Page 15 of The Pirate’s Stolen Bride (Cavalier Cove)

A NEW LIFE

Two years later, Rémy had acquired a lovely property in La Rochelle, France. He kept his boat, La Belle Aventure, moored along the quais with the fishermen. On this bright summer morning, however, she wasn’t in her slip.

Harriet expected him to return at any moment. She set out to the market with their son, Lucien, on her hip. He was six months old with bright blue eyes like his papa’s, and she adored every chubby inch of him.

“Allons au marché, ma puce. Let’s go to the market.” Shopping was her favorite way to practice her now-fluent French. She still spoke to her son in English whenever they were at home. Lucien would need both languages to help manage the family’s growing export business one day.

After a surprisingly brief period of stubborn anger, Uncle Monty had relented and used his considerable influence to clear Rémy’s name. While the Spectre had been sold to settle the excise taxes owed to King George, its buyer had been none other than Thomas Davies, a shopkeeper in Cavalier Cove who specialized in imported French goods. His purchase had been funded by none other than Viscount Prescott—for a cut of the profits, naturally. It wouldn’t do for a gentleman to go into trade. Investing in a thriving enterprise, however, was a different story.

If Thomas Davies was known on this side of the English Channel as Thierry Desmarais, well, the citizens of Cornwall were not inclined to inform the universally-loathed Excise Officers of the fact that he was the smuggler known as Le Fant?me.

Thierry had rechristened the cutter and sent it back to its proper captain, Rémy. With the kidnapping charges dropped and his name cleared, Harriet’s beloved husband had gone right back to what he did best: acquiring French goods for an excellent price, taking them to England, and selling them for profit. Technically, Thierry was the one doing the selling, but their partnership had been a lucrative one.

Nowadays, they paid the taxes owed—at least, partly.

Once he saw that Rémy was not a fortune hunter, Uncle Monty had released Harriet’s dowry, enabling them to buy a fine home and employ several servants. Truly, the only difference between her life now and the one she would have had as Lady Lucarran was the degree of wealth versus her independence.

After being jilted, Lord Lucarran had married a different woman, and promptly passed away. She inherited a sizable estate and instituted a number of changes to the benefit of his Irish tenants. Harriet wished Lady Lucarran much joy in her widowhood.

“Da,” Lucien pointed. He wiggled inside his wrap.

“No, that’s not your papa.” Harriet adjusted her grip on his thigh and inspected apples. She chose three. “Apple.”

“Da. Da!” the baby wiggled.

“Pomme,” the smiling vendor said to Lucien, who stuck his head into the crook of her neck and drooled. Harriet paid for her purchase and moved on to the next stall to purchase oysters. One of her favorite adventures had been learning to love fresh seafood all year round. La Rochelle’s fishermen meant meals of oysters, scallops, and fresh-caught cod.

“Now there’s your da,” she said softly as she spotted a sleek ship pull into the marina. This had been a passenger run. Rémy had taken a family to Polperro and then gone to see Thierry, Ada, and their two children.

But now he was home.

Harriet made her way down the quai and waited for him to finish tying down the boat. Once it was secure, Rémy leaped down and pulled her in for a kiss.

“I missed you.”

“And this little one missed you,” she said. Rémy scooped his son into his arms. The baby drooled and kicked. He didn’t seem to mind being squished between his parents while they made fools of themselves being publicly affectionate.

Back at their home, she handed off the provisions she’d purchased to her cook while Rémy put Lucien down for his nap. She found them in the bedroom with the infant sleeping on her husband’s chest. He raised one finger to his lips. Harriet smiled fondly.

Gently, he laid the baby in his crib and closed the door.

Without warning, Rémy scooped Harriet into his arms, prompting her sharp yelp of surprise.

“Shh, chouchou, we must not awaken the baby.”

She pressed one finger to her lips to indicate silence.

“That’s right, we must be silent as a mouse.”

Not laughing didn’t mean not smiling. Hers was wide as he carried her into the next room.

“I missed you.” He laid her on the bed and began untying her stockings.

“You were gone for an entire week,” Harriet pouted.

“Were you bereft without me?” he asked, moving to cover her body with his. He sighed contentedly and explored her exposed throat with his lips. Teasingly intimate. Only Rémy knew her this way.

He brought one hand to her breast and squeezed. She arched into his touch and tangled her free hand in his hair, relishing his weight.

“I was so lonely without you.” She pretended to pout. “Did you bring me anything?”

Often, he would bring her a small gift from his travels. Less frequently when he was only making a trip to Cavalier Cove. Usually they were small, valueless joke gifts to make her laugh, but every so often he would surprise her with an extravagance.

“Is this not enough?” he ground his cock against her sex.

“Mmm. I thought there would be more,” she pouted.

“Minx. Just for that, I shall keep my surprise until you can be more accommodating.” He got her dress unfastened—he was impressively good at relieving her of her clothing, or simply having his way with her no matter how many layers she was wearing at the time—and shoved to the floor.

The worshipful way he looked at her, with a glint of humor shining in his blue eyes, made Harriet feel like a small boat on a storm-tossed ocean every time. Two years after he’d stolen her away, she still had the dizzying sense of falling in love all over again whenever they came together like this.

“Be a good girl and maybe I’ll show you what I brought home after all.”

She stroked his cock. “Is it big?”

He winked. “Not as big as what you are touching right now.”

“Oooh, very small then.” She squeezed.

“Cruel mistress.”

“You know I’m teasing.” She slid between his knees and took him into her mouth, his bare skin warm against her lips. He loved it when she did this, and she enjoyed it almost as much as Rémy. She let her tongue drift up and down over the silken head, squeezing his shaft until he eased her off and pressed her back onto the pillow. His hands were everywhere, molding every curve, seeking the place between her thighs and delving in with an expert touch.

“Shall I tease you the same way, mon cher?” He demonstrated with a deft twist of his wrist, hitting the spot high inside her inner wall that brought her to the brink of shattering.

He left her dangling there on a precipice of need.

“Rémy. The baby won’t be asleep for long,” she whined, shifting restlessly as tension built. Her pirate of a husband refused to give her release. Payback for her earlier insult.

“Sing my cock’s praises, chouchou, and I’ll let you come.”

“Your giant penis is a thing of beauty…” she trilled in an off-key soprano. Rémy’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“You’re terrible,” he complained. “I go away for a few days, come home ready for love, and my wife insults my cock.”

“I said it was beautiful!” she insisted.

“That wasn’t the praise I was seeking.” A cry from the baby’s room froze them mid-laughter. They both relaxed when it didn’t come a second time. Lucien wasn’t awake yet. “We had better make this fast.”

He slid along her sex, teasing her clit before sheathing himself to the hilt with a single thrust. Pleasure whipped through Harriet like a rough wind. The bed creaked as he set a quick pace.

“Your cock is the only thing that makes me feel this good,” she murmured, fisting his hair. “Show me how much you missed me.”

He drove harder, pushing relentlessly deep, until everything within her tightened. Her very bones tried to contract, her spine bent against the soft mattress, her legs locked around the backs of his thighs, a low wail tearing out of her throat as she came blindly.

“Again,” he gritted out, pulling out and rolling her over so that she was face-down. He hiked her hips upward and drove into her this way. Harriet’s wheat-blond tresses stuck to her cheek. She panted as he gripped her hips and thrust frantically. “Tell me how good my cock makes you feel.”

“I feel empty without you,” she confessed. “You’ve stolen my heart, body, and soul. I am yours. Make me yours, Rémy.”

Again the tide crested over her, blinding with the force of him pumping his seed into her. At last, they tumbled into a heap with the covers over their naked bodies. Rémy tucked her close. Drowsily, she realized he was rummaging through his pockets.

“Since you decided to be good in the end.” He held out a small velvet pouch. Curious, Harriet opened it and drew out a delicately carved goose.

“A gift from Adeline, in honor of Cavalier Cove. It’s sturdy enough for Lucien to play with.”

“This might be the best gift you’ve ever brought me.” Harriet examined the delicate details. “I’ll smile every time I look at it, remembering the way the geese chased the Riders.” She settled down beside him. “I should have gotten you something.”

Rémy’s naked legs twined with hers beneath the sheets. “The greatest gift you could ever give me is a home to return to. You are by far the best treasure I ever found.”

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