The Professor and the Smuggler Page 12

  “I’ve considered taking photographs of the car and the hoofprints,” Phillip said, “but I don’t suppose that will do any good. Best to let it go.”

  “You’re a better man than me if you can forgive such a thing.”

  “I’m not sure what I should do.” Phillip’s speed increased.

  Carne stopped Phillip’s charge up the hill with a hand on his arm. “We could take a holiday from figuring things out. Looks to be a fine morning. Go down to the harbor with me, and I’ll give you a brief sail on my Magpie. We’ll leave trouble ashore.”

  Phillip glanced in the direction of Carne’s cottage, then down toward the shore. He nodded slowly. “There’s nothing to be done just now anyway. Maybe it would be good to get some fresh air to clear my mind.” He peered into Carne’s face with eyes a bit more somber than they’d been prior to witnessing the damage done to the motorcar. “Take me out to sea, Captain.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  This is what it would feel like to fly, Phillip thought as the sailboat cut cleanly through the still waters of the cove. The air was as bracing as a slap to the cheeks. Phillip inhaled the pungent odor of saltwater and fish. He threw his head back and stared up into the pale blue sky, where gulls circled and screamed, then dove many feet to scoop fish from the water. Looking out to the horizon, he could barely discern the spot where water met sky, except that the sea was darker and the sky lighter. And, oh, now they were swooping faster as they exited the harbor and the breeze really caught the sails. Exhilarating!

  He’d actually helped Carne set the sails and held the tiller “steady on” when Carne ordered him to. Sailing was easy. Phillip could move here and become Carne’s first mate, a fisherman in woolen jumper and large rubber boots. His hands would be rough from pulling in heavy nets laden with fish. And he would grow to desire nothing more than fish, fish, fish on his plate from dawn to dusk, and Carne, Carne, Carne in his bed at night.

  The waves grew choppier outside the rocky cove. He broke into a cold sweat. The sailboat rose and dropped as it plowed through the sea with an additional side-to-side rolling motion. This was what flying would feel like on a very windy day, still exhilarating but not quite so pleasant. And the stench of fish…

  Phillip’s stomach lurched as the boat breached another wave. He swallowed hard. His head began to ache. Abruptly, he grabbed hold of the smooth wooden rail and leaned over. Another lurch, and his stomach heaved, nearly losing its contents to the ocean. He cringed in shame at the thought of vomiting twice in as many days in front of Carne. The man would think he had the constitution of someone’s old Aunt Millie. No sea legs at all. He choked back his nausea.

  Carne’s heavy hand rested between his shoulders. “We’ll be past this rough patch soon. The waves ease further out. I’ve a bottle of peppermint oil on board. A drop or two with a sip of water will help. Even the most seasoned fisherman sometimes needs it.”

  Phillip wiped his perspiring forehead and peered up at Carne, who stood like a rock, hardly even swaying on the tipsy boat. “I’m sure you don’t.”

  “Well not me.” Carne grinned. “But some.”

  He went to find the bottle while Phillip clutched the rail as if it were his best friend and dry-retched some more and wished he could ask to be taken back to safe, steady land without sounding like a whiny child.

  Carne handed him a small, unmarked bottle. “Don’t think this has been opened since I hired a helper who had trouble at the start of every season—Robin, that boy you met. But the cork is in tight, so it should be fine. Put a little on your tongue, then swallow the water.” He offered a mug.

  Phillip followed directions, grateful at least to have the sour taste gone from his mouth. And Carne was right, the sea seemed to be smoothing out. Phillip’s stomach could stop doing unwanted calisthenics. He handed back the mug and the bottle and hauled himself to his feet.

  “God bless you. You’ve saved my life. Apparently I’m a poor, poor sailor.”

  Carne chuckled and slipped the bottle in his pocket before finishing off the water. “First time on a boat? Even a ferry across the Channel?”

  “Yes, I’ve made that trip a few times, but not well.” He gestured at the wide expanse in front of them, the land receding behind them. “This is the first time I’ve actually been at sea in a small craft. The ocean is a bit…intimidating, isn’t it?”

  “You must respect her, that’s for certain. Even a lifelong fisherman like my tas may lose his life by misjudging her power.”

  Phillip frowned. He’d forgotten Carne’s father had drowned. “It must have been difficult to ever sail again after that.”

  Carne shrugged. “Had to. Mouths to feed. Work to do.”

  The words mouths to feed reminded Phillip of food, and he began feel a bit sick again.

  Carne must have seen it. “Look at the horizon,” he suggested. He returned to the tiller, and the great sail fluttered and the large mast creaked as he changed direction. At once, the extra rolling came to an end.

  As the boat surged along, Phillip felt far better and could think of something other than his stomach. He walked to the back—the stern, was it?—and sat next to Carne, who held the tiller and ropes and whatnot that controlled the sail. Phillip even felt well enough to sit next to him.

  “You catch much fish?”

  Carne shrugged. “Some. Not big hauls like they used to. And my Magpie’s a smallish vessel.”

  What other sort of work did he do with this boat, transport goods from one destination to another? Phillip didn’t want to think about that right now. He’d sworn when he set foot on deck to put all “land” thoughts and concerns behind him and simply enjoy a day spent in Carne’s company. “You were brave to go back out after losing your father to the sea. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “That’s how it is for all the families hereabouts.”

  “How old were you when it happened?”

  “Fifteen.” Carne stared at the horizon, clearly answering the question out of politeness with no desire to talk about it. “We got by with help from the rest of the village. We look after our own.”

  And Phillip wasn’t one of them. If it should come down to it, Carne would stand with his own people against Phillip. He wasn’t quite certain what he thought “coming down to it” might be about, but he felt as if some sort of confrontation loomed.

  Phillip spoke to drown out that feeling. “I didn’t lose my father or mother. Not like you did, anyway. If anything, they lost me, declared me dead to them, and never spoke of me to their friends. After an incident in my youth, they cut me out of their lives permanently. I haven’t so much as glimpsed them in several years.”

  “And that’s when your uncle took you in?” Carne asked.

  “He’d already been kind to me, but that’s when he became my financial supporter as well. It was through his beneficence I was able to attend university and earn a full professorship. He applauded and fully supported my goals.” Phillip’s throat constricted. He swallowed hard before finishing, “He died fairly recently from a wasting disease, the poor dear. A terrible blow. More than a relative or mentor, Uncle Downlaw was a friend.”

  “Losing a loved one is a terrible thing,” Carne murmured.

  Phillip rose and faced the rail. He dashed away the tears the stiff breeze brought to his eyes. He pointed. “Is that shape on the horizon a ship?”

  Carne joined him at the rail and shaded his eyes to look where he pointed. “Aye.”

  “Bound for Penzance, I suppose?”

  “Probably.” Carne changed the subject. “Be you feeling better?”

  “Much better, thank you. The calmer water and that peppermint oil seemed to help.” Phillip shot him a sideways look as he suddenly considered other uses for the cool yet spicy oil. “Is it possible to drop anchor in some quiet inlet?”

  Carne raised one thick, dark brow. “Done with sailing already?”

  Phillip smiled. “I don’t want you to have to hoist sails and raise mizzenmast
s or whatever it is you sailors do. I hoped we could have a little time to rest on the water and take time to…”

  He didn’t need to finish. Carne was already at the tiller, changing the craft’s direction toward a cove along the coast. “Kynance is a beautiful place, sheltered and private.”

  When the boat swept into the inlet, Phillip caught his breath. The white sand and turquoise water might have been in Greece. He half expected leaping dolphins. As Carne took down the sail and dropped anchor into sparkling water, sunlight illuminated a pristine landscape of tall cliffs and shining beach.

  “Might we bathe?”

  “If you’d like.” Carne tightened a rope and turned to him. “But I thought…”

  “Time for that too. Let’s enjoy a swim first.” Phillip peeled off his shirt, shoes, and trousers, hesitated, then removed his undergarments as well. He wouldn’t want to wear them wet afterward.

  “Don’t dive. Could be rocks.” Carne removed his clothing, and his muscular body was even more awe-inspiring in sunlight. Phillip took a moment to carve every detail into memory before he carefully lowered himself over the side of the bobbing boat and into the chilly water, his toes reaching for a bottom he could stand on.

  Carne churned past him with powerful strokes, and Phillip paddled in his wake. After they reached a depth where they could stand, they splashed and roughhoused like boys for quite some time until both were breathless and laughing.

  Phillip finally took the plunge and dove underwater, where he headed toward the twin pillars of Carne’s pale legs planted on the sand. When he surfaced, Carne stood over him, holding out his hands. Phillip went into his wet embrace.

  Carne’s breath brushed his cheek. “You’re shivering. Too cold?”

  “It’s bracing,” Phillip admitted. “But refreshing. I don’t know the last time I was at the seaside. When I was, I’m quite certain I wore a bathing costume.”

  Carne laughed. “A what?”

  “Rather like an undershirt and drawers,” Phillip explained. “That’s what gentlemen wear at the beach.”

  “Not here. We be a rough, uncouth lot.” Carne grinned as he spoke in the thickest of Cornish accents.

  “So you’ve swum naked with men before. Did it never cause any sort of…rising in you?” Phillip asked, curious to know if Carne had hidden tendencies before they’d met.

  “Not in the least.” Carne shook his head, and diamond droplets flew from his raven hair. “Not until you. Feel.”

  Under the water, he rubbed his groin against Phillip’s and, oh yes, there was definitely a hard, slick “fish” pressing there. Phillip dove a hand down to catch it. He gripped hard and stared into Carne’s eyes. “Shall I land this? Serve it up for my noon meal?”

  “I wouldn’t try to snap the line and get away,” Carne murmured. “But it’s my turn. Last night you showed me how it’s done. Let me show what a good pupil I be.”

  Phillip laughed. “I’ve had enough swimming already. But how will we ever get back onto your boat?”

  “While you rushed headlong into the water like a cakey, I had the sense to hang the ladder.”

  He let go of Phillip, and they swam back to the boat, floating a few yards away. Even with the aid of the rope ladder, it was tricky climbing on board. The boat rolled with every movement. Carne managed with ease, of course, then he reached out and hauled Phillip onto the deck.

  They dried off with rough sacking that scraped Phillip’s bare flesh delightfully. His skin would likely turn from milk-white to lobster red by tomorrow from all this sunshine, but he didn’t care. It was a pleasure simply to stand au natural underneath the heavens, feet planted on the deck of a gently rocking boat. And then Carne abruptly dropped to his knees in front of him. Phillip stared down at the amazing sight of the rough-hewn Cornishman tentatively taking hold of his cock.

  Carne glanced up, his mouth poised inches away from the head. “You asked if I ever looked at a man and hungered. Truth is sometimes, when I handled myself and imagined things to, um, spur me on, I’d picture doin’ this, or someone doin’ it to me. Not a woman. S’pose I lied when I said I never thought of men before.” He paused, then added. “Guess I lied to myself all along, tryin’ to pretend it weren’t true.”

  Phillip accepted the confession with a little nod. He understood admission of such a long-held secret was significant. “I’m glad you told me,” he murmured, reaching out to touch Carne’s wet hair. “I hope you feel you can tell me anything. There need be no secrets between us.”

  Keeping those blazing eyes fixed on him, Carne guided Phillip’s cock to his mouth and slowly enveloped it. The heat of his mouth was hotter than the sun on Phillip’s neck and shoulders. A fist like a boulder gripped the base of Phillip’s shaft. Carne sucked him deeply in, so far it made him cough, then slowly withdrew, revealing Phillip’s glistening length. Phillip gave a strangled groan.

  Carne glanced up as if seeking approval. Phillip thrust his hips forward encouragingly and sighed loudly. “That’s just right.”

  Carne slid his other hand around Phillip’s sac and cradled its weight. He didn’t act inexperienced or awkward at all. But that was Carne all over, wasn’t it? Once he’d decided to do something, he took charge of it fully and handled it well. He was certainly handling Phillip’s cock well. Phillip gave an embarrassing squeak as Carne abruptly abandoned his cock and dipped his head lower to bathe Phillip’s sac with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth.

  The sheer unexpectedness of Carne Treleaven engulfing him that way made Phillip’s balls tense and contract. Oh no. He would not arrive at the conclusion so soon. He squeezed his eyes tight and focused on relaxing his body.

  Carne returned to devouring his erection with a fierce determination that encompassed everything Phillip admired in the man. It was this quality that had attracted Phillip to him. Where Carne bluntly said what he thought and claimed what he wanted, Phillip approached things obliquely, charming and blathering on until people crumbled and gave in.

  But Carne’s assault was overpowering now, and Phillip was the one crumbling. He could hold back no longer and cried out as he lost himself in the pleasure of the man sucking his cock, the sunlight on his body, the rocking boat beneath his feet. He felt he could fall back into thin air, float away, and never come crashing down.

  Luckily, Carne was there to catch him when his knees actually did buckle and he started to slump to the deck. Carne stretched him out and laid beside him, gazing into Phillip’s eyes. “All right, then? Not too strong for you?”

  Phillip feigned fluttering a fan like a society miss. “I’m overcome. You’re the manliest of men, and I don’t know that I shall ever recover.”

  He stopped smiling, as that last statement was a bit too close to the truth. Of course, he would recover from the loss of Carne after they inevitably parted. He’d suffered heartbreak enough to know it was true. But at that moment, the thought of this coming to an end was too painful to entertain.

  So he didn’t. He turned his attention to other things they might do. “Are you ready to learn how I plan to use your peppermint oil?”

  “Won’t that…burn?” Carne asked.

  “It should tingle. That’s rather the point. Are you game to try?”

  “Aye.” Carne found his jacket in the pocket of which he’d placed the small bottle and handed it to Phillip.

  He took out the stopper and let the cool liquid pour into his hand. Reaching between them, Phillip wrapped his palm around Carne’s erection. He slicked up its smooth length, then back down, admiring how the flushed skin glistened.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Tingling, as you said. Hot and cold at the same time.”

  Phillip massaged gently, pulling back foreskin to reveal the rounded head. He scooted down and took it into his mouth. The taste of musky man was disappointingly concealed by the strong mint flavor, but Carne’s thick cock, pulsing with life, felt good inside his mouth.

  Phillip sucked him briefly before le
tting go. He lay belly down on the sun-warmed deck and looked over his shoulder at Carne. “Have at me, Captain.”

  Carne took the oil extract and slicked it between Phillip’s cheeks, probing an exploratory fingertip into his hole. Phillip’s entrance clenched in response, and his desire mounted quickly. He wanted this, no, needed this. If this was to be the last time they had together, he would seize it and savor every detail. Rising up on his knees, he thrust his rear toward the pirate who would plunder his body, welcoming the attack.

  Carne moved in behind him, gripped his hips firmly, guided his head to Phillip, and pushed slowly. The burning of the outer muscle as it stretched to encompass his girth was enhanced by heat from the peppermint oil, which simultaneously stung and soothed. Not stung precisely, but tingled in an enlivening way that made Phillip wiggle. He folded an arm under his head and lifted his hips higher, wanting more of that excruciating intrusion. His vulnerable position, utterly offering himself to Carne to do with as he willed, ignited a powerful surge of lust. Being the bottom provided a wonderful feeling of surrender but also power, for he was always aware of how desperate his partner was to have him.

  After every agonizing inch of Carne’s cock was buried inside, he stopped moving. Phillip moaned quietly. Heat burned inside him, and his need for Carne to take action was intense. At last he could stand the pause no longer and moved his arse, willing Carne to begin to thrust.

  Ever so slowly, Carne withdrew… Then surged fast and hard and deep. Oh Christ! Phillip shuddered at the impact and cried out. With his free hand, he reached out and clutched whatever lay nearby, a coil of rope from the feel of it.

  Carne withdrew and rammed again, seeming to understand Phillip’s whimpers and cries weren’t in protest. Perhaps the fact Phillip whispered repeatedly, “God, yes!” helped convince him.