Romancing the Pirate (8 page)

Blake was honest enough with himself to acknowledge the knot that settled in his chest was one of regret. He didn’t like it, knew the man didn’t deserve it, but it was there as surely as the smooth wood was in his hands.

Alicia moved then, walked to the bow. In the moonlight her shirt glowed, reminding him of Nate’s words—and Blake’s reaction to them—that she was virginal. She reached for her braid and with deft fingers uncoiled the length of hair until it was a shiny enticement flowing down her back. In the moonlight it appeared almost white. His stomach did a slow roll.

He cursed himself all kinds of a fool even though his eyes never left her. Telling himself the reasons he should hate her only angered him more. He shouldn’t feel anything, not one damn thing toward her, least of all lust. And despite his argument earlier, he shouldn’t have been jealous either. But as sure as the breeze whispered over his heated face, he knew he’d felt both.

Damn her, he thought, slamming his palm on the wheel. Why couldn’t she have stayed in Port Royal and left him the hell alone?

The hatch banged again and Alicia heaved a sigh of relief. Though she’d enjoyed the stars and the fresh air, Blake’s hostility was a presence on deck and it made her anxious. It was why she’d remained at the front of the ship, watching the water fold away from the hull rather than asking Blake the questions that kept pulling at her.

How had he known her father? Why was Blake so angry with him, and with her? Had he known all this time that she wasn’t truly Jacob’s daughter? Had the whole town?

“May I join you?” asked a strange voice behind her.

Alicia spun, her hand at her throat.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

“No, no. That’s all right.” She took a calming breath, tried to slow her racing heart. “I hadn’t heard you approach, is all.”

He smiled, showing a large expanse of gums and small yellow teeth. He held out a small, rather delicate looking hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lewis.”

There was something about the eagerness in his gaze that gave Alicia pause. His eyes were little daggers that stayed fixed on hers in an unnatural way. He stood too close and Alicia took a deliberate step back. However, since she’d been raised with strong manners, she took his hand. It felt much the same way she imagined a snake would feel, clammy and cold.

“Alicia.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he drawled, holding tightly to her hand. “I wasn’t aware there was a woman on board. Is your husband a crewman, or perhaps the captain?”

She pulled her hand free, wiped it discreetly on her thigh. “Neither, actually.”

“No chaperone either?”

She angled her chin. “My travel plans are my own.”

His smile faded. “Of course. Please forgive my rudeness.”

Feeling very uncomfortable, Alicia was thinking of how best to excuse herself when she was saved the trouble by Blake’s arrival.

“Lewis, is it?” Blake asked.

“Yes,” the much shorter man answered and Alicia was very pleased to see his boldness wither in Blake’s presence.

“A little late to be about. The others are all asleep below.”

“I was heading there myself.”

Blake nodded and stayed where he was. Lewis looked back to Alicia.

“So nice to have met you, Alicia. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Blake’s mouth flattened, giving him a very formidable look. “Not likely. She’ll be in my cabin.”

Lewis’s eyes widened. “Well, then, perhaps another time. Good night.”

Neither Blake nor Alicia talked until Lewis was below and they were once again alone on deck. Then Blake turned to her, eyes hard as his mouth.

“You’re not here to dally with my crew. I thought I’d made that perfectly clear.”

“It’s not what I was doing!” Alicia gasped, caught as much off guard by his words as by the furious tone.

“I’m not blind, Alicia. I saw the way he looked at you, and from where I was standing, you didn’t seem to be discouraging him.”

“I only met him now!”

“I allowed you on deck for a reprieve. Had I known you were simply going to disobey me at the first opportunity, I wouldn’t have been so generous.”

She gaped and placed a fist on her hip. “You call keeping me in your cabin for hours on end ‘generous’?” she demanded, forgetting it wasn’t wise to antagonize him.

His jaw flexed. “You want to know what I normally do with stowaways?”

“I’d hope you’d treat them a might bit better than you have me,” she answered, her gaze never moving from his.

“You ungrateful wench,” he grated between his teeth.

Before she could stop herself, her hand flew to his face. In a lightning-quick move he grabbed her wrist and held fast. Alicia was stunned. She’d never hit another person, and she was mortified to have tried now. That it was Blake, the man whose help she was counting on, made her mistake that much graver.

“Don’t ever raise a hand to me,” he growled, his dark eyes flashing.

She knew she should apologize but his self-righteous attitude infuriated her. He’d assumed the worst, and rather than ask her what was going on, he’d insulted her.

“Then don’t be attacking my character. I am well aware of your terms and I did not break any of them. It was he who came to me.”

Blake dropped her arm.

“Yet you didn’t step away. Seems to me you were enjoying yourself.”

“Let me assure you, Mr. Privateer, there has yet to be a moment on this ship that I have enjoyed.” With a final cutting glance, she swept past him and went below.

In his cabin, she cursed him as she paced the floor. He was insufferable! He was headstrong, stubborn, and arrogant.

“I’ll be happy to see the last of you when we reach St. Kitts,” she muttered, slipping into her nightdress.

Only when she’d changed did the reality of her sleeping arrangements sink through her fury. She stood in the middle of the cabin and gazed around, her eyes landing on the hammock that had been set up since she’d left. For her, no doubt.

She turned to the bed. It was large and soft-looking and far more inviting. She looked back at the hammock. It was swaying slightly. Oh, no, she thought, setting her teeth. She’d been sick all night and most of the day. She’d suffered Blake’s wrath and his bad temper and had been kept in the cabin because the mighty captain didn’t trust her not to turn his crew into a pack of blubbering idiots. She was exhausted and her eyes felt as though someone had thrown in a handful of sand. The least she deserved was a decent night’s sleep.

Walking to the bed, she drew back the covers and crawled in, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

If Blake had such a problem with her,
he
could take the blasted hammock.

Blake awoke to three very noticeable realities. One, he wasn’t alone; two, he was very much aroused; and three, if she moved any closer to him, she’d be sure to get a surprise she hadn’t figured on when she’d decided to take his bed. But then, he hadn’t figured on this situation either when he’d come down last night—still unsettled by Nate’s barbs and Vincent’s claim that Blake needed answers—to find Alicia in his bed.

Hadn’t he gotten Nate to set up a damned hammock to avoid that exact possibility? He hadn’t wanted her in his bed. But he’d been tired and frustrated. He’d already changed the direction of his ship, altered his cabin, and had to endure his friend’s badgering because of her. She was bold, ungrateful, and had dared try to slap him. And then she’d had the nerve to take his bed. Well, he wasn’t about to be put out of his own damn cabin, was he? So, stripping down to his underwear, he’d climbed into bed.

He knew now it had been a mistake.

Yet he didn’t move away. Instead, lying on his side with his head braced on a folded arm, he watched her sleep and wondered at the tempest of emotions she brought out in him. Anger, certainly, though he knew that wasn’t rational. What Jacob had done was not her fault, but what she represented was a sore that wouldn’t heal.

Still, looking at her pale cheeks and soft mouth, he was tempted. He couldn’t explain that either, as his taste in women ran to those that were experienced in pleasing men. None of them lingered in his thoughts the way she did, and unfortunately he couldn’t blame it all on anger. At times like this, he could look at her and wonder.

His gaze slid down to her throat, where her nightdress revealed the creamy swells of her breasts. He lost his breath. They weren’t the most voluptuous but they pressed together, creating a seam that made his mouth want to explore.

Breathing softly beside him, she slept on, unaware of his struggles. And he had more than one. Yes, she reminded him of his past, and yes, she stirred his needs, but it was the jealousy he’d felt biting him yesterday that bothered him. He didn’t like her. It shouldn’t matter that Nate thought her attractive, or that Lewis was interested in spending time with her. He shouldn’t care. But the thought of that little whelp, or even Nate, touching her made Blake want to stand guard, protecting her from anyone who would take advantage of her innocence.

Blake grunted, closed his eyes. Some protector he was. Wasn’t he, even now, yearning for her, despite her innocence?

“Blake?”

He felt her hand on his forearm and nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes opened, and he cursed himself a fool even as his gaze ravished her. She hadn’t braided her hair the way he knew most women did when they slept, and it fell in a tangled mass around her face and over her shoulder. Clear blue eyes filled with concern looked down on him. She’d propped herself on her left elbow, and with her right hand on his arm, gravity did the rest.

Her nightdress gaped open. Her breasts swayed, unfettered by any of those womanly bindings. And if she took another deep breath like the one she’d just taken, he’d see everything he’d need to go straight to Hell. Yet he found himself unable to look away.

“Blake?”

She leaned closer and he saw what he’d both wanted and yet been afraid to see. A perfect nipple, pink and hard, ready to be plucked. His blood slammed into his groin.

Groaning, he threw an arm over his eyes and flipped onto his back.

“What is it?” she asked.

He knew by the dip the bed made that she’d slid closer to him. Nate was right—she smelled clean and fresh. It was taking all his will not to reach out and touch her. His hand fisted into the sheet. He didn’t dare speak because he didn’t trust his mouth not to betray him.

It wasn’t until she grabbed the blanket and he felt cool air brush his navel that he realized what she was up to. He grabbed the cover as though it were a line tossed to a drowning man in the middle of a hurricane. His eyes flew open, and he strained to keep them on her face. Because if they dipped down again … He inhaled sharply.

“Don’t do that,” he growled, holding the blanket at his waist.

“Why, are you hurt?” Her gaze trailed over his chest and he clenched his teeth, because in his mind he saw her do the same with her mouth.

“No, I’m not hurt.”

Their eyes met and the concern in hers made him feel like a scoundrel. She was worried about him and all he wanted to do was get her naked and devour her like a ripe peach. He closed his eyes again. Hell, what was the matter with him?

“Are you sure? Because perhaps I can help.”

She tugged on the blanket.

“Alicia, unless you want the surprise of your life,” Blake said, eyes still closed, “I suggest you stop right now.”

Silence reigned for a moment, and Blake thought he had himself under control until she asked, as innocently as she no doubt was, “Why? What’s under there?”

The situation was anything but funny and yet he couldn’t help chuckling. How did a man answer a question like that?

He opened his eyes, saw her serious expression. Felt a little tug around his heart.

“Nothing you’re ready for,” he answered.

She frowned, dark blond eyebrows slanting over stunning blue eyes.

“I don’t understand.”

“And that, Alicia, is why you need to sleep in the hammock until we reach St. Kitts.” Blake slid up the bed, taking the blanket with him, and leaned his back against the wall. Alicia leaned the other way. Now that they were a safe distance apart, Blake sighed deeply, feeling more like the man he’d been when he’d gone to sleep last night.

Until she tilted her head to the side, eyes fixed on his, and said, “Are you saying you find me desirable?”

Hell.

His silence, however, seemed to please her and she smiled, bringing out deep dimples in her cheeks he’d never seen before. Coupled with the tousled hair and questioning look, Blake had never felt lower. Christ, she was but a child.

“You’re too young, and I don’t like you, remember?” he reminded both of them.

“I think you’re changing your mind about that,” she said matter-of-factly. “Besides, I’m eighteen. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

He eyed her warily, because the smile wasn’t fading.

“What?”

She shrugged and Blake found himself drawn to the rise and fall of her breasts.

“What?” he demanded, louder this time because he’d never felt so out of control.

“I’ve never had a man find me desirable before. It feels …” She shrugged again. “Nice. It feels nice.”

Nice. His hands were sweating and he didn’t dare leave the bed for fear of embarrassing the both of them, and she felt
nice?

“You need to get dressed and get out of my bed.”

Her blue eyes widened. “I won’t change in front of you.”

He cursed. “No, of course not!”

She leaned forward, and this time he turned his head.

“Then what do you want me to do?”

Take off your nightdress. Kiss me. Touch me and don’t stop, not even if I think you should.
Thumping his head against the wall, he said, “Turn around. I’ll get dressed.”

“Sounds reasonable,” she answered.

Yes, it did. Very reasonable indeed. Why, he was practically saintly.

Blake waited until she had slid back under the covers and turned away from him before he leapt from the bed. He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever dressed as quickly as he did then. Only when the last button on his shirt was fastened and his boots were firmly on his feet did he speak.