Page 16 of Wed to the Devil

“Are you going to stay down here all day?”

I whirl, not expecting to find Dare leaning against the doorway, looking me up and down. I can feel myself flushing although I don’t know exactly why.

I toss my hair, giving Dare an annoyed look. I put my hand onto my hip and shrug my shoulder.

“What is it that you want from me, Dare?”

He pushes off the doorframe and heads into the room, watching my face closely. “Isn’t that obvious?”

I give an exasperated sigh. “Apparently not.”

He starts pulling at his dress shirt, unbuttoning the top few buttons. “I want you to follow through on your promises, darling girl.”

I swallow hard and look at his hand as he unbuttons his shirt slowly, prowling around me. I’m not sure what to expect from him at this moment and I have to admit that he is making me nervous.

“And what is it that you have been promised?”

“Everything, Talia. Everything that a wife is supposed to do.”

Dare turns away from me, pulling his shirt off and dropping it on the bed. Then he pulls off his shoes and strips off his dark pants, leaving him completely naked. He doesn’t bother to hide a single thing, letting me stare at his well muscled ass and his mouthwatering abs as he stretches a little.

Then he pulls the closet open, finding a simple white T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He pulls the jeans on and the shirt over his head. I can’t help but notice the fact that it fits against him perfectly, practically molded to emphasize his triceps and well toned chest. My tongue darts out and I lick my lips, feeling a little guilty.

After all, I am suddenly lusting after Dare, the very man I claim to hate. I try to remind myself that despite his good looks and my attraction to him, he is the enemy. He is the very definition of a bad person. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones that are coursing through my body that are playing with my mind. I drop my hand to my abdomen, pursing my lips.

As I do, my stomach unexpectedly growls so loudly that Dare hears that. He finishes dressing himself and then turns around, looking me up and down.

“I take it that you’re hungry.” I shrug a shoulder but the truth is that I am famished, though the feeling seems to have come from out of nowhere.

Dare nods to the door. “Come on. We’ll go into the ship’s kitchen. There’s bound to be plenty to eat up there.”

He crosses the room and heads out, never doubting for a moment that I will follow. Unfortunately, he is truly the one in control just now. Out here, where no one can hear me scream or notice if he simply threw me overboard, I am in Dare’s sway.

I follow him around the darkened hallway and up the stairs. He heads around to a small door that is discreetly located behind the staircase to the top floor. He sweeps it open and ushers me into a surprisingly large space with a long walnut dining table and matching set of walnut benches on one side of the room. On the other side is a little galley kitchen and a bar cart. Dare points at the table.

“Sit down,” he says. I step out of the cold and close the door, noticing that there is a great quantity of natural light piercingthrough several cleverly hidden skylights. I sit down at the table, realizing just then that I am a little shaky. I don’t know if it’s from hunger or if it has something to do with the sea itself. But at this moment, I am definitely glad to be seated.

Twin waves of nausea and hunger hit me, one after another. I suck in a deep breath and don’t even know what to do about the intense wave of nausea I feel.

Dare jostles some jars around and then appears before me, setting a tray of fresh made bread, butter, thick slabs of cold roast beef, mini-gherkins, and several other things all lined up in little bowls. He puts my slice of bread on a tiny plate and offers me a butter knife. Then he goes back to the bar cart, getting two cans of soda. He holds them up as I smell the bread, my mouth watering.

“You want ginger ale?”

To my surprise, I answer, “Yeah. That would actually be perfect.”

He returns with two cans of ice cold ginger ale and sets them on the table before taking a seat across from me. He looks at my untouched food with some puzzlement.

“Well? Yes. What are you waiting for?”

I press my lips together and repress any kind of reaction. Instead, I smear a bit of butter on my bread and then add a few of the gherkins to my plate. Dare pops the top on my ginger ale and pushes it towards me as I take a bite of the bread.

I close my eyes, unable to stifle the chorus of groans. The bread is very good, still warm from the oven. When I open my eyes again, I find Dare looking at me with a smirk.

“Is it good?”

I roll my eyes. “I haven’t eaten all day. I don’t think I realized that I was even hungry until about four minutes ago.”

He reaches across the table and pushes the soda can closer to me. “Drink some of this. My mom used to get really seasick and she always swore by this brand.”

---