All day he’d breathed air sour with salt. How was it, then, that the moment he entered this shadowy room, he caught Pen’s violet scent? Sweet, womanly, alluring. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he was here purely to provide assistance.

“What do you want?” Pen asked sharply from across the cabin.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw her braced in the porthole embrasure. He’d imagined she’d be in bed, but of course, that would be devilish uncomfortable, given the yacht’s lurching.

“I wanted to see if you were all right.” He raised his voice over the bedlam. He shut the door, hoping that might help. It didn’t.

“Of course I’m all right.”

Disappointment and self-disgust weighted his gut. He’d been a fool to imagine she might want him with her. “I’ll go to my cabin, then.”

He faced the door, catching the lintel for balance, when she replied. “No. Stay.”

From Pen, that counted as a major concession. Slowly, he turned. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Cam, don’t be a numbskull,” she snapped. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Oh, my dear…”

The endearment escaped before he could stop it. He prayed that the storm muffled the words. With a few unsteady steps, he covered the space between them and, knowing it was a mistake, wrapped his arms around her. As he pressed into the opposite side of the embrasure, lightning flashed, revealing her face as she jerked her head up.

“Cam, what are you doing?” Like her expression, her voice was wary, but her eyes betrayed flaring heat. Even without the lightning, near the window the light was better.

“Stopping you from falling.” They balanced inside a narrow nook, porthole on one side, cabin on the other. The restricted space offered at least an illusion of stability.

Was his world reeling because of the tumultuous ocean or because he touched this woman? His hands tightened on her waist and he couldn’t even pretend that he held her for safety’s sake. She was tall and strong, but he felt her tremble.

“They’ll give you a medal,” she said with a dryness that wouldn’t have disgraced John MacGregor.

“Is there a kiss with my medal?”

More lightning illuminated the way she nervously licked her lips. She shifted backward, but their nook was so small, she had nowhere to go unless she returned to the cabin.

“How can you flirt when we’re about to find a watery grave?”

“How can I not?” His voice roughened into urgency. “If the ship goes down, I’ll be damned if I die without kissing you.”

She started without moving away. “This is a mistake.”

He laughed, wondering how his demise became cause for amusement. Perhaps Pen’s courage bolstered his. Most people would cower at the raging seas, but valiant Penelope Thorne met the storm and the man who wanted her with her head high and a smile on her lips. At that moment, if he’d been capable of love, he might imagine that he loved her.

“The thought of kissing you has tortured me.”

Her hands linked around his neck. To steady herself or because she wanted to touch him? He hardly cared as long as she stayed near.

“I thought you were bored with this journey.”

He snorted his disbelief. “We’ve battled brigands, avalanches, bad roads, nosy English travelers, and fleas as big as cats. Boredom would be a relief.”

“You acted bored.”

He’d never seen her like this. Like she yearned for his touch the way he yearned for hers. Desire pounded harder than the waves outside. Thunder cracked close.

“Oh, hell, Pen,” he groaned, firming his grip on her. He was incapable of gentleness. The storm outside was a pale echo of the storm in his blood.

On another guttural groan, his mouth crashed down.

As the ship plunged like a wild thing, Cam’s mouth ravaged hers. Astonishment held Pen captive as a fierce mixture of sensations struck her harder than the waves against the hull.

Since she was a girl, she’d imagined Cam’s kisses. The reality was earthier, more intimate, more passionate, more… exciting than anything she’d conjured in fantasy, no matter how lurid. His mouth was hot and commanding. His hands were ruthless and inescapable. The storm beat around her until she wasn’t sure whether the chaos was outside or within her.

Pen was no longer the nineteen-year-old innocent who had turned down his proposal. She knew how a man behaved toward a woman he respected. In Cam’s kisses, there was neither caution nor care.

Some distant corner of her mind urged her to protest. He treated her the way he’d treat a strumpet from the docks. But how could she demur when she basked in endless heat? All her life, she’d felt so cold, so cold.

His tongue plunged between her lips, demanding a response. Helpless to resist, bewildered and giddy with arousal, she gave it to him. She opened her mouth wide, sucking his tongue, tasting this man she’d always wanted. Her senses flooded with his rich flavor, his salty scent of storm and ocean and clean male sweat.

She moaned and arched into his damp clothes, frantically seeking the searing heat beneath. She’d set him alight and the flames of his desire lashed her. His hard length jutted into her vulnerable belly.

The knowledge of how much he wanted her set up a throbbing between her legs and she wriggled, wanting more. He rocked against her in an imitation of the sexual act. The breath scraped from her throat and she closed her eyes, reveling in incandescent sensation. Never had she felt like this.

Still his mouth explored hers as if he claimed a private kingdom. She could hardly breathe, sinking into untamed delight. She clung to his shoulders as her knees threatened to collapse. He was shaking too. If he wasn’t braced so firmly against the window frame, they’d tumble to the floor.

His hands roamed over waist and hips and thighs. She didn’t hear her dress rip, so she was startled at the sudden coolness across her chest. When his hands closed greedily on her breasts, she cried out in surrender. His long fingers plucked the beaded peaks, teased the areolas, stroked and squeezed and pinched. She’d recognized his desire weeks ago, but had no idea he wanted her so ferociously.

His hands pushed her to the edge of pain, but the agony was glorious. Never had she felt this intensity. Awe lanced through her.

Still he wasn’t tender. She was past caring. She’d permit him anything, as long as he kept kissing her, touching her, panting his appreciation into her neck. She burned to touch him. Return this bliss. Conquer him in turn.

Hesitantly she slid a shaking hand between their bodies, cupping him. He was large, vigorous, daunting in her hand. She shuddered to feel the vibrant life. The thought of all that power thrusting inside her made her head swim.

“Damn it, Pen,” he groaned into her bare shoulder and nipped her sharply.

Shock sizzled through her with the sting. His savagery appalled her, scared her, but spiked her excitement to a level where she threatened to combust.

“Should I stop?” The storm made her feel as though they were in a world of their own. She nibbled a line up his neck and along his strong jaw. “Tell me to stop.”

“Hell, no,” he groaned and drew one pointed nipple into his mouth. More exquisite pain flowed into intoxicating pleasure. To share this delightful hurt, she clenched her other hand in his tangled, wet hair.

He sucked her other nipple. Heat flooded her as every muscle tightened into a delicious coil. Through the haze, she felt his hand on her leg above her stocking. Another hitch against the ship’s movement and his fingers curled around her mound. She jerked at the intimacy.

She tugged at his shirt until her lips skimmed hard pectorals, kissed the mat of soft hair. When one long finger invaded her body, she released a sharp inhalation and sank her teeth into his chest. He jerked and returned the favor with a sharp bite to her throat.

With a stagger, he swung her from the window. Away from the embrasure, the ship’s pitching was dizzying. Or perhaps Pen was dizzy with passion. Cam tumbled her toward the luxurious bed where she’d slept alone for two weeks, tormented to know he lay just across the corridor.

Breathless with excitement, she toppled back onto the mattress. Then she was doubly breathless when Cam flung himself on top of her. His weight was unfamiliar, thrilling. The boat’s tossing rolled them together so they wrestled like puppies. Inside her, a great emptiness yearned. She ached for Cam to fill her. She grabbed his shirt and ripped it off, desperate to feel his bare skin. She was as fierce as he was. Even now when it was clear that he was mad for her, she still feared that this glory might end before she’d drunk it to the dregs.

Cam fondled her breasts, pressing them together, kissing her nipples. Response rippled through her like fire as she bowed up toward the hot rasp of his tongue.

He kept speaking, broken words of praise and encouragement. Kiss me. Touch me. Hold me. There. There. Ah, just there. You’re beautiful. I want you. That’s right. More. Harder. Tighter. Don’t stop. A feverish litany of demands that set her wayward heart pitching like the yacht.

With an urgency that stoked her craving, he slid down her body, setting his mouth wherever he reached. Throat. Breasts. Stomach, still covered by her shift. She’d had no idea her skin was so sensitive. Somewhere between the window and the bed, she’d lost her corset. She still wore her dress. Barely. Her skirts frothed around her hips.

His hands were everywhere. She jolted as he ripped her drawers away. His touch commanding, he caught her thighs and parted her. The ship gave a mighty kick as though protesting at his action.