by Mary Campisi
His stare grew harsher.
“Things aren’t quite what they seem. You were right about that, but I do have a very good explanation.” She paused a moment, hoping he would help her along, just a little, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen, not if the rapid twitching of his jaw or the further narrowing of his eyes was any indication.
“Your little game is up,” Noah ground out. “You’ve got exactly one minute to talk and it had better be a damn good explanation.”
“Oh, all right.” Emily frowned at him. “You needn’t be so nasty about it.”
“Emily,” he warned.
She fidgeted with the blanket again, glanced around the cabin twice, and finally settled her gaze on his stern face. “I’m not really a maid, if you haven’t guessed. My name is Emily Elizabeth Barry and my brother is an earl.” Well, that was a part truth. Barry was her mother’s maiden name and her brother was an earl.
“What exactly do you find so amusing?” The man could be most annoying.
He laughed once more and shook his head. “Emily, you really should be on the stage. Have you ever considered that as a profession?”
“But I am a woman of quality. The St. Simons are friends and the maid act was just a ruse, a silly game. Nothing more.” Could he really not tell she was of noble blood?
Before she could glean an answer, he leapt toward her and grabbed her forearms, his face mere inches from hers. “I tire of your games. You’ve insinuated yourself upon me since the day we met. Now, you will tell me who you are and what you are about.”
She looked into his furious face and wondered again if he were capable of bodily harm. Upper lip curling, eyebrows pulled together in an unforgiving line, eyes black with anger, he reminded her of a wild animal. At the moment, there was nothing civilized about the man. Or human for that matter.
Yes, she feared he could cause her much harm if he chose to. “My name is Emily Elizabeth Barry.” St. Simon. She couldn’t tell him her real last name, not with him snarling at her like that. He might just decide to snap her neck in two. She eyed his huge hands. He could squeeze the very life out of her. He’d probably do just that if she told him she was Ian’s sister. Correction. His best friend’s sister.
Noah let out a string of profanities and rose to pace the small cabin. He moved to the desk and retrieved her satchel, then returned to dump its contents in her lap. “I suppose these are yours as well?”
Sparkling jewels winked back at her in a colorful array of dazzling brilliance. Her hand closed over a ruby necklace and an emerald hairpin. “These were my mother’s,” she said softly. “Now they are mine.”
“Like hell they are,” Noah growled, snatching them from her and thrusting the pieces back into the burgundy satchel. “This jewelry belongs to the St. Simons and you stole it from them.”
“But—”
“Enough! If I hear you say you’re a member of the nobility one more time, I swear I’ll be forced to use extreme measures.” The murderous look in his eyes kept Emily from challenging him. “Now, you will speak and tell me why you are on board my ship.”
“I’m on my way to America. To see Christopher.” She ignored the warning look he gave her and plunged forward, “Ian St. Simon and I had a wager. I’ve known the St. Simons forever and am especially good friends with Augusta. They’re like family to me, more so than my own. Ian agreed to help me get to America if I proved I could survive there. You see,” she rushed on, relieved that Noah appeared to be listening, “he didn’t think I would do well there, being a woman of quality such as I am. Each time I broached the subject of America, he put me off with one excuse or another. Then, he came up with the wager; if I could survive as a servant for three weeks, performing all of the duties required, he would arrange passage for me.”
“So why are you on board this ship?”
“Ian told me there wouldn’t be a ship suitable to take me for another six months.” She sighed. “I couldn’t wait. I won the wager, fair and square, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. When you said you were going home”—she shrugged—“well, you seemed like the logical choice.”
“When did I say I was going home?” he demanded.
“In the study, when you were talking to Ian one night.”
“So we may add eavesdropping to your list of crimes.” He smiled then, a cold, ruthless smile. “I must say, you are resourceful. Unfortunately for you, your duplicity has caught you in quite a predicament.”
“What do you mean?”
“The last time I consulted my map,” he said, pinning her with a dark stare, “we were headed for the West Indies.”
“What?”
He scowled at her. “You heard me, you little minx.”
“But,” she pleaded. “I have to get to America.”
“Then you’ve got a problem.”
“I don’t understand. You said you were going home.”
“I am. To the West Indies.” His smile grew brutal. “It’s been my home for more years than I can remember.”
Fear wrapped itself around her, choking her ability to reason. “Take me to America,” she pleaded. “My jewelry’s worth a small fortune. You can have it all.”
“I can have the jewelry you stole from my best friend’s family? No, thank you.”
“Then Christopher will pay you when we get to America.” Noah raised a brow in response. “All right, I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” she said, massaging her temples. “But I have no other way to pay you.”
He stared at her a long time until silence grew thick and heavy between them. “I can think of a way,” Noah said, his expression unreadable.
“You can?” He was going to help her. But how?
His bold gaze roamed her body, slowly, seductively, caressing her flesh with his eyes, lingering on her breasts and stomach. Heat crept up her neck, spreading to her cheeks as his words sunk in.
“You want me to barter my body?” she asked as embarrassment turned to fury.
He shrugged. “I seriously doubt it’s the first time.”
“You beast!” Emily sprang from the bed and lunged at him, but Noah was too quick. He was on the other side of the door, the heavy key rustling in the lock, before she’d taken more than three steps.
She banged on the old wooden door, screaming and cursing him to the devil. How dare he? How dare he!
Chapter 5
Noah tried to ignore the blasphemous curses screeching from his cabin, the ones which wished him to perdition in the form of a two-headed goat. When the door banging and crashing glass started, he acted as though it was an everyday occurrence. His men tried to do the same, but it was difficult, pretending not to hear a crazy woman likening him to a particular part of a horse’s anatomy.
He’d wring her neck, by God. And take great pleasure in it. At least then, she’d be quiet. He rubbed the back of his neck, cursing the day he first laid eyes on Emily Barry.
“Noah.” John Judson placed his hand on the rail and stared out to sea. “It might not be any of my business, but you seem to be in somewhat of a predicament.”
“You’re right, John,” Noah watched the gray waves lap after one another. “It’s none of your business.”
Emily chose that moment to let out another wail. He should have gagged her. Metal crashed against metal next. And tied her up. To the bed. Spread eagle. That would have given her something to think about.
“It does seem rather odd, if I do say so myself,” John commented, stuffing his pipe with tobacco.
“What does?” Noah scanned the dark clouds, looming overhead. He wished for a storm, loud enough to drown out all manner of sound.
“Well,” John said, puffing on his pipe. “I can’t recall a time when any of your women raised their voice to you, let alone hauled out a string of curses like that little miss in your cabin. I’d say she’s downright hostile.”
“She just had a little upset. She’ll be fine,” Noah said, frowning. “And she isn’t my woman.”
“It’s difficult to explain.” He kept his eyes on the water, which calmed him, even at its fiercest moments. “I found her in my armoire.”
John threw back his head and let out a rich, hearty laugh that filled the air and drowned out Emily’s blasphemous tongue. “Found her? In your armoire?” Another wave of laughter rolled over him.
Noah shot him a warning look. “She was hiding there.”
“Hiding?” John’s round face scrunched up. “She’s a stowaway?”
“She thought I was going to America.” He laughed, but the sound held no warmth. “Can you imagine, John,” he said, turning to face the older man. “Me, going to America?”
John puffed on his pipe a moment before answering. “No, I can’t say as where I can actually picture you setting foot in America again, at least not yet.”
“Not until I receive word that my bastard of a father is dead and buried,” Noah bit out.
John said nothing. A loud screech came from below deck, followed by another and another. “What are you going to do with her?” John asked, inclining his white head toward the sound.
“I know what I’d like to do with her,” Noah said, shooting a quick glance at the choppy water before them.
John grinned. “You’re too much of a gentleman to hoist a female overboard.”
“She’s no lady, John, of that, you can be sure.” Nobility indeed. And he was the King’s uncle. “I’ve been debating my situation for the better part of the night.” When I wasn’t getting hard listening to the little witch’s soft moans and long sighs.
“And?”
“We’re too far out to take her back now, so we’ll continue to the West Indies, and I’ll ship her back once we arrive.” A loud piercing howl filled the air and he winced, followed by a string of curses that could match his men’s. Noah closed his eyes, trying to gather his patience. “If she’ll just shut up,” he bit out, enunciating one word at a time. “I’ll promise to send her to America.”
John let out a long sigh, relief evident on his round face. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
****
Two hours later, Noah turned the key in the lock and entered the cabin. Emily had been quiet for a full fifteen minutes, and he hoped she was asleep. No matter, the situation between them must be dealt with and the sooner the better.
She sat in a corner on the far end of the bunk. There were no curse words, no blasphemies, nothing. Only a cold, steady stare. What was she up to now? Did she have a weapon hidden under her skirts? He tried to remember if the pistol he kept in his desk drawer was loaded.
Noah moved toward her, his gaze locked with hers. She remained perfectly still, her hands clasped in her lap. If she’d found the pistol, he’d be on her before she got a shot off. He reached the berth and towered over her. If the woman had any sense, she’d be afraid of him.
Emily lifted her head slightly, her gray eyes watching him. She sat cross-legged on the bed with her skirts billowing about her. He could tell from the way she sat that she wore no petticoats. His body tightened in response. Her golden locks hung freely about her shoulders, curling just under the swell of her breast. He cast a quick glance in that direction. Fatal error. Was that the outline of a nipple he’d just seen? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It couldn’t be, unless she wore only a light chemise. Or nothing at all. His cock strained against his breeches.
He cleared his throat. He had to get his thoughts back on course. After all, he was in charge of the situation. Emily Barry should be cowering in a corner, begging forgiveness for her treachery. “I’ve been thinking...” God, but she had the most beautiful neck. Long and slender.
“I accept your proposal.”
What proposal?
“I’ll come to your bed if you take me to America.”
Her words struck him more forcefully than his own pistol would have. “You would sell your own body to be with Christopher St. Simon?” The very thought infuriated him which made him even angrier.
“If there were no gentlemen available to honor other forms of payment.”
Her words stung. She was acting the wounded victim, the same woman, who’d told him nothing but lies from the moment he’d set eyes on her. Emily Barry was nothing more than a common thief and a manipulator.
“I haven’t decided what to do with you yet,” Noah lied, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of letting her think she’d gotten her way. Let her stew for a little while, think she had to barter that delectable body of hers.
Emily glared at him. “So now you’re withdrawing your offer? It would appear you are untrustworthy as well as unscrupulous, and I unfortunately, am currently at your mercy.”
Noah smiled thinly and replied, “So it would appear.” The woman’s tongue was more deadly than any weapon he owned.
“Well,” she tossed her hair back. “When you decide my fate, would you be so kind as to inform me?”
He leaned forward, his face mere inches from hers. “My dear, sweet Emily, you will be the first to know.” He bestowed a dazzling smile on her. “In the meantime,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky drawl, “you might try to be a bit more congenial. You used words today that made my men blush and that won’t do.” He lifted a lock of hair from her shoulders, fingering its silken texture. “You see, I’ve never had a problem with the ladies, and your behavior today makes it seem as though you don’t hold me in high regard.”
“Because I don’t,” she said, glaring at him.
“Hmm.” He let her hair glide through his fingers in a shimmering cascade. She tried to move away, backing up until she hit the wall of the cabin. “You know”—he leaned closer—“my crew might even think you don’t like me.”
Emily said nothing. Noah tipped her chin up with his finger. Still, she remained silent. It was killing her not to open that pretty little mouth and begin spouting off all manner of blasphemies at him. She was a proud woman—proud and utterly beautiful.
“But that can’t possibly be true, can it, Emily? You do like me, don’t you?” Noah paused to gauge her reaction. As anticipated, her face flushed crimson, her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared.
She was furious.
He continued, “It’s imperative you treat me with great affection during the remainder of the trip.” His fingers tightened on her hair.
“Go to hell.” Her chin flew up but she couldn’t release herself from his grip.
“And deep admiration.” He wound her hair around his hand, forcing her closer.
“Rakehell.” He opened his hand and her hair spilled about her shoulders. “And utmost respect.” Their faces were almost touching.
“Incorrigible wastrel.”
He turned his head slightly to hide a smile. He’d never enjoyed a woman so much out of bed as he did this one with her quick, saucy tongue. She proved an exhilarating challenge for him, much different than the simpering females he’d known who were content to bat their lashes and agree with everything he said, no matter how outrageous.
“Fool. Idiot. Bully,” she spat out.
“Enough.”
“Lecher.”
“Lecher?” He laughed. “I have never been called a lecher in my life. My men believe women swoon at my touch. I would hate to ruin that fantasy for them.” He released his grasp on her shoulders and tipped her chin up to look at him. “Women aboard this ship have always been with me which means hands off to the crew. You might want to consider a bit of play acting.”
She frowned and spat out, “Play acting?”
“Indeed. As lovers. But we must be believable.” He leaned closer and whispered, “We must give the impression we have been intimate.”
She buried her face in her hands.
“What do you say? Are you up for a bit of play acting?” He couldn’t see her face with her head bent forward, golden curls cascading down. Her small body slumped forward, as though in weary defeat. Perhaps he’d been too harsh with her, m
ade too many demands. She looked so small and defenseless.
He reached out to stroke her hair once again. She had beautiful hair, as soft and shimmering as moonlight on quiet waters. Like spun gold. He brought his hand closer.
“I’ll do it.” Her words were empty, void of emotion. Noah jerked his hand back. He would not feel sorry for her, would not feel anything for her. She was a schemer, a master manipulator, and a grand liar, and he would do well to remember that.
****
Morning dawned bright and clear. Emily was still abed, though she’d been awake for hours, pondering her current dilemma. She knew from his constant tossing and turning last night, that Noah hadn’t slept much either. She’d worried for a moment he would demand to share the bed, but he’d done nothing more than scowl at her and toss his bedroll in the corner.
But what would happen today? Would he demand the use of her body in exchange for safe passage to America? The very thought of his crude proposal made her cheeks burn. He wouldn’t go through with it. Would he? He was Ian’s friend. He was a man of honor. Wasn’t he?
Emily’s head pounded with unanswered questions. What a mess she’d gotten herself into. She had to think, had to reason her way out of this horrible situation.
A raucous yell above board caught her attention and reminded her of Noah’s warnings. We must give the impression we have been intimate. How on earth was she supposed to do that? Well, she was not about to ask him.
Barbarians, the whole bloody lot of them.
The cabin door opened, and Noah entered carrying a tray laden with food. He glanced in her direction and appeared surprised to find her awake.
“It’s early. I thought you’d still be asleep,” he said, setting the tray on the bed.