Defiant: 5 (Noble Passions)

by Sabrina York

  “Would you like us to leave?” Ned asked. Manners demanded he do so.

  “Oh God, no. You two are my kind of men. We can talk and drink all night without worry of offending a tender spirit.” He grinned. “I refer, of course, to Wrotham. Prim bugger, ain’t he?”

  Ned shrugged. It was hard to tell since he hadn’t said much.

  But apparently MacDougal didn’t require an answer of any kind. He lifted his cup. “Andrew. Boy! Come give us a refill,” he called to his cabin boy.

  “Yes sir.”

  The voice was low and gruff but it sent a shiver through Ned’s bowels…because he recognized it. His head whipped up and he looked at the cabin boy. Really looked.

  On the face of it, he was a slender lad with raggedly chopped blond hair, baggy clothes and a scruffy face beneath a pulled-down cap. But if one knew what one was looking for, one would see it.

  The bluer than blue eyes, thick dark lashes, high cheekbones.

  But it was the dent in her chin that gave Sophia away.

  Ned stared at her as horror curled through his gut. Horror that she was here, posing as a cabin boy, for sure. Horror at what Ewan would say when she turned up missing, or what he would do when she turned up missing with him.

  However, the true horror making him want to lose the meal he’d just eaten was the unspeakable tragedy, the appalling fact that Sophia St. Andrews had chopped off all her hair.

  Chapter Four

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He tried to quell the panic in his voice as he shot to his feet. He failed.

  She did not answer. Merely fixed those limpid eyes on him and batted her lashes. Batted. Her. Lashes.

  His horror was replaced by raging fury. And fear. A hard, cold fear he hadn’t felt since Edward took them in off the streets. Did she not know how dangerous it was for a girl, a girl as beautiful as she, on a ship filled with bawdy men? Did she not realize the peril she was in?

  And not just from the randy tars on this ship.

  She was in danger from him. His palm itched to give her a walloping she would never forget. He longed to bend her over his knee.

  MacDougal glanced from one to the other. “Do you know him?” he asked.

  “Indeed I do.” Ned shot a frown at Percy. “Could you give us a moment of privacy, please?” MacDougal had to be told about this dangerous cargo he carried, had to be convinced to turn this ship around at once, but Ned did not care to share the truth of Sophia’s identity with all and sundry.

  Percy, the ass that he was, grinned and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “No,” he said. “I think not.”

  Ned was possessed of the urge to kick the legs out from under him. For one thing, how rude. And for another, he did not like the way Percy’s assessing gaze was raking his…raking Sophia.

  MacDougal tossed back his drink and gestured for another. Ned frowned. The man had had too much already in Ned’s estimation. He was the captain of the ship, for pity sake. They were heading into a squall. He should be stone-cold sober. Aside from which, the thought of Sophia in the presence of a drunk MacDougal turned his blood to ice.

  “Well, I fail to see the problem,” he said with a casual grin.

  Ned’s fingers curled as he resisted the urge to pound it off his face. “You fail to see the problem?”

  “Yes,” the captain said as Sophia refilled his glass. “The boy came with a letter of introduction from the McCloud himself.”

  Ned narrowed his eyes at Sophia. “Oh really?”

  She nodded.

  It didn’t help.

  “I’ll wager it was forged.”

  Her shoulder lifted in an unrepentant apology.

  “Forged?” MacDougal wiped his face with a broad palm. “Why do you say that?”

  Ned collapsed in his chair. His knees would no longer hold him. He did not cease glaring at Sophia, which, unaccountably, seemed to amuse her. “Because your boy is not a boy.”

  “What?”

  “Your boy is a girl.”

  MacDougal paled. His gaze shot to Sophia. “No.”

  “It gets worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “She is the McCloud’s sister.”

  MacDougal’s throat worked. His lips flapped. And then, finally, “Fuck me. Oh. Fuck me.”

  Percy chortled. “Famous!”

  Ned glowered at him. And then at her. “What were you thinking, Sophia?”

  She tipped up her chin. “What do you think I was thinking?”

  “Stop playing games.”

  Her grin evaporated. She leaned on the table and glared at him. “Oh, this is no game, Ned. He was going to force me to marry Dittenham.”

  “He wouldn’t have.”

  “Bah. You hardly know him. When he gets that look in his eye… I would have been Lady Dittenham in a fortnight. And smelling of fish.”

  “Dittenham does rather smell of fish,” Percy said somberly.

  Sophia nodded her thanks to Percy and then had the gall to smile at him. It sent shivers up Ned’s spine. He growled at Percy and then whipped back to her. He waggled his finger, though it reminded him of Edward. Reminded him he’d sworn never to waggle like that. “Your brother must be beside himself.”

  “I left a note.”

  “A note?” His voice warbled in the soprano of an exotic bird. “What did it say?”

  She tapped her lips, making him antsy. The sight of her finger, her lips—

  “What did it say?”

  “Don’t bark, Ned. There’s no need to be rude.”

  “What. Did. The. Note. Say?” he ground out between his teeth.

  “It said something along the lines of…I don’t care to smell of fish. Although who would, really?”

  “Did you tell him where you were going?”

  “Heavens, no!” She sputtered a laugh. “He would have followed.”

  “Damn straight he would have followed.” And dragged her back—

  His thoughts stalled as he realized, all of a sudden, the import of what had happened. She was here. With him. Alone.

  Well, not precisely alone, but neither Ewan nor Edward were here.

  And he hadn’t lost her forever. Not yet.

  An inappropriate excitement fluttered in his breast.

  No. No. No.

  He wasn’t good enough for her, he reminded himself.

  That was the issue. Not propinquity.

  That and the fact she was not safe.

  “We shall turn back at once,” MacDougal said. He had gone a trifle pale.

  Sophia blew out a sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re halfway to Italy.”

  MacDougal glared at her. “How do you know where we are?”

  She gestured to the charts on the desk. “I can read.”

  “Really?” Percy perked up. “You can read charts?”

  “Naturally.”

  Again she smiled at him and he smiled back and, without thought, Ned did kick the legs out from beneath his chair. He fell back with a thud. Sophia shot Ned a reproving look and tsked.

  “We’re going back.” MacDougal scraped at his beard with his nails as though he might want to rip it off. “But in the meantime…” His gaze rounded the table and landed on Ned. “Where shall she sleep?”

  “Sleep? Where has she been sleeping?”

  MacDougal went a little green and waved to a hammock swinging in the corner.

  Ned’s belly dropped. His vision blurred. His fists clenched tighter. He glared at MacDougal. “With you?” he spat.

  “I dinna know!” Like a trapped rat, he cast about for some escape. “She’s nae sleeping here now.”

  “She can sleep with me,” Percy offered.

  Ned had no idea how his hands came to be around Percy’s throat. His friend’s croaked “only kidding” brought Ned ’round before he choked the life from him, but barely.

  “Don’t even joke about it,” Ned snarled.

  “All right. All right. Let me go.”

  Ned did. Perc
y collapsed onto the floor.

  “She will have to sleep with you,” MacDougal said.

  Ned whirled around, trepidation flaring. “What?”

  “It only makes sense. You’re her relation.”

  Horror. Utter horror.

  “We’re only related by marriage,” he growled and then winced as Sophia flinched at his tone.

  “I can sleep with the men,” she said. “There’s plenty of room down below.”

  “No.” Three male voices croaked in tandem.

  “She will sleep with you, Wyeth,” MacDougal said. “And that’s final.” When Ned shot him a panicked look, he shrugged. “It’s only for three nights.” But it was a thin consolation.

  Ned walked Sophia back to his room, annoyed that he was shaking. He wasn’t sure what upset him more. The stark reality of what she’d done, the fear churning in his gut or his lust. How he was going to sleep for the next three nights with her so close was a mystery.

  Well, no. It wasn’t.

  He wouldn’t sleep.

  Not a wink.

  He opened the door and pushed her in. She stopped in her tracks. Her nose wrinkled. “What is that smell?”

  He pushed her deeper into the room. “Never mind.” The last thing he wanted to admit right now was his humiliation in the face of the churning sea.

  Though it seemed he didn’t need to admit it. Sophia was a clever girl. She worked it out for herself. “Have you been ill? Is that why I haven’t seen you on the decks?”

  He stared at her. “You’ve been on the decks?”

  “Of course I have.” She tossed her head in that way she had. The way that would send her curls bobbing. If she had some. Another wave of remorse for those silver locks swept through him. Ewan was going to kill her for that alone.

  On the positive side, the prince would probably no longer want her. She looked enough like a boy to pass as one. If he hadn’t known her, he might have been fooled.

  “It was wonderful,” she said with an impish grin. “I climbed the mainsa’l.”

  His heart stuttered. The thought of Sophia high on the mast, clinging to a thin rope, horrified him. “You climbed the mainsa’l?”

  “That’s what they call it, you know. The mainsa’l. I could see forever. The wind whipping past. It was glorious.”

  “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Ned, you better sit down. You don’t look well.”

  “Sophia—”

  She put out a lip. “You’re starting to sound just like Ewan.”

  Hell and damnation. He was beginning to understand Ewan, that raging look of dread in his eyes, his incessant warbling.

  He grabbed an extra blanket from the bed and threw himself into the chair. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep here.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t sleep on that chair. You’ll fall over.”

  “I’ll survive.” He dragged his trunk over and propped his feet on it and then tried to make himself comfortable. He covered himself with the blanket. Would that he could hide. “When you’re ready, blow out the lamp.”

  It swung above the bed on a hook, casting eerie shadows. She frowned at him but did so, and with that puff the shadows were gobbled up by pitch black.

  Ned shivered as he listened to her nestling into the bed. The sound of the sheets and covers raked on his nerves. She would be warm and soft to sleep next to. He scuttled the thought as his cock rose.

  Damn it all to hell anyway. What had he ever done to deserve this? Bad enough they had to sleep in the same cramped room but to have to listen to her—rustling about and breathing—wanting her as he did. It was torture to be sure.

  He reminded himself this was the best solution. Now that MacDougal knew she was a woman, there was no way he could allow her to stay in his room. And Percy—well, that did not bear thinking about. They could have asked Billingsly to move out, he supposed, and let Sophia sleep with Prudence, but that thought made his gut clench as well.

  This was the best option by far. For everyone. Everyone but him.

  At least he could keep an eye on her.

  Or so he thought until he sputtered awake hours later to find her gone.

  * * * * *

  Sophia stood on the bow of the boat in the dark as the wind and rain lashed her face. She loved it. Loved it. Not only was the storm elemental and fierce, it hid her tears.

  Surely she hadn’t expected Ned to greet her with open arms. Not when she had barged in on his adventure as she had. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to be so horrid. His expression had devastated her.

  Foolish girl, it said.

  But then her heart agreed.

  She was foolish.

  Foolish to ever think that he—

  “You’re soaked.”

  She whirled around though she knew what she’d see. More glowering.

  She was right.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m reveling.” She thrust out her chin in case he didn’t believe her.

  He gaped at her. “Reveling?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t mean to shout but his wintry demeanor annoyed her tremendously. She threw out her arms. “Look at this!”

  “It’s a storm.”

  “It’s beautiful. The waves are wild, untamed—”

  “You could be swept overboard.”

  “The wind is howling and the rain is savage. It’s glorious.”

  “It’s freezing. Come inside.”

  “It’s not freezing. It’s summer.”

  “I’m cold.”

  “Then you go inside.”

  “Sophia Fiona—”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “It’s your name.”

  “You sound like Ewan.”

  “I’m starting to think Ewan is a saint.”

  She glared at him. “What a beastly thing to say.” She hated that her chin wobbled a little. Hated that he winced.

  “I’m sorry, Sophia. This has been trying for me.” He sluiced the water from his face. “Won’t you please come inside?”

  “All right. Fine.”

  “You will?”

  “You did say please.”

  He blew out a breath and offered her his arm.

  She frowned at it. “I’m a cabin boy, remember? You don’t offer a cabin boy your arm.” When he didn’t lower it, she smacked it. “Someone will see.”

  That caught his attention and he slowly lowered his arm. “Right, then. Come inside.” He followed her back to the cabin, his stride decidedly unsteady. If anyone was tipping overboard, it was most likely him.

  When she once again stood in his chambers, she realized the folly of her actions. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes and she was drenched. So was he. Without a word, he relit the lamp and then opened his trunk and pulled out several shirts, two of which he tossed to her. “Change.”

  That was it. One word. Just “change” and then he presented her with his back. She huffed a breath but did as he asked because she was really rather cold. The feel of the cloth falling over her chilled flesh warmed her. Because it was his shirt. It had touched his skin. She wasn’t sure why the thought sent heat scudding through her belly.

  “Use the other shirt to dry your hair,” he suggested as he began toweling off as well.

  She huffed a laugh. “All of your clothes will be wet.”

  “They’ll dry. Are you clothed?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned. And froze. His gaze locked onto her bare legs. “I-I thought you said you were clothed.” A squawk.

  “I am.” But the intensity of his stare made her self-conscious so she slipped into the bed.

  “Close your eyes,” he said as he unbuttoned the damp linen clinging to his chest.

  “Why?”

  “I need to change as well. I’m f-freezing.”

  “All right.” She did. But she peeped.

  He ripped off his wet shirt and her breath caught at the sight of his broad back. Muscl
es rippled as he moved and she swallowed. He was beautiful. He tugged the fresh shirt over his head and she nearly whimpered as that magnificent vision disappeared. But then he unfastened his trousers.

  All pretense of not peeping evaporated.

  He sat and took a moment to work off his boots. And then he stood. His trousers were tight, as was the fashion, and he had to peel them off. As he bent, she caught a flash of his bare behind.

  She must have made a noise because he whirled around.

  His cheek bunched when he saw her watching. “You’re supposed to have your eyes closed.”

  She hunkered in the covers as though that would disguise the fact that her eyes were open wide.

  “Sophia…”

  It was probably wrong to grin at him but she couldn’t help it.

  “Sophia Fiona!”

  “Stop calling me that. It always makes me think I’m in trouble.”

  “You are in trouble. You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “We both know Ewan will be so relieved to see me he’ll forget how angry he is—”

  Ned stilled and fixed her with a dark glare. “What makes you think I’m talking about Ewan?”

  “I…ah…”

  “I’ve a mind to bend you over my knee.”

  Why a shiver rippled through her, she had no idea. She’d been spanked once or twice as a child and she hadn’t cared for it in the slightest. But something dark and domineering in Ned’s tone made her womb warm.

  “You—you wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t I? Now look away. Your brother would skewer me if I gave you the education you’re about to have.”

  She attempted not to snort. Ned—and everyone—thought her a prim and innocent miss on account of the polish she’d acquired at Lady Satterlee’s. Nothing could be further from the truth. As a child, before Ewan had made his fortune, they’d lived a hand-to-mouth existence in the slums of Perth. She’d seen more than one couple rutting against a wall in a dingy alleyway. And at one point she and her brother had taken refuge in a bordello. She’d been only seven, but if she’d had an education, she’d gotten it there. She could probably teach Ned a few things.

  Still, because he seemed to expect it, she squeezed her eyes tight and didn’t hardly peep at all as he finished changing. Besides which, the spot she was interested in was mostly shadows.