She paced around his room for a short while, then sat at the polished table.
Just an hour ago, she’d made one more attempt to go above, but Kesi had stopped her, saying that there was nothing Lorelei could do to help the wounded who were being tended. She’d tried arguing at first, wanting to help the men who were suffering, but Kesi wasn’t one to be denied.
Yielding to Kesi’s plea, she had returned to the captain’s cabin and paced until she’d grown too bored to do even that.
With a sigh, Lorelei lifted her head up from her crossed arms and glanced over to the log the pirate had been writing in earlier. Reaching out, she pulled it to her and began to idly flip pages.
Numbers flashed on one page and she paused to look them over.
November 3, 1777
1000 pieces of eight paid to Simon Platt for loyalty, 800 pieces of eight paid to Robert Gehrig for same.
Lorelei frowned. Jack rewarded his men for loyalty? How strange. It didn’t make sense to her until she flipped more pages.
April 14, 1778
Made port in Barbados. Overheard three men talking of Simon Platt, who had told them he lost his leg while escaping me. Told them I had nailed him to the mast and had lopped off his leg so that he would bleed to death on his burning ship. Platt also said that he escaped the flames when the wood snapped and that he was the sole survivor. Sent another 800 pieces of eight to Morgan for payment to Platt for a job well done. That should quell a few of the men chasing me and I need to make mention of the deed when next in port.
Lorelei’s mouth dropped in disbelief. Truly interested now, she began reviewing the pages in earnest and as she read, she found out a lot of intriguing facts about Captain Jack Rhys. Including the reason why he allowed Morgan to pick up the survivors of the Spanish ship.
“Why, Jack Rhys,” she breathed. “You have a bleeding heart.”
He really did. According to his log, he allowed his men an equal share of all their ill-gotten gains, as well as the right to vote on how the ship was run and how long they sailed each year before making their way to a small island in the south Atlantic where many of his men had families that didn’t wish to sail with them. And when he lost a member of his crew, the surviving family members were paid a hefty yearly stipend to live on.
There were also detailed accounts of not-so-friendly encounters with enemies, and entries where he’d been forced to punish certain members of his crew. However, none of them showed the pirate acting unjustly, or doing anything a military commander wouldn’t do in a similar situation.
But what caught her attention most were the number of times he would entertain a crew’s officers while their ship was being looted. Lorelei read that on one occasion the unloading of cargo on a British ship took a full week and the pirates provided music and meals to the officers the entire time.
Could it be true?
And yet why would he lie in his ship’s log?
She heard someone approaching. Slamming the book closed, she returned it to its spot and quickly laid her head down upon the desk to pretend she napped.
The door opened and the captain stepped in. Lorelei looked up and noted the pallor on his face, as well as the blood stains that covered his shirt.
“Are you all right?” she asked, rising immediately to her feet.
He looked at her and she realized he had forgotten she would be here. “I’m fine,” he said as he walked to a cabinet hanging next to his bed. He pulled out a bottle of rum and took a liberal swig.
He wasn’t fine. Lorelei knew that. Whatever had happened had shaken him. It scared and confused her to see him like this. He’d always been so sure and calculating in the past.
This Jack Rhys was strangely vulnerable. Strangely human.
“What happened?” she asked.
He took another drink, then replaced the bottle. Ignoring her question, he moved to his trunk and retrieved a fresh shirt. As he pulled his shirt off, Lorelei caught sight of the numerous scars marring his chest and back. Her stomach lurched. Never in her life had she seen anything like it. One long scar down his back looked like a burn mark, while others were easily identified as sword wounds or bullets.
Not to mention the bandage he still wore from Justin’s sneak attack.
Once he had replaced his shirt, he tossed the dirty one into a small canvas bag. The pirate took one deep breath and faced her. “Tommy lost his left arm,” he said at last.
“Tommy?”
“Aye, the older man who brought the paints to your room this morning. A piece of shrapnel caught his arm in the fighting.”
“Will he be all right?” she asked, moving to stand before him.
His jaw tensed. “Doubtful. Most men die a few days after such an injury.”
Aching to reach out and soothe the pain on his face, she refrained. He wasn’t the type of man a woman coddled, and no doubt he would see her effort as patronizing. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” he asked, his voice laced with venom. “You’d roast the lot of us if you could.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s not?”
And for the first time she realized it really wasn’t true. She didn’t want the pirate’s head for what he’d done to her. In fact, he hadn’t done anything to her, beyond teasing, and perhaps a little tormenting. Certainly nothing that was worth his life, let alone the lives of his crew.
He’s a pirate, she remind herself.
Perhaps, but he wasn’t what she thought of when she envisioned a pirate. A hardened pirate would be the one to lop off a man’s arm and laugh over the deed, not stand before her so upset over it.
“No,” she said, “it’s not true. I told you before that I don’t like to hurt people.”
“So you did.” He walked over to where she’d placed her easel and palette. He picked up a brush and ran his thumb over the bristles. “I don’t really feel like sitting for your portrait right now. Perhaps later.”
For some reason she couldn’t name, Lorelei didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay and make him feel better.
Smiling, she gave a half-hearted sigh. “Why is it every time I want to paint someone they use that as an excuse? Now you know why I paint fruit. It can’t get up and move.”
Jack watched her as she headed for the door. Part of him wanted nothing more than to be left alone, while another part didn’t want her to leave.
It was the first time he sensed she wasn’t fighting him, judging him.
What are you going to do once she leaves? Sit around and mope over the fact that you let a man get hurt? You couldn’t have stopped it. You did your damnedest to keep him from being harmed. What happens during battle isn’t your fault.
He knew that. Still, it pained him, but not half as much as letting Lorelei leave.
“Wait.”
She turned around with an arched brow. “Hmm?”
“I’m not like the other people you’ve known.”
“That is very true.”
“Well then, far be it from me to put you off. Come, madame artiste. Let me see what you can do.”
Her smile warmed him. “Very well,” she said, crossing the room. Taking his arms, she led him over to the red stuffed chair near his windows. “Sit here.”
Jack did as ordered.
Lorelei stared at him for a few minutes, then moved around the room looking at him from different angles. Her brows were furrowed in thought and she looked so scrumptiously adorable that Jack wondered how long he could contain himself before he yielded to his temptation to kiss her.
“This won’t do.” Arms akimbo, Lorelei sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything. You just don’t look…”
“Pirate enough?”
She crinkled her nose at him as if his answer annoyed her, though why it should, he couldn’t fathom. “No—natural enough. I want to capture you.”
Jack rose and approached her. “And I want you to capture me.”
“Ja
ck,” she said with a note of warning in her voice as she caught his arms and forced them back to his sides.
He smiled. ’Twas the first time she’d ever used his name and it sounded wonderful in that sweet contralto of hers. He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
“Shh,” he whispered again. “Trust me.”
He saw the doubt in her eyes and then to his surprise, she complied. Jack traced the petal softness of her lips with the pad of his thumb. Her skin was as pale as the purest cream and the freckles slashing over the bridge of her nose reminded him of nutmeg. Aye, she was a rare beauty with fire and intelligence the likes of which he’d never before seen.
“Think of me,” he said, leaning closer to speak in her ear. “Tell me what you see.”
He expected her to say a pirate with a sword raised, but what came out momentarily stunned him.
“I see you as you were the night at the tavern. With your hair hanging loose about your shoulders.” She opened her eyes and gave him a smile that sent heat straight to his groin.
“You did it!” she said with a laugh.
Then, to his utter amazement, she threw her arms around him and hugged him.
Startled, Jack couldn’t move. It was an easy, friendly hug. The kind that denoted pure affection. The kind of hug Jack Rhys had never before had. In fact, it was the only hug Jack Rhys had ever had from anyone other than Kit.
Unaware of the peculiar feelings inside him, Lorelei ran about the room like a squirrel. “I know exactly what I need.” She returned to his side and started pulling him toward the bed.
Jack quirked an eyebrow.
“I want you on the bed.”
“Interesting. I could say the same about you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come now, this is serious art. I want you like I found you this morning. Lying on your side facing the door.”
He’d rather have her on her side facing him. Naked.
And one day soon, he would. For now though, he would play along and build up her confidence in him. Let her think she had control of the situation and once she dropped her guard, he would pounce.
Obliging her wish, Jack lay on his side. Lorelei propped pillows up around him. The soft scent of rose assailed him as she adjusted his stance and he took a moment to savor the womanly warmth of her being so close to him.
Aye, her breasts were just an arm’s length from him. So close, and yet he didn’t dare reach out for one the way his body and soul begged him to.
Clenching his teeth, he fought against the inferno that threatened to set his very pants on fire.
“Perfect,” she declared at last. “Except for one thing.”
“Which is?”
She reached out and pulled his hair loose of the leather tie and began fanning it around his shoulders. Jack sucked his breath in sharply between his teeth. There was something about the feel of her hands in his hair that burned him through. Not to mention the fact that her breasts were eye-level with him now. So very close that he could reach just a little to cup one. Or lean his head ever so slightly forward to suckle her.
He ground his teeth together, the torture of it almost more than he could bear.
The urge to pull her to him was overwhelming, but to do that would cost him dearly, for no doubt she would run out the door, damning him with every step.
This was Lorelei, the artist, and she didn’t see him as a man. Right now, he was about as human as the ridiculous fruit she’d painted in the past. And if he played along with her wants, perhaps she’d let him show her his…banana.
Lorelei paused. “What?” she asked.
“What?” Jack repeated, concerned for a moment that he might have spoken one of his thoughts aloud.
“You’ve got a strange look about your face, as if you know some private jest.”
Jack forced the smile from his face. “I was but thinking of you, my sweet. That is why I smile.”
She straightened and gave him a calculating stare. “You know what I think?”
He arched a brow.
“I think you’re so used to charming women that you do it without thought.”
“Is that a fact?”
She nodded. “I’m quite certain of it. I think everything you do is a calculated effort to get you what you want.”
“And what is it I want?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and presented him with the stance of a military commander ready to do battle. “I won’t let you use me, Jack. I’m as much a person as you are, which means I’m not the pawn you captured. I won’t let you hurt the admiral any more than I’ll let you hurt Justin. He’s a good man.”
Jack felt his body grow rigid at her words. If only she knew the truth of the Wallingfords. Knew just what an evil, vile man she protected so passionately.
“I promise you, Lorelei, he’s not the man you know. And he is wholly undeserving of your devotion.”
“I say you’re wrong.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth about Wallingford. To let her know just what sort of monster he was. But Jack held his tongue. He wanted to win her honestly. He wouldn’t stoop to such ignoble tactics. Those he left to people such as Wallingford.
“Then I’m wrong,” he breathed. “I was wrong to take you from your family, and if I had a decent bone in my body, I would return you home this instant.”
She froze at his words and looked at him expectantly.
“Unfortunately, I lack any decent bones.”
Her eyes narrowed and before he could blink, she reached out, grabbed the pillow he was reclining on, jerked it from beneath him, then whacked him on the head. Jack roared with laughter as she continued to pummel him with the pillow.
Seizing a pillow of his own, he counter-attacked.
She paused for only an instant before she renewed her attack, her laughter filling his ears as she pushed her offensive.
Jack backed across the bed and watched in satisfaction as she climbed aboard, too intent on his defeat to mind where she was going. She pulled her weapon back from him and caught the pillow against the carving on his canopy. A loud rending of fabric was quickly followed by a shower of goose feathers.
Jack smiled in triumph. “I win.”
And before she could realize his intent, he pulled her against his chest and gave her the kiss he’d been wanting to give her since she’d first started posing him.
Her arms closed around him as she opened her lips to allow him to explore the sweet honey of her breath.
“Spoils to the victor,” he whispered as he deepened his kiss.
She laughed deep in her throat, exciting him even more.
“And vengeance to the victim,” she whispered before she shoved him back and unsheathed the sword from his hip. She moved slowly from the bed, all the while holding his sword before her. “I want you to take me home.”
Conflicted emotions tore through him. One was the lust that still pounded in his loins, another a cold splash of treachery. Had all of it been a ploy so that she could trick him?
He’d never been one to tolerate such, and yet he couldn’t quite believe she’d orchestrated the entire match. Nay, no doubt she had merely seized upon the opportunity.
Either way, she wasn’t about to get what she wanted. Jack answered to no one save himself and no one would ever dictate his life again. “I really can’t.”
“I know how to use this, Jack,” she said in warning. “And I will use it unless you take me home.”
Jack moved from the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. With studied nonchalance, he approached her. “Had you wished to see my sword, my lady, all you had to do was ask. In all honesty, ’tis what I’ve wanted to show you since the night I danced with you at your father’s ball.”
She arced the blade toward his throat. “I’m warning you.”
He should probably be terrified, he thought, but then he’d h
ad great swordsmen corner him in similar fashion numerous times in his life. They had never trapped him and it would take more than this slip of a woman to do so now.
Jack moved slowly to his walking cane, which was propped between his chest and the wall. She didn’t flinch as he picked it up and rolled it between his hands. Still, he noted the suspicion on her face as she waited for him to try something to disarm her. “Aye, you do look as if you’ve held a man’s sword in your hand before.”
Anger flickered in her eyes, but she didn’t yield to her temper.
“I take it your father gave you sword lessons along with your reading, writing, and arithmetic?”
He pulled the thin épée from its cane sheath. He’d teach her to pull a sword on him! Swinging it around to disarm her, he was momentarily baffled as she parried his thrust with an expert move.
Astounded, Jack advanced only to have her take the upper hand. He actually took a step back from her approach. “You really have been taught.”
“I was taught well,” she said smugly.
His sword flashed in the light as she brought it down against the épée in his hand. He had seen few men her equal. She thrust at him and he barely sidestepped the move. He twirled around as she passed behind his back. Jack grabbed her in his arms, trapping her in his embrace. Her mouth opened in surprise and he planted a fierce kiss on her lips.
Lorelei shrieked in indignation, then stomped his instep. Pain exploding up his leg, Jack pulled back with a hiss. He barely parried her next move as he hopped away from her.
“That was vicious,” he said, forcing himself to focus on something other than the agony of his toes.
She didn’t respond verbally, but the lunge she took at him spoke loudly enough.
Jack dipped his blade below hers and wrested the sword from her grasp. Releasing the hilt of his own so that both swords hit the wall to his right with a loud clatter, he took her extended right hand in his own and pressed her back against the wall.
Her breasts heaved against his chest as she struggled to calm her racing breath. In spite of the fact she had just tried to skewer him with his own sword, he smiled.
Master of Seduction Page 12
