Chapter Twelve

His little wife was a fast learner. Emma teased his tongue with her own and matched his passion. Her hands went up into his hair with a sigh as she pressed against him. Cradling her neck with one hand, Horatio felt the whimper at the back of her throat and he swelled in his trousers nearly painfully. Oh sweet torture. If he were a baser man he'd lift up her skirts and take her right there up against the wall, bury himself fully into her sweet, warm body.

Soon he did have her pressed against the wall, her small form trapped between him and the wooden planks. His mind was utterly useless as she arched against him. Horatio unconsciously rolled his hips, his body seeking out that which he had no hope of finding at the moment. Emma seemed to instinctively understand the movement and rolled her hips in answer but also to no avail. A groan of frustration tore through Horatio and he pulled away with more force than he'd intended causing Emma to smack the back of her head against the wall.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" he apologized breathlessly.

"It's alright." she assured him, rubbing the back of her head.

Horatio stopped and looked down, wondering when exactly his hand had lowered to her small breast. Not simply over the material of her dress but beneath it. How had the back of her dress come undone and his hand slipped in to pull the material halfway down her arms leaving her near half naked with only her white shift separating his fingers from her bare skin?

"Sweet God!" he choked, pulling back his hand and causing a small rip.

"It's alright." she said again.

"No." Horatio shook his head, disgusted with himself. "It most certainly was not."

"Horatio, no one saw us." Emma assured him shakily.

"That is beside the point. This is not the place to engage in such activities and you are my wife. You should be treated better than a...a....."

"Was it wrong then?" Emma asked, her face flushed and blue eyes shining.

"In the middle of the corridor, yes." he insisted. He shook his head, trying to clear it before he grabbed her again. He turned her around so that he could do up the back of her dress.

"It didn't feel wrong." Emma protested.

"Trust my word. It was wrong. I apologize. My only defense is that there is something about you, young miss that makes me take leave of my senses." Horatio admitted. "But that is no excuse."

"Oh. Then I suppose I'm more to blame than you are." Emma said turning back to him.

"Certainly not. I'm older than you and should know better." Horatio explained fixing the sleeves of her dress.

"Perhaps, but I could make it easier for you by holding you at bay but I must be truthful and admit that I rather enjoy making you take leave of your senses." she told him with a small smile. Horatio found himself smiling back and then gave a helpless groan while he ran his hand over his face and pushed her away from him and back down the corridor.

"Heaven help us both." he said shaking his head, unable to keep his eyes off his wife's bottom.

The tension in her husband's cabin was stifling. Archie lay in his hammock in a fetal position, his face turned toward the wall. A man Emma didn't recognize sat in his own hammock, reading out loud. His voice stilled when she and Horatio walked in. Jack Simpson lay in his hammock, his head propped up on his hand. His grey eyes locked on her, making her fight the urge to squirm.

"Gentlemen, this is my wife, Emma. You've met Archie-" who didn't turn to face her. In fact, he barely moved. Emma would have thought that he was asleep if it wasn't for the rigidness of his body.

"Aye and we've met two haven't we, lass?" Simpson said with a smile that made her instinctively take a step closer to her husband.

"Yes, Sir, we have." Emma nodded stiffly.

"You've got yourself a real pretty one there, Snotty." Simpson said. Emma felt Horatio stiffen behind her. She forced herself to focus on the man who was still a stranger to her. He had hopped down from his hammock and now stood in front of her.

"Henry Clayton." Horatio introduced.

"Aye, Mrs Hornblower." he said nodding to her.

"Please, call me Emma." she insisted, extending her hand which he accepted.

"Unfortunately I must ask you gentlemen's pardon. Due to the lack of sufficient rooms Emma will be sharing our cabin. At least until we have more time to find a better arrangement." Horatio explained. Neither he, nor Emma looked at Simpson, focusing instead on the friendlier face of Clayton.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Horatio?" Clayton asked. Emma caught his shared glance with Horatio over her head that then shifted to Simpson and then down to Archie. Concern was etched in his features.

"I did not give my consent in this matter." Simpson spoke, his voice thick with irritation. He slid off his hammock.

"The captain gave us his consent." Horatio said, his voice cracking.

"Yes but the captain is not here. Is he, Snotty?"

"Mr Simpson, I have already alerted you to my displeasure over that insulting name. I would again ask that you please refrain from using it." Emma said holding herself with as much dignity as she could muster while fighting off exhaustion.

"Do you now?" Simpson asked, amused. He took a step towards her and Emma backed up against Horatio. "And what if I said that I don't give a hoot and howl for your displeasure?" Simpson asked. "You may think the captain's in charge but let me be the one to enlighten you. Down here, among the men, I'm in charge. You understand? Me." Emma held her breath against the whiskey stench of his mouth. "If I choose to let you stay. You stay. If I choose to have sleep in the galley or the store room among the salted beef, so you shall. But, just to show you that I am a gentleman I'll let you stay. Might be a pleasant diversion to have a lass on board. I've taught you well enough to share, haven't I, Snotty?" Simpson reached out a finger towards Emma's collar. Horatio shot out and grabbed Simpson's hand.

"Over my dead body." Horatio said coldly in a voice that startled Emma and reminded her too much of Archie's with it's barely restrained fear and rage.

"Gladly, Snotty. Simply name the time and place." Simpson taunted.

"Mr Simpson. It is quite late and seeing as you have no objection to my sleeping here I'd like to get to sleep now." Emma said hoping to get both men to back down. She turned to her husband. "Horatio, will you help me into your hammock?" Emma asked trying to divert his attention back to her. "Horatio." he blinked and looked down at her.

"Yes, yes of course."

"That's what I thought." Simpson sneered.

"Let's just all get to bed. We'll be up early enough come morning." Clayton said.

"I'd just like to say to the happy couple, by all means don't feel you have to stifle your ardor on our account. Thought it will be news to me if Snotty can figure out where to put it." Simpson said climbing back into his hammock. Horatio made a move towards him but Emma held him off.

"Good night, Mr. Simpson ." she said with her back to him as she led Horatio towards the hammock they would share. "Goodnight, Mr. Clayton."

"'Night Mrs-...Emma." he corrected with a small smile.

"Goodnight, Archie." Emma called out to the still figure. He gave no response.

"He'll be fine in the morning." Clayton assured her. Emma spared Archie one more concerned glance before helping Horatio put up a thick blanket as a partition so she could change out of her clothes.