by Becky Lower
He dropped his hand from hers, immediately noticing how the heat that had been emanating from her changed to a cold blast of air. She blinked several times, then her blue eyes grew steely as she made her way to the cigar drawer. Daniel drew in a couple deep gulps of air and wiped his brow. That had been way too close. Admittedly, both of them had heightened emotions. Nothing beat navigating through a wicked storm and nearly losing one of the crew to make you aware of your own mortality. But nothing good could be gained from admitting Pippa Worthington had wrapped him around her little thumb as tightly as she wrapped her bosom every day. He was certain she’d placed many a man under her spell in the ballrooms of London, before him. He needed to stay his own course. As soon as he figured out where he was, both literally and figuratively.
• ♥ •
Pippa spent the next few days anticipating the captain’s every need and staying close to Ben. He had bounced back quicker than she thought possible from his near drowning, but Pippa could tell he was straining with a lot of his chores, so she attempted to lighten some of his load.
“You’ve become my little shadow, boy.” Ben's shirt stretched over his shoulder muscles as he hoisted a sail.
“The captain doesn’t need my help all day. Just at mealtimes. So I needed something to do to make the time go by faster.” Pippa squirmed under her own shirt. She’d hated taking off the captain’s shirt and putting her own coarse one back on, but she couldn’t very well explain to the captain or the crew how wearing the shirt that carried his manly scent made her feel more safe. When it wasn’t unnerving her, that is. That locked cabinet in the captain’s quarters was driving her mad with curiosity. Just as the captain was driving her mad in a completely different way. “Besides, I’d rather be on deck than have to clean his cabin like I did a few days ago.”
Ben barked out a laugh. “Cap’n does appreciate a tidy ship.”
“Well, he’ll have no complaints about his cabin. I cleaned every square meter of the place so well it hurts the eye when the sun bounces off the wood.” Pippa’s lungs expanded, and she stood taller as she coiled rope.
“Good on ya, lad.”
“There was one place I couldn’t get to, though. The captain locked the door to the small cabinet. What does he keep there that’s so important it has to be under lock and key?” Pippa tried to keep her voice light. As if she was only making conversation, and not really all that interested. But she held her breath, waiting for Ben’s response.
He didn’t answer right away, and Pippa feared she’d gone too far. She slowly inhaled and stood quietly while Ben tied off the rope of the sail. The cloth immediately filled with air and snapped as it caught the wind and the ship lurched forward. She leaned closer to Ben, waiting for his response.
“He’s in the employ of the British government, and carries letters back and forth, as well as men and supplies. Whatever the captain keeps in his cabinet is of no concern to you. Keep yer nose out of it.” Ben glared at her and stalked away.
His answer only heightened her curiosity. But she would get no answers today. At least, not from Ben. She stopped at the galley to gather up some food for lunch and let herself into the cabin. Even though the captain had been impervious to her charms the first time he caught her with her shirt off, maybe she should make another attempt. His comforting actions on the day of the storm were almost seductive. Perhaps he had finally come to the realization she wouldn’t reject an advance from him. She’d toy with him, seduce him with her considerable attributes and he’d reveal all his secrets before she’d withdraw, keeping her virginity intact. It was worthy of consideration. She munched on a wedge of salty cheese as she wandered around the small space. Maybe before she seduced him, she should find out his name.
He was Captain. That was the only information she had on him. Oh, and he had a dead wife, presumably, and a daughter somewhere in Boston. The men who’d succumbed to her wit and beauty in the ballrooms of London were all well known to her. She’d memorized the lineage of each one before she set foot in a room. How else could she determine who to ply with her wit and charm and who would be a colossal waste of time? If her father hadn’t interfered with her season by offering her in marriage to a man who was as old as Methuselah, she’d still be in the midst of things instead of on this ship bound for a country at war with her homeland. With this man, of whom she was privy to very little. Perhaps the best course of action was not seduction. Perhaps she should keep her breasts bound and find out more about him as he would appear on dry land. In America. On the rowdy streets of Boston. If she could gain more of his background, she could decide whether he’d be worthy of her time once they landed. Although, he was her only ally right now. Her stomach quivered as she contemplated herself on those same turbulent streets. Could she survive there for a year? With the enemy around every corner?
Because that’s the way she thought of the Americans. They were in the midst of a war against the mighty British forces, with centuries of military training behind them. These upstart Americans might even be foiled before her year was over.
The one upstart American she was acquainted with was about to enter the room. His footsteps clattered outside the door and she pivoted to face him. She had questions, and he had answers. The fact those answers emanated from the finest pair of lips she’d ever encountered should be of little concern to her. Even as she had that thought, she wondered if his lips would feel soft against her own. They had been so close to her a few days ago. She’d licked her own lips and closed her eyes, expecting him to close the gap. Instead, he patted her cheek as if she were a twelve-year-old boy and congratulated her on a job well done. If she’d been the kind of woman to dissolve into a fit of vapors, she certainly would have. Instead, she’d taken a step away from the heat emanating from him.
There would be no more close calls. At least, not until she got some much-needed answers. Starting with his name.
CHAPTER NINE
Pippa undid a couple of buttons on her shirt and stood as tall as she could when the captain entered the cabin. He glanced at her with a raised brow. Well, there’d be more than a raised brow before she finished. She took a shallow breath as her gaze skewered him. "Since we’re getting close to Boston, and I will no longer be able to call you Captain once we're on solid ground, it’s about time you tell me your name, don’t you agree?"
He took a step further into the room. “Here I thought you had something important to discuss.” His smirk, the one that drove her crazy, appeared. She had a sudden urge to slap it from his face. To kiss it from his face. She took a step toward him but kept her hand to her side.
“This is important. To me, anyway. You’ve been privy to my full name for weeks now. It’s high time you return the favor.” She took a step closer to him and could smell the salty air that was so much a part of the man’s scent. Her nose twitched at his familiar odor, and she fought against inhaling sharply. That would only make her dizzy, and she had no wish to act like a swooning debutante in front of him. At least not until she found out who he was.
He stared at her for so long she forgot the question. Her gaze slipped from his blue eyes to his full bottom lip and back again before he answered. She took another step toward him. They were as close as they’d been the other day. This time, she wouldn’t let him off the hook. At least, not before divulging a secret or two. The man had too many of them.
She stared into those blue eyes that reminded her of the sky over the Atlantic and didn’t waver. Except for the gulp of air she had to take. She could feel his gaze scorching a path down her cheek, on her lips, her eyes. She popped open another shirt button to cool her body.
“Daniel.”
His whisper rode into her senses. What was left of them, at any rate. What had he said?
“Wha—What?”
He nodded and raised a hand to caress her cheek. “That’s my name. Daniel.”
His thumb brushed over her lips and she opened her mouth, taking his thumb between her teeth and sucki
ng gently before she grazed her teeth over his callused digit. She nearly laughed at his audible intake of breath and the quick departure of his thumb. Yet, he held her cheek firmly in his grasp, so she leaned in and kissed that lower lip that had been driving her insane for weeks before she backed out of his grasp.
“All right, Captain Daniel. Don’t make me beg. What is your surname?”
He had a dazed expression on his face. Pippa breathed a bit easier. She hadn’t lost her touch with men. He might consider himself an American, but he really was no different from the British men of the Ton over whom she’d held sway for the past few years. Still, this particular man intrigued her in a way none of the Ton had been able to do. He was rugged rather than soft, tanned from the sun rather than pasty, muscled rather than puny. American, rather than British.
“Do I need to ask again, Daniel?”
He blinked and shook his head. “You have no need for any-thing more.”
She sauntered back to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I prefer to be privy to the full names of the men who kiss me.” Her lips brushed his again. Soft as a baby's backside. Just as she thought.
She could feel his shoulders bunch under her arms as he raised his hands to grasp her. He unhooked her arms from his neck and backed off a step as he pinned her with his gaze. “Button your shirt back up, Pip. You don’t want the men to see your binding. Because the only thing worse than a storm at sea is to have a woman on board.”
He fled from the room, wide-eyed, as if she were Medusa and her hair had just transformed into snakes. She stomped her foot. When that wasn’t enough, she kicked over a chair. Damn the man anyway. Daniel-whoever-he-was.
• ♥ •
Pippa placed the food from the galley onto a plate and took it to the captain’s quarters, in preparation for her next round of questions. At least he wouldn’t be able to find fault with her discharging her duties. He made a beeline for the plate the minute he entered the room. Didn’t even grunt a greeting. So, if this opening salvo was any sign, Pippa would have to fight for every last morsel of knowledge if she were to be privy to anything else. She raised her head and glared at him. He didn’t even notice since his head hovered over the plate as he shoveled food into his mouth. Through those soft, splendid lips. Damn the man!
She took a seat next to him and waited for his immediate appetite to be appeased. Weaving her fingers together, she sat quietly for a few minutes. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she waited for him. Finally, his plate was clean, and he lifted his gaze. One lock of his dark hair fell over his brow, as it always did when he was hurried and his blue eyes snapped at her. Pippa kept her fingers laced to keep from leaning over and brushing his hair back. From kissing him again.
“What?” He glared at her.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes, you did. Maybe not with your mouth, but by now, I can tell when you’re angry. So what?” His gaze covered her face, lingering for a long moment on her own lips.
She controlled the impulse to lick said lips. There would be no more of that nonsense, but from the hesitation on his part, she thought she maybe had the advantage, here. At least, for the moment. “What is your last name? Once we leave the ship, I can’t keep calling you Cap’n. Or Cap’n Daniel.”
“That’s what you’re so angry about?”
“Even Ben wouldn’t tell me who you really are.” She shoved the chair away from the table and got to her feet.
“Perhaps he doesn’t have the answer. Did that ever cross your mind?” The captain rose, as well, and rounded the table, peering into her eyes. She could sense his anger rising in unison with hers. She'd gone toe-to-toe with some of the most notorious rakes in London at the debutante balls. The captain was no match. She lowered her gaze and peered at him through her lashes. The technique had cowed the most outrageous of men.
He closed in on her. She took a step back, suddenly short of breath. Damnation. She wasn’t asking for much, only a last name to attach to him. She raised her head and met his gaze. They stared at each other for a long minute.
“I’ve already told you my name is Daniel. That’s sufficient.”
Pippa smiled her seductive smile. At least it had been seductive in London. “But I need a last name. And the answer to the question I’ve had since I boarded. Who the bloody hell is Gladys Maria?”
He took another step forward, and she had to back up. The wall brushed up against her backside. The wall holding the cabinet with more of this man's secrets. Could she charm the key from him? Pry his secrets from him? So far, he'd only parted with his first name, and that was begrudgingly. And his gaze hovered once again on her lips, which tingled under his inspection. She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him and instead gave into her impulse to brush his lock of hair from his forehead. He lowered his head as she ran her fingers through his dark hair, his gaze never wavering. She rose on her toes to meet his lips. Only a millimeter away. So close, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Her entire body matched her tingling lips, and she wrapped a hand around the back of his head, tugging him closer.
He recoiled from her embrace and stepped back, breaking the spell.
“You don’t need my last name, Pip. And don’t let me hear you refer to me as Daniel while we’re on board this ship. I’m Cap’n here.” He pivoted on his worn boot and dashed from the room.
Pippa slumped against the wall. So close, yet so far away. She craved his touch, drawn to him as if he were a magnet and she a piece of metal. Her body pulsed with frustration as her heart rate slowed back to its normal pace.
Daniel.
Perhaps she didn’t have the advantage she had thought.
And he still had his secrets. Damnation.
• ♥ •
On his mad dash away from Pippa, Daniel’s thoughts scattered like a passel of startled cats. What had the little vixen been up to? She nearly seduced him. Again. She certainly had stolen his ability to put two sane sentences together. It wasn’t so much he didn’t want to reveal his last name. It was just, when he got so close to her he could catch her earthy scent and his gaze fixated on her beautifully formed lips that were so ripe for kissing, he couldn’t remember what his name was. What her question had been. It was a wonder he could squeak out his first name, Daniel, to her.
She was too close; the journey was taking too long. Maybe he should let her bunk with the rest of the crew instead of in his room. Because, if tonight was any indication, she’d be in his bed, under him, while he pumped into her, within an hour.
When Daniel emerged on deck, he got control of his breathing, if not his thoughts. He scrubbed his face and glanced over the water. He loved being on the ocean at night. The vastness, the quiet, usually stilled his mind. He counted on it tonight. He gazed skyward. Even without a sextant, he could tell by the position of the moon that the ship was back on course.
He strode to the crewman, Patrick, who was at the helm, and took over the wheel. Patrick rolled his shoulders. “How far off course did that wicked storm blow us, Cap’n? Are we about to end up in South Carolina?”
Daniel enjoyed the Irish lilt in Patrick’s voice. Much easier on the ears than a proper English accent, like the one that emerged from Pippa’s mouth. He flicked his gaze over the burly man standing beside him.
“We got a ways off course, but thanks to your steering, we’re nearly back on line now, unless the moon is lying.” Daniel nodded at the orb in the sky.
Patrick squinted up at the nearly full moon. “When do you reckon we’ll see land?”
“Four or five more days would be my guess.” Daniel put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Head below and get some sleep.”
“Aye. I can use some shut-eye. Good night, Cap’n.”
Four or five more days.
He could control his more base feelings for four or five days, couldn’t he? After all, he’d not defiled his wife’s memory by taking another so far. Four long years it had been, since he laid her in the groun
d. He gritted his teeth. What were four more days?
Instead of filling his head with images of Pippa in his bed, their legs entwined as they explored each other’s body, he thought of home. He’d deliver Pippa to her uncle along with the secret documents stashed away in his locked cabinet. He didn’t need the documents to be aware of what was coming from the British side of things. They were sending over more ships and men since the rebellious Americans weren’t giving up easily. The message he was to deliver to the major was to prepare for a thousand more men.
As soon as he could break away from the ship and the British officer, he would deliver the news to his best friend from childhood, Sam. Samuel Adams headed up a rag-tag force of men called the Sons of Liberty, who were fighting the British by any means possible. Daniel would continue to straddle a fine line between the British and the Americans as long as he could.
When the outbreak boiled over two years ago, he helped Sam and his friends dump tea into the Boston harbor, and thought it great fun but yet serious business. He had no idea at the time it would escalate this long conflict, which had been brewing for years. His wife had been killed in the streets by an errant British gunshot as she was buying food for her family, and Daniel’s heart had turned to stone. As compensation for his loss, he accepted the job offered by the British military of running supplies from England to America to support the British troops. If some of those supplies made their way to the Sons of Liberty instead of the British strongholds, so much the better.
Daniel brushed away the damp from his face. He seldom got emotional any more about the loss of his wife. He blamed Pippa for stirring his dormant emotions to the point he'd gotten to tonight. Yes, he could last four or five more days. Then, he’d be rid of her and his heart would turn back into the blackened stone it had been before she set foot on his ship. With any luck, they’d never see each other again once he tied up in Boston.
