“You asked.” He shifted his gaze over to her. She, too, was looking out, and he wondered if she was imagining her meeting with her fiancé.
“Whom did you wish revenge against?” she asked.
“I don’t know you well enough to share that tale with you.”
She did glance over at him then. “I suspect you’re a very complicated man, Captain.”
“Not really. I see something I want and I take it. It doesn’t get much simpler than that.”
She looked back out as the ship gave several creaks and moans. A sudden lurch and it was moving slowly through the water.
“I was under the impression you had a fast ship,” she said.
“Not when we’re in the harbor. We have little moon by which to see. You could have hardly picked a worse night. A daytime departure would have been better.”
“Yet you didn’t try to convince me to hold off for a better time. Why ever not?”
“Because, Princess, I’m not certain you’ve been quite honest with me, and you required a midnight departure for a reason.”
He was studying her with such concentration that she was surprised her heart still managed to beat. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“That doesn’t mean you’ve been completely honest.”
She could say the same about him. She’d nearly spun on her heel and headed in the other direction when she’d watched him swagger down the gangway. His face no longer sported a shadow of stubble. She’d thought him handsome before, but cleanly shaven he was devastating. His hair was pulled back, tied in place with leather, and she dearly wanted to set it free. The light breeze billowed his loose white shirt, somehow making him appear more masculine.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at the male form and appreciated it. Not since Walter had left. To gaze upon any man with even a hint of lust would have been betrayal to her betrothed. She couldn’t claim what she felt now was lust, but it was definitely awareness. Acute awareness that was unsettling in its intensity. Her stomach quivered, and she had a strong urge to sit. Instead, she stood her ground. “As you so succinctly said, I don’t know you well enough to tell you everything. But I swear to you that there is no danger.”
“Pity. I thrive on danger.”
“Yes, I quite imagine you do.”
They were moving farther from the docks. More shadows were weaving among them and fog swirled about, challenging the ship’s lanterns to hold it at bay. Water slapped against the hull. A peacefulness claimed the night. She wasn’t certain how much he contributed to her serenity. Somehow she knew he had the strength and skills to protect her from any peril that might come their way.
She heard flapping and glanced back to see a sail unfurl. Soon the ship was gliding faster. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the wind.
“M’lady.”
“I’m all right, Martha.”
“Do you swim?” he asked.
“No, but I suspect you do. And you’d jump in to save me, wouldn’t you?”
“If the price was right.”
Opening her eyes, she looked over at him. He was smiling at her as though he enjoyed the movement of the ship as much as she did. “I don’t think you’re quite the mercenary you claim to be.”
“I never do anything without payment.”
“But if I drown, you won’t get that kiss, will you?”
“Perhaps I should go ahead and take it.”
Her mouth went dry. She’d known he’d want it of course, that he would exact payment from her. She simply hadn’t expected it to be so soon. “I’d like to see my cabin now.”
“As you wish.”
Once again he offered her his arm, and while she wanted to ignore it, she wasn’t quite certain she could move about the rocking ship without tumbling. Just as before, she acknowledged the strength in his arm, the sturdiness of his movements. He had no trouble at all making his way about the ship.
She tried to think of something to say, something to ease the tension that was suddenly mounting. She knew where he was taking her and she didn’t want to think about it. He wouldn’t be sleeping there, but he once had. She would lie in the bed where he had lain.
But her mind would bring forth nothing inconsequential to utter as the enormity of this undertaking was settling around her. Her father would have her head if he knew what she was about. Fortunately, the coach driver and the footman had sworn not to reveal the name of the ship she’d boarded. Not that she thought her father could catch up with them.
They took the stairs down a level from the main deck. The captain opened a door. She took a deep breath to still her thundering heart as she stepped through into the small quarters. Two pieces of furniture dominated the space. His bed. She wasn’t surprised it was large. A man of his height and breadth would require a generous area in which to move about as he slept.
The other massive piece was a desk. Behind it were shelves. Books were lined perfectly along them. Dickens. Cooper. Shelley.
Martha joined her, and only then did he step inside. The room seemed to shrink with his presence.
“You read,” she said inanely.
“Boredom can easily find a home on a ship.”
“Yes, I can imagine.” Only she couldn’t. She’d thought he’d have little time for her, that he’d be steering the vessel, but obviously he had others to handle such matters.
“The room next to this one is where my first mate sleeps. It’s available to your maid.”
Anne spun around to face him. “There was no need to go to such bother. I’d planned on her staying with me.”
His eyes glittered. “If you wish.”
“I do.”
He gave a curt nod. “Is there anything else you need before I leave you to your dreams?”
She nodded, swallowed hard. “Martha, leave us for a moment.”
Martha opened her mouth, and Anne gave her a pointed glare. She’d tolerate no mutiny. Martha snapped her mouth closed and walked toward the hallway.
“Shut the door after you.”
She slammed it.
“She doesn’t approve of this journey,” he said.
“She’s just protective.” Removing her pelisse, she set it carefully over the desk. She met and held his gaze. “I thought you might like your payment before we’re too far out to sea.”
“Did you now?” In two long strides, he was near enough that his breath mingled with hers and she had to tilt her head back to continue to gaze into his icy blue eyes. He rested his curled fingers in the curve of her cheek, his thumb stroking her lower lip.
Her tongue slipped out on its own accord to lick where he touched and she could have sworn she tasted the saltiness of his skin. His eyes darkened. He had such incredibly long lashes. Their ebony shade made the blue of his eyes seem that much fairer, like the sky on a bright summer day.
He leaned in.
She held her breath.
His gaze dropped to her lips.
They tingled.
He lifted his eyes to hers.
She waited, waited …
He came nearer. Her eyes began closing—
“The moment is of my choosing, Princess. And this isn’t it. Sleep well.”
Grinning, he tweaked her nose, spun on his heel, and strode from the room.
If she could have drawn in a breath past her fury, she’d have shrieked at him. Martha rushed in. “Oh, dear God, what did he do?”
“Nothing.” He tweaked my nose! She wasn’t about to admit that. Didn’t he want to kiss her? Had he changed his mind? She dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at the closed door. She popped back up. “He told me to sleep well. I’ll show him. I shall accomplish that with remarkable success.”
As they prepared for bed, they were both surprised to find warm water in the basin. Obviously the captain had someone prepare the room before they came down. The bedding was crisp, freshly laundered, but when Anne climbed onto the bed, the spicy scent of Crimson Jack rose around her.
>
Martha blew out the lamp and crawled in beside her, but they had enough room between them that they didn’t touch. Anne didn’t want to consider that the bed had been specially designed to accommodate for the captain’s size and a woman lying in his arms.
“I think my brother might have been mistaken,” Martha whispered. “I think this captain might be a very dangerous man.”
“If he were dangerous, he’d have locked that door, and he—not you—would be in this bed with me.”
In the darkness, Anne listened to the creaking of the ship. But she didn’t sleep. Instead, she wondered why he could so easily resist kissing her. And why she wished he’d just get it over with.
Standing at the helm, Tristan gripped the wheel so tightly that his hands were beginning to ache. Walking away from her without tasting those succulent red lips had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. When he touched his knuckles to her cheek, skimmed his thumb over that pouting bottom lip, inhaled her scent …
When her breath hitched and her eyes began to close …
One kiss. That was all he’d demanded in payment. Stupid fool. He’d never in his life made a bargain in which he came out at the short end. He should have demanded one kiss every day. Instead he had only one for the entire journey. He had to make her want it so badly that she would willingly give him more. Because once he had his kiss, she had to initiate the next one. Unfortunately his wooing was on a schedule. He had to claim his kiss before they reached Scutari because once she visited with her fiancé, her love for him would be renewed and she would return to considering a kiss to Tristan as nothing more than a payment.
With any luck, the winds would die and their arrival at their destination would be delayed. Perhaps he’d take a wrong turn, go down around the Cape of Good Hope, then across the Indian Ocean to tropical islands. Perhaps he could even convince her to embrace local customs and strut about in very little clothing. That thought brought a smile. She could very well be in little clothing now as she snuggled in his bed.
His sheets, his cabin would smell of her when she left. No woman had ever been inside his domain. His men thought he was a bit mad to make this journey with two women in tow, but those who remained were being paid well enough for their services not to grumble.
The unrelenting fog curled around him in the same manner as he wanted to curl around her—all encompassing, leaving nothing untouched. He wondered how far she would allow him to take the kiss. Not nearly as far as he wanted to take it, he was certain.
Would her fiancé be returning with them? That was a disappointing thought that hadn’t occurred to him before. Not that it mattered. He didn’t want her for any longer than the voyage. As with all things in his life, the constancy of something bored him. He needed new adventures, new women, new challenges. But conquering her would be his greatest triumph.
He would taunt her with that kiss until she was willing to give him everything.
Chapter 5
Anne awoke to a gentle rocking and sunlight peering through mullioned windows. She was on the ship, on her way to Walter at last—and yet it was not visions of him that had filled her dreams. Rather it was one very dark blue-eyed devil whose nearness caused her skin to tingle with the need to be touched. She’d never experienced this sort of longing, wasn’t quite certain what to make of it. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before. He was a curiosity. That was all. If she but touched his bristly jaw, felt his lips pressed to hers, then her interest in him would be satisfied.
Obviously her father was correct: it was time to leave her mourning behind. During the Season she was bound to meet someone who appealed with equal fervor. She was a young woman with needs. She’d been lonely for far too long. That’s all these strange yearnings signified: that she was not only receptive to a man’s attentions but in need of them.
Captain Crimson Jack was simply very skilled at setting a woman’s blood to simmering.
After nudging Martha awake, she dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the night before. She’d brought a special dress for her visit to Scutari, and a couple of other dresses to see her through the journey there and back. But she hadn’t set her cap on the captain so it mattered little if he saw her in the same clothes. In fact, it was probably better that she not go to much trouble in preparing for the day. She had no wish for him to think she had the slightest bit of interest in him. The ballrooms of London had no place for men of his roughened ilk.
When Anne was ready, she allowed Martha to return to bed while she ventured out. When she reached the main deck, she squinted at the bright sunlight. She couldn’t recall it ever being so harsh in London. The men were about, all seemingly busy, but they each took a moment to doff their caps if they were wearing one or to touch two fingers to their brows if they weren’t. No one leered, no one made her feel as the captain did—as though he knew exactly what she looked like beneath her skirts.
“Ye’ll find the cap’n up top,” a man said, and she remembered him from last night.
“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins.”
Quietly, she made her way up the stairs. If he was busy, she didn’t wish to disturb him. Nor did she want to startle him, although he didn’t seem a man prone to being caught unaware.
She halted at the top of steps. Leaning back in a chair, with one booted foot propped on the railing, he was meticulously whittling on a small piece of wood. A lad, whom she judged to be around five and ten or so in years, sat cross-legged on the floor, hunched over a book, reading aloud. He stuttered out the more difficult words and when it was clear that he could go no further, the captain provided the answer. She wondered if he’d memorized the story that she soon recognized: A Christmas Carol.
She didn’t realize she made a sound, but the captain looked back over his shoulder before leisurely straightening and coming to his feet. The boy ceased his reading.
“Lady Anne, I trust you slept well,” the captain said.
“You have a most comfortable bed.” She wished she hadn’t mentioned that particular bit of furniture when he gave her a once-over as though he could clearly imagine her tangled in those sheets. “I fear, however, that my maid is feeling a bit queasy this morning.”
“Hopefully it’ll pass once she gets her sea legs beneath her. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
He grinned. “The sea air can do that. Mouse, fetch her breakfast.”
“Aye aye, Cap’n.” The lad carefully set the book on a small table as though it were the greatest of treasures before scampering with a noticeable limp past her.
She eased nearer to the towering man with the powerful shoulders. “He’s a cripple.”
“Hardly,” he bit out sharply. “His leg’s merely bent, but I suspect he can climb rigging faster than you.”
“Yes, of course. I meant no insult.”
He indicated a chair on the opposite side of the table from his.
“In a moment,” she said before walking to the railing, turning, and leaning against it. Her breath caught at the white cliffs in the distance. “What a magnificent sight. I thought we’d be beyond view of it by now.”
“The fog required slower travel.”
The breeze was again toying with his shirt and the same three buttons were undone. She didn’t know whether to button them so he’d looked more proper or loosen the ones that were fastened so he’d appear less proper. Why did she care at all about the state of his buttons?
To hide the weakness that had suddenly settled in her legs, she took the chair he offered earlier. Her knees became jelly because she was on the water, not because of him. Like Martha, she’d yet to gain her sea legs.
“Why Mouse?” she asked. “The lad. Why did his parents name him Mouse? Have you any idea?”
“I’ve no idea what they named him. But we found him hiding in the hold, quiet as a mouse. The name stuck.”
“He’s a stowaway then?”
“In a manner of speaking. Now he’s part of my crew.”
“His job is to read to you?”
He grinned. “Among other things.”
The boy returned with a tray that was far more appetizing than she’d expected. Eggs, ham, bread, oranges, and a lovely pot of tea. Once he set the tray before her, he disappeared without the captain giving any orders, and she suspected the captain had already discussed the matter of privacy with Mouse before she ever woke up.
“Will you be sharing the meal with me?” she asked, because she couldn’t possibly eat the entire abundance of offerings.
“I’ve already eaten.”
“Tea then?”
“No.”
She settled the napkin on her lap. She couldn’t deny that something was very appealing about sitting out here enjoying her breakfast. “Must you watch? Your intense perusal threatens to upset my digestion.”
“It’s difficult to look away from something so lovely.”
“False flattery, Captain, will get you nowhere.”
“I have no need to use false words.” Still, he did return to his whittling while she slathered butter on her bread.
“You’d not struck me as a man who would apply knife to wood,” she said.
“As I mentioned last night, boredom can easily overtake one on a ship. We have days, weeks, months of nothing punctuated, with a few seconds of excitement now and then. Idle hands and all that. Although I can think of more pleasurable ways to use my hands.”
She jerked up her gaze to find his wicked smile aimed at her.
“Yes, well, you shall have to be content with thinking about it. A kiss involves lips, not hands.”
“Ah, you are obviously not well tutored in the art of kissing, Princess.”
She felt as though the winds had unexpectedly risen up from the bowels of hell, she grew so warm. Her throat knotted with the implication that the kiss they shared might be more than she’d thought she was agreeing to. She was grateful she’d not begun chewing. She’d no doubt choke. Best to change the course of their topic. “What are you carving?” she asked.
He chuckled darkly as though he understood her strategy, and she feared he’d continue on with his innuendoes. Instead, he said, “A toy ship for my nephew.”
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