The Maiden's Voyage

Miranda felt her desire stir again. She reached between William's legs and rubbed her small hand over the bulge. "Let me satisfy you," she whispered. William moaned at her touch and leaned back, his eyes closed, as he unfastened his breeches with one hand. When he did, Miranda reached into his drawers, releasing his erection. She'd never seen one and stared down at the rigid shaft while she gently stroked it, from the tip to the base where it sprang from a generous nest of dark hair.

William reached up and entwined his fingers into Miranda's flowing hair. He drew her face to his. "Kiss me," he said in a husky whisper, before claiming her mouth. Deep moans emanated from his throat as they kissed and Miranda pleasured him with her hand. The smooth skin of his shaft and the hardness of the glans felt so delicious in her hand and she delighted in his groans of enjoyment. Before long, William let out a soft cry as he climaxed and his warm milky seed spilled out onto his stomach and onto Miranda's hand.

William kissed her deeply as the last shivers of climax passed through him. Then he lay back, sleepy and satisfied, pulling Miranda gently to lie against him, her head on his chest. He breathed heavily for a few moments before wiping his seed from them both with a clean handkerchief. When he'd finished, he fastened his trousers again and sat quietly, holding Miranda in his arms.

"Where did you learn to touch a man like that?" he asked after a few minutes, placing a kiss into her golden hair.

Miranda giggled and looked up at him. She told him about Charlotte and their secret books, at which he laughed, a deep, beautiful laugh. But then he grew serious and squeezed her to him, stroking her hair. "Beautiful Miranda," he whispered in a sad voice as he caressed her hair.

Miranda laid her head against William's chest again, wishing she could stay there forever. She wished there were no other world outside this room. She sighed and closed her eyes. At least there's now, she thought. That's all there is.

CHAPTER SIX

That night, William had to take the helm during supper and for some time thereafter. Dr. Brimley and several of the officers managed to engage Miranda in a game of whist, but she didn't play her usual brilliant game, distracted as she was by the thoughts that caused her to drop her cards frequently. But her heart felt full and she laughed at her clumsiness, hoping that she did not evoke any knowing suspicions in William's men.

Later that night, when Miranda had just climbed into her bunk, knowing she would remain sleepless, a knock came at her cabin door. She knew immediately who it was and jumped up, dressed only in her nightgown. She opened the door to see William standing there, having come just to see her, and a surge of joy overtook her. She blushed when she saw how he stared at her breasts pressing against the soft white nightgown, and her golden hair falling about her shoulders. But after a moment, she began to feel wild and beautiful under his appreciative gaze and appraised him in turn, noting the swell in his breeches that had not been quite as full a few moments before. He stepped into the cabin, closing and bolting the door behind him, all the while still staring at her. "I can't believe how beautiful you are, Miranda," he whispered.

Miranda smiled and saw his eyes mist when she did. "You're beautiful too," she whispered back.

William gathered her into his arms and kissed her, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth. Miranda felt a wild sweetness release itself between them, like a sudden shower of rain in a summer meadow. He pressed her against the closed door, reaching under her nightgown to cup her bare breasts, gently kneading the pink tips between his fingertips. Miranda weakened under his hands as she returned his kisses, and her sexual wetness gathered swiftly between her legs, spreading and saturating her pubic curls.

"Lie down," William panted into her ear. He pulled her away from the wall and steered her toward her bunk.

Miranda obeyed and William pulled her downward until her hips were even with the edge of the mattress. He pushed her nightgown up, past her stomach, over her breasts, until it practically bunched around her neck. He kneeled down, gently parting her legs with his hands, and began to caress and kiss and lick her soft inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the fleshy lips and slick pink skin of her sex. He caressed her stomach and hips as he pushed his face into the wet heat, breathing in the scent of her female musk.

Miranda moaned and raised her head, watching William's face between her thighs. She reached out and laced her fingers into his dark hair, pushing her crotch against his lips and tongue. He was teasing and licking and suckling the tender nubbin of her desire, while at the same time, sliding his large fingers in and out of her sheath. With his other hand he reached up and played with her breasts and nipples.

Miranda fell back against her pillow, moaning and arching her back. She couldn't believe something could feel so incredibly pleasurable. Nothing she had ever read in her books had prepared her for the actual sensations. The pleasure William was giving her with his mouth and hands was blissful, and before long, she was crying out and shaking from the intensity of her climax.

William licked and rubbed the sweet flesh until the last shiver passed through Miranda. Then he raised her up and kissed her. Miranda could smell her musk on his lips and taste it in his kisses. The wild scent roused her again and she pressed her hand against William's groin. "I want to taste you now, William," she whispered close to his ear, feeling his erection surge against her hand at her words.

William stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. The lantern cast a soft glow on her skin and hair. "Are you sure?" he asked her.

Miranda reached up and brushed back a lock of his hair that had fallen across his forehead. "I want to," she said softly, urging William to rise and come onto the bunk.

William lay down and unfastened his breeches, letting Miranda reach her small hand into his drawers and pull out his hard shaft. She leaned over and took it gently into her mouth, suckling on the tip, teasing the small opening of the glans with her tongue.

William moaned at the feel of her delicate lips and warm, wet tongue on his cock. He reached out and stroked her golden hair, as he lay helpless under her ministrations. She was so lovely, so giving and sensuous, that he surrendered completely. With one hand, Miranda fondled his balls, gently squeezing them, eliciting a soft moan from him each time. With the other she rubbed the part of his shaft she could not cover with her mouth. She breathed in the musky scent of his shaft, and closed her eyes with the pleasure of licking off the salty droplets that oozed from its tip. Before long, she brought him to a trembling climax, and watched his warm seed spill out onto his stomach.

William lay back, breathing heavily after the intensity of his orgasm. Then he raised his head and looked at Miranda, more taken with her than before. He reached out and stroked her wheat-colored waves of hair. "You are a wonder," he whispered to her, urging her to lie down beside him.

Miranda snuggled against William, hoping they could fall asleep. But after a little while, he rose and wiped himself off, buckling his breeches again before turning to kiss her. "I must go now, Miranda," he said softly.

Miranda reached out and grasped his arm. "Can't you stay? At least a little longer?"

The pleading sound in her voice seemed to make him hesitate. But after a few moments he reluctantly stood up. "No," he said. "It's not that I don't want to. If I stay, I'll fall asleep. And if I fall asleep with you, and wake up to see you first thing, I'll never be able to let you go when the time comes."

Miranda let go of his arm and looked down, feeling very sad. "Oh," she said. But then she looked up again. "Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked.

William touched her cheek and then bent down to place a soft kiss on her lips. "God willing," he answered. "I want very much to see you."

Miranda smiled as joy swept her heart. She stood and threw her arms around William. He returned her embrace and kissed the top of her hair.

When he had gone, Miranda sat down on her bunk, feeling dreamy. She twisted absently at a lock of her hair, smiling and remembering. His masculine scent still clung to her skin and she breathed it in as deeply as she could.

Strangely, however, her satisfied languor brought made her realize she had only deepened her inner conflict. Today she had begun to experience what was supposed to remain only an unfulfilled desire in her heart. Now, she had had a taste of what she would be missing in her life with Sir Edward. Perhaps, she mused sadly, she would have been better off remaining a stranger to such pleasure and joy. But she hadn't, and now she knew she could not stay halfway in two worlds. The time would come when she must choose. She only prayed that she would choose wisely.

*

For the next five weeks, Miranda and William made a decision to put aside their worry about Sir Edward and experience their joy of mutual discovery. When they weren't pleasuring each other, they sat together, laughing and talking, their hands entwined. There was barely a moment that they weren't touching. William told Miranda about his boyhood in Edinburgh, about his parents and two younger brothers, Ian and Patrick, who were to one day take over the shipbuilding company from their father. He also told her about his time at sea, beginning when he was a cabin boy, through his adventures voyaging to and from India with the East India Company. In turn, Miranda told William about growing up in London, about her constant conflict with her parents about choosing her own husband, and about her friendship with Charlotte.

Miranda loved being with William and wished so badly she could just give her body and soul to him completely. William, too, struggled to control himself when they were together, licking and suckling each other's most intimate parts. Every time, it was all he could do not to lay Miranda back and slide into her. But he did not want to hurt her place in society, either. Maybe it was wrong that she would marry Sir Edward, but then, her status would be all she had, and he would not have that taken from her as well.

*

After those five weeks, the weather began to turn dark and the seas to gather in high swells. Until then, the voyage had been blessedly smooth, even through the doldrums where sailing ships were becalmed often for days on end. The currents and the winds had been generous, clearing a smooth path for the Gallant. William explained to Miranda that the weather was always rough and stormy around the Cape of Good Hope, but that he prayed for Neptune, the god of the sea, to continue his generosity and keep them from harm.

As the clipper ship yawed and pitched on the rougher seas, Miranda experienced seasickness for the first time. Until then, she had been spared. And now, when she kept to her cabin with a bucket for her sickness, the illness was real, and not a ruse for avoiding the captain. William looked after her as best he could, sending Charlie to empty her bucket at regular intervals and make sure she had clean bedding. But he, too, was busier now, keeping watch over the weather and the ship, worrying about steering the Gallant and her crew of forty men and one beautiful young woman safely around the Cape of Good Hope.

*

One morning, Miranda awoke to find she had grown used to the pitching and rolling of the ship. She didn't even need the bucket. She rose and dressed, trying to have as normal a day as possible. She did not go up on deck, as William had warned her to stay below for safety. So she spent the time in his study, reading one of the books from his shelves, doing her best to keep her body grounded on the settee.

Later that afternoon, William came in drenched from the rains and high seas. His dark hair was plastered to his wet forehead and drops of water glistened on his skin. His clothing, too, was soaked, and Miranda became alarmed.

She jumped up and went to him, struggling to keep her balance. When she reached him, they grasped each other's arms and hung on. "What's happening?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," William answered. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "But the storm is getting worse. Are you okay in here?"

Miranda nodded. "Yes," she said. "I'm frightened, though. I don't want anything to happen to you!"

William touched her cheek. "We're in God's hands," he said gently.

"Let me get you a towel, at least," Miranda said. She turned to go to William's shaving cabinet, but he held onto her.

"Don't bother," he said. "I have to go back out. God willing there'll be a break soon and we can make some headway. I just wanted to see you."

Miranda embraced him, not caring that she got wet from his clothing. "Please be careful William," she said.

William put his fingertips under her chin and tilted her face up to his. He was smiling in spite of the grave situation. "I was sailing in these wracks when you were still a wee bairn," he said lightly. He bent his head to her and kissed her.

Miranda reached up and put her hands on his wet cheeks. His lips were salty from the sea air and ocean, and she pressed hers against them, demanding his tongue. She was always frightened that every kiss and touch, every moment of sweetness and pleasure could be their last, and she never wanted to let go.

Finally, however, William gently pulled away. "Stay here, Mira," he told her. "You'll be safe."

Miranda nodded and watched him leave. She then made her way back to the settee, struggling not to be thrown to the floor or knocked into furniture by the pitching and yawing of the ship.

As time passed, the seas grew rougher and Miranda could hear the torrents of rain lashing the wood of the ship. She grew frightened and cursed her helplessness as she clung to the settee. She had long abandoned her attempt to read, as every activity other than clinging to furniture for dear life had become impossible. Thunder and lightning rumbled and crashed outside. Through the tiny portholes, she could see the light of the electricity as it flashed in the sky.

Suddenly, a huge crack of lightning shot downward from the sky, closer than any of the others had been. A huge cracking sound shook the entire clipper. Miranda screamed, as a crash sounded above her head, as if the ship itself were about to explode. Her knuckles turned white from gripping the settee and she began to cry, terrified that something horrible had happened to William. "Please God!" she whispered frantically. "Please! Don't punish me for falling in love with him!" She wanted desperately to run out onto the deck, but knew she'd never make it out there in the midst of Neptune's rage. So she resigned herself to hanging on until the storm passed and she could find out if she'd ever see William again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After several hours, the storm blew itself out. The winds and rains abated, and the giant swells of the sea shrank, so that moving about the ship was no longer difficult or dangerous. As soon as she could, Miranda rushed out of the study and up onto deck, gasping when she saw the destruction before her. Though it was dark, the moonlight shone onto the deck, illuminating the ropes and splinters of wood strewn everywhere. The crewmen were all about, sopping and ragged from battling the storm. Portions of the rail were split and missing and the ship looked as if it had been the scene of a battle.

But the worst part was the giant mast, in itself the size of a tree, snapped near the base, and fallen, crushing everything that lay beneath it. "Oh my God!" Miranda cried out.

"Lightning hit it, Miss," she heard someone say.

Miranda turned and saw a sailor standing nearby, carrying wooden splinters in his hands. He had dark circles under his eyes and was dripping wet, like a drowned dog.

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Aye, Miss. Three men wounded. Two more gone."

"Where's the captain?"

The man pointed toward the stern of the ship. "Down there, Miss."

"Thank God," she whispered as she began to pick her way across the ruins of the deck.

William was overseeing the clearing of the deck, but when he spotted Miranda, he rushed over to her. "Miranda, you shouldn't be out here," he said. "I don't want you to see..."

"I know about the fallen men," Miranda interrupted. "I'm sorry."

William bowed his head and Miranda could see how upset he was about them. "Would you help Dr. Brimley in the surgery with the wounded?" he asked her. "I can't spare anyone right now."

Miranda desperately wanted to throw her arms around William and tell him how grateful she was he hadn't been hurt, but she restrained herself. "Yes, of course," she said.

Relief washed through William's haggard features. He was still drenched and pale in the chilly breeze.

"William, please get some rest," Miranda said before she made her way to the surgery. "I'm worried for you."

William's expression softened and his dark eyes looked at her with affection. "I will, Mira," he said softly before turning back to the urgent work at hand.

*

The surgery in which Miranda worked was a small, dingy portion of the fo'csle with a few hammocks strung in rows from the ceiling and a cabinet with a large basin of water, Dr. Brimley's surgical instruments and bandages, and rags for wiping blood off flesh. The space was small and the resources few, Miranda noticed grimly. Was her fiancé so penny pinching that the welfare of those in his employ did not matter? She did her best to help the wounded men. One of them had crushed ribs, while the two others had two broken legs. They were all in terrible pain and the best she could do was to give them sips of water and make sure their bandages were clean and dry. She spoke to them in soothing tones and wiped their damp foreheads with a clean cloth.

After several hours, Dr. Brimley told Miranda to go rest and have some tea. She went to the galley and asked the cook for some tea and bread, which she brought to William's study. Neither of them had eaten since the morning and it was now close to midnight.

William was in the study when Miranda went in with the tea and bread. He was on the settee, slumped over, his face in one hand. But when she set down the tray, he looked up. He had changed into dry clothes and combed back his damp hair, but his face was haggard and unshaven, with circles of exhaustion under his eyes. "We will put in for Cape Town at first light," he said softly. "The repairs will take a long time. I'll have to find another ship for you..." His voice trailed off and his eyes looked haunted.

Miranda set the tray down and went to him. She sat beside him and took up his hand, holding it to her lips. With her other, she reached out and touched his hair, bidding him to look at her. "Don't think about that now, William," she said gently.

"I always wonder what I could have done to prevent death," he said, his voice heavy with sadness.

Miranda brushed his hand against her cheek. "There's nothing you could have done," she said softly. "How could there be?"

William sighed and raked a large hand through his hair. "I don't know," he muttered.

Miranda leaned against the back of the settee. "William," she said, tugging gently at his arm.

He turned and looked at her, his eyes mournful.

"Come here," she whispered. "Rest."

Obediently, William leaned back and rested his head on her shoulder, burying his face into her neck, his hand resting in hers.

Miranda put her arm around his shoulder, caressing his hair. She turned and kissed his forehead, but his breath was already rising and falling steadily with the deep sleep that comes from exhaustion. Miranda felt a deep welling of love for the man who cared so much about his men. And about her. Finally, her own exhaustion overtook her and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The last she remembered of that long day and night was the comforting sound of William's quiet breathing and the feel of his head against her.