The Pirate and the Puritan (13 page)

She took a deep breath to calm
herself. “Are you referring to those men on the island?”

He linked his hands behind his
back and took a tentative step forward. “Or the island itself. I imagined you
found it rather deserted at our approach. Maybe you even thought I went back on
our bargain.”

He paused at the table to pour
himself some wine. He refilled the pewter goblet she’d used earlier and offered
it to her.

Determined not to become the prey
in this game she’d initiated, she moved to the opposite edge of the table and
took the wine from his hand. When their fingers brushed, the predatory hunger
in his eyes flared.

She sipped the wine in order to
quell the nervous bubble that tightened her throat. “The island doesn’t concern
me nearly as much as the men inhabiting it. Who are they?”

He placed his palms flat on the
table and leaned his weight on them, bringing his face closer to hers. “My
crew.”

“I was afraid you were going to
say that.”

She met his direct gaze, which
only seemed to encourage him to drop his eyes to the gathering of her robe. The
small expanse of exposed skin suddenly made Felicity feel bare to the waist,
though the silk clinging to her breasts assured her she was still decently covered.
With so much attention in their direction, her nipples started to strain
against the thin material. She abruptly crossed her arms over her chest and
played with a loose strand of hair. In what she thought was a flirtatious
gesture, she bit her lip. Her pretense felt a little foolish and altogether
contrived, but she refused to turn back into a mouse as long as she held his
fascination.

“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 believe. 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.