As the fiery object of his desire turned, he gave her pause to reflect. “However, I can give you three good reasons not to venture beyond that door.”
Over her shoulder, she eyed him with caution. “And they are?”
“One, we are at sea. Two, it is a long crossing to London.”
“Have you a jolly-boat?” With an outstretched hand, she grasped the knob. “We couldn’t have much of a start. I can row back to port.”
“Three, you are the only woman aboard this ship.” Trevor snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes. Four, you’re naked, except for my robe, which, I might add, looks quite fetching on you.”
“You must be the life of the ball.” Shoulders slumped; she lowered her head and sighed. “Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”
The sadness in her voice brought him up short, and an unfamiliar guilt nagged at his conscience, which he quashed just as fast. Perhaps a change in tack would improve his suit.
“I have already told you who I am, and I should think you’d be grateful.”
“Grateful?” She stared at him with clenched fists. “For what? Being kidnapped?”
“Dove, you should consider the theatre, because you’ve a flair for dramatics. And it is not as if you are Dalton’s wife or some other important relation. Paramours are not permanent.”
“How dare you.” Her blue eyes shot daggers at him as she paced his quarters.
“Calm yourself, love. I was paying you a compliment.”
“By insulting me?”
“I did no such thing.” Trevor pulled out a chair; sat, and propped his feet on the table to better enjoy the show. “I merely made an observation. And you have not been kidnapped. You have simply been re-let.”
“Re-let?” She blinked. “How so?”
“As I said earlier, your guardian has passed his responsibility to me.”
“That cannot be true.”
“Why?”
The doxy opened her mouth, and then closed it.
“You believe yourself irreplaceable?” Trevor canted his head. “Do you not know, dove, that all courtesans are rented?”
“Perhaps we should begin at the beginning.” The hesitant ladybird neared, pulled out the chair opposite him, and sat. “What, precisely, did Dalton tell you of me?”
“Well, to be honest, he denied your existence, until I informed him that his men had much to say on the docks.”
“I see.” She furrowed her brow. “And you forced him to acknowledge my presence?”
“Forced?” He frowned. “Now that is a harsh term.”
“One suitable to describe our relations, thus far.”
Once again, Trevor laughed. “I will grant you that.”
“I am so happy to provide for your amusement.” The demirep huffed and folded her arms.
“Excellent.” Now her response garnered his fast attention. “We should discuss terms. What is your usual rate?”
“Terms? Rate?” She blinked. “For what?”
“Why, your surrender, of course.”
“My surrender?” The charming whore furrowed her brow. “What, exactly, do you expect me to surrender?”
“All right, miss, I’ve had enough of your games.” Trevor dropped his feet to the floor, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on the table. “Acting the innocent, which may prove stimulating in more seductive scenarios, has outlived its novelty and my patience. And it is time you gave me your name, as we are to be bunkmates during our voyage.”
She bit her lip. After a few painful minutes, in which he was determined to wait her out, she finally responded, “You may call me Caroline, and I have no intention of sharing a bunk, or anything else, with you.”
“How lovely to make your acquaintance, Mistress Caroline. Now, stop playing the injured party, set your price, and let us be done with it.”
“But--”
“I know Randolph was your guardian, but I am your sole protector aboard this ship, and I find your reluctance puzzling, given that most courtesans change benefactors as men change breeches. If you approach our predicament sensibly, I am sure you and I can come to some understanding; an agreement that will allow us to pass the journey to London more...pleasantly. And I give you leave to share the details of our liaison, including how you came to be in my custody, among your set, which should enable you to demand even more money from future customers. As it is, you should know that I am prepared to be very generous.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you.”
#
Since their impromptu meeting in Dalton’s cabin, the handsome kidnapper had steered her into one rogue wave after another. And despite her repeated attempts to land on her feet, Caroline had yet to gain her balance.
“You want me?” Now she was well and truly flummoxed. In an instant, gooseflesh covered her from head to toe, because, to her knowledge, no man had ever wanted her for any reason. “You can’t be serious.”
“I assure you, my dear, I am very serious.”
When Caroline stowed away on Dalton’s ship, she had no idea of the consequences. One of her oldest and dearest friends, Dalton pitied her predicament when she explained her rationale. She had her reasons for fleeing London, and it wasn’t as if her shame were a secret. Polite society could be anything but polite. So she sought an escape from unwanted attention. In short, all she wanted was to be free.
“Mistress Caroline, I do not believe Bonaparte takes this long to negotiate.”
“Sorry, Captain.” She shook her head. The man thought her Dalton’s paramour, and nothing could be further from the truth, but could she, and should she, enlighten the devilishly handsome stranger? “I am unprepared, at this time, to accept an offer, any offer, from you.”
“I beg your pardon.” Trevor sat upright. “Are you rejecting me?”
“When you put it that way, it sounds rather awful.”
“It feels rather awful.”
With a crisp linen shirt covering broad shoulders and buckskin breeches that disappeared into polished Hessians, her captor conveyed a boyish charm mixed with the confidence of an experienced mariner that, no doubt, melted many a female heart and garnered few, if any, refusals. A year ago, Caroline might have been vulnerable to such qualities, but not so, anymore.
“May I ask why you spurn me?” he inquired with a hint of ire.
Would that the answer to his query was simple, but she suspected he had neither the time nor the inclination to listen to her story. And even if he did hear her out, could he sympathize with her situation and accept her choice?
“You may, but, given the circumstances surrounding my presence aboard your ship, I feel no compulsion to comply with your request, Captain.”
“I see.” For a moment, he simply stared at her. “Perhaps, you should take a night to--”
Caroline almost jumped out of her skin when someone pounded on the door.
Trevor frowned and slapped a fist to his palm. “Come.”
A gray-haired, bearded man ducked his head inside. “Cap’n, we’re well found and away, and the crew is assembled.”
“Excellent. Your timing could not be better.” He waved a welcome and stood. “Come in and meet our guest. Madam Caroline, allow me to introduce my first mate, Mr. Loman.”
“Pleased ta meet ya, ma’am.” The crusty seaman bowed. “And call me George.”
Caroline dipped her chin.
“I will send in my cabin boy to see to your immediate needs, my dear.” Trevor paused at the threshold and glanced over his shoulder. “I ask that you remain in my quarters, because you will be safe here, as no one enters without my expressed permission. I promise you will not be disturbed, and we shall continue our discussion in the morning.”
Countless thoughts collided in her brain. Her captor was neither pirate nor gentlemen, but that did not mean he could be trusted. Whatever was she to do?
“I do not look forward to it.”
Alone, Caroline stared heavenward and whistled in mono
tone.
Well, had she not wanted to be free?
CHAPTER TWO
Snuggling close to an unexpected but much appreciated heat source to ward off the chill of a night at sea, Caroline sighed, blissful and content. It was a few seconds before she realized what was keeping her warm. Despite her alarm, she knew that screaming was a bad idea. And as she had not been accosted but, instead, slept uninterrupted, she saw no reason to be afraid. Careful not to move, she opened her eyes. Soft rays of morning sunlight filtered through the drawn curtains, bathing the quarters in a saffron hue sufficient to confirm her suspicions. She was sharing a bed with a man.
She should be scandalized.
She should be outraged.
She should shout her displeasure from the highest yardarm.
Instead, Caroline reminded herself he thought her a courtesan and could not resist lifting the covers for a quick peek.
When climbing between the sheets the previous evening, she had thought she would be sleeping alone. Trevor had promised she would not be disturbed, so it was easy to assume he would be bunking with the crew. So much for assumptions. In future, she would be vigilant in clarifying such important matters.
At some point during the night she had curled up next to him. The robe she had tucked snug around herself was now parted, and her bare skin rested against his. The crisp hair on his chest tickled her breast, and the weight across her waist was his muscled arm.
Oh, my.
Caroline wondered what her family would think if they could see her now, for all intents and purposes, nude, nestled beside an equally naked man. Her mother would no doubt swoon. Her brother would kill them both. She, however, was fascinated and frightened at once.
Fascinated because he made her heart pound.
Frightened because he made her heart pound.
Though men usually seemed disinterested in her, she always found them an intriguing lot. Curiosity nipped at her senses until Caroline relented and risked a glimpse at his face. Though his eyes were closed, she could envision their piercing green depths under thickly lashed lids. Since it could not hurt, she availed herself of the opportunity to study the rest of her rescuer’s sun-kissed visage, and he was a beauty.
A wide forehead sat above arched brows. His hair, more shades of brown than she ever knew existed, had gold highlights running throughout. It was thick and wavy and fell unruly about his face, and she just resisted the urge to tame a wayward lock. A patrician nose sat amid chiseled cheekbones. His proud chin she knew so well, because she focused on it whenever his stare overwhelmed her, and that happened more often than she was willing to admit. But his mouth, now that was a marvel of unutterable perfection. What would it hurt to claim just one kiss from her captor? If only he were ugly.
In slumber, Trevor appeared harmless, almost boyish, but she knew better. He was a sleeping dragon that could breathe fire and warm her toes, and he did so with a frequency she found quite unnerving. She was still admiring his lips when the corners of his mouth quirked. Peering up, she was caught by a pair of green eyes.
“Good morning, my lady,” he purred. “I trust you passed a pleasant night?”
Inhaling, slow and steady, she tried to remain calm. But it ought to be a sin for a man to be so lovely, especially in the morning. Were she standing, Caroline was certain she would have melted into the floor, which brought to mind the danger her would-be benefactor presented. Could Dalton not have gambled with someone old and fat? Wrenching back in a tangle of silk sheets, her hasty scramble ceased when the arm around her waist tightened as a steel band.
“No, do not run away.” Trevor laughed. “I promise not to bite, at least, not yet. Besides, we have business to discuss.”
“But--now? Here?” Clutching the sheet to her chin, Caroline righted herself and ignored the shiver of panic tickling her spine. “In bed?”
“Considering the topic,” he said as he nipped the crest of her ear, “I cannot think of a more appropriate place.”
The topic, she recalled, was that he wanted her to be his mistress. She’d heard tales of wild abandon concerning her brother, his friends, and their courtesans, so her current predicament was not so much cause for concern in regard to her safety as it was for her reputation. The sole function of a mistress was to provide his relief. While she did not know the exact details, the mechanics, she had a general idea what was involved. Problem was, despite what he thought, she was no courtesan.
Oh, my.
“Trevor--or should I address you as Captain?”
With a countenance she would characterize as...wolfish, he tapped a finger to the tip of her nose. “Call me whatever you wish.”
Several possible addresses popped into her head.
Rake.
Darling.
Mine.
Of course, that was neither possible nor realistic, even in light of her past humiliation, because her family would never consider Trevor suitable marriage material, not that she wanted to marry him. In a flash, images of her mother and brother appeared before her, and one word claimed her thoughts to the detriment of all else.
Forbidden.
“Captain, please, release me.” Caroline squirmed in his embrace and tried not to contemplate the firm body pressed to hers. “It is very difficult to concentrate on the matter at hand while lying abed with you.”
“Really? And why is that?” His baritone poured over her as honey on a hot scone, and the expression on his face was one of wicked thoughts, similar to hers no doubt. “Could it be that you want me as I want you?”
“Captain--I mean, Trevor, do you have to do that?” She swatted at his hand, which was stroking her flesh, in a pathetic attempt to cease the unwarranted but maddeningly delightful attention. “I can’t think.”
In silence, Caroline rebuked herself and struggled to suppress her reaction. What mystical power did this man possess to affect her so? Good heavens, it was an effort just to breathe. What on earth had Dalton been thinking, divulging her presence to such a dangerous individual?
With a chuckle, he released his hold on her and crossed his arms behind his head. “All right, my lady, if you insist on thinking and talking, pray, continue.”
Resituating her robe, Caroline scrambled for the foot of the bed and what she considered relative safety as her toes hit the floor. Of course, her frazzled sense of duty would improve if she would stop ogling his chiseled chest and broad shoulders. Could the man not put on clothes?
Because she could resist anything but temptation.
“Trevor, I am flattered by your offer--”
“Flattery was not my intention.” He sat upright, and the sheet dropped to his hips.
Positive she was going to faint at any moment, Caroline blinked and turned her back to him. It should be a crime for a man to be so beautiful. She had known him a short while and yet he already made her want to be bad. Problem was, she was not sure what being bad with the handsome captain entailed.
“My singular thought was of the mutual pleasure and comfort we could share while journeying to London. I doubt a woman of your profession would be offended by the suggestion, and I do not think your benefactor would mind. In fact, he would be grateful you saw fit to compensate me in his stead.”
She peered at him over her shoulder. “C-compensate?”
“Yes.” Trevor smiled. “In lieu of funds for your safe passage to London. Actually, Randolph hinted he would be amenable to such an agreement.”
Shoulders squared, Caroline faced him. “H-he did?” It was too ridiculous. Dalton knew she could not give herself to this man. Perhaps her friend had been attempting a ruse, because the truth would have garnered both of them a sea of trouble. Drowning in a mix of confusion and fear, she chewed her lip, a nervous habit she had long suffered since childhood and had failed to break.
Trevor flung the covers aside and tossed his legs over the edge of the bed. “My dear, sit down. You are as white as a ghost.” Stark naked, he walked to her.
Tempta
tion beckoned, luring her as a lodestone. In vain, Caroline staged a valiant battle against her own inquisitiveness. She wanted to look; was compelled to let her gaze travel south of his belly button.
So she did.
A one-eyed monster, thick and intimidating, stared back at her. Jutting, proud and formidable, almost angry, from a nest of brown curls, the mystery of flesh pointed straight in her direction.
Caroline swooned.
In her fogged brain, she told herself her reaction was justified. The only experience she had with the male form was from childhood. During the summer months, she, her brother, and their friends used to swim au naturel in the pond near her country home. It had been harmless. Innocent. And as far as she could recall, none of the boys had ever appeared so healthy.
For a moment, she revisited fonder times, was lost in the past. But the present ensnared her when Trevor hovered. Emitting a cursed shriek, she cringed.
“For the love of Christ, would you stop doing that?” He shoved off the bed and stormed across the cabin. “One would think I had assaulted you.”
“I am sorry, but you did bring me here against my will, or have you conveniently forgotten that?” Discovering she was back on the mattress, Caroline stretched and kept her eyes on his profile, lest she embarrass herself and faint again. “And I have not agreed to be your courtesan.”
At his locker, he paused to pull on a pair of breeches. With unveiled impatience, he raked a hand through his hair and took to pacing.
“I have met some unwieldy women in my day, but you are a contradiction.” Suddenly, Trevor marched to the side of the bunk. With hands on hips he glared at her. “By your chosen profession, you exist to pleasure men, and I only want to make love to you. Do you not see that our tale will make you a legend? How is it that we are at odds?”
If only she could trust him.
If only she could tell him the truth.
“You are so sure of yourself, yet you know nothing of me.”
“And I could say the same of you, Mistress Caroline. What am I missing?”
“I simply cannot give you what you want.”
“Why?”
Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) Page 2