By: Alex Beecroft
Published By: Linden Bay Romance, LLC
ISBN # 978-1-60202-088-7
Word Count: 60229
Available in: Microsoft Reader, Mobipocket, Adobe Acrobat, HTML
About the book
Ambitious and handsome, Joshua Andrews had always valued his life too much to take unnecessary risks. Then he laid eyes on the elegant picture of perfection that is Peter Kenyon.
Soon to be promoted to captain, Peter Kenyon is the darling of the Bermuda garrison. With a string of successes behind him and a suitable bride lined up to share his future, Peter seems completely out of reach to Joshua.
But when the two men are thrown together to serve during a long voyage under a sadistic commander with a mutinous crew, they discover unexpected friendship. As the tension on board their vessel heats up, the closeness they feel for one another intensifies and both officers find themselves unable to rein in their passion.
Let yourself be transported back to a time when love between two men in the British Navy was punishable by death, and to a story about love, about honor, but most of all, about a Captain’s Surrender.
An excerpt from the book
“No!” One got used to Peter being still, measured, even stiff, and forgot that he could also swoop into movement like a hawk. Josh found himself seized by both elbows before he’d even registered the beginning of the lunge. “Is that why you follow me? Out of a kind of self-blackmail? Out of fear? I thought...” He swallowed, looking almost sick with nerves. “I thought there was something more.”
Josh breathed in—a breath that seemed to take forever, while his heart paused, frightened, above the great abyss of the future. How easily he could ruin the modest happiness he had attained as Peter’s friend by misinterpreting, by leaping out unsupported into the pit.
“I thought you wanted to gloss over the incident,” Josh said, wiping his hands nervously against the skirts of his coat. Had he missed something? When they came to shore and took lodgings together, they had had a gentle, fearsomely embarrassed conversation about the unfortunate fate of Peter’s rather too well beloved tutor, Mr. Allenby, and then nothing. A few days’ awkwardness and then friendship returning like a balm. But had he read it wrong?
Had the awkwardness been in fact an inept, unspoken invitation? He fought off hope and guilt together. “Frankly, sir, when you kiss a superior officer without invitation you feel unreasonably fortunate even to be allowed to let the matter drop.”
Unexpectedly, Kenyon smirked. “I’ll remember that, next time I accost the admiral.” And Josh laughed, sure that he could now turn away, hide his flushed face in the shadows and let the moment pass, leaving him on an even keel again.
But Peter had not let go. It would have taken a saint to struggle against the grip of those long fingered, elegant hands—and Josh was no saint. Though elbows did not normally feature prominently in his erotic daydreams, when they were separated from Peter’s skin only by a layer of cotton so thin that he could feel the roughness of rope burns, the callous left by a small-sword, he found himself obsessed by them, unable to concentrate on anything else.
“I admit I was a little...taken aback, at the time.”
They moved; Peter’s hands moved, sliding from elbows to biceps, and Josh had to bite his lip against the rush of illicit pleasure, the maddening desire to take the one step forward that would enable him to press himself against Peter, hot and tight together. God, he shouldn’t have thought of that!
“But the more I reflected on the matter, the more I confess I found myself...” Peter’s eyes had a trick of holding the light, as the sea will when the sun is bright, and Josh—oh how he wanted to swim. “Curious.”
No protestations of undying love. It was unsettling—it was almost real. “Curious?” Josh managed in a constricted, breathless voice that was as good as an admission of guilt. If Peter had any sensitivity at all, he must know how far he was pushing; he must have the sense to back off now, before it was too late.
“As to what you are willing to die for. I should like to know.”
There were a number of objections Josh could have made, and he did try. He honestly did. With his blood singing and his mouth gone dry he did say “I...don’t wish to…mistake your meaning.”
Kenyon’s right hand stroked over Josh’s shoulder, came to rest on the back of his neck, the thumb moving slightly, raising the hairs on his nape in a shiver of delight. By themselves, his eyes had half closed, his face tilted up in mute offering, primed and waiting. He made a last ditch defense. “I don’t want you to do...anything you’d…regret.”
And Peter closed the distance between them. They were touching, Josh could feel the planes of that hard chest, was surrounded, invaded by Peter’s heat, his scent. Peter was looking down with wide eyes, his own breath coming ragged now, as Josh’s fever infected him. “I should like to kiss you,” he said, decidedly. “Unless you object?”
Even the man’s voice was like being coated in molasses and licked clean. How was anyone supposed to object to that? “Christ no!” Josh leaned in, surrendering. “I mean yes, sir, kiss me. Oh, yes. Yes, please!”