His eyes glittered with annoyance. “While I’d like to see you in the garment, you’d attract far too much attention if you wore it in New Providence. It would be better to keep you in those rags.”
“What? You’ve changed your mind?” She bit back a smile. “Now these rags are preferable to a clean, untorn gown?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You know full well every man on that island would wonder who you are, and if you could be bought.”
“But you said yourself that if I’m to live on my own, I should use every advantage I have.”
“You have no experience handling men in that way, especially not these types of men.”
“You’d be there to protect me.” She kept her voice full of innocent surprise. He swore under his breath and flicked his blade harder on the stone.
James said he preferred the impish child to the sober adult. Tempting. Should she put his words to the test? She rather missed those childhood days, when she had broken the rules and reveled in it.
She rose from the bed and grabbed the red gown from the crate, keeping a curious eye on James. Would he be affected by her persuasions?
His hands stilled once more. “Try it on if you’d like, but you won’t be going ashore in anything other than what you’re wearing right now.”
“Aye, sir.” She considered the gown in her grasp. The bodice was much lower than she remembered. The sting of Miss Biddle’s walking cane smacking across her wrists broke into her thoughts, and her next step faltered. Miss Biddle would not approve. “Of course, changing will need to wait until you leave the room.”
He grinned, a mocking show of teeth and dimple. “Will it now? Has your courage fled so soon?”
A challenge? “You can’t goad me into changing in front of you.”
James rose from his seat and set aside his blade and stone. “How about a compromise, then?”
“What sort of compromise?” Her luncheon, the little she’d eaten of it, congealed into a solid ball that stuck to her ribs.
Studying the hooks that had held his hammock, he snatched a blanket from the bed and hung it from them. He then moved the chair to the other side of the crude wall and sat.
Charity hesitated. She was a mischievous child no longer.
“Has your spine grown weak?” James taunted from the other side of the wall.
She gritted her teeth. He made sport of her, the beast. “No, it has not.” She snatched the lace kerchief from around her throat and unpinned the stomacher from her gown. Before she could think better of it, she dropped her lavender dress and outer petticoat onto the floor. There. She would not be cowed by the likes of him. Taking a deep breath, she looked down.
Dear Lord. She stood in her shift, stays, and petticoats. All but naked, with only a blanket hanging between her and James. In fact, without much effort, she could see his boots on the other side. How much of her could he see?
A low chuckle reached her through the blanket. “Are you having trouble? I can help if you’d like.”
“No,” she nearly shouted, but caught herself just in time. “I have this in hand.” Her fingers trembled as she reached for the red gown. She couldn’t turn back, not now. Instead, she scrambled for something else to keep her mind busy. “Tell me more about your brother. He’s a sailor?”
“A musician.” James paused, and his boots shifted out of view. “He was a sailor for a time, but not by choice.”
She tied the red petticoat about her waist and donned the gown. “How…?”
“My father insisted he find a suitable profession. Playing the violin wasn’t a reliable occupation.”
“I suppose that’s true.” She reached for the stomacher and pinned it into place, trying to ignore how the tops of her breasts bulged out of the dress.
“I don’t agree. Who’s to say what a man must do to earn his keep? David loved to travel and play his music, letting life take him where it would. He never starved, and he was happy.”
Rolling her lip between her teeth, she placed the lace kerchief around her neck, tucking the ends inside her bodice. It did little to hide the swell of her breasts. She scanned the area around her and found nothing better. “Then what happened?”
“On my advice, he finally gave in to my father’s demands. He took a menial position on one of my father’s ships. I’d hoped David would enjoy sailing, the travel and adventure, while playing his violin for the crew.” James’s tone softened, reflecting sadness and regret. “Two months later we heard of the ship’s capture by pirates.”
She took a deep breath and peeked around the blanket.
James’s attention darted to her.
“And you’re hoping by becoming a pirate yourself, you can find him.” Clearing her throat, she stepped into full view.
His eyes widened, then warmed. “Yes.” He studied her as if she was a tasty treat he would savor to the last morsel. His gaze lingered on her ill-concealed chest before traveling lower to her waist and hips, and on to the hem that barely touched the floor planks. The look stroked her skin, awakening a strange thrum throughout her body. The tiny vibrations grew in intensity the longer he stared until she leaned forward, his pull too strong to resist.
A rap shook the door, and Charity jumped.
“Yes,” James growled out, rising from his chair.
“It’s Whip.”
James motioned for the key. After finding it on the floor, she handed it to him, and he waved for her to move behind the blanket.
The impish girl inside of her urged her to stand where she would, to taunt him some more, but she came to her senses and slipped into her hiding place.
The door hinges creaked. Footsteps entered the cabin, and the door closed again.
“I came to speak with the miss.”
What on earth? She poked her head around the side of the blanket. “I’m here.”
Whip stepped closer. “Last night and this morn, I spoke harshly to you, miss. I came to give my apologies.”
“There’s no need.”
“No, miss. There sure is.” He bowed his head and shuffled his feet, his toe scraping a piece of dirt aside. “It was through your doctorin’ that James here recovered so quick.”
“I would hardly say that.” She glanced at James standing behind Whip, a curious look on his face. “Mr. Lamont’s own stubborn will got him out of bed long before he should have.”
“I would have brought a sweet treat, but I’m not much good at making ’em.” He pulled a gold hoop from his right ear and held it out to her. “Take this as an offerin’ of my gratitude.”
“I couldn’t. You don’t need to—”
“Please, miss. Don’t judge me too harsh-like. I’m an old man who needs to learn to keep me mouth shut.”
Charity studied the piece in his hand. An odd gesture.
Still, James nodded, urging her to take it.
She picked up the earring from his outstretched palm, letting it dangle from her fingertips. “Ah, thank you.”
Whip waited expectantly as he stood before her, watching.
“Oh.” Pasting a smile onto her face, she donned the earring and stepped from behind the curtain. “How does it look?”
The contented grin froze on Whip’s lips as his eyes lowered to her bodice. His brows rose, and he coughed into his fist. “Good. Good.” He looked away, but only for a fleeting moment, before his eyes met their target once again.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she took a step back. Heat crept up her face and her temperature rose as surely as if she’d been standing in a vat of boiling water.
“Maybe it would be best if you left now, Whip.” The slight twist of James lips transformed the meaning of those words to something more urgent and threatening. He would escort Whip out the door if the old sailor wasn’t quick about it.
Whip continued to stare, but finally found his tongue. “Might I say, you’re lookin’ lovely today, miss.”
“Whip,” James warned, taking a menacing step.
; “Good day to you, miss.” With a wary glance at James, Whip bobbed his head and slipped out the door.
James locked it behind him. “Are you pleased with yourself?”
What? “I didn’t intend to—”
“Do you see the effect you have?”
“I certainly do,” she said, amazed.
James stood stiffly, with a scowl on his face. What was this? Another side of him she’d never seen before. Jealousy? The idea tickled.
She sauntered forward, testing this new ability. “You were right. This gown does give a woman power.”
He watched her approach, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
A heady rush flowed through her, and she reached out to touch his chest with the tip of one finger.
“Careful, love. There are repercussions when you wield power.”
She splayed her fingers on that wall of muscle. “Is that so?” Heat seeped through his shirt to warm her palm as her hand rode the swells of his breaths.
He shifted forward, pressing against her hand, his intense stare delving deep into her eyes as if intent on reading her mind. “Yes.” He stood still before her, his legs braced apart, making no move to touch her.
“Are you affected by the gown I wear?” Perhaps only certain men, like Whip, could be influenced in such a way.
“I’m more affected than you realize.” A corner of his mouth quirked, and his features softened, warmed. “But not because of the dress.”
The sincerity of his tone silenced any glib remark she might have made. Instead something tugged at her breastbone. She hadn’t heard many compliments in her life, and to hear one now, from this man… Her fingertips dug into him, and she swallowed back the emotion that rose within her throat. She forced her hand to flatten out again and rubbed the spot for good measure.
“So timid,” he teased with a soft laugh. “A touch to my chest and you’re ready to swoon?”
Swoon indeed. She stroked along his collarbone, her fingers sliding over the soft fabric of his shirt. If he thought he was affected by her actions now, she had more to show him.
Her hand strayed to the shirt’s opening where she found smooth skin covering hard muscle. Captivated, she let her hand wander over that wide expanse, following the many curves and valleys to be found. He inhaled a long breath and let it out slowly. His heart pulsed beneath her palm, each beat a bit faster, stronger. She looked up at his face.
His features had grown sharp. Gone was the playfulness he’d shown earlier.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all.” His voice, thick and throaty, rumbled through her with the force of carriage wheels bouncing over a rocky path, jarring her nerves until they fluttered to life. “I’m yours to explore as you will.”
That incredible voice, the heat in his eyes… They inflamed her body and mind. She wanted to feel more of him. She wanted to make him tremble with the power of her touch.
Her hands drew lower, over his shirt, past his ribs to the flat plane of his abdomen where those firm muscles tightened beneath her fingertips. She watched his reactions, fascinated. He closed his eyes and tilted his face off to the side as if fighting for control. He hadn’t yet touched her. His hands rose to her hips, where they tensed and flexed, but unlike the men in her past, he didn’t attempt to dominate her, to press her for more than she was willing to give.
She covered his hands with hers, and he opened his eyes. They glittered a deep gold luster that burned with desire. She skimmed her fingers up his arms and rested them on his broad shoulders.
James was so tall he towered over her. By all rights, she should feel fear or at least trepidation. He could easily overtake her. Still, neither emotion made itself known.
She caressed his throat, his skin there softer, vulnerable. Staring into her eyes, he nuzzled her hand, his rough whiskers gently scraping along her palm until her skin tingled. His lips grazed her fingers in a sensual dance of flesh on flesh, and she traced a path over his mouth, his lips pliable to her touch. He nipped her fingertip, and a rush of heat licked at her insides. She remembered the feel of his mouth on hers, the slide of those skilled lips, the warmth of his breath. She yearned for that again.
On her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his, and a groan reverberated from James’s chest to hers, a vibration that spread from her breasts to her navel.
He bent his knees and gathered her close, enfolding himself around her in an embrace that was both protective and warm. His hands rose to cup her face and he kissed her with the abandon of a man who could hold himself back no longer. He tasted and tempted, his mouth firm and inviting. Her eyes drifted closed, and she reveled in the sensations pulsing inside her as his hard body pressed against hers, his enticing scent enveloping her. Salty ocean, fresh air, and a masculine scent all his own she could curl up in forever.
He delved deeper, his tongue slipping between her lips. Possessive. Demanding.
A voice niggled inside her. She should stop this. Yet, she didn’t want to. For this moment, all loneliness ceased. His hand lowered to cover her breast, and he nibbled a line down her neck. Tension built within her like an instrument’s string, taut and ready. Each light nip of James’s mouth plucked and teased until her body thrummed. Tugging the scarf from her bodice, he scorched her bare skin with his mouth, and her legs trembled beneath her, threatening to buckle.
His arms encircled her, and he eased her back onto the bed, lowering himself on top of her. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He kissed a line from her mouth to her ear, his breath a whisper of air that made her skin tingle and sing.
She craved the feel of him. Yanking his shirt free, she slid her hand inside. Heat and muscle, solid and strong. She brushed along the ridges of his spine as his lips returned to her mouth.
“So beautiful,” he sighed as his hand found her bare calf. He moved lower, his mouth dropping kisses on the rise of her breasts while his fingers slipped up her leg. She inhaled a wavering gasp when he stroked her inner thigh. A pang of fear brought her back to her senses, and she caught his hand, halting his progress.
“Charity,” he murmured. “You were meant to be touched.” He inched his fingers farther and stopped, testing her acceptance.
Her body yearned for him, even her clothing conspired against her, rubbing her skin in ways it never had before. Holding a breath, she closed her eyes and released his hand. Gentle fingertips glided along her thigh, and she shivered as the thrum inside her grew stronger.
A shout pierced the silence, and the door crashed open. It took a moment for Charity to comprehend… James yanked down her petticoats and sat, pushing her behind him. “What’s this?”
A haggard group of men stepped inside the doorway. In the fore, Thomas stood next to The Judge, whose face wore a mask of rage. She shook with a sudden chill and grasped James’s hand.
The Judge waved three of the crew ahead. “Search the quarters. You,” he nodded toward Thomas, “take him.”
Thomas and another man strode forward and seized James’s arms, tearing him from the bed.
“No,” she screamed.
James struggled and fought, but they held him tight, dragging him out of the cabin.
Chapter Ten
Desperate to get free from the brute gripping her arm, Charity dug in her heels and yanked back with all her strength. “You don’t understand. Let me explain.”
The cutthroat shook her hard and kept walking. Before her, two men hauled James across the deck, but all eyes of the crew were on her. Hungry looks raked over her person—her breasts of particular interest. Blast this red dress.
Their mutterings echoed around her. “A woman?” one murmured and stepped forward.
Another followed. “What’s she about?”
The men pressed in, some daring to touch her. Their stench filled her nostrils, and she tried to push their hands away only to have one grab her by the wrist. “No.” She pulled back. The hold on her remained firm. “Let go of me,” she cried out, twisting h
er arm in an attempt to break free.
The toothless one who dragged her forward merely chuckled and tugged harder on her arm, until she wondered if she’d be torn asunder. Fear lodged in her throat as another sailor grabbed her elbow.
“Let go,” she screamed.
James fought Thomas and the other sailor as they forced him down a flight of steps. “Leave her be!”
When he could no longer pull her forward, her captor growled low, yanking a blade from his belt. “Release her, or I’ll cleave you in two.”
With mumbled curses, all hands drew back.
Charity descended the stairs on shaking limbs. Her escort, the beast, jerked her down each step, his fingers biting into her arm.
The crew assembled around them, jostling each other for the best view.
“Tie him.” The Judge’s order sliced through her, and dread replaced her fear.
Thomas and his partner pushed James against the mast and tied his arms in front of him on the farside of the pole.
“Stop.” She lurched forward, but the guard held her.
“Fetch me the cat,” The Judge bellowed.
In short order, a sailor handed him a whip consisting of several leather strips with knots at their ends.
Dear God, no. Charity stomped on her captor’s instep and lunged forward, free for the moment. She raced to James and stood at his back. “Stop this! It’s not his fault. I stowed away. He had no idea.”
James struggled against his bonds. “Charity, stop.”
The Judge’s brows drew low, and he signaled to Thomas, who stepped forward.
“Don’t touch me.” She reared away from the man who’d insisted he was James’s friend. All lies.
Thomas seized both her arms and hauled her back against his chest. “Not another word,” he hissed into her ear. “You’ll only make the situation worse.”
Worse? “In what way could it get worse?”
“There’s nothing you can do for James now. You’re only calling attention to yourself. Believe me, you don’t want to do that,” Thomas replied in a harsh whisper.
“What goes?” a voice called from the upper deck. A bearded man in a red-and-gold coat peered down at the scene. A fine linen neck stock adorned his throat, and red, unkempt hair protruded from his hastily donned wig.
Tempting the Pirate Page 11
