Page 9 of Lord of Temptation
She walked down the long hallway toward the corner room that was hers. Lamps were lit, but no sounds greeted her. Not a snore or a bed creaking or whispers. They were out, her brothers. Her father as well, no doubt. Why did men have places to go at night and women didn’t?
Going into her bedchamber, she closed the door behind her. After removing her pelisse and tossing it on a nearby chair, she began tugging off her gloves, refusing to remember how lovely it had felt as the captain had removed one. Fortunately she owned several pairs, but still she didn’t like that she had left one behind. When she was done she tossed them onto her pelisse and strolled to her mahogany wardrobe. The door released a quick snick as she opened it and reached into the back for the brandy she’d pilfered from her father’s collection. She knew ladies didn’t drink spirits, but she’d been so cold after Walter’s death that she’d been desperate for warmth. She’d found it one night in her father’s liquor cabinet.
She set a snifter on her vanity and poured herself a generous portion.
“I’ll join you.”
With a startled gasp she spun around, the decanter slipping from her fingers. It didn’t hit the floor and shatter into a thousand shards because Crimson Jack was close enough to snag it on its journey to extinction. Breathing harshly, she stared at him. “What are you doing here?”
Leaning slightly past her, he set the decanter on the vanity. Then he held up a hand before her face. Over it was draped her glove, the one she’d left at the tavern that awful night, the one he’d removed with such care.
“I came to return your glove.”
“How did you get in here?”
His gaze wandered over her features and she suddenly felt bared to his inspection. She desperately wanted to step back but she didn’t want him to view her as a coward.
“A tree grows outside your window. For a man accustomed to climbing sail rigging during a storm, a few branches offer no challenge.”
“If I were to scream, my father and brothers—”
“Are at their clubs. I doubt they’ll hear you.”
“The servants—”
“By the time they arrive, I’ll be gone.”
“Which is exactly what I want. Step back.”
With a slight bow he did as she asked. She could breathe a little easier now that she wasn’t inhaling his fragrance. Strangely his scent was sharp and clean. Tangy. Like an orange.
“You should not be here,” she said, wondering if she should in fact scream, not certain why she hadn’t as of yet.
“I do a good many things that I shouldn’t.”
He held up her glove again and she snatched it from him. “Thank you. You can be on your way now.”
“I thought to discuss your journey to Scutari.”
“As I shan’t be hiring you, I see no need.”
“You won’t find a captain willing to take you.”
She angled her head haughtily. “Not even for five hundred pounds?”
Seeing a momentary flicker of admiration, she knew she’d gained the upper hand. The next captain she approached—
“Not even for five thousand,” he said.
Oh, now would be a very good time to yank out his hair. Instead, she heard herself ask, “Why?”
“I told you. I want you on my ship.”
“Yes, and in your bed, I’m bloody well sure. Well it won’t happen. Ever. You disgust me with your suggestion that I barter away to you the one thing I hold dear.”
“Your fiancé doesn’t hold that place?”
The crack of her palm hitting his cheek echoed around them. He hadn’t tried to stop her, although after seeing the speed with which he’d caught the brandy, she was fairly certain he could have. His reflexes were sharp and quick. So why did he just stand there and take it? Why didn’t he step away or grab her wrist or shove her aside?
