Page 22 of Breath From the Sea
Chapter Seven
What the devil was happening to him?
Titus’ hands had the slightest of trembles. Almost the same as when he’d first been handed his new rank as captain. Dare he say it was nerves?
His heart pounded and he was hot one moment and chilled the next.
’Twas Antónia. She was the reason he felt this way.
He glanced into his cup, for a split second wondering if it was possible that she’d drugged him. Nay, he’d been the one to pour the glasses.
But hadn’t she made note of the bottle in his desk? She’d had plenty of time to spike it if she wanted to. Then again, she’d drunk from the cup, too.
“Well, Graves?” she asked expectantly.
Titus shook himself from his trance. “Aye, food, lass.” Shoving off the odd case of nerves he marched toward the door, opened it and hollered to his valet, “Ward! A meal for two!”
Then he slammed the door shut.
Antónia was tugging his linen shirt from the floor and pulling it over her tousled red hair, sliding it over her curves, hiding her creamy beauty.
“My shirt is still wet,” she said, hanging the black fabric of her shirt on the back of a chair. “I hope ye don’t mind if I wear yours.”
Saints, but she looked damn good in his shirt. “Nay, not at all.” He didn’t. In fact, he looked forward to the scent of her being on his clothes when she left.
Ballocks!What in blazes did that mean?
Titus yanked up his breeches from the pile of discarded garments and tugged them on, not feeling at all himself.
“Together we are one wardrobe,” Antónia said with a laugh as she lounged on his bed. She lay on her side, arm bent, her head propped on a dainty palm.
Titus chuckled, his chest tightening. He stared at her, his gaze having gone serious. She looked like she belonged there, like she was what had been missing in his life, and he’d not even realized it.
Antónia’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?” She shifted her gaze. “I mean, besides the fact that I tried to rob ye and then seduced ye into giving me the treasure ye carry.” Her tone was jovial and he wanted to laugh, but he had heavier things on his mind.
“Why did you want to be a pirate, Antónia? Why follow in your grandmother’s footsteps?” He pulled out a chair, turned it around and straddled it, resting his arms on the back as he studied her. Keeping distance would help him to think. Keeping her talking would help him hopefully calm the questions whirling in his normally solid mind.
She twirled a tendril of hair around her finger, avoiding his gaze. “What lass wouldn’t? I love the sea. I love adventure. I love the thrill that comes with boarding a ship and seizing power.”
“But there is so much danger involved.”
She shrugged and gave him a coy look. “There is danger everywhere, Captain. Even at your precious court, where just a simple whispered word can change the lives of countless people.”
“That is true.” The woman had a good point. Court was tiresome and full of backstabbing and vicious rumors. How many times had he wondered if a man accused had even done the deed or merely been a scapegoat?
“Why did ye want to be a sailor?” Antónia pulled him from his thoughts with her question. “Ye’re a noble, after all. Why did ye strive to live a life aboard a ship?”
“Much like you, I love the sea. My father was an admiral before he died. I wanted to be like him.”
“And now?”
He grinned and winked. “I cannot stand the ceremony of court. When I’m not at sea, I report to the queen and then attend my lands. I’ve not the drive he had.”
“Lands? Do ye have many?”
“My holding in Gravesend is of decent size.”
“Have ye a family?” She bit her lip, as though she didn’t want to ask the question, and it had slipped out without her permission.
