Never Trust a Pirate

by Valerie Bowman

  She waited until Martin had left before speaking again. “So, I’m beautiful, eh?” She stabbed her fork into a plump apple slice swimming in cinnamon.

  “Fishing for compliments?” he replied.

  “Never. I don’t fish … or swim.”

  One of his eyebrows arched. “A sailor who doesn’t swim?”

  “I know many who don’t.”

  “And fishing?”

  “Never tried.”

  “Care for a drink?” Cade stood and pulled the bottle of whiskey down from the cabinet.

  “I already had my inaugural toast,” she replied.

  “That’s no reason to stop drinking.”

  “If I didn’t know better I’d wonder if you’re trying to get me foxed.”

  “And if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to avoid it. It’s fortunate that I do know better.”

  The man was outrageous. “How do you know better?”

  “Because we’ve had drinks before, you and I. Don’t you remember? The library? The wine?”

  Her eyes flashed. “That was … before.”

  “Before what, love? Before you were working? We both know that that’s not true.”

  She lifted her chin. She wouldn’t insult his intelligence by claiming that wasn’t true. “So.” He handed her a half-full glass of whiskey. “Are you ready to have a drink with me or are you still pretending you don’t want to? I, for one, could use a drink after today’s events. I’m guessing you could, too.”

  The man had a point. She took the glass and knocked back a healthy portion.

  “Excellent.” He grinned at her. “Now, should we discuss whether we will spend the night together?”

  The man was incorrigible. Very well. She’d play into his little game. Her grin was devilish. “How about a proposition?”

  “A proposition? I love the sound of that.”

  Danielle contemplated her options. Her conversation with Mary flashed through her mind. She’d told Mary that a drunken man’s words were a sober man’s thoughts. The idea had merit. Cade seemed intent upon trying to get her foxed. He deserved it, really. Danielle nodded and gave Cade a catlike grin. “If you can outdrink me, I’ll go to bed with you tonight.”

  * * *

  Two hours and many, many drinks later, Cade set his empty glass on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. The two had managed to drink an entire bottle of whiskey.

  “By God, woman, aren’t you foxed yet?”

  She wasn’t entirely sober, but she was also a long way from being door-knobbed. Besides, Cade had yet to tell her how he really felt about her. It was time to begin asking questions. He was at least as drunk as she was. Not the type of drunk that caused a man to pass out, but certainly in a state that would have him speaking a bit of truth were she to ask the right questions.

  Might as well get right to it. She propped her chin on her fist atop the table and blinked at him. “So, you said I’m beautiful. What else do you think about me?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I think you’re the most confounding woman I’ve ever met.”

  Confounding? That was hardly satisfying. “And?”

  “And I want to kiss you.”

  “Because?”

  “Because you simultaneously drive me mad by degrees and make me want you.”

  She narrowed her eyes back at him. “Are you foxed?”

  “Are you?”

  “I’ve been drinking since I was thirteen. I know how to handle my alcohol like a true sailor.”

  He snort-laughed at that. “Better than a true sailor if Danny and Sean are the comparisons. Those two are cockeyed every time they’re in port.”

  “Be that as it may, if I decide to spend the night with you, Captain, it won’t be because I’m intoxicated.”

  Cade opened his mouth to make some sort of retort, no doubt, but a knock on the door interrupted their conversation. McCummins came bowling in to consult Cade about the navigation.

  “We’re on course, Cap’n,” the first mate announced. “Baptiste’s ship is at least two leagues ahead.”

  “And Spain?”

  “We should be there in two days at most.”

  “Excellent.”

  The men spoke of a few other things while Danielle cleared the table and prepared her pallet on the floor. When McCummins left, Danielle glanced back at Cade.

  He stood in the candlelight, staring at her intently. The strains of some music floated up from the hold where the majority of the sailors slept in wooden bunks. Someone was playing the harmonica. It was a long, slow, pretty song. She stood and made her way over to the wardrobe and prepared to put away his clothing as he flung them at her like he had last night.

  “Care to dance?” Cade whispered as she passed by. She stopped, closed her eyes, and breathed in the scent of him just behind her.

  She was being churlish. Had been since she’d come aboard. Cade hadn’t known she would be here any more than she’d known he was the captain. If she was angry with anyone it should be Grimaldi but he wasn’t here right now and it was easier to take out her anger on Cade.

  A memory of their dance in her bedchamber floated through her mind. It had been romantic and candlelit and dreamlike. She’d been forced to cut short that magical night. She would not have to cut short this one.

  She faced him, curtsied in her boots and breeches, glided into his arms, and danced with him.

  “I cannot tell you how fetching you look in those breeches.” He smiled down at her.

  “You don’t look half bad in yours,” she admitted, returning his smile.

  He pulled her close and she breathed in his scent. His lips brushed her forehead.

  “Are you foxed?” she asked.

  “No.” He sighed. “I, too, have been drinking far too often for far too long. It takes a lot more whiskey than we had tonight to do the job. I was merely hoping to get you foxed.” His grin was roguish.

  “Sorry to disappoint.” She laid her head against his chest.

  “Not to worry. I’ll just have to rely on my charm instead of my alcohol.”

  They both laughed at that, his chuckle rumbling in his chest, vibrating against her cheek. They danced for the next several moments, Danielle memorizing his heartbeat beneath his shirt. She closed her eyes and imagined he was her beau and they were at a beautiful London ball. The song came to an end and she pulled away from him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Thank me?” His voice held a note of surprise. “For what?”

  “For dancing with me. Twice. I’ve never danced with anyone before I met you. I probably will never dance with anyone else again.”

  He pulled her back to him. “Nonsense.” He smiled at her. “We can dance whenever we like. It’s an advantage of being a pirate.” He slowly pulled her back into his arms and they gently swayed together in silence.

  Warning bells sounded in Danielle’s head. It was one thing to stop being so churlish. It was another to get so close to him that his arms were around her waist and she was breathing in his musky scent. Nothing good could come of this. Nothing but …

  His voice sounded huskily in her ear. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  She sighed and tipped back her head. “What took you so long?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  His hands went to her hair first. Plucking the cap from her head, he sent the hat spinning into the corner. She tried not to laugh. All right, perhaps she was a touch foxed. He pushed his hands through her hair, letting the locks fall over her shoulders. She tossed her head back to shake it out.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to run my fingers through your hair?” he asked against her mouth.

  “As long as I’ve wanted to run my fingers through yours?” She pulled his head down to hers and let her fingers tug at the strands of hair at his nape.

  He kissed her temple, her cheek, the side of her lips, before returning his attention to her mouth. He cradled her face in
his palms while his lips brushed against her, his tongue plunging, then another brush, and another plunge in a rhythm that slowly drove Danielle mad. She pressed both palms to his shirtfront, feeling his muscled chest through the cloth.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you here?” she asked between kisses.

  “Are you certain you’re not foxed?” he asked, with a smile against her lips.

  “Mmm hmm,” she murmured. “When I saw you without your shirt last night, I nearly climbed into bed with you.”

  “Why didn’t you?” He stepped back, quickly unwound his cravat, and used both hands to pull his shirt over his head. He tossed the garment on the floor. Instinctively, she reached for it.

  “Leave it.”

  She turned back to stare at the gloriousness that was his chest. She ran her fingers over it, marveling, watching the muscles jump and flex in reaction to her touch. “You look like you’re made from stone.”

  “Is that a good thing?” He kissed her again and her legs felt wobbly.

  “Like you’re unreal. A statue.”

  “A statue wouldn’t be able to take off his boots,” he murmured. “Help me?”

  She nodded.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and she promptly slid onto his lap. Hmm. She was feeling the whiskeys she’d had earlier after all. She might not be foxed but she was deliciously light-headed and sitting on Cade’s hard lap, feeling the length of his arousal and the warmth coming off his bare chest. Heat pooled between her legs and an ache began to spread there, too. She leaned down to tug at his boot, just like she had the night they’d met. The first boot came off without incident. The second one came off with a pop and she flew backward on top of him.

  “Another boot trick to get me into bed with you?”

  He quickly changed their positions and pushed her beneath him. He slid down her body and pulled off her boots, too.

  “Yes,” he said. “Your shirt next.”

  She nodded again. This heady feeling spreading through her veins was pure elation. She was no virgin. She’d had an awful time the first and only time she’d ever given herself to a man, well, a boy really. Robert. Since her first kiss had been entirely different from the one Cade had given her, she knew making love with him would be an experience she would never forget. First she had to make certain they both understood what this was … and what it wasn’t. She didn’t want a repeat of the last time she’d done this.

  “Wait.”

  His hand arrested at the top of her shirt. “What? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, it’s just that … I must tell you something.”

  “What’s that, love?” He kissed her neck. She couldn’t think when he kissed her neck, let alone speak. She forced herself to push him to arm’s length.

  He stopped and searched her face. “What is it?”

  “I need you to listen to me.”

  He braced his arms behind him on the mattress. “I’m listening.”

  She brushed a swath of her hair over her shoulder. “Before we do this, I need you to agree to two things.”

  “Sweetheart, right now I’d agree with you if you told me to move to Russia.”

  She laughed at that. “Nothing that drastic.”

  “Good, because I don’t speak the language. Though Daphne does.”

  “She does?”

  “Love, I need you to focus.”

  “Right. The first thing you must agree to is that we’ll … you’ll … take precautions. I do not want a child to result from this.”

  He nodded. “I understand. I know what to do. I don’t have any bastards to my knowledge.”

  That made her feel much better. “Thank you.”

  “And the second thing?”

  “We must both agree that … this doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Doesn’t mean anything?” He frowned at her. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

  “I mean that we both need to understand that this is … just for fun. We’re not making any promises to each other. This is not a commitment.”

  “If you insist,” he said with nonchalance, but his countenance betrayed a hint of disgruntlement. “Now may I get back to the business of removing your shirt?”

  “Yes,” she said, relieved that he’d so readily agreed to both of her requests. Perhaps this might be pleasurable and simple after all. Perhaps they wouldn’t have to worry about working together (if indeed that was Grimaldi’s plan) after having had a naked romp in bed. Perhaps it really was possible to keep the two things separate. All she knew was she had to try.

  Men left after sex. They were no longer interested. She didn’t want that inevitability to keep Cade from helping Grimaldi. By establishing this boundary, she was ensuring there would be no awkwardness later. It would simply be business after this. She settled back into the mattress and let out a sigh. Now she could enjoy herself.

  Cade took his time unbuttoning her shirt. There was no frantic pushing or tugging like last time. No sweaty grabbing or stale ale breath, only the spicy scent of Cade’s cologne near her ear and the slight shake of his hand going from button to button of her shirt. Knowing that his hand was shaking made her heady with power. Did she do that to him? Well, she was shaking, too. Would he find her naked body beautiful? He’d said she was beautiful, but would he truly think so when she was fully bared to his discerning eye? The man had been with ladies as gorgeous as the tall, ethereal Amanda Jones. There was no way Danielle’s short, hardly buxom body could compare.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered into her hair as if he’d read her mind.

  The last button gave way and he pushed off her shirt first from one shoulder and then the other. The tunic she wore beneath to conceal her small breasts was next to go. He pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the floor with the rest of the clothing. He stared at her breasts with pure reverence in his eyes.

  “Are they…?” She bit her lip. “Acceptable?”

  “Acceptable?” He looked horrified by the question, then gave her a wolfish grin. “Sweetheart, they’re magnificent.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at that.

  His hand went to her waist to begin unbuttoning her breeches but she stopped him. “You first.”

  “With pleasure.” He winked at her. She shook her head. She should have known he’d be fine with showing off his—ahem—assets first. The man was pure confidence. From what she’d seen so far, he had a lot to be confident about. Apparently, when you were built like Michelangelo’s David, embarrassment wasn’t a word in your vocabulary. Even his feet were perfect. She’d dared a glance at them. They were arched and long with beautifully shaped toes. It was entirely unfair. Her own toes could be described as positively plain.

  He rolled over onto his back, unbuttoned his breeches, and pushed them down his hips and legs. The garment became a ball in the corner with the rest of the clothing. Danielle was in awe of how quickly he’d done it. She swallowed.

  Ooh la la. The sight of an entirely nude Cade was something for which she was simplement not prepared. Narrow hips; lean, muscled legs; and a cock that would make other sailors jealous. The size of their members was exceedingly important to men. Cade’s was thick and strong and long, jutting out from a patch of dark golden hair between his muscular thighs. She stared at it, mesmerized. She wanted to touch it. She reached out, but snatched her hand away.

  “Go ahead,” he prompted. He lay on his back and crossed his hands beneath his head, proud and calm at the notion that his naked body was on full display.

  Still wearing her breeches and nothing else, she crawled toward him and lay at his side. She reached out and stroked his member. Cade groaned. She turned to watch his face. His eyes were closed. His face was pinched in pleasure. His mouth slightly open, panting. She reveled in the power she had over him. With every flick of her wrist, his hips arched and the look of ecstasy mixed with pain on his face intensified.

  “I could give you pleasure,” she said. “With my hand. I’
ve heard of that.” She’d heard of a lot of things on ships in the middle of the night.

  “You could,” Cade said, his breathing heavy. He opened his eyes and rolled on his side to face her. “But I want to take you and when I take you it’s going to be unbelievable, and I’m not about to do that until you’ve experienced pleasure that will make you half mad.”

  “Half mad?” she whispered, a thrill shooting down between her legs.

  He was already looming above her, on his knees. He pushed her onto her back and his gaze held hers in its sultry embrace while he unbuttoned her breeches with excruciating slowness. “I believe a man shouldn’t take his pleasure until his woman is fully satisfied.”

  “Hurry,” she pleaded, desperately wanting to feel him.

  “No,” he teased. His face was tender. His eyes were soft. “I refuse to hurry.”

  The third button came undone and his fingers brushed against the private skin beneath. She shuddered. His hand moved lower, unbuttoning the fourth button. At the fifth button she tried to do it herself, but he pushed her hands away and waved a finger at her. “Don’t try to rush me. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  She squirmed beneath him. Mon dieu. The man was maddening.

  He finally unbuttoned all of them and slid down to the end of the bed where he neatly tugged at the ankles of her breeches. They magically flew off after only a few gentle tugs. “You seem quite good at that,” she said.

  He winked at her again. “I’m better with gowns, but I happen to know my way around breeches because of my own use.”