“That flag, my dear, is my own, and no, I wasn’t aware that piracy had gone out of fashion. Of course, I fancy myself more of a buccaneer, or if you like, up until a few years ago, you could have called me a privateer, or a corsair. I sailed for Great Britain and attacked as many bloody enemy ships as I could.
“My crews did quite a good job at unnerving the enemy by stealing their cargo, and driving fear into their hearts. After the battle of Trafalgar, my superiors decided that my skills at sea would be better served if I sailed in grey waters, if you will. They wanted me to cause as much chaos for the enemy as I possibly could, while not having the same limitations that Royal Navy Ships had.
“All in all, I rather think I was quite proficient at the task, as my exploits made my superiors quite happy. I was even commended by the Prince Regent. I fly that flag now to strike fear into the hearts of those who would do me harm. I made quite a few enemies during the Napoleonic Wars,” he sighed heavily. “Enemies and friends, and from both of those groups I lost quite a bit as well.”
“If the Royal Navy or American Navy caught us with that blasphemous contraption flying in the wind, you would all be hanged.”
“They’d have to catch me first, and while the Americans might have blood in their eyes when it comes to me, as I rather did cause them a fair bit of mischief during the Wars, the British wouldn’t dare hang me. I have some pull there even now. And besides, we are nearly out of American waters. Not only that, but they’d be hard pressed to go up against my ships.” He waved his hand carelessly to the horizon. At his gesture, she finally noticed the ships that sailed around them. She had been too preoccupied with thoughts of her sour stomach to pay much heed to anything else.
“God Almighty,” she gasped, pressing her hand to her cheek.
Each and every one of the ships was fully outfitted. Gun cannons lined every inch of the ship, and made them ever ready for a rip-roaring sea battle. Most of them had either belonged to the British, American, French or Spanish, at one point in time.
“You stole not only my ship but those as well!” She couldn’t believe her own eyes. He was a thief of the foulest sort.
“Actually, I didn’t. All of those ships were purchased with my own coin. But they are my ships now, and not suitable for resale, as I’ve made a few tweaks to them that are quite unorthodox. As for my pirating ways, I usually do my business in the Mediterranean, and I do my bloody best to ruffle those who are in the slave trading business there,” he chuckled dryly.
For the first time, she noticed that he had former slaves on his ship. She was about to ask him the question on the tip of her tongue, when he answered for her. “All of the men on my ship are free. Seamus was a bond slave, working far past the agreed upon time. I liberated him from that miserable existence, and he’s proved invaluable since then.”
What was wrong with her? His tales were romancing her, making her view him as a dashing hero…and in a way, he was a hero. He’d been a hero to all of the men on his ship that he had freed. He might be a hero like the sort she would find in a book, but he was also quite dangerous. Dangerous to others…and more importantly, dangerous to her.
She shouldn’t be attracted to such a dangerous man, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The only way she was going to survive him, was to flee from him, as soon as possible.
“I highly doubt that you paid for those ships. You are not an honourable man. You did, after all, steal my own vessel.”
“You are quite lucky, miss, that I am accustomed to dealing with mercurial women. You are very fortunate, that I am used to humouring a women’s temperament, and realizing that there are is a great chasm between us when it comes to physical strength, or I would have taken you into my arms and shaken the life out of you when you insulted my honour. You are also quite lucky that I adhere to the code of Chivalry. I might be a great many things, and you can call me any name you might wish to conjure to your tongue, but don’t ever, ever, insult my honour again, do you understand?” She nodded her head. “As for stealing this ship, I didn’t so much as steal it, as I commandeered it.”
“Is that what you’re doing with me?” Glaring at him, she roughly shoved the teacup back into his hands. “Are you commandeering me?” Fury soon overtook the churning in her stomach.
“No, I’m kidnapping you. Miss Elizabeth you must start listening to me. I am a plainly spoken man, I do not wish for you to read my mind. I am stealing you away. I make no bones about it. So, please, do get used to it.”
“For what purpose? If you want a ransom, then I’ll obtain it for you when we reach England. I’m sure that you’d be more than willing to take me to the banks in London.”
“Actually, I haven’t taken you captive for the ransom, though I daresay, the reward would benefit me greatly. However, it wouldn’t be nearly enough.”
“I would make you a rich man, and with riches, comes power.”
“And yet, I lust over neither. I have power as you see,” he calmly said gesturing to his ships, “Besides, I lust over something more elusive. I yearn for revenge and through my revenge, I shall have my happiness,” he said, pinning her with those intense blue eyes of his. “What I have in mind, will bring me happiness, both monetary, and emotionally.”
“And what, pray tell, do you have in mind?”
“I’m going to force you to marry me.”
She laughed at first, believing him to be in jest. But her laugh gradually died away when she looked at his deadly serious expression.
“You must be in jest, you can’t be serious!” She stepped back from him, and slammed against the rail.
“I have never been more serious about anything in my life. As soon as we reach England, I will obtain a special license, and you shall become my bride.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’d sooner marry a fool than marry you.”
“You won’t have a choice in the matter. In fact, I daresay that you’ll be throwing yourself at my feet, and begging me to marry you. I have a rather discombobulating effect on the weaker sex. I make them want me so much. I literally have them begging me to ravish them. It’s a skill I use to my benefit, and some women’s detriment.”
“I, sir, do not beg. Never have, never will!” She folded her arms, and stamped past him.
“Where, pray tell, do you think you are going?”
“Down to my cabin. As long as that meets with your approval?”
“It most certainly does. I think I will accompany you. I’ve suddenly become rather hungry. Ravenous, actually,” he drawled out, in his damnably husky voice.
His devilishly entrancing eyes bored straight down into her being.
“I do not want any food,” she decided, unconsciously licking her lips.
“Oh, I wasn’t referring to food,” he said, grazing her body with his passion filled eyes.
Oh, God, how she was sailing in dangerous waters! She had to keep a level head, and more than that, she had to keep her mouth shut, lest it betray her even more!
Her heart began beating erratically, as he reached for her arm. She stared up at him with wide eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” his voice was sharp. “Since you’ve insulted my honour, I do believe I might have to treat you in kind. You believe I lack all honour, so, why should I treat you like an honourable man would?”
*****
Mallory did not like the troubling silence that followed his empty threat. He kept staring down at Elizabeth, expecting her to retort with some clever, and cutting reply. But she merely kept her head downcast, and walked obediently by his side.
He didn’t like this side of her. It made her seem more dangerous than when she was hissing and spitting at him like a wild cat. He pushed the door of her cabin open, and waved her inside.
Once inside, she moved straight over to the bed, and plopped herself down upon it. She stared up at him, closed her eyes and puckered her lips, waiting for him to kiss her. He frowned, and instead swaggered over to the dining table.
He took a long hard look at her, as he sprawled into a chair.
After a few moments, she opened up her tightly squeezed eyes, and turned to look at him. She tilted her head, obviously trying to figure out what he was up to.
“I thought perhaps, that I would have a talk with you, first,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t want it all to happen so quickly that I’d make your head spin.”
Her nostrils flared angrily, and he knew that he was slowly goading her to go into one of her fits. Crossing her hands demurely in her lap, she turned her gaze away from him, and stared at the wall. Flexing her fingers, he watched the determined glint enter her eye. Obviously, she was intent upon giving him the silent treatment.
“Come over here and join me,” he invited, watching avidly, as she bit on her lower lip. His voice had dropped, and he knew that the huskiness of it had to be affecting her. “You have a beautiful singing voice, why don’t you grace me with it? I would imagine that you can play that pianoforte as well. I would love to hear it.”
Again, she stared stiffly ahead, as if someone had suddenly turned her into a prudish old spinster. “I could show you a world of pleasure.” His voice was laced with promise, and he could see by the way that her shoulders slumped, that she was slowly giving in.
“I do not sing for you,” she snapped, whirling her body around to face him.
“Ah, more is the pity.”
“If you are going to forcefully ravish me then you had best get to it. And while you sleep, I shall smother the life out of you.”
“I confess that I shall never tire of your fiery passion.” Smiling, he winked playfully at her. That did it. She was over the edge. She bounded across the small space, and was lunging for him, when he caught her.
Their mouths were so close that he could easily claim her ripened lips. But he knew as soon as he kissed her, she would recognize him. The night of the masquerade, he’d been sporting a full-grown beard, and the mask he’d worn had shadowed his eyes. He had worn the costume of a fairy prince, but his sister Gemma had declared that he’d looked more like a swashbuckling pirate than a prince.
As soon as he kissed Elizabeth, he would betray himself. Her memory would be jolted, and there would be no returning from what he had caused. Of course, if their intimate encounter had met nothing to her, if she was as easy with the men, as she was with throwing out insults, than she just might not remember him.
Her breath came in short, rapid gasps, and he yearned to kiss her. This was the greatest test in self-control that he had ever had to master.
Instead, he kissed her lightly on the tip of her perky nose. Her skin was so pale, and contrasted sharply with her raven black hair.
One curly strand of her blue-black hair slipped down and fell across her forehead. He brushed it away, a shiver race through him, as he touched her creamy white skin.
“You shall most certainly be the death of me,” he muttered.
“May I have your word on that, sir?” Her fiery brown eyes twinkled, the fight drained from her body. He released her, but kept a wary eye on her. She fell into the chair across from him, and stared at him in expectation. “I should have thought that you’d already be on top of me.”
“Then, you thought wrong.”
He reached inside of his jacket, and caught the flicker of fear in her eyes.
Bless her heart. She actually believed that he was still going to hurt her. He smiled reassuringly at her, and plunked the deck of cards on the table in front of her. She looked down at the cards, and then stared back up at him, a question shining in her lively eyes.
“What do you propose to do with those?”
“I propose that you teach me how to use these to my advantage.”
She furrowed her brows, still not certain of what he meant. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
“You, miss, are a most formidable gambler. Do not deny it.” She licked her lips, and then looked disheartened to have been so easily figured out. “Teach me how to win.”
“If I do, shall you leave me in peace this night?”
“If I feel like it,” he drawled out.
She peered at him intently, let out a long shuddering sigh, and reached out for the cards. She began shuffling them, and then stared up at him.
“What shall we wager?”
There was a hopeful glint in her eye that made him wary. Obviously, she sought to surprise him by duping him into an unwise venture.
“Do not think that you shall trick me into that. If you teach me, and take my mind off of seducing you, then you’ll keep me out of your bed for another night. But have heart dearest, for we shall not be betting on anything, for I would surely lose.”
Sighing, she stared at him. “You, sir, take all of the excitement out of the room. You’re like an old hen at a lively soiree.”
“If you are craving excitement, I could show you pleasures that you have only dreamt about. I could suggest another game, but then, that game would involve tearing off your clothes. So, what’s your poison? Shall it be cards or lustful ravishing?
She groaned, and looked away from his searing gaze. Her face was flushed, and she fanned herself with her hand, before casting her luminous eyes back on him.
“What game do you wish to learn?”
“I wish to learn the game you are playing.” He knew that she was hiding something, and before the night was out, he would have it all out of her.
Her eyes darkened, as she expertly shuffled the deck, ending with a weaving shuffle. Slowly, they returned to their normal colour. She was pretending to be ignorant to what he hinted at, even though her foot was tapping restlessly on the floor.
“Whist it is,” she concluded, cutting the cards.
Chapter Four
“You do realize this is highly unusual to be playing without a partner, do you not?” She eyed him warily, as she tried to discern his motives for forcing her to teach him whist. She was partial to almost any card or dice game, and had even dabbled in the ancient ancestor of Whist, known as Ruff and Honours.
His gorgeous blue eyes dazzled, as he reached for his thirteen cards. “Course.” She flipped the last card up, indicating the trick that they would be playing. “Besides,” he continued, “one day you shall be my gaming partner, and I shall be assured of never losing. With your luck and quick wit, I’d be hard pressed to lose.” His compliment spoken so easily, sent a blush racing to her cheeks.
“We could always play piquet or vingt et un,” she remarked, furrowing her brow. She didn’t really want to play any game with him, as she based most of her playing skill on chance, intuition and dumb luck, rather than on a certain winning strategy. “And if you have a set of dice in your pocket, we could always go for a friendly game of Hazard.”
“A friendly game that has bankrupted many a gentlemen. If whist is your favourite choice, then whist it is,” he pressed, smiling broadly at her. “Besides, it is a game filled with tricks, much as you are.”
She let out a loud and prolonged sigh. “And, as to becoming your partner, you, sir, are under a severe misapprehension. I shall not be your gaming partner, or your partner in marriage, so you may remove that foolish idea from your…” she trailed off, as The Valiant rocked, and sent her careening to the floor.
Rafe flung himself at her as the ship bucked again, and broke her fall. She landed sprawled on top of him in a most undignified manner. The loud racket of cannon fire shattered the stillness of the night. She gasped, as he placed his hands around her narrow waist. Her heaving breasts were naught but two inches away from his face, and they were in danger of falling out of her corset. She protectively placed her hands over her bosom, and grunted when he helped her to her feet.
He stared over at the fallen furniture and the deck of cards that were strewn about.
“Seems as if we’ll be playing a game of pick up fifty two later on,” he muttered. Straightening his jacket, he reached for his greatcoat that had fallen with his chair to the floor.
“Allow me to accompany you,�
�� she urged. Another ear splitting blast rang through the night. By the sounds of it, the cannonball had narrowly missed them.
“Certainly not. You will remain here where you are safe.”
“And what will your conscience do if I am blown to smithereens?”
“It shall not happen. Whether you want to believe it or not, I am rather proficient when it comes to sea battles, as are my men.”
“Why would I believe that? Your tales of your heroic exploits on the High Seas, might just be that, tales.”
“I was at Trafalgar, Miss Elizabeth,” he shot back, stunning her into silence. He didn’t slam the cabin door this time. Instead, he quietly closed it.
She stared at the door for a long moment, and wondered why he had revealed that part of his life to her. He’d told her he had fought for the British, but to know that he was a veteran of that infamous battle. Well, now, he had earned her admiration.
She pressed her hand to her stomach, and tried to figure out why it was no longer rolling even when the ship was rocking to and fro. Drat the man, he had to have put a tonic into the water that she had gulped down.
A slow smile broke her frown. She rummaged inside of her chest for a cloak thick enough to protect her from the nightly chill. She glanced toward the wall that connected her cabin to Rafe’s and shrugged her shoulders. She knew he wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity, so he could not stop what she was about to undertake.
She dashed to the locked door, and slipped a pin from her hair. Within seconds, she heard the lock slide back. He did not know anything about her. If he did, he’d have tied her up before he left the cabin.
She staggered out into the corridor, and quickly made her way up the steps to the deck. It was teeming with hands, and she spotted Rafe at once. He was helping some man back to his feet. She concluded that it was the aforesaid Ethan, when the man slapped Rafe familiarly on the back.
His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) Page 4
