His Wicked Kiss (28 page)

That in no way described Eden Farraday.

And yet, for all her courage and all her brains, and all her damned persistence, who knew better than he how vulnerable she was? How sheltered and naive? Who besides him could take care of her properly?

Aye, he was beginning to think this girl might need him, whether she knew it or not. Jack enjoyed being needed: It not only made him happy, it gave him a sense of control. What was a great deal more threatening, however, was considering the stark possibility that he might bloody well need her, too.

Now,
that
was a very dangerous state of affairs.

“Psst—Captain!” A playful whisper beguiled his attention over to the sewing corner.

He glanced over to find
Eden
peeking around the edge of the screen, her eyes sparkling. She held up two fabrics. “Which do you like better? The red wool or the dark green velvet?”

They had found more bolts of cloth that were supposed to have been sold in
London
.

A smile tugged at his lips, for it was plain to see she was having a marvelous time. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Oh, come. It’s for a little spencer jacket,” she explained eagerly. “What do you think?”

He shrugged, shaking his head. “Either one.”

Her smile turned to a mild pout. “You must have a preference, Jack! You’re the deciding vote. Martin and I can’t agree.”

His valet stood behind her, out of
Eden
’s sight, pointing emphatically to the green. Well, it would match her eyes. Jack hid his smile and seconded the choice.

At once,
Eden
glanced suspiciously at Martin. His brief pantomime done, the valet looked at her, all innocence. Jack bent his head, suppressing a small laugh. His preference, in truth, was for her to wear nothing at all…

The delectable image that bloomed in his mind at that thought was the final straw. He stifled a groan and pushed up from his desk, going out with a long-suffering growl to practice his fencing. The mental work was beyond his powers of concentration at the moment.

A bout of rigorous exercise ought to help him work off the frustration.

After Jack left,
Eden
remained in the day cabin working on the sleeve of her new walking dress. Martin was the next to hurry off to see to his regular duties, namely, ironing the captain’s linen shirts down at the laundry.
Eden
did not mind the time alone, however, for her mind was much preoccupied.

Ever since their interlude this morning, strange thoughts about Jack had begun flitting through her brain. Though they had only known each other a short time, having had the chance to observe him in his natural habitat, as it were, she had noted much about the big fellow to love.

She was awed by the noble courage of his mission on behalf of the colonists battling for freedom—something not even his ducal father could do, as he had pointed out. Too, she was moved by the pain that she sensed in his silence on the subject of his family.

After watching him for a few days now, she was all the more impressed by his leadership, his care for his men, and his shrewd abilities, running his empire from that grand mahogany desk in the day cabin.

Given his ruthless reputation, she was shocked at how kind, even indulgent he had been to her, and she got the feeling he was a little shocked by it himself. Clearly, he didn’t have to do any of this—feeding her, clothing her, sharing his cabin, protecting her from any possible threat from the crew.

Most of all, she was amazed at how easy it was to tell him her innermost thoughts, desires, and fears. His manner that night down in the sickbay had been so caring that she had even found the strength to relate to him the whole, upsetting tale of the Indian boy in the woods. He had been the very soul of kindness about it.

In sharp contrast to Connor, Jack made her feel so safe; and in contrast even to Papa, he
listened
to her. And so these unsettling questions had begun to revolve in her mind like so many seagulls circling the masts of an anchored ship.

She had set her sights long ago on dashing Town Corinthians in coats from Savile Row, but ever since Jack Knight had come sailing into her life, her shining visions had begun to feel a bit like gaudy childish fantasies. What if this man was her destiny? The true love that she’d have crossed the world to find?

She had stowed away to get to
London
, yes, but what if the journey turned out to be more important than the arrival at her destination?

Restless with her questions, she got up to take a break from her sewing, and stretched a bit. Rubbing her neck in mild fatigue, she glanced out through the weather-eye window and promptly spotted the captain engaged in fencing practice with tough old Mr. Brody and a few of the other officers.

Eden
held her breath and stared.

Shirtless, his bronzed body rippling with muscle and gleaming with sweat in the golden daylight, Jack was taking on several opponents at once, while the sun sent blinding flashes off his wheeling sword.

She stood there motionless, awed by the sheer magnificence of the man and by the beauty of his deadly skill; riveted, she watched him deliver blows of massive power, swift, precise—and ruthless.

Mr. Brody called a halt and barked more instructions to the men arrayed against Jack. Unaware that he was being watched, Jack took a short break from his exertions, spilling water over his head, and taking a few swigs from his canteen.

Her gaze slipped down his glistening chest and abdomen, his regal physique inspiring her to wonder if and when she’d get the chance to pleasure him the way he’d done to her. She was certainly happy to try.

The Nipper marched toward him all of a sudden, wielding a play wooden sword. She could not hear what the wee cabin boy said, but he apparently felt it was his turn to practice with the captain.

Jack flashed the child a grin and picked up a nearby mop that one of the sailors had been using to swab the decks. He used the blunt wooden handle to parry the Nipper’s blows.

Little Phineas Moynahan looked positively minuscule battling Jack for all he was worth, a merry David and Goliath match. After playing swords with the boy for several minutes, the big captain let the Nipper get a hit in and dropped his weapon, clutched his body, and pretended to die.

Down onto the decks he fell, playacting his demise.

A soft smile touched her lips as
Eden
watched the pair, transfixed.

Phineas cheered his own victory over the fallen giant, but when Rudy pounced on his master, licking his cheek, Jack shoved the dog away affectionately. He jumped up again, rumpled the boy’s hair, and returned to his real practice.

Eden
feared she had just fallen in love.

As a result, when Jack came marching in, his practice done, she couldn’t stop blushing or gawking at the man. She tore her gaze away, her heart racing, and tried to focus on her work, but when she pricked herself with her sewing needle on account of the trembling in her hands, she could only wonder what in blazes was wrong with her. Why could she not act naturally around him all of a sudden? She had not had this problem before. She felt awkward and shy, transparent and smitten. If Jack noticed the change, he gave no sign. Oh,
stop
it, she ordered herself, clearing her throat.

“How was your practice?” she asked in what she hoped sounded like a nonchalant tone.

“Good, except I think I strained a hamstring.”

She lit up. “I could make a poultice for you!”

Heading for the storage closet, he sent her a startled glance over his shoulder. “That’s all right. Bit of a soak in the tub should cure me just fine.”

The tub.

As he stepped into the closet to retrieve the bathing tub, her face turned scarlet with wildly improper notions.

But since it seemed plain that he wished to avoid temptation, she realized she had better go. Indeed, it suddenly occurred to her that after days of having her underfoot, the man might actually like some time alone. Cringing at the thought of how she had imposed on him, she put down her sewing at once, pulled on her light, newly made pelisse to ward off the wind, and headed for the door.

Jack looked at her in question.

“I’m sure you’d like to relax,” she explained in a halting tone.

He looked a bit relieved that she did not intend to stay to help him bathe. Clearly, the man could not hold himself responsible for what might happen if she attempted such a thing.

“Remember to stay near Brody or Trahern.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” She gave him a jaunty salute and then managed to walk into the wall as she realized her feelings for him were probably written all over her face. “Blast.”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you all right?”

“Er, fine, t
hank
you,” she mumbled, flustered. “Well good-bye, then.”

“Good-bye,
Eden
,” he murmured in a tone of bemusement.

As soon as she pulled the door closed behind her, she cursed herself for acting like a dolt, but at least she managed to compose herself again before stepping out onto the quarterdeck.

Outside, she spotted Mr. Trahern caught up in a chaotic bit of wrangling. One of the young sailors up on the mainsail yardarm had managed to make a tangle of some ropes, or rather, sheets, as the crew preferred to call them.

The lieutenant was in the midst of getting it all sorted out, so she turned aft to look for her other authorized guardian. On the elevated poop deck at the stern of the ship, she saw old Brody checking, cleaning, and putting away the array of weapons that Jack and the others had been using in their practice.

The fierce Mr. Brody
, she mused, watching the leather-tough old warrior at his work for a moment. The master-at-arms was an intimidating hunk of gristle, but she had her orders, and besides, he seemed to be a favorite with Jack. She was curious to find out why.

With her mind made up to brave
The Winds of Fortune’s
renowned curmudgeon, she squared her shoulders, put on her best smile, and climbed the short ladder up to the poop deck, in the shadow of the mizzen-mast.

He eyed her suspiciously as he inspected the blade of one of the sabers. He gave the sharp steel an idle polish as she approached, tucking her blowing tresses behind her ear.

“Good day, sir. The captain is preoccupied in the day cabin. He told me to stay near you or the lieutenant if I walked out, and since Mr. Trahern appears to be busy, I thought I’d pester you.” She beamed prettily at him, clasping her hands behind her back.

Brody scowled, squinted in Trahern’s direction, and began grumbling under his breath. “Oh, busy, is he? Our fine lieutenant.” A snort emitted from his half-flattened nose. “That young lie-about. Don’t look busy to me…”

Eden
lifted her eyebrows at his querulous commentary.
Oh, dear
. No wonder the whole crew feared him. Not daring to venture another remark, she lowered her gaze and then made herself useful, helping him to put away the weapons.

“So,” he muttered, “you’re the stowaway.”

“Guilty as charged,” she admitted with friendly caution as she wiped one of the blades with the nearby cloth, sheathed the weapon, and handed it to him.

He harrumphed as he put it in the long wooden case. “Ain’t a decent thing for a young lady to do, stowin’ away.”

Eden
was taken aback. “Well, no. I suppose not. Still, I had my reasons.”

“Aye, I’ll bet you did.” He thrust the button-shaped safety guard onto the point of the epee and tossed it, too, into the case. “Think you’re mighty clever, don’t you? Trickin’ the lot of us. Stowin’ away. And now ye got him eatin’ out o’ the palm o’ your hand, don’t ye? A pretty bit of business, in all, and very neatly done.”

“Neatly done? Whatever do you mean, sir?”

“He’s got a lot of money.”

“So?” she retorted.

“Ye don’t like shiny baubles? Fancy gowns? Fine houses? None o’ that?”

She stopped and turned to him, propping her fist on her waist. “Exactly what are you implying?”

“Ha! Cap’n thinks ye wanted to get to
England
, see, but I think it was
him
ye wanted all along.”

Her jaw dropped. “Mr. Brody. If you are actually suggesting that I did all this for the express purpose of trying to snare Lord Jack in matrimony, then I fear you are going quite senile and should not be handling weapons.” She turned away in cold fury, her pride stung. “Forgive my intrusion. I don’t wish to trouble you further. If you’ll pardon me, I will seek out Mr. Trahern.”

“Bah.” A low, gruff cackle rose behind her as she pivoted and began marching away. “Go have yourself a fine sulk, lassie. No matter. You ain’t the first to try to catch him in your noose, and I sincerely doubt you’ll be the last.”

“I don’t sulk,” she said crisply, turning around with a warning glare.

But he wasn’t through with her yet, taking her measure with a canny stare. “All you wicked women just want to get your claws in the lad, on account of his gold.”