To her satisfaction he seemed quite taken aback by her words which had been spoken with no little force. For a moment she thought she saw a glimmer of some unnamed emotion in his eyes, but it was so quickly replaced by what was obviously dented male pride that she felt no remorse.
“Is that so?”
Something in her stomach did a nervous somersault, as so many things seemed to be encompassed in the tone of those three words. They held everything from accusation, the acceptance of a challenge, and a clear promise that he would make her eat her words if it was the last thing he did. Belatedly Henri wondered if she had once again misstepped and treated him in the wrong manner.
His blue eyes were staring at her with such intensity that she felt her mouth go dry.
“Y-you must see that I'm in a perilous situation here, sir,” she stammered with as much dignity as she could. “I mean no disrespect, but I will not lose my honour to pay for your help. Just because I've lost all else does not mean I am a cheap amusement.”
He snorted at that, looking away from her at last to wrap his bloody palm in a handkerchief.
“Cheap?” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “You expect me to spend hours and days and weeks helping you and get nothing in return. No, lady, indeed you are not cheap.”
Henri felt her cheeks burn with fury. Never in her life had she been spoken to in such a fashion and the injustice of her position rankled.
“I do not intend to be a burden upon you for a moment longer than necessary,” she said, keeping her voice cold and devoid of emotion for fear she would cry if she stumbled now. “We will part company as soon as you make port and until that time I will pay my way as I can. I can cook a little if you would send me to the kitchen, or mend clothes, clean your cabin ... I do not care how menial the task. I will earn my keep.”
The curiosity was back in his eyes now as he watched her. She raised her chin, holding his gaze, defiant.
“You would prefer to be a skivvy than learn everything I have offered you? Just to keep your maidenhead intact?”
Fury rolled over her at his words. The ignorant, cold-hearted, arrogant bastard.
“Just?” she repeated. The word may have been said quietly but the atmosphere in the tiny cabin was electric, as though thunder rolled between them and lightning would strike at any moment. Her chest rose and fell too fast, her heart thundering and she wished she was close enough to attempt to take his dagger, for she would gladly drive a knife into that black heart of his.
With deceptive calm she got to her feet, moving carefully around the broken glass on the floor. He stood also, mirroring her, watching her with careful attention.
“You believe you offer me a boon, don't you? You think you are all charity in offering to teach me your ways?” she sneered. “But it wouldn't matter how much I learnt, it wouldn't matter how well I accomplished everything you taught me. It would change nothing, for the world will change not at all.” She looked at the deepening frown on his face and knew he didn't understand what she meant. Why would he, he was a man. “For me to gain your men's respect I would need to do far more than match your skills and bravery, your cunning and ruthlessness. I would need to far exceed those qualities before I gained their admiration, for a woman must always fight for every scrap of respect that is handed so easily to a man for the mere sake of his biology. And where your ruthlessness would have you described as fierce and brave and everyone would commend those as admirable traits in a Captain, I would be cursed as being a cold-hearted, sly bitch and everyone would despise me for it,” she raged.
In her anger she had crossed the room, stepping closer to him as her temper had risen beyond her control. Now she found she stood so close to him she could see his blue eyes were flecked with green and was reminded forcefully of the view from her bedroom window on a clear fine day, when the sea glittered so enticingly.
Now that her anger had been vented she didn't know what to do or say and waited for him to retaliate, to return her anger with harsh words of his own. She could see the need to do so burning in his eyes. So when his hand reached out and traced the curve of her jaw, she jolted with surprise. It was the barest touch, as though he wished to gentle down some skittish woodland creature before it ran from him.
She drew in a sharp breath and watched as the anger receded from his eyes, to be replaced with something else she dared not name.
“You are ... magnificent,” he breathed, something close to wonder lingering over the words. They seemed to settle in her chest, a warm weight that soothed away all the jagged edges of her fury. She searched his eyes, looking for mockery, for duplicity, but before she was certain there was nothing of the sort to be found, his head lowered and his lips pressed against hers.
Her mind stalled, caught like a rabbit in a snare, too beyond panic now to even struggle, too lost to know if she wanted to.
His lips were every bit as soft and warm as she had remembered and his kiss was as gentle and tentative as the touch of his fingers had been. He brushed her mouth once and pulled back a little, enquiring, waiting for her to protest. Henri waited too but found nothing to say. Perhaps her honour wasn't as precious to her as she had implied, the idea a faint panic that she chose to ignore ... for the moment. He moved closer again to repeat the exercise, twice, three times, and then over and over until she was dizzy. It seemed to her as though each brush of his lips was a drug, the cumulative effect of which was far more devastating when the simplicity of the act was so sweet and apparently innocent. Again came the barest touch of his mouth against hers, before moving away, leaving her trembling and wanting more and more with every repetition.
He had not touched her further, had not drawn her into his arms as he had in the dark privacy of the curtained dressing room. His fingertips still lingered at her jaw, a barely-there touch that she felt was the only thing keeping her upright.
Finally he did pull away from her and she looked up at him, too shaken to utter another word.
Those blue eyes were dark with desire, heavy with such need that it made her chest ache to know he had felt everything she had, with just as much intensity - that he was just as shaken.
And then, without another word, he turned and left the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter 10
“Wherein a pirate plots a course.”
Lars strode the deck bellowing orders and practically daring any of his men to step out of line as they avoided his eye as best they could. It was perfectly obvious to all aboard that he was in a fine mood to beat the living daylights out of anyone who so much as looked at him wrong.
Frustration simmered in his veins and every sense was on alert and demanding that he return to his cabin this instant and finish what he'd started. He paced the gun deck wondering why on earth he didn't do just that. Why had he cut and run just when things were getting interesting? Because the girl was a damn sight more than just interesting that's why.
He stared out across the open sea, watching as the sun climbed, sparkling on the diamond-bright water as it rose into a clear blue sky. Hauling in a lungful of clean, cold air he tried to dispel the lingering desire that fogged his mind and would not allow him to think with any clarity. He just didn't know what to make of her. In the shop he'd been certain he was a dead man when he'd seen her gaping at him, all wide brown eyes and innocence. He'd been certain she would scream and the militia would fall on him like crows on carrion. But instead she'd saved him. He'd felt more of a scoundrel than he ever had in his life when he'd kissed her, but she'd been impossible to resist. The sweetest prize he could ever imagine.
He’d known he would never see her again; a woman like that was beyond anything he could hope for now, but he’d known too that she would haunt his dreams for the rest of his days. A pirate was hardly the kind of man a respectable woman would aspire to, and the idea of never knowing how those lips would feel against his own had made him feel strangely adrift. So he had risked her screaming the place down and stolen a kiss. And the
astonishment and elation that had coursed through him when she had kissed him back seemed to linger in his blood like a disease, waiting to disarm him and weaken his resolve whenever she chose. He'd been so tempted to linger that he'd been perilously close to getting caught, as it was he'd only just evaded the red coats. He'd nearly put his neck in a noose for nothing more than a kiss. But the memory of that kiss had haunted his every thought, through each moment of that day until she'd appeared again out of the blue.
He hadn't known what to think when he'd seen her. When he believed she had come to keep him safe he'd been torn between unreasonable joy and fury that she'd endangered herself for a man like him. But he'd been unaccountably angry when she'd tried to blackmail him. That his sweet little innocent was neither sweet nor innocent had somehow hurt him, as though she'd betrayed him somehow. He snorted at the idea and leaned on the rail, looking down and watching the water slide over the hull as his ship cut a clean line through the waves. It was obviously ridiculous to think she'd misled him, had made him believe she was as innocent as she'd looked. But he'd wanted to hold the memory of her close, something to warm him when the constant need to keep moving wore him down. For in recent years the hunter had become the hunted and he knew he had little time left before they caught up with him. No one could run forever. No one could always have fortune on their side. Sooner or later the wind would turn and he'd be out manoeuvred.
And yet now he didn't know what to think. The fury which she'd turned on him when he'd suggested the idea of paying him for his help with her body, the dignity with which she'd stood up to him and cut him down. She was like no woman he had ever met before. She intrigued him and instinctively he knew that was dangerous. He had no place in his life for romantic entanglements. Women were not welcome on board ships for good reason. They caused nothing but trouble, distracted the men and kept their minds from the job.
The best he could do was just as she had suggested and bid her goodbye the moment they made port. He'd decided to risk Valencia. He'd had friends there, people he hoped he could still trust. He'd get the lay of the land before he decided what was next. Perhaps he could escape the noose by becoming a privateer. Poacher turned gamekeeper, he thought with a grimace, not that he had any great love for others of his kind, save those men aboard his ship. The men of his crew he trusted with his life. They had been together for years and he knew them like his own brothers. But the others who called themselves pirates were not like those who had gone before them. The way of the coast, the brethren and their code, their old ways were long dead and gone and he mourned the loss of the ideal. There was little or no honour among thieves, not any more.
So that was it then, a plan of sorts. He would put her ashore and she would make her way home one way or another. He wondered how she'd fair. Perhaps, with luck, she would find an honourable gentleman who would see her safely home. Or perhaps she'd fall foul of some lecherous bastard who would take advantage of her and kill the spirit that burned so fiercely in those tawny brown eyes. The idea made something in his chest constrict. Damn the woman, she would bring him nothing but trouble. He should just go back to the cabin and take what he wanted. She obviously wanted him too, despite her protestations about him being the last man on earth she would ever want.
That had stung, he admitted to himself. He wasn't a fool. He would hardly believe she would want a pirate for a husband and he was certainly not in the market for a wife and never would be. But he knew women desired him, and her vehemence in denying she would ever even consider him, even as a lover, had cut into his pride more than he'd expected. And then he'd kissed her.
He couldn't say why. She'd raged at him, called him a fool, had made him furious during the course of her tirade, and yet he'd been quite unable to stop himself. And once again, despite everything she'd said, she had responded, willingly, eagerly, and it had taken everything he had to walk away and close the door on her.
She'd been right about one thing, the women who usually warmed his bed were only too easy, more than willing to be seduced by a handsome pirate while their erstwhile husbands raised the money to save them. They usually left with a smile on their faces and both parties well satisfied with the bargain. But she was foolish to think he couldn't seduce her just as easily, as his kiss had proved all too eloquently, and what a delightful pastime, to watch her resolution crumble as she submitted inevitably to his advances.
Tentatively he traced the lines she had scratched down his neck. Perhaps if he took her to bed he'd feel better? Perhaps then she would cease to be so ... alluring. It was that strange mix of sweet innocence and fierce spirit that was so beguiling after all: the fresh faced beauty who would dare to walk alone into a smuggler's bar and seek out a pirate. The girl with the wide brown eyes who would stand up to the Rogue himself and give him the sharp side of her tongue.
Yes, perhaps when he'd had her, when she'd been laid open for him, with those little claws in his back and his name on her lips when she came apart, perhaps then he'd break the spell she'd begun to cast.
His attention was taken from the tantalising image by a shout from Mousy. The large man had resumed his duties as quartermaster and was striding towards him.
“We got company, Capt'n.”
Lars turned on his heel and scanned the horizon. A tiny speck was just visible and he snatched the spyglass from Mousy's hand.
“A sloop?” he demanded as he adjusted the glass.
“Aye,” Mousy said, his expression grim. “She'll catch us.”
“You're sure she's in pursuit?”
Mousy snorted. “There's a chance we're followin' the same course, aye.”
Lars shook his head, laughing. “No, I don't believe it either. All right, do what you can to keep her at bay for now and we'll decide when to engage her.”
“Aye, Capt'n.”
Lars watched as the big man strode away from him. He wasn't surprised they were being followed. He'd expected as much. The price on his head was significant enough now for him to be a target worth pursuing. But the amount of militia men that had come for him meant they'd known not only that he was coming ashore but where to look. They'd been waiting for him. An icy finger of doubt trailed down his back. They'd known because someone had told them. The only question was who? The only man there ahead of him, the one who had written the letter, was one of his most trusted men, sent on ahead to get the information he required before he came ashore. He knew instinctively that he was not the source of this mischief. Which meant the information had to have been sent on before they landed. The last time they made port perhaps, when he had made his intentions known to the crew. Which meant someone on his ship intended to profit from betraying him, and he no longer knew who he could trust.
Chapter 11.
“Wherein battle lines are drawn.”
Henri sat on the bed with a blanket wrapped around her and shivered. She'd never been so cold in all her life, not to mention miserable ... and thoroughly confused. The sound of the slamming door seemed to echo in her ears without cease and she felt utterly bewildered by what had just happened.
What on earth had she been thinking? She'd just finished off telling him he was the last man on earth she would ever contemplate and the next moment she'd wrapped herself around him like ivy round an oak tree. She put her head in her hands and groaned. Whatever must he think of her. That he'd been the one to break the kiss and leave the room was even more disturbing. He was the Rogue for heaven's sake! Notorious pirate, seducer of women and the furthest thing from a gentleman you should be able to find in all the seven seas. And yet, she had been his for the taking. Her body's desires had far outweighed and trampled over any of the bold and honourable intentions her brain may have happily spouted to him just moments before. One kiss and she'd have thrown it all away and become one of those sluttish women she'd disparaged so cruelly only moments before.
Well, not just one kiss, she amended. It had been many kisses, dozens and dozens of delicious, soft, tender kisses. She sh
ivered again and knew it wasn't the cold to blame. Heat burned beneath her skin as she recalled just how he had made her feel. Dear God in heaven the man was a menace. She was going to have to stay far away from him if she was to have any chance of reaching land with her honour intact.
She looked around the tiny confines of the cabin with dismay and wondered just how many nights she was going to have to endure. For she doubted very much that he would give up his cabin, and even if he continued to act out of character and play the gentleman, for whatever reason had possessed him, she wasn't at all sure she could continue to be a lady.
Perhaps that was it, she thought wildly. Perhaps they were both possessed by some strange force that had taken hold of them and made them both act out of character. So he would play the gentleman and she would play the whore? No! That was not going to happen. She was not going to have her head turned by a handsome face and a wicked smile. She had more backbone than that and she was damn well going to stiffen it.
With this resolution held firmly in her mind she decided she'd best keep busy and began by making the bed and sweeping the broken glass up.
She had just managed to squeeze herself under his desk in pursuit of a last errant shard when the door swung open and her pirate captain strode into the room. She straightened so quickly she banged her head severely on the desk and cursed with an enthusiasm that Annie would have been proud of.
The Rogue Page 7
