Romancing the Pirate Page 7

  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.

  “I’ll have some breakfast sent down. Would you like some water to wash?”

  Shifting to see him, she nodded. “I would. Thank you.”

  He nodded, turned to leave.

  “I really do appreciate everything you’re doing for me. And I’m ashamed that I raised a hand to you yesterday.”

  Not quite looking at her, but rather at a particular spot on the wall behind her shoulder, he said, “You can thank me by taking the hammock tonight.” And before he dug himself any deeper than he already had, he raced up the steps and as far away from Alicia Davidson as he could manage.

  It couldn’t have worked any better. Smiling, Vincent took the breakfast plate from Billy.

  “I can take it from here,” he volunteered.

  Billy was a short, hairy man. He had hair poking from the collar at his throat, small tufts coming from his ears, and, Vincent knew, a veritable carpet when the man removed his shirt. He frowned at Vincent, his brows making one long black slash over eyes nearly as dark.

  “I think I had better take it like he asked me to. Captain is in a right foul mood this morning. I don’t want to be doin’ nothin’ to make it worse.”

  Well, well. Vincent licked his lips, wishing with all his might he’d been a fly on the wall of Blake’s cabin last night.

  “Where is Blake?”

  Billy pointed to the steps that led to the bilges. “Doin’ somethin’ down there.”

  Even better. “Well, go back to your duties and let me take this. If Blake gets angry, I’ll be sure to let him know it was my idea.”

  Billy shrugged and stepped away. Humming now, the tray in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other, Vincent went on deck.

  “Tell me you’re not serious,” Nate said, from his position at the wheel.

  “What? I’m taking the lady her breakfast.”

  “Hmm. Then I’ll expect to see you straightaway.”

  When Vincent stopped, Nate continued. “Well, it only takes a minute to set the food down. Shall I hold the hatch while you put it on the table?”

  Vincent stepped forward, dropped his voice. “You know perfectly well I want to talk to her.”

  “Do I?”

  “Just open the damn hatch, won’t you? Make yourself bloody useful.”

  Nate looked out at the horizon, squinted his eyes against the blazing sun. “I am making myself useful. I’m steering the ship.”

  Vincent was considering setting down the food and shooting his friend when, smiling, Nate left the helm and opened the hatch.

  “Remember, I’m not part of this.”

  “Bloody hard to forget when you keep reminding me,” he mu
ttered. He called down first, and when he heard Alicia’s soft reply, Vincent started down the ladder. He nearly dropped the tea and fell when Nate slammed the hatch, narrowly missing Vincent’s head.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she answered.

  He set the food and drink onto the table. “Sleep well?” he asked, throwing a sideways glance at the hammock. There were no blankets on it. Forcing all expression from his face, he turned to her, managing a quick glimpse at the bed as he did. The covers were rumpled and judging from the pillows, two heads had occupied the bed. He couldn’t help but smile.

  “I did, thank you. And thank you for breakfast. I was deciding if I should go up myself.”

  “Blake is allowing you on deck?” Hell, last night must have been something indeed.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He’d said when he brought me the water to wash that he’d come back with food soon.”

  “He’d planned to, but he had something he had to tend to. He asked me to bring this down in his place.”

  “He did?”

  Vincent watched in amazement as her cheeks flushed and her hands fluttered at her collar. Figuring his task had gotten much easier, Vincent pulled out a chair.

  “Please sit and eat while it’s hot. And may I be so bold as to ask to join you?”

  Alicia’s eyes sparkled every bit as much as the sea.

  “Please do. It’s nice to have some company.”

  Knowing his time was limited, Vincent didn’t waste any.

  “Blake isn’t much of a talker.”

  She smiled around a bite of pineapple. “Not unless he’s angry.”

  “He can be a bit brutish at times.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She finished her fruit and began to eat the eggs.

  “Is he not, uh, warming up to you a little?”

  Alicia choked on her eggs. She coughed and her eyes filled with tears. Oh, hell! Vincent stood on his chair and thumped her on the back. She coughed harder. He was beginning to panic when she turned in her chair and caught his wrist with her hand.

  “I’m all right,” she wheezed.

  Blowing out a deep breath, Vincent sat down. “Well, thank God. I thought I’d killed you!”

  They faced each other and silence stretched between them until her laughter bubbled out, and deep dimples carved into her cheeks. Despite his embarrassment, Vincent joined her. Soon they were both wiping at their eyes.

  “I haven’t laughed like that in months,” Alicia said, suddenly sobering. “Thank you.”

  “I enjoyed it as well. You remind me of one of my sisters, Vivian.”

  Finishing her meal, Alicia pushed her plate aside and sipped her tea. “You have many sisters?”

  “Five. And one brother. But Cale’s the oldest and was practically grown before I came along.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see much of him and spent most of my time with my sisters. Vivian is closest to me in age.”

  Alicia looked out the cabin window. “I envy you the memories you have. The only thing I remember of my sister is that she has brown hair and that I used to call her Sam.”

  “But you’re going to find her and she can tell you what you want to know. Are you not excited?”

  She turned to Vincent and her sad smile tugged at his heart.

  “It feels like meeting a stranger, which is really what she is to me.”

  Hearing heavy boots above their heads along with a rumbling conversation, Vincent knew his time was up. Blake would be looking for him soon.

  “Has Blake talked to you much about your family, well, the one that you remember?”

  “I know he hated my father.”

  Getting somewhere now, Vincent shifted his chair closer to Alicia. “Have you never asked him why?”

  “I don’t think he’d tell me.”

  “Well, you won’t know until you try, will you?”

  And leaving her with that to ponder, he took her empty plate and left her to her thoughts.

  Alicia was going crazy. She’d been contained in the cabin for all of yesterday and most of today, and she’d run out of things to do. The bedcovers were straightened, the chairs all evenly spaced and pushed against the table. Since no one had come down to fetch her bathwater, and since it wasn’t very dirty, she’d used it to mop the floor of the cabin. There wasn’t a speck of dust on any surface.

  She was ready to scream.

  In the blacksmith shop there was always a din of noise, from the clang of metal on metal to the chatter she and Charles partook in to ease the long hours of hard work. Alicia dropped her forehead to the glass of the small, round window, felt the warmth on her skin.

  She missed the shop. From the sense of belonging that she felt each time she stepped into the smoky interior to the satisfaction of seeing a final piece gleam in the sunshine. And she missed her father.

  Closing her eyes against the undulations of the sea, Alicia saw Jacob in the shop, his thick apron on over his clothes, his face sweaty, and his brown eyes warm as coffee when he looked at her. His voice and touch were always gentle when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to ask her how her day went and then again as he guided her in her work, never judging and never impatient. His love had filled the shop as much as the heat from the forge.

  He was such a good man, such a wonderful father. She wondered why Blake hated him so much. Vincent was right—she really should ask him. Her eyes flew open.

  The letter. Blake had the letter.

  If she could find it, perhaps she’d learn why Blake had such harsh feelings toward her father. And since this was Blake’s personal cabin, if the letter was anywhere, it was bound to be within these walls. Excited, Alicia set off to find it.

  It was surprisingly, and disappointingly, easy. She’d almost hoped it would have taken longer to find as it would have used up more hours in the day, long hours she’d have to spend alone and confined. But as it was, the sun was high in the sky and the letter was in the first place she’d looked. In the corner next to the table was a series of wide shelves where Blake stored his maps and travel logs. Beneath them were two small drawers, side by side. When she’d opened the right drawer, the letter stared up at her.

  Heart pounding, Alicia left the drawer open and scurried to the ladder. She climbed up as much as she could before her head touched the hatch. She peered out. She could make out boots, nothing more. She recognized Blake’s, as well as Vincent’s. Since neither was heading her way, she ran back to the drawer and picked up the envelope. When she turned it over, her stomach plummeted.

  He hadn’t opened it; the red seal remained intact. Why the devil hadn’t he opened it? She inhaled a sharp breath.

  Her father had taken the time to write the man a letter, and Blake didn’t see fit to even read it?

  With it clutched in her right hand, Alicia tore up the steps, flung open the hatch. She saw Blake spin her way, saw the questions on his face turn to ire when he realized she was disobeying him by coming on deck in full daylight. She knew there were other men around, could feel their questioning glances, but her eyes were focused on Blake’s.

  “What are you doing on deck?” he demanded, stepping away from the helm.

  Ignoring him, she slapped the envelope against his chest.

  “You didn’t even read it?”

  Red crept from the last two open buttons of his shirt, up his neck, and suffused his face. She knew, despite the unrelenting beating of the sun, that it had nothing to do with the heat. Other than the creaking of sails and rope, the groan of wood, the deck was ominously quiet.

  “Where did you find this?” He grabbed it from her hand.

  “Why haven’t you read it?” she countered.

  “This has nothing to do with you,” he growled between his teeth.

  Her jaw slackened. “It was written by my father! He asked me to give it to you. It has everything to do with me!”

  He snarled. Then, grabbing her wrist, he shouted a command over his shoulder and nearly
flung her down the ladder to his cabin. His boots hammered the rungs. The hatch closed with a thunderous slam. The sound was still ringing in her ears, when she spun to face him.

  “Why didn’t you open it?”

  “Because I don’t give a damn what it says!”

  “Why not?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I allowed you to stay on board. I’ve altered my course, altered my cabin, and this is how you thank me, by searching through my effects?”

  “I’m trying to get some answers, Blake. None of this makes sense. Why did my father send me to you? Why do hate him so much?”

  “I’ll only say this once more. I’ll take you to your sister. I don’t owe you anything else.” He whirled around and threw the letter back into the drawer, slammed it close. This time he took out a small key and locked it. Pocketing the key, he came back to her. “Stay out of my things or you’ll find yourself sleeping back where I found you.”

  His words hurt, especially after the closeness she’d begun to feel that morning, when they’d shared the bed. She didn’t want their relationship to go back to the way it was, when they were constantly throwing scathing remarks at each other. But neither could she let this go. She didn’t know his past, but it couldn’t be worse than hers. At least he knew where he’d come from, whom he’d come from. He may have chosen to leave Port Royal but he remembered what he’d left behind.

  “Are you scared of what’s written in it?”

  Blake’s eyes turned cold. “I’m not afraid of anything that man has to say.”

  “Then read the blasted letter!”

  “No! And stay out of it, dammit.”

  He tried to stalk past her but she caught his arm. He stopped, his eyes boring into hers.

  “I can’t stay out of it, this is my life! I have no past. I have one memory. One. The rest are disjointed pieces that come so fast they don’t make sense. I’m never sure if it’s a memory or a dream, or just wishing on my part.”