Master of Seduction

by Kinley MacGregor

  Before she could think better of it, Lorelei looked at Henri. “Haven’t any of you ever done such?”

  The entire group looked offended. “We don’t kill defenseless men and we’ve certainly never butchered women,” Tarik sneered. “You’ll find no cowards on board this ship.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lorelei quickly amended. “I didn’t mean that, it’s just I’ve heard similar stories of Captain Rhys and his crew, about how unmerciful all of you have been to captives.”

  “You can’t believe all you hear,” Billy said. “Most of us are here simply to make enough money so that we can leave piracy behind and be wealthy men who live to a nice old age. We do what we have to do to survive, but we do no more than that.”

  “Then how do you know the stories of the admiral are true?” she asked.

  “I used to sail on Wallingford’s ship,” Billy confessed, his lip curled by repugnance. “And I can tell you firsthand that we’ve never done half an act as heinous as what the good admiral would order on a daily basis. Wallingford has it in his head that he is acting on God and king’s orders so any crime he commits is divinely ordained.”

  Dumbfounded, Lorelei stared at him. She’d actually heard the admiral say something very similar to that on several occasions.

  Still, it couldn’t be true. Could it? Could the man who’d held her as a young girl, and often referred to her as his adopted daughter, really be capable of such atrocities?

  The hatred blazing in Billy’s eyes was too sincere to be anything other than truth.

  An ache started in Lorelei’s head.

  What of Justin? Was he what she thought?

  You know Justin as well as you know yourself.

  Or did she?

  “They’re just servants and slaves, Lori. Here to serve us, not the other way around.”

  She remembered those words from the day her governess, Gertie, had taken ill. Lorelei had been fetching extra blankets when Justin scolded her for it. At the time his attitude had irritated her, but she hadn’t paid it much attention.

  Until now. Was that the attitude he showed to people when he wasn’t with her?

  Justin is noble! He loves you.

  “You know, Lori, if you ever want me to offer marriage to you, you’ll have to change your ways. I can’t have my wife seen toting blankets to a mere servant. Good Lord, woman, you’ve a house full of people to command. Call one of them and order the blanket be taken. Really, next you’ll actually be cooking a meal.”

  Pressing her hand to her forehead, Lorelei squeezed her eyes shut. There was nothing wrong with Justin’s words. Her own father had said as much to her.

  Jack had tried to confuse her since the moment she first met him. Now his crew was taking up his cause. She shouldn’t listen to them. Justin and his father were good men. They had to be, or else everything she’d ever believed in was wrong. And she didn’t want to be wrong, especially not about something that was going to affect the rest of her life.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said to the group. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  Henri frowned. “You do look a bit pale, mademoiselle. Allow me to escort you to your room, s’il vous plaît.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking his proffered arm. He led her across the deck and down to the deck below.

  And it was only when she was halfway to her cabin that Lorelei realized what she’d done. She had trusted a pirate to take her safely back to where she slept.

  A quiver of panic raced through her as they approached her door.

  “If you would like, mademoiselle, I shall ask Sarah to bring you some tea. It might help you feel a bit better.”

  “That would be very nice,” she whispered.

  Henri bowed low before her and placed a chaste kiss on her hand. “I do hope you feel better, ma petite,” he said, straightening up. “Perhaps one day in the near future you will permit me to view some of your work. Captain Jacques said you were most talented, and it has been quite some time since I have had the pleasure of viewing another’s work.”

  Clicking his heels together, he inclined his head to her with a gracious smile, then turned around and left.

  Lorelei entered her room, her head spinning with images and thoughts. “Pirates who behave as gentlemen and gentlemen who burn ships,” she breathed.

  You should not judge people so quickly, Lorelei.

  Jack was right. She’d judged people all her life and now those hasty judgments were making a mockery of her perception of the world. And right then all she really wanted was to go home, back to the way things were supposed to be.

  Only she could never do that. Jack had taught her to see things differently. To see people differently.

  Her thoughts turned to Gertie, her governess. She’d known her most of her life, but she didn’t really know much about the woman who had dedicated her life to taking care of Lorelei. Did she have siblings? Did she like to paint?

  Where did she go on her days off?

  In her own way, Lorelei had been as callous to the woman who took care of her as Justin had been.

  And just then, she didn’t know if she should thank Jack for opening her eyes, or curse him.

  10

  Two weeks went by as Lorelei grappled with her confusion. Jack’s men continued to treat her with courteous respect, and Henri had taken her under his expert tutelage. The Frenchman was incredibly talented, especially when it came to blending colors and using charcoal to shade.

  She’d become good friends with Sarah and Alice, who would meet her every morning for breakfast. They would spend a little time on deck, then go off to their chores while Lorelei went to Jack’s cabin to work on the portrait.

  Jack had been distant with her ever since the evening she’d been up on deck with Henri, and she had begun to wonder if he’d put aside his desire to seduce her. Though that thought should have made her happy, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way for her to breach the uncomfortable gulf that had sprung up between them.

  This morning, Lorelei was early to his cabin. Sarah hadn’t felt particularly well and Alice had wanted to help Mavis with her mending. Left alone, Lorelei had decided to work on the painting while Jack went about his usual routine, receiving his daily report from Tarik and going over their bearings.

  As they parted, Sarah warned her that Jack wouldn’t be in a particularly good mood this morning since he’d spent half the night in the galley drinking and playing cards with her husband and a couple of other men. She’d told Lorelei that Jack was always an ogre when he didn’t get a full night’s sleep.

  Deciding even that would be a welcome relief from his quiet mood of late, Lorelei opened his door.

  She froze.

  Still asleep, Jack lay on his bed, his nude body partially entwined with his red satin spread.

  Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze drifted across the curve of his muscular back to his bare hip and down his long legs, which were covered with light, golden hairs.

  He was beautiful. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His tawny hair was free and draped becomingly about his face, which was relaxed and almost boyish in repose.

  Her first instinct was to slam the door and run, but she couldn’t get her feet to obey. Not when what she truly wanted was to step closer to him and take a better look.

  What would the harm be? He was sleeping quite soundly; she could hear his faint snore from where she stood. No one would ever know she’d been here. She certainly would never tell anyone she’d been here.

  Go on, Lorelei. Do it.

  Easing the door closed, she bit her lip, debating a few minutes more over the madness of moving closer to a sleeping lion.

  As was typical, her foolishness won out. Lorelei tiptoed across the room until she stood over him.

  Her heart pounded in fear and wonder, and something else she didn’t want to think about. Never had she seen any man so glorious.

  The curve of his shoulders highlighted his slee
k, strong muscles. His face was covered with the morning’s stubble and she yearned to trace it with her finger. Instinctively, her hand moved toward him and it was only the fear of waking him and being caught in this mischief that kept her from yielding to her desire. She clenched her hand into a fist and forced her arm to her side.

  Long legs extended over the edge of the bed and his feet dangled precariously into thin air, making her question how he could sleep so peacefully in such a state. Glancing up, she followed the curve of his biceps and the perfect muscles that formed his abdomen.

  How she ached for the courage to touch him.

  She looked back to his lean hips and the light golden hairs that covered his thighs and legs, then the darker curls that ran from his belly button and disappeared under the spread.

  What did the blanket conceal?

  Was it the same tiny, silly thing she’d seen on Justin?

  Surely not. For there was nothing tiny or silly about Jack Rhys.

  Too curious for her own good, she reached for the spread.

  Without warning, Jack shifted.

  Stifling a squeak, Lorelei darted across the room, horrified that he would awaken and catch her gawking at him like some depraved sneak-thief.

  Oh, she would never hear the end of this if he caught her peeking!

  But he didn’t wake, she realized after several terrifying seconds. Instead, he draped his arm over his eyes and continued to sleep on.

  Relieved, she took advantage of her sudden good fortune and quietly made her way from his room.

  Lorelei didn’t dare breathe again until she was safely tucked away in her own room with the door closed tightly behind her.

  She trembled all over. Never in her life had she seen anything as marvelous as Jack Rhys. He was the perfect male.

  Well, there would certainly be no portrait painting this morning. At least not until Jack put on some clothes, and even then she wasn’t sure if she could ever look at him again without her face bursting into flames. How on earth could she ever banish the image of all that skin…of his long eyelashes laying against his cheeks?

  Of…

  Oh, bother!

  Gathering up her sketch pad and charcoals, she decided she would take in some fresh air and practice the new cross-hatching technique Henri had shown her yesterday. That would take her mind off the captain.

  Maybe she’d sketch Billy, or Mavis and Alice while they worked. Yes, that would definitely distract her from the bronze skin and golden hair and other things a woman of gentle breeding should never think of.

  Jack came awake to the rude pounding of a pickax swinging viciously against his brain. Over and over it hit until he could scarcely open his eyes.

  Groaning, he shielded his gaze against the morning sun and damned himself for drinking so much. None of it had chased the wench from his thoughts.

  All it had done was make him want to strangle her for the new agony in his skull.

  You brought this on yourself, old man.

  He’d wanted to kill the fire in his groin and he had certainly succeeded. How could he possibly think of sex when his brain was being pulverized and his throat was drier than the Sahara in August?

  With a grimace, he pushed himself up.

  Ah hell, he thought to himself, why was he mad at her? ’Twas his own stupidity that had him headfirst in that barrel of ale last night.

  “Seduce her, Jack,” he mumbled to himself as he splashed cold water over his face, then sluiced it through his parched mouth.

  Aye, he’d get her all right and this time, he wouldn’t be dumb enough to let her escape.

  hours later, Lorelei frowned at her hand as if it were the betraying beast that caused all her problems.

  Well, it did, in part.

  Why couldn’t she capture that perfect shape of Jack’s back as he lay on his bed? The sun had just been peeking in and had highlighted his golden skin tone.

  She bit her lip and closed her eyes to concentrate. She could see it as plainly as if she were still in his room and yet every time she attempted to sketch it, it eluded her.

  You shouldn’t be sketching a man like this, her mind chastised her as she opened her eyes and bent her head to try yet again.

  But then, her reason argued back, great artists had done such since the beginning of time and if she truly wanted to learn how to sketch people, this was what she needed to do. Michelangelo had sculpted David, Botticelli painted Venus. There was nothing wrong with the human body so long as it was portrayed artistically. She was merely celebrating the form of Jack’s physique.

  Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.

  Methinks the lady doth protest too much.

  “Get out of my mind, Jack,” she whispered to the voice inside her head.

  Blowing a stray tendril of hair out of her face, she looked up. Henri and Billy were busy raising sails for speed, or at least that’s what they told her. Kesi, Mavis, and Alice were washing clothes while a few of the sailors would occasionally take buckets to the large barrel in the center of the deck to be filled with wash water for the decks.

  “What are you doing?”

  She turned to her left to see Kit approaching too fast for comfort. Embarrassed, she quickly shuffled the page where Jack was lying partially clothed beneath her sketch of Alice. Heaven forbid Kit should see what she was up to.

  “Just working on a few sketches.”

  “Oh,” he said, looking terribly crestfallen.

  “What are you about, Mr. Kit?”

  He shrugged his thin shoulders and dragged one foot in a pretend line before him. “Well, I wanted to help with the sails,” he said, glancing to where Billy was. “But Billy won’t let me. Next I tried to help make ropes with the hemp, but Bart said I’d just make a mess of it. I went to the galley to talk to Peter, and he said he didn’t have time. I guess you’re busy, too.”

  How she remembered those endless days of childhood. ’Twas the one thing she hated most about being an only child. Grown-ups were forever off doing their business while she would spend hours alone playing dolls and tea.

  “I’m not particularly busy.” She looked to the knife and piece of half-carved wood in his right hand. “Are you making a soldier?”

  “You can tell?” he asked, his face a study of amazement as he immediately perked up.

  Before she could say anything, Kit ran to a small box not far away and brought it over to her. Meticulously, he pulled out tiny wooden soldiers and lined them up into two groups.

  “I made all of these.” He pointed to one group. “They’re the Regulars.”

  His voice spoke his thoughts loudly.

  “The bad guys?” she asked, hiding the humor in her voice.

  “Always.” Then he handed her five soldiers. “These are the pirates. I did this one to look like Henri.”

  Lorelei studied the one he referred to. It was probably five and one-half inches tall and so intricately carved that it was breathtaking. She could even see the individual hairs of Henri’s beard. It was a stunning likeness.

  She looked at the others. “This one must be your father,” she said, indicating the pirate that looked most like Jack.

  “Exactly!” he beamed.

  “You know,” Lorelei said, as she put four of them down on the deck and kept the Jack pirate in her hand. “We could use some of my paint to paint them.”

  “Really? Henri never would let me have any. He said I’d just waste it.”

  “I don’t think it would be a waste. Let’s have fun, shall we?”

  Jack cursed as he came on deck and the sun hit him full in his swollen eyes.

  “Are you all right, Captain Jack?” Kesi asked from his left, where she stood washing clothes.

  “I’m dead,” he said, his voice hoarse. “At least I wish I was.”

  Alice wiped her hands off on her white cotton apron and approached him. A smile hovered on the edges of her mouth, but she had the sense to stifle it. “I’ll go get you something for the pain.
”

  “An executioner and his ax would help.”

  She ignored his words and headed toward the galley. Pressing his fingers against the throb in his temples, Jack walked along the deck, taking in the day’s activities and waiting for Tarik to join him with the report.

  He was halfway across the deck before he caught sight of Lorelei, on her knees with her back to him. She was bent over low, giving him a most pleasant view of her rear. Aye, the soft yellow cambric curved around her and brought a new stinging pain to his loins.

  Renewing his curse, he started to turn away, but caught the sound of her laughter.

  “If you do that, you might kill one of them,” she said.

  Jack frowned. What the devil was she talking about?

  “We’ll just use a little powder in the lock,” Kit said. “It should just be enough to blow it open.”

  “But you would blow off a leg.”

  “Naw. It’ll just leave a bit of a scar. The captain did it when Wayward Hayes captured him in Jamaica and he’s still got his arms.”

  Jack smiled at the pride in Kit’s voice. The hint of laughter in the youthful tone.

  Lorelei had been right. He did love the boy dearly.

  How could he not? Kit was everything he had ever wanted to be as a child—innocent, kind, and most of all loving. Fate had denied him those luxuries and he’d be damned before he let anything tarnish Kit’s smile.

  “I think your father was merely making up tales to amuse you, Kit,” Lorelei said as she finished painting a wooden soldier that looked like Henri.

  His gaze darkened in jealous anger.

  Kit lifted his chin, his green eyes snapping fire. “It’s the truth. Tarik was there, you can ask him.”

  “Don’t be angry with me,” she said in the kind of loving, indulgent tone a mother would use—the kind of tone his own mother had never used with him. “I know for a fact that your father is brave and honest.”

  “And terribly handsome,” Jack added.

  Lorelei turned around with a gasp. Closing her mouth, her gaze narrowed. “Terribly conceited. That one I’ll grant.”