The Pirate and the Puritan

by Howe, Cheryl

  “Must you hire such dangerous men? I found them terribly frightening.”

  He raised his eyebrows and smirked. She cringed inwardly at his sign of disbelief in her sudden feminine fears.

  “Dangerous men sail the waters of the Caribbean. I would be a fool not to fight fire with fire. But don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” His declaration mocked her with its condescension.

  “Do you trade with pirates?”

  He genuinely smiled at her question. “In a way.”

  Her efforts to be alluring were forgotten. She strode around the table to confront him. “I knew you were up to something illegal. Or are you going to tell me buying pirate contraband is legal in the Caribbean? My father—”

  “Doesn’t know of my illegal activities,” finished Drew. His teasing tone faded with his smile.

  “Of course he doesn’t.” She forced a tight laugh. The old adversarial habit eclipsed their flirtatious banter, but she didn’t want to lose the ground she’d gained by her change of tactics. That was the only reason she wished to hear the huskiness in his voice return.

  “My father would be horrified if he knew half the things I know about you.”

  Her gentle barb recalled his slow grin. He closed the short distance between them until they stood mere inches from each other. She tensed, thinking he might kiss her.

  His warm breath caressed her cheek. “Do go on, Felicity.”

  The deepness of his softly spoken dare gave her the courage to continue.

  “How do I know you’re not a pirate yourself?”

  Drew’s focus dropped to her mouth and lingered there. “You don’t.”

  She was out of her element. She’d pushed the game to the brink and waited for him to seal her fate with a kiss, but he didn’t even flinch.

  “I suppose the fact that you haven’t ravaged me counts for something.”

  “I’m considering it.” He swept her hair off her shoulders.

  She clutched the robe to her neck. Was he teasing her? She turned away before he could laugh at her sudden dismay. Whether she was more horrified by the fact that men and women actually spoke of such things aloud or by the instant wanting his words evoked, she couldn’t say. The image of Mistress Bishop, her face twisted in puritanical outrage, tried to lecture Felicity on the cost of giving into temptation. Unfortunately, a primal yearning spoke louder. Felicity was more depraved than she’d even suspected.

  “I should change. If you would leave the room for a moment, I’ll find something more appropriate to wear.” Her voice sounded hesitant even to her own ears, but she had to say something in response to his lewd comment. If she didn’t, he might suspect she’d fall into his arms as easily as every other woman he’d come across.

  She dared a glance over her shoulder to find him studying her with a curious tilt of his head. Lord, but what would she do if he kissed her? She feared she already knew the answer.

  ***

  “You’re fine as you are,” Drew said. “Solomon will be bringing our dinner shortly.” Composed and polite, he stepped to the table Felicity had put between them. He pulled out her chair and gestured for her to sit

  He hoped his struggle for control didn’t show on his face. He’d probably scared the hell out of her with his leering. Her effort to keep the clinging robe closed distracted her from the white-knuckled grip he had on the back of the chair. When he released his hold, he was surprised to find that he hadn’t left imprints in the wood.

  He took the seat opposite her and curled his fingers around his wine goblet. Before he drained the glass as he longed to, he nudged her goblet in front of her. She tipped her cup and gulped the contents. He set down his wine without touching it. What had gotten into her? More to the point, what had gotten into him?

  He’d walked into the room and found her wrapped in nothing but liquid ruby, and he’d temporarily lost the ability to breathe. Then, the way she had talked to him... Perhaps his lust-clouded brain had imagined the seductive tone and double meaning of every word leaving her luscious mouth. For a moment, he’d believed her mention of ravishment an invitation—and God help him, he’d almost taken her up on it. A fierce arousal began to throb with the idea.

  She’d been flirting with him. He was sure of that. Her attempt at seduction resembled that of a young girl testing her charms for the first time. Unfortunately, her caressing purrs fell from the lips of a voluptuous, full-grown woman who should know better. With her hair tousled, her cheeks flushed and the robe accentuating every nuance of her body, she looked as if she’d just rolled out of bed with a lover. And Drew wanted that lover to be him. He’d never been tempted to fall into the raping and pillaging attributed to most pirates. Felicity sorely tested that.

  She awkwardly reached past him to grab the decanter of wine, capturing his attention. He caught the bottle before she knocked it over, and refilled her goblet for her. She whispered her thanks while avoiding his gaze. Her pale throat contracted as she drank deeply.

  Should he apologize? For what, he didn’t know. Actually, he’d been on his best behavior, considering hers.

  “Would you like something else? Tea, perhaps,” he suggested.

  “No. This is fine. Thank you.”

  The plate of food Solomon had brought was hardly touched. If she continued downing wine like one of his crew, she’d be ill again or dangerously drunk. It had been his experience that women of the prudish variety tended to become quite amorous when a bit of wine warmed their bellies. A repeat performance of her earlier exhibition would land her flat on her back. He was human after all, and barely that by some standards.

  He didn’t believe that a furious coupling was what she really had in mind when she began fanning his lust, though. Maybe she didn’t realize what she was doing, much less inviting. The notion gave him the solution to his problem.

  Solomon burst unceremoniously into the room with a huge tray laden with silver-topped dishes. He set down the tray harder than necessary, making Felicity jump. The man glanced at her, then cut his gaze to Drew.

  “Thank you, Solomon. I believe you’ve met Miss Kendall.”

  Solomon grunted a response. Felicity didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Apparently, Solomon’s usual disapproval had found another recipient this evening. Solomon stomped toward the door, forcing Drew to call him back.

  “You can take this,” he called, lifting the tray of fruit and cheese.

  Felicity retrieved the decanter of wine before Solomon marched back and snatched the tray away.

  “Thank you,” Drew said to Solomon’s broad back. The man swiftly exited the room with a loud slam of the door.

  “Solomon doesn’t seem to be himself tonight Things must not have gone as smoothly as he claimed while I was away.”

  “He doesn’t like me. That’s the problem.” Felicity’s voice sounded thick and an octave deeper than usual. Underneath her heavy lashes, the liquid brown of her eyes flared with surprise. She touched her lips and giggled. The slurred sound of her own voice seemed to amuse her.

  He almost groaned when she licked her full lips, then lowered her gaze. Kissing her would be sheer ecstasy. His lips curled as he suppressed a wolfish grin. The thought of the hard, deep kiss it would require for his plan to be effective made it almost impossible not to smile. All he would have to do was bite hard at the bait she’d been naively dangling in front of him, and that would be the end of her girlish flirtations.

  “You two didn’t get on well?” he asked absently. He began serving their dinner from the silver dishes, his mind consumed with dessert, even if it would be only a nibble.

  “No-o,” she answered, drawing out the word. “And it’s all your fault. You could have told me Solomon wasn’t a slave when I accused you of...whatever I accused you of after I saw those papers.”

  “I’ve committed too many treacherous acts for you to keep track of, have I?”

  She accepted a plateful of food, sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. “That’s what you want me to belie
ve. Explain why you have papers claiming you purchased Solomon when you’re merely friends. What is this, anyway?” She scowled at the milky mound on her plate, blowing away a curl that had fallen into her face.

  He doubted she realized she’d slurred the word explain.

  “It’s fish stew over rice. Try it. Solomon is an excellent cook.”

  She pushed the plate away in favor of her wineglass. “He probably poisoned it if he knew it was for me. It smells funny. Now answer my question.”

  “That would be the coconut milk. Our repasts are limited on the island.” Drew took a bite of stew and swallowed. “You’re safe. I served them from the same dish.” She brought a small spoonful of the milky soup to her lips, then swallowed without chewing. Her grimace revealed that she would have preferred to spit it out. If she’d had a couple of more glasses of wine, he wagered she would have.

  “Things aren’t always what they seem at first glance or taste, Felicity. If you weren’t so eager to jump to conclusions, you might discover the truth once in a while.”

  She pushed away her plate, but this time with much more subtlety. “I can’t take anything you say as the truth.”

  He didn’t want her to pass out before he had the chance to kiss her. The imperative task would assure her continued chastity and had nothing to do with the anticipation dancing in the pit of his stomach. “If you eat at least half the food on your plate. I’ll give you nothing but truthful answers for the rest of the evening.”

  She frowned. “How do I know that’s the truth? So far you haven’t answered any of my questions, truthful or otherwise.”

  “I swear on my honor as a nobleman and a gentleman.”

  She wagged her finger at him. “You’ve broken your promise already. You’re neither of those things. You told me Lord Christian doesn’t exist.”

  “Did I? Or was that another one of your assumptions? Lord Christian does exist. Or rather, he could have. At least the duke he claimed as his father does.”

  “You’re purposely confusing me.”

  He shrugged, as if the information he was about to reveal held no importance. After all, the fact had only ruined his life.

  “The Duke of Foxmoor is my father. So, I’ll retract the bit about being a gentleman and swear on the thread of noble blood coursing through my veins to tell nothing but the truth—at least for tonight.”

  “If your father is a duke, that makes you...”

  “A bastard, but I believe you already assumed that.” He held her gaze, refusing to let the sting of bitter memories weaken his stance. As he waited for scorn or pity to mar her lovely features, he cursed himself for laying himself open to her and her for believing him.

  She did neither. Without the slightest indication he’d just revealed the demons under his bed, she warily ate her stew.

  “Well, at least that’s one thing in your favor. If you were raised an aristocrat, you’d be completely hopeless.”

  He began to breathe again. Perhaps Felicity didn’t differ that much from her kindhearted father after all. “So there is still hope for my soul, Miss Kendall?

  “Only if you answer my questions as you promised. Is Solomon your slave? And if he isn’t, why do you have a paper saying he is?”

  “Solomon’s idea. The bill of sale you found while pillaging my belongings was all his doing.”

  “Oh, I see. You two are such good friends, Solomon decided to honor you by becoming your slave.”

  He took another bite of stew, fully enjoying her stir of temper. “Close, but not exactly.” He wiped his mouth on a forest green napkin before sipping his wine. “Most people make assumptions, as you do. They decide a man’s status before they have the facts. Solomon suggested we have documentation forged in the event a slave trader decided to slap him in chains and check his background later.”

  “I see.” Her back stiffened.

  He’d only been teasing when he baited her, but the sweep of her honey-tipped lashes against her cheek urged him to take back his words. In truth, he enjoyed her quick wit, even if it prompted her to jump to conclusions.

  Avoiding his gaze, she intently spooned stew into her mouth even though she had almost emptied her dish. “And the child?”

  Drew hesitated. Outright lying had become a way of life, but the silly promise he’d given Felicity weighed on him. He’d not really intended to be honest with her.

  “A similar situation.”

  She brightened, but his simple explanation didn’t seem to satisfy her. “So the little boy wasn’t sold into slavery?”

  “No.” Drew played with the rice left on his plate. He’d drawn out the meal to encourage her to eat. When he wasn’t forced to play the role of cultured Lord Christian, he had the table manners of a hound, devouring his food in a few bites, then completing his meal by tipping a mug of rum bottoms up. Of course when he was on his ship, the only time he was truly Drew Crawford, he usually dined alone.

  “Well, what happened to the child?”

  He glanced up to find Felicity alert with curiosity. His plan to sober her had met with rousing success, leaving him with the difficult task of distracting her from a forbidden subject.

  “He’s with his father. Did you notice the writing on the documents?”

  “No. I was too stunned by their contents.”

  “You should have. You know the person who forged them.”

  She laid down her fork. “You forged them, or maybe even Solomon. You’ve scared me off assuming anything. For all I know, one of the wild men from your crew did the deed.”

  He rested his chin on his clasped hands and leered at her. “I’m disappointed. I expected a better guess from my little spy.”

  “I’ve named the limited number of people we mutually know who would resort to forgery. Unless...” Her thoughtful expression turned to a scowl. “Samantha Linley would surely stoop to any depths for you.”

  The jealousy in her voice unexpectedly pleased him. “After the length of time you spent scouring the ledgers of the New England Trading Company, I can’t believe you didn’t recognize Richard Marley’s script.”

  She dropped her spoon into her empty bowl with a clatter. “Master Marley? What else did he help you with?” She didn’t have to say the rest. The question of Marley’s death hung between them just as effectively unspoken.

  His good humor faltered at the accuracy of her question. “You’re jumping to conclusions again. Marley and Ben were like brothers. I know you don’t think much of me, but are you so eager to think the worst of your father’s childhood friend? Christ, Felicity, I thought you would understand why he did me the favor as much as anyone.” Anger punctuated each of his words, though its source was his own past deeds rather than her assumptions. He hated the reminder of his responsibility in Marley’s death, but that was exactly what he needed. His fascination with Felicity had distracted him from the purpose of this voyage.

  The softened slant of her warm brown eyes didn’t banish his temper. “I do understand, and I would do the same under the circumstances.” She hesitated only for a moment. “But you do believe Marley’s death had something to do with you and your…business dealings?”

  He pushed away his plate. “Yes.”

  The creasing of her brow made him dread her next question. “Is my father in danger?”

  Another reminder of his mission’s importance loomed in the anxiety permeating her breathless question. “Nothing will happen to Ben or you. I’ll make sure of that.”

  She searched his features, her eyes moist and vulnerable. “You’re going after El Diablo, aren’t you? You weren’t just running away from Barbados.”

  “It doesn’t concern you, Felicity.” His voice was gravel. God, did he actually see admiration in her expression? He knew he heard it in her question. “You made a promise not to reveal my identity, and that includes any little secrets I spilled tonight due to too much wine. I won’t have your meddling cause your father’s death or Solomon’s return to slavery.”

&nb
sp; She covered her hand with her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. Mumbling the most blistering curse he could think of, he pushed himself from his chair. He had some French cognac stashed away somewhere and he needed it. He was babbling like a lovesick adolescent. Solomon would be furious if he knew Drew had revealed his status as a runaway slave. Drew might not have said the actual words, but she would figure it out. Her shocked expression at his outburst told him she already had.

  “Drew.” She stood. “I won’t tell anyone anything and I’ll swear it on whatever you like.”

  Her tentative call halted his search. He turned to look at her over his shoulder. Her feet and ankles were bare. His imagination slid beneath the robe to continue the trek over her body. The anger making his blood churn swiftly turned to lust with the force of a swollen river threatening to overrun its banks. He let the strength of his hunger simmer in his eyes. There was still the matter of the kiss. That would forever banish the hero-worshiping look that had temporally caught his heart in a vice.

  “W-why are you looking at me like that?” Her eyes grew wide and frantic, like a hare snared in a trap.

  He stalked toward her. “Why do you think?”

  “Because you’re a cad and think every woman was put on earth for your pleasure.” She squared her shoulders, but all that did was bring the shape of her lush breasts’ to prominence against the silk. Her hardened nipples stood out brazenly, begging to be caressed…or sucked. How could a supposed Puritan have a body like that? In Drew’s experience God had proven cruel, but not that cruel.

  He stopped within a few inches of closing in on his quarry. If she wanted to push him away, she could. A flare in her eyes warned him that she had no intention of staving off his advance. The idea that her fiery disposition spread to other aspects of her nature gripped his cock with a firm hand.