Her Gentleman Pirate (High Seas & High Stakes Book 2)

by Tamara Gill

  “Interesting concept and one I’m only too willing to try.” He pulled up a chair before her and picked up the bread. The dough smelt newly cooked and delicious. He tore a little bit off and held it before her lips. Arabella met his gaze over the top of his fingers. It wasn’t just food he was offering, but a taste of sin. Something told her, should she take a bite, her life would never be the same.

  Her heart pounded as she leaned forward and took the food from his fingers.

  * * *

  Stephen inwardly groaned as her sweet lips opened and she took the piece of bread into her mouth. Thoughts of other things going into the orifice bombarded his mind and his cock twitched. He’d planned on staying away. Of letting her starve for one night.

  The woman was trouble and more annoying than he thought she was going to be. The fact she had thrown two mops and a bucket overboard irritated and amused him at the same time. Who did that type of tomfoolery?

  He hadn’t expected it from a woman of her breeding and yet he liked her spirit.

  From all reports, she should be frightened of him. Submissive and demure. Instead, he’d been dealt a harridan who hadn’t reached old age. She chewed and closed her eyes, seemingly enjoying the repast. A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience. He’d never been one to starve anyone, least of all a woman, but there was something about this minx that rubbed him the wrong way. Or worse, rubbed him entirely the right way.

  He cleared his throat. “Better?”

  Her glistening, deep green eyes met his and for a moment he lost himself in their depths. She was an exquisite woman. Her body was one he could spend hours devoted to. A nice pair of breasts he’d watched longingly all day, long, lean legs that would wrap nicely about his waist and beautiful brown locks that cascaded over her delicate shoulders.

  “Please tell me you’re going to give me more than a sliver of bread.”

  He grinned at her gumption. What a remarkable spirit. He doubted anyone could break her, and he hoped no one ever did. She was magnificent.

  Stephen ladled some soup onto the spoon and held it against her lips. She moaned as the liquid hit her tongue. The intoxicating sound made him fumble with the cutlery. Desire coursed through him and he adjusted his seat knowing if he made it through the meal without ravishing her, it would be a miracle.

  His captive ate every bite of her repast. He leaned back in his chair and watched her. She didn’t say anything, no thanks or comments on the meal, just held his gaze with a forthrightness he’d never experienced before. Not with a woman at least.

  “You’re not scared of me, are you?” he asked at length already knowing what the answer would be.

  She scoffed. “Why would I be? I’m worth more to you alive than dead. And since I figure we’re headed for London I assume you intend to return me to my family when you’ve been paid your supposed debt.”

  “Not supposed,” he said, interrupting her. “Owed.”

  “In any case, I’m sure Father and you can come to some sort of agreement without my reputation being sullied.”

  Stephen nodded. “I’m sure we can.” He poured some wine before untying her. She grabbed the goblet and drank deep. He really shouldn’t have left her for so long. “Tell me, should you escape this kidnapping reputation in tack, just what are the plans for the determined Miss Hester?” Sadness flickered through her gaze and he wondered at it.

  “I’m betrothed. In only a few weeks, I’ll be Lady Montague. A countess no less. The marriage is set to take place at his country estate in Shropshire. I consider myself very fortunate to marry a man of good breeding and upstanding values. Some of which are noticeably missing on this boat.” Her perfect nose rose in the air with her speech.

  “Ship.” He smiled at her barb. He should call her Cat. Her claws were sharp enough. “You wound me.” He placed his hand across his chest for emphasis. “Do you believe marriage will make you happy? Will the esteemed Lord Montague make you happy?” Stephen started, wondering why he’d ever want to know the answer to such a question. Miss Hester meant nothing to him.

  She frowned, small lines appearing between her brows. Instinctively, Stephen reached out and caressed her frown lines away. Touching her like this, without them having argued first sent liquid heat pouring through his veins. The soft flesh did strange things to his innards, made them tighten with need.

  “I hope he will.”

  Stephen hardly heard the whispered words. He traced her perfectly arched brow before letting his hand drop to his side. Not a freckle spotted her nose, not a blemish anywhere. A true English beauty if ever he’d beheld one. “And if he doesn’t?”

  Somehow he’d leaned closer. Close enough for her breath to whisper against his cheek. He ran his hand down her neck and across her shoulder, her increased breathing making her breasts push against her gown. He clenched his jaw as desire rushed through him.

  She shivered. “There is nothing I can do about it in any case. I will have to be content with what I have.”

  Content? The delectable Miss Hester deserved much more than content. Her life should be full of passion, adventure, life. No matter what his dealings with her father, she deserved much more than mediocre. He wanted to touch her more, to run his hand across her breast and seduce her to sin. Stephen gritted his teeth and pulled back. Fought with what little there was left of him as a gentleman and not act a cad. “If ever you decide to see what life could be like with a real man, just ask me. I’m more than willing to show you.”

  The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Around this woman, he lost all sense of control and decorum. Her eyes flared before a blush stole over her cheeks. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. In any case, do you not have a woman at some port, just lying about waiting for her pirate captain to ravish her?”

  “Ravish? You do hold me in high regard.” Sarcasm laced his tone. He liked a good tumble as well as any other, but he never ravished women. Where was the fun in that? Should a woman lay with him, he liked to receive as well as give pleasure. There was nothing he wanted more than a willing participant in bed sport. “Perhaps you ought to have a taste of my abilities. I promise I won’t bite. Much.”

  For the first time he pulled a grin from her lips and it dazzled him silent. He hadn’t thought Miss Hester could get any more handsome. How wrong was he?

  “Thank you, but no. I’m sure my future husband will do quite well enough. And you never answered my question.”

  “What question was that?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. The thought of Lord Montague doing any woman justice in bed laughable. From what he’d heard of the fortune hunting popinjay, his tastes leaned more toward his own sex than those of the female kind.

  “Is there a special woman in your life? Are you married or have you been?” Was that a tinge of interest in her query?

  “You do ask a lot of questions for a captive woman. Why would you think I would answer them in the first place?” Stephen asked, enjoying the banter between them. For the first time since he’d thrown her delectable derriere over his shoulder, she was speaking to him in a relative normal manner.

  “I suppose you don’t have to. I was just curious about your life. It’s a trait my father has tried to cure me of, but with little success. I am what I am.”

  Stephen caressed a curl that had fallen over her shoulder. Never in his life had he wanted to kiss a woman so much. She watched him, the question in her eyes asking if he would act on his desires or not. “There is nothing wrong with who you are.”

  “I don’t believe you know me well enough to make such a claim.” She pushed his hand away. “Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to go to bed.”

  Stephen stood and held out his hand to assist her up. She stared at him a moment before allowing him to help. Her fingers were cool to the touch and so much smaller than his. “I think it’s time for you to commence the task I asked of you when you first arrived.”

  “What task was that?” She stopped near
the bed just as she reached for the covers.

  “To help me dress and undress. I require your assistance morning and night.” He grinned at the disdain that bled into her features.

  “The hell I will. Undress yourself and somewhere else. You’re not sleeping in here.”

  He walked over to her and tipped up her chin. Her lips opened on a gasp or invitation he wasn’t sure. And as much as he wanted to take her, taste the sweet essence she possessed, he refrained. “Come, Miss Hester. Surely you do not wish to be tied up again until you succumb to my demand.”

  The look on her face said more than any words could just what he could do with his demand. What a minx. A refreshing, feisty chit. He could get used to having her about.

  She huffed out a breath of annoyance and reached for the buttons on his breeches. “Let me get a couple of things clear before I do this. Under no circumstance do I wish you to think I’m enjoying myself in the least, because I’m not. This is a vile, un-gentlemanly thing to make a woman do under the circumstances.”

  The first button popped and he swallowed. His body yearned for her. Right at this moment, it wasn’t beneath him to beg for just one touch.

  “Secondly, should I find out you’ve gone crowing on deck that you’ve made your captive demean herself so, I will cut off the appendage you’re so determined for me to see and when you least expect it. Do you understand?” Her voice was authoritative, and damn well near undid him. He loved a woman with courage.

  “I understand entirely,” he said on a gasp when she accidently grazed said appendage.

  She ripped the buttons clear apart. “Very good then. We’re in agreement.”

  * * *

  The bravado Arabella fought hard to show was exactly that. A show. In no way was she un-rattled by what the captain was making her do. Her fingers trembled as she slipped his breeches over his bottom and down his thighs. She let out a breath when she noted the lack of drawers under his pants.

  Worse was the fact she allowed her hand to touch his skin, reveling in the warmth and smoothness begging to be stroked.

  She had to bend before him to take them to his feet and she would swear she heard him groan. She wasn’t fool enough not to know he was enjoying himself. He probably wished she would touch him, tease him into seducing her.

  Never. There was no chance of that happening, in this lifetime or the next. He may be the most handsome pirate she’d ever seen and possibly the nicest one, other than the tying up and forgetfulness with food, but that didn’t change what he’d done to her.

  “There, you’re naked. Are you happy now?” She raised her brow and tried not to notice the jutting member of his body that demanded attention. Arabella stood, hating the fact that once again the captain smelled of the sea, with a hint of brandy. His hands clenched at his side and she tore her gaze away from his body to look him in the eye. “Well?” she asked at length when he didn’t reply.

  “You’re determined to ignore me, aren’t you?” He stroked himself and Arabella didn’t know where to look or what to do.

  She walked around him not wanting him to see her mouth agape like a fish. She fiddled with the bed sheets. “Determined? I thought I was ignoring you.” Sitting on the bed, she removed her slippers and slid off her stockings. It was so lovely not having shoes on after so many days, but what she’d really love was a bath. A nice, deep, fragrant bath.

  Laying on the bed, she turned away and set herself to going to sleep. It was little use. As soon as she closed her eyes, images of his form bombarded her mind. Long, muscular thighs. An abdomen she could use to wash clothing on. Eyes that were sleepy with sin and need. His member…

  Arabella’s stomach clenched. She shouldn’t even be thinking of him in those terms. Her body was becoming a traitor. The captain was a criminal, and awful blot on society that no woman of her class would ever look at or give themselves to. Maybe the trauma of being kidnapped had damaged her mind and principles in some way.

  The bed dipped and her tension spiked. Whether in fear or trepidation she wasn’t sure. Without another word the captain settled into the bedding, seemingly content to sleep without molesting her. It was a ridiculous situation. Making out one was asleep when you knew the other was not was absurd.

  She peeked at him through her lashes. He was lying on his back, one arm acting as a pillow beneath his head. He stared at the ceiling, his face relaxed but contemplative. What was he thinking? Was he hoping she’d crawl up over his chest and kiss him? Slide her hand along his smooth stomach until she hit the apex between his thighs and stroked him harder than he already was. Heat pooled at her core and she inwardly cursed herself to Hades.

  “Goodnight, Arabella.”

  The air in her lungs vanished. Her name on his lips wasn’t anything she wished to hear now or ever. It rolled off his tongue in the brogue she’d heard only once before, eliciting a deep-rooted sense of rightness to spark in her soul.

  Damn the man. “Go to hell,” she replied, rolling over once more and giving him the view of her back.

  Her conflicting emotions were absurd as the situation she now found herself. Arabella clutched the pillow, refusing her body to turn back to the captain and take what he offered. A night of passion, most likely the only one she’d ever enjoy, but she could not. He had wronged her, taken her against her will, damn it. In Malta her life had been organized, planned, her future set and no matter how droll it would be, it was her lot in life. She could not go to her marriage bed ruined.

  Despair washed over her like a wave. Who was she kidding. She was already ruined thanks to the ass beside her. Damn him.

  Chapter 4

  Arabella woke in a tangle of arms and legs. A solid heartbeat thumped beneath her cheek and she stilled as realization hit her. She could not be asleep, cuddled up to the most inappropriate man she’d ever met in her entire life.

  His hand slid down her back and she inwardly cursed. The shift she’d worn to bed had twisted about her waist and she couldn’t move. She tried to ease away, not wanting him to find her in his arms like some wanton hussy he picked up in a port.

  “Going somewhere?” His voice sounded husky with sleep.

  Arabella jumped and met his gaze. “I think it’s obvious that I am.” She scrambled back, but not quick enough. He rolled her onto her back, his lower body tantalizingly close to the apex of her thighs. Again, heat pooled at her core and she fought not to let her legs open to him and show him without words what her body desperately craved.

  The touch of a man. Not a boy who ignored her, enjoyed his friends more than his betrothed, but a man who enjoyed women, pleasured them and left them wanting more.

  As if sensing her need he pushed gently against her. Arabella gasped and fought not to give way to him. He no longer looked sleepy but intense. His whole being zeroed in on her, waiting, wanting, asking a silent question she could not answer.

  Not because she didn’t want to but because her voice seemed incapable of function. She cleared her throat. “Get off, you brute.”

  He did as she asked, grinning before he sat up on his elbow. The sheet dipped past his stomach and again she was reminded of his spectacular form. He patted the bed. “I was enjoying our closer arrangement. Perhaps you’d like to remove your shift and come and join me again.”

  Arabella clenched her fists. He was impossible. Impossible to ignore… “I think somewhere along our association you’ve become confused. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. I just want you to get whatever you think is owed so I can leave. This is all.”

  “Did you know that when you slept in my arms, you stroked my chest and sighed? I think deep down in your conscience you want me.” Could he sound more smug? He flipped the bedding back and stood, giving her the first full view of his back.

  Oh, good God. It was perhaps just as perfect as his front. She shook her head as he stretched, even at this distance, his strength and height making her feel miniscule in the room.

  “That’s it. I’ve had eno
ugh.” Arabella pulled at her skirts that were caught beneath her bottom; fell onto the floor trying to get as far away as possible from him that she could. She scrambled to her feet, stormed over to his armoire and pulled out a shirt and breeches. Walking up to him she threw them at his face. “I demand you clothe yourself immediately.”

  “Not without the help of my new valet.”

  A lock of hair slipped over his brow as he drew the clothing away from his face. He was a fiend of the worst kind. She had to give it to him, he really was trying to annoy her to the point of despair. Arabella laughed despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

  He pulled the shirt on himself and grinned. “And you, miss, look delightful when you laugh. You should do it more often. It may delay the effects of becoming an ape leader before your time.”

  She gasped as he strode out the room, naked from the waist down and without a care to the fact. He was an enigma and one she doubted she would ever understand.

  Arabella paced the small chamber, the temper boiling inside her hotter than the Italian sun. For two days she’d been locked up in the room with minimal interaction with people. At this moment in time, she’d gladly talk to the lowest deckhand if only to hear someone else’s voice.

  She slumped onto a chair. Why had she been left alone again. They had parted on reasonable terms. Other than her being called a future ape leader, but then she really couldn’t see the insult in that. There were worst things.

  Over the last few days she had thought about putting her circumstances aside, and forming a truce. She couldn’t stay indoors forever. Just a day was enough to put her into a decline. It couldn’t go on.

  The door opened and four men entered. Arabella clutched the desk chair she was sitting on not fully comprehending why they were there until they pulled a tub through the door and placed it to one the side of the room. Over the next few minutes, other men brought in buckets of steaming water.

  A bath. There was a god.

  “Forgive me for leaving you to your own devices for the last two days. I was required on deck.” The captain walked over to a shelf and grabbed what she assumed to be soap. “You may bathe in privacy. Come outside when you’re done. I wish to wash also. You’ll find clean clothes that may possibly fit you in the chest of drawers, although you’ll have to be content with men’s clothing. It’s all I have.”