“I leave that choice entirely up to you, my dear. Crane!” he called, and instantly the cabin door opened to reveal Hawk’s first mate. Crane turned icy eyes upon Bethlyn. “You know what to do,” Hawk told him.
“Aye, sir.”
Crane hurriedly left, leaving Bethlyn standing in the center of the room, her limbs quaking and a burning lump in her throat. From the bunk, Hawk glanced casually at her, infuriating her and frightening her all the more.
Bethlyn jumped when the door was thrown open again and Crane and Sparrow entered the room, carrying a tub of water between them. Placing it by her feet, they then left, leaving Bethlyn totally baffled.
“Am I to drown myself in two feet of water?” she asked Hawk.
“The thought is appealing, but no, sweet. I told you that your punishment must fit the crime, and that is your punishment, or let’s say the beginning of your atonement.” He gestured towards the water. “I am in sore need of a bath, and since you’re the reason I can’t bathe myself, weak as a kitten that I am, then you shall do the honors for me.”
“No.”
“I fear my hearing must have dimmed. What was that you said?”
“I said no. I won’t bathe you.” Her face was entirely consumed in scarlet. She’d never seen a man naked before. The thought frightened her, yet excited her since the man was Hawk, and this was more frightening to her than his nudity.
“Ah, I had forgotten,” he mused and placed a finger on his fun, sensual lips. “You said you’d fight.”
To her surprise, he got off of the bunk, a bit unsteady at first, but in a second, his hand grabbed her wrist, belying any lack of strength on his part. “Fight me then, wench. But I believe you’ll lose.”
“I hate you!” she spat, already sensing her defeat.
“Don’t become repetitive, Beth. I know how much you hate me, and I could say the same to you, but I won’t. Believe it or not, I fancy myself a gentleman at times. I need and want a bath and I aim to have one, and you’re the one who is going to wash me and tend to my wound. Also, unless you want to go back to that little prison you were in the last few days, you’ll do as I say, everything I say.”
“I won’t be your whore,” she nearly choked on the word. His breath fanned her cheek, and his lips were dangerously close to hers. For an insane moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and for an insaner one she felt her traitorous body responding to his, but he sneered at her, dispelling the notion.
“I don’t want you for my whore, as you call it. I don’t need you. There are twenty willing women on this ship, one of which you aren’t. However, you can’t get away with nearly murdering me and think you’ll not pay the piper, love. I promise I won’t touch you. All I ask is restitution for what you’ve done by caring for me as a human being. I can’t rely on my men. All hands are needed on deck. You will help me, Beth, until I am well enough to take command. There is nothing worse than a man who can’t captain his own ship. The men will sense weakness, and I won’t allow that. You don’t want to be responsible for a mutiny.”
“Suppose I don’t care if your men mutiny.”
His hand stroked her cheek, and his voice contained a sadness and a warning. “I should hate your lovely body to fall into less gentle hands than mine.”
An urge to scream gripped her. She felt she was living a nightmare, and all because she’d taken the wrong ship. Thomas Eversley was to blame for her misfortune, and she vowed that when she met that man again, if she met him again, for the chance of surviving appeared dim, she’d tie his blasted hide to the back of a horse and drag him through the streets of London like a sack of meal.
“It appears I have no other choice in the matter,” she said at last.
Hawk managed a smile. “I’m pleased you’re a reasonable woman.”
He let her wrist go and waited expectantly in front of her. “You may proceed.”
“With what?”
“Undoing my breeches, of course. I can’t bathe with them on.”
Her face paled, then turned so hot she felt as if she were on fire. She was about to protest anew, but Hawk cocked his head a bit, warning her. Steeling herself with a shuddering breath, she reached for the cord at his waist, fumbling with the knot.
“What sort of a doxy are you?” he asked and grinned. “How could you have gotten so far in your trade and be so clumsy when it comes to undressing a man?”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” she ground out, too aware of her face near his chest, of her fingers brushing against the pelt of hair by his navel when the cord finally broke free. “I’m acting as your nurse until you’re well, that’s all.”
“I’ve never had a nurse as pretty as you. What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”
“Your breeches are ready to be taken off now.”
“Then take them off.”
“Me? I … can’t … I’ve never….”
“Do it.”
His voice was whispery soft but left no doubt in Bethlyn’s mind that he intended for her to obey him. With trembling hands, she grabbed the top portion of his breeches and began to pull them down. This time her flesh encountered more than the soft hairs by his navel. The pants fit tight on his legs, and there was no way she could avoid touching his hard, lean thighs though she closed her eyes, willing herself not to open them and see that portion of him which in all sensibilities she knew she shouldn’t want to see, but couldn’t resist.
“Beth, look,” she heard him say and like a moth enraptured by a flame, she opened her eyes. “I’ve stepped out of the breeches. You can move now so that I can step into the tub.”
“Oh, yes!” she cried, and scampered away. She turned her back to him and placed her hands on her face to cool herself, but her hands practically scorched her cheeks. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, as if in a daze. Never in her life had she seen a naked man, and her reaction to this one puzzled and unnerved her. Had her time with the doxies caused her to think like one, to act like one? But she wasn’t one of those women, she told herself, and she refused to be made into one of them because of Captain Hawk.
When she heard him say she could start washing him, she very nearly refused, but thought better of it. Somehow she felt that Hawk wanted to humiliate her by serving him, and she was determined to turn the tables on him. He’d told her he wouldn’t touch her, and now she decided to put him to the test.
“Of course,” she said, much too docilely and took a soft linen rag and began lathering it with soap.
Though the tub was large, Hawk appeared ridiculously huge in it. He’d drawn up his legs, extending them over the sides, and the water barely covered his waistline. The bandage around his middle would need to changed, but for now it wasn’t his wound which intrigued her. It was the man.
“Do you never remove your mask?” she asked, and knelt beside the tub with rag upraised.
“Never.”
“I don’t believe you. There must be times you do. What about when you sleep?”
“Depends on whom I’m sleeping with.”
Bethlyn couldn’t help but blush at such a forthright reply. As she began washing his back, the thought streaked across her brain that Hawk was quite vulnerable to her at that moment. She could pull away his mask and inform the authorities of his identity whenever she reached port. But a large, restraining hand clamped down upon hers when her fingers came into contact with the back of the mask. “I warn you, Beth, that I’m not a fool.”
“I didn’t think you were, sir.”
“Just so you know that.”
Arrogant, pompous boob! she silently fumed. He released her, and she washed the muscular and hard lines of his neck and back, aware of his every breath. Gulping, she found the courage to lightly skirt the rag across his pectoral muscles, very much aware of the steel-like quality against the softness of her fingers.
From behind the mask, he watched her and she sensed his perusal. Though she wished to keep her face composed, she couldn’t help but bite her l
ower lip, her eyes growing huge when she stopped washing only to have him gently move her hand down the length of one thigh.
“I need to be washed everywhere, Beth.”
His voice sounded husky but detached, as if he took great delight in humiliating her but didn’t wish her to know it. A part of her recognized that touching him so intimately was causing a part of her own body to throb, and never had she experienced any such feeling in the center of her womanhood. She wasn’t quite certain how to stop the sensations, but she did know that this man was causing them and she’d prove to him that she could resist him.
Clearing her throat, and setting her face into a more than passive expression, she nodded and proceeded to move the washcloth along the length of one thigh, lightly trailing across his manhood and washing the other thigh. The water barely covered his shaft, and Bethlyn couldn’t believe her eyes when it began to grow. Somehow she knew that her ministrations were the reason for this phenomenon, and a sense of power filled her.
Hawk might believe he had her at his mercy, but she’d prove to him just who possessed the upper hand, and if he touched her, she’d declare him less than a gentleman and the scurvy rogue she thought him to be. And maybe this time, she’d finish off the bounder.
With a sensual movement, she dangled the washcloth above his manhood, then casually she combed it through the dark bush of hair before finally locating her target. Beneath the cloth, she clearly felt the pulsating heat of him, the hugeness of him. She’d never touched a man in any way except for a few brief kisses, never had any indication of how a man looked when aroused, but realizing Hawk’s arousal was for her, she didn’t seem to mind. He was a fine specimen of a man, and Bethlyn slowly discovered that she enjoyed touching him.
“Am I doing a good job, Captain?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“Ah, what did you say?” His voice sounded unusually thick.
“I want to know that I’m not remiss in my punishment.”
“You know you’re not. Beth?”
“Yes?”
“I want something from you.”
She stifled a smile. This was the moment he’d command her to come to his bed, and she’d refuse, forcing him to live up to their agreement. “What is it, Captain?” she practically purred.
“Hand me the towel. I’m finished my bath.”
She blinked in disbelief, watching his lips turn upward in wry amusement. Plunking down the washcloth, she stood up and grabbed the towel from the back of a chair and handed it to him. The hateful man had somehow guessed what she was about, and fresh fury rose within her. Somehow she’d best this man!
Rising from the tub, he resembled an Adonis. Rivulets of water dripped down the hard length of him, and that strange sensation tightened and coiled within her womanhood at the mere sight of him. He handed the towel out to her.
“Your duties aren’t finished, Beth. Dry me.”
Words of rebuke rushed to her lips, but Bethlyn didn’t utter them. What good would it do to call the man names? He knew what he was and knew how much she hated him. Matters would only be made worse if she filled his ears with vituperations.
Smiling a dangerously sweet smile, she took the towel and in a most brusque manner, she dried him.
When finished, he changed into another pair of breeches and got onto the bunk, leaning weakly against the pillows.
“My wound needs tending.”
Pointing to clean linen, he explained how she was to undo the old bandage, wash the wound, then wind the new cloth around his chest. The procedure seemed simple to Bethlyn, and she dutifully unwrapped the linen, but couldn’t suppress a dismayed moan to see the damage she’d done.
The wound was an ugly red line, about half an inch wide, halfway between his navel and rib cage. She realized fully how lucky Hawk was not to have died. How lucky she was not to have incurred his entire wrath.
“It’s quite ugly, isn’t it?” he said without emotion. “Old Bluebelly, the man who acts as surgeon and physician on board, did an adequate job of stitching me up. He said I’ll be as good as new in another week or two. But I will be scarred.”
“I’m … sorry,” Bethlyn said, and meant it.
Hawk shrugged. “Goes with the life I lead. Now, please clean it and cover the blasted thing.”
Immediately Bethlyn took a washcloth and dipped it into a bowl on the table beside the bunk. The bowl contained healing herbs which Bluebelly deemed would heal the cut more quickly. After she’d applied the sticky salve, Bethlyn managed to wind the linen around Hawk’s chest. When she finished, she stood back and noticed that Hawk appeared pleased with her.
“Thank you, Beth.”
He didn’t need to express his gratitude as she felt quite rotten for what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to stab him and she told him so.
“I still won’t ask your forgiveness,” she contended with a bit of defiance in her voice. “You acted like an animal that day.”
“Then perhaps I should ask your forgiveness.”
Had she heard him correctly? “You’re apologizing to me?”
“Yes. I’m sorry for frightening you. I’m not sorry for wanting you. Before this trip is over, you’ll want me, too, Beth. You’ll beg for me.”
“Never,” she shot back.
He laughed and wagged a finger at her. “Never say never, my sweet.”
Suddenly he lunged off of the bunk, looking less than weak, and began pulling at her dress. She tried to back away, but in one swift rip, he tore the gown in half, leaving her clutching at her scanty chemise. Breathing hard, her eyes filled with hatred which quickly dissolved into disbelief when he pushed her near the tub.
“I think you need a good washing. You’re a mess, a fetching mess, but a mess nevertheless. That gown is ruined. Here.” With a purposeful stride, he crossed the cabin and went to a trunk against the wall and withdrew a pretty violet and pink print gown. He tossed it on the bunk. “You should look very nice in this dress. Take your bath and put it on.”
“But … but…”
“Do as I say, Beth. I shall leave you to your privacy. And don’t ask me where I got the gown.” Hawk left the room.
Bethlyn’s mouth dropped open in complete bafflement, not having expected this turn of events. Could the man have a heart after all? When Mavis entered unexpectedly, she almost thought he did.
“Captain Hawk wants me to help you bathe,” Mavis informed her.
“I don’t understand him at all.” Bethlyn cast aside her torn gown and pulled off the chemise to delight in the feel of the cleansing water when she sat in the tub. Her body flowed with heat to think that Hawk had sat in this same water only minutes earlier. Somehow the situation struck her as obscenely intimate, and somehow she didn’t mind.
“Hmm,” Mavis muttered, and helped Bethlyn wash her thick mane of hair. “I understand the man only too well. He said that if you’re not squeaking clean and presentable, he’ll wash you himself.”
Bethlyn pulled her dripping wet head out of the water. “That bully of a man said that?”
“He did.” Mavis nodded.
“Good Lord! I wouldn’t put anything past that bounder.”
Though Bethlyn pretended to be outraged by such a statement, she did feel that perhaps Hawk’s strong hands moving across her body wouldn’t be such an awful thing.
8
Bethlyn snuggled deeper within the feather mattress of the bunk, pulling the soft blanket about her shoulders. For the first time in a week she felt quite contented and imagined herself in her room at Aunt Penny’s. It was only when she heard the loud, insistent ringing of a bell that she fully woke, startled and then angry.
“Aggravating man!” she muttered and rose from the bunk to quickly don the gown Hawk had given to her. Running slender fingers through her hair, she swiftly arranged the long tresses into some semblance of order. When finished, she spun around and pulled open the heavy door of the cabin which adjoined Hawk’s.
“What is it now?” she asked him
, and set her hands on her hips in a gesture of defiance.
“What a testy wench you are this morning,” Hawk said from his spot on his own bunk.
“It took me quite a long time to fall asleep last night,” Bethlyn admitted and stifled a yawn.
“Come now. Don’t tell me that you haven’t enough to do. If that’s the case, I can think of a few more chores for you.”
“No! I mean, I have quite enough to occupy myself.” If he gave her anything more to do, Bethlyn felt she’d be too tired to move a muscle. For the last two days she’d waited on this man hand and foot. Each time he wanted a drink of water, food, or a cover, she fetched them. She was growing to feel more and more like an obedient dog than a human being. Though Hawk hadn’t informed her how much longer this voyage would take, Mavis had told her that Crane mentioned they’d be landing within the next three days. Then she’d be free of her servile existence, and, more importantly, free of Captain Hawk.
“Consider yourself lucky that I don’t force you to sleep in here with me each night and play my attentive servant. I didn’t have to supply you with accommodations any woman on this ship would kill for.” Flashing her a dazzling white smile, Hawk folded his arms across his chest. His subtle threat found its mark. She’d rather die than sleep in here with him and didn’t want to go back to that sorry room in which she’d been imprisoned.
“Thank, you, Captain. You’ve been most kind.” She hid a sneer and smiled at him. “What can I do for you?”
Did she imagine that his eyes blazed beneath that mask?
At first she’d thought his eyes were black, but now she knew they were green, a beautiful, translucent green, filled with dancing sparks of fire. She hated when he looked at her like that, as if he were mentally taking inventory of her and undressing her. Yet she shivered with some perverted sense of anticipation when he did.
“I’d like my pillows puffed.”
“You woke me for that?”
“I require your expert puffing, my sweet.”
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