?” Cassian frowned. “I don’t remember my mother.”
“Oh.” His answer surprised her, and she didn’t want to trespass on a touchy subject.
“None of us do,” the twins said. “We were orphans.”
Her pity seemed misplaced, as they were all grown men now. But it was sad to think that not a single one of them had the love of a mother growing up. “Is that where you all met? An orphanage?”
Cassian, Tate, Nibbs, and the twins nodded. She had no idea where Peter and Bayne had gone.
Was that what they meant earlier when they said they escaped?
Did they remember the orphanage as a prison?
Her heart pinched as she pictured them each as little boys.
And if Peter was the first to escape, did that mean he was adopted by the Pangbournes and not their biological son?
So many realizations filled her with an urge to nurture and take care of all of them.
“Who’s ready for soup?” They all perked up. “Bring your bowls to the stove.”
They lined up with their bowls as she ladled out the contents. She didn’t bother to call Peter, figuring he’d find his way back eventually.
The kitchen grew quiet as the men ate, the silence only broken by the occasional groan of satisfaction. The deep grunts and moans became so animated she blushed as they started to sound almost sexual.
Peter showed up just as everyone finished having thirds. She was glad she made such a large pot, because these boys could eat!
Showered and dressed in fresh clothes, Peter carried an air of untouchable confidence, making it clear he was still disappointed in her decision not to fuck him. Bayne followed him around like a salivating lapdog, desperate for every scrap of attention he could get.
As much as she’d looked forward to experiencing all the Never Lands had to offer, she now wished she’d never come at all. “If there’s a way I can get in touch with the pilot?—”
“He’s gone,” Peter said, lifting the lid off the pot and peeking inside at the little soup that remained.
“When will he be back?”
He shrugged and grabbed a bowl. “When I call him.”
She ground her teeth. “Peter, I have to go home eventually.”
“And eventually you will.” He sat at the table as if put out by her tedious chatter. “I would have never brought you here if I’d known you’d be this high maintenance.”
Her lips firmed. “I am not high maintenance!”
“Sure you are.”
She growled in frustration and brushed past him, purposefully bumping his shoulder so the soup spilled off his spoon. The Lost Boys drifted out of the kitchen, and she washed the dishes in stewing silence as Peter ate.
When she got to her guest room, her nightgown was lying on the bed, freshly laundered and pristine. Her robe was also there.
She stripped out of Cassian’s shirt and changed into her own clothes. If Peter wanted to go out, he was going to take her with him. “Let’s see how smooth your game is then,” she grumbled.
When she returned to the kitchen, her steps staggered to a halt. The counters were spotless and the food had all been put away. She didn’t know who did this, but she was grateful for their help.
The Lost Boys appeared, looking especially handsome in their night clothes. They collectively smelled divine, and she realized the lot of them would have no problem getting laid with or without her presence.
“Wow, don’t you all look dapper.” Hair was styled, jaws were shaved—save Cassian’s—and clothes were pressed. It was quite the transformation.
Nibbs studied his reflection in the toaster. “Gotta look our best for a lagoon party.”
“A lagoon party?” That sounded fancy. She looked down at her nightgown and robe, wondering if she should stay back after all.
“What’s the matter?” Tate asked, noticing her concern.
“I’m in pajamas.”
“So?”
“I can’t go to a party this way.”
“Yes, you can,” Thayer argued.
When she twisted her lips, the boys crowded around. “Maybe lose the robe?” Nibbs suggested, already stripping the silk covering away.
If the party was at a lagoon they would be outside in the heat, so she didn’t need the layers. Maybe her nightgown could pass for a dress. “I feel silly and underdressed.”
They stared at her chest where her unbound breasts pressed against the thin silk.
“Nah,” Thayer said, swallowing tightly. “You look good.”
Tristan nodded, agreeing with his brother as his stare remained trained on her nipples.
“Very hot,” Cass agreed.
“Sexy,” Nibbs added, licking his lips.
“That’s enough.” She turned around and moved her robe to the back of a chair. “I left my shoes in the forest.”
“It’s a lagoon party. No one wears shoes,” Tate explained.
Nibbs laughed. “Half the people don’t even wear clothes.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. “What kind of party is this?”
“The fun kind.” Peter appeared, stuffing something into his pocket. “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”
They filtered out the back door, and she shivered under the night air. It was much colder than it had been when they arrived. “Maybe I should bring my robe after all. But then I’ll really look like I’m in my pajamas.” At least now, her nightgown might pass as a dress.
“I have an idea,” Cassian said, rushing back inside the house as the others walked ahead. A moment later, he returned with a dark maroon coat. “You can wear this.”
He swept the long duster jacket over her shoulders, and she slid her arms into the silk-lined sleeves.
Wool ruffles spilled from the cuffs like waves, and brass buttons trailed along the lapels as if mapping out a hidden treasure.
The trim was fine leather with long tails and beautiful detail stitched into the worn wool. It was a high-quality couture coat.
“Where did you get this?”
She sniffed the collar and closed her eyes at the dark, mysterious scent hidden there. Whoever wore this coat before wore it with authority. The masculine energy coming from the weight and detail spoke volumes about its true owner.
“We stole it.”
“You stole it?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry. It’s yours now.”
“Who did you steal it from?” She needed to know who the owner was. Desperately, she craved a name to put to this hypnotic scent.
Cassian grinned and leaned forward. “It belonged to a pirate. Peter snuck onto his ship in the still of the night and stole it right out of the captain’s private chambers.”
“A pirate?” She grinned, intrigued by a tale of danger.
“They call him Black Jack. Peter swears he’s always lingering off the coast, spying on him, but he can’t figure out why. He’s a dangerous man, so stay alert and tell us if you see anything.”
She envisioned a towering man with dark features and limitless authority. “Did Peter get caught when he stole the coat?”
“No, but I’m sure old Jack was furious when he woke up and realized it was stolen from his private chambers. Crooks don’t like it when they’re the ones getting robbed. But Peter’s always gotten a kick out of taunting those who think they’re better than him.”
“How do you know he was a crook?”
“All pirates are criminals. They steal whatever they want and live lawlessly. But Black Jack is the greatest sea devil of all.”
That may be true, but Peter also stole. Did that make him a pirate, too? His friends shamelessly admitted to living without rules. All but one. Perhaps that made Peter the captain of their little crew.
“Well, regardless of who the coat’s true owner is, thank you. I love it.” And now she felt dressed enough to attend a party.
“You’re welcome. We better catch up to the others before Peter gets angry.”
She couldn’t care less about Peter’s happiness at the moment. He was the one who left her behind, after all.
The lagoon was located on the banks of Peter’s island. It wasn’t a far walk, but a muddy one. Due to the jungle’s humidity, surfaces were constantly wet with dew, making everything slippery. Wendy was grateful when they finally reached the sand.
The lagoon was a small grotto that opened to an endless sea. The water sparkled under the moonlight, each little ripple glinting like diamonds dancing beneath the night sky.
Sensual music and wild revelry echoed off the jetties and from the hidden caves.
While there were plenty of men present, it was mostly feminine voices Wendy heard.
She suddenly felt shy and uncertain by the number of strangers who apparently were all familiar with each other—familiar enough to kiss and touch and— oh my.
Her eyes widened at the couple railing away in the stark openness of the beach. Okay, this was that sort of party. She took Cassian’s arm so she wasn’t standing alone.
Capriciousness carried on the breeze. The Lost Boys were gone, as was Peter. “Where are the others?”
Cassian shrugged. “We don’t need them.” His arm tightened around her. “They’re probably getting drinks, or dancing, or swimming, or maybe already fucking.”
She gaped up at him, and he laughed.
“What did you think we meant when we said lagoon party?”
“Not that.”
He chuckled. “You’ll have fun, especially if this is your first time.”
He had no idea how literal the term ‘first time’ truly was for her.
The air came alive with something sinful. Crystal-blue water shimmered as it lapped at the banks where pale pebbles and pink shells glittered atop the white sand. The tranquil setting seemed at odds with the throbbing music and gyrating bodies dancing around the grotto.