By the time the sun touched the horizon, a glorious sight of red and orange ribbons out the tiny porthole, Gabrielle thought she’d go mad with fear.
The lock jangled, and the door opened to a pirate with a pointed beard, hair that stuck out like a porcupine, and a gold ring dangling from his left ear.His lascivious gaze wandered over them both, and he licked his lips in delight before tossing a gown toward Gabrielle.“Cap’n requests yer presence fer dinner.”
Gabrielle swallowed, fear hiking up her throat.
The pirate slammed the door and locked it.
She exchanged a glance with Omphile, an understanding passing between them, though neither said a word.
She knew the gown.’Twas one she’d worn before on this ship of horrors.However, this time, it fit a bit too snugly on her new figure.She thought to simply discard it, but no sense in infuriating Damien more than necessary.
After helping her get dressed, Omphile gripped her shoulders and said a prayer over Gabrielle before she left.But as she walked the hallway leading to the captain’s cabin, she felt like a condemned prisoner being led to the gallows.Memories surged like billows in a storm, crashing over her one by one, stealing her breath, her reason, her hope.Hence, by the time she was shoved inside and the door slammed behind her, she felt like she might swoon.
Gripping the back of a chair, she gathered her breathandher wits.She’d learned long ago that Damien fed on fear, and she must never grant him that power over her again.
There he stood, looking handsome in his doublet of Murry taffeta with high wings to the shoulders and embroidered sleeves.Trousers of fine cambric were stuffed into leather boots, while a cravat stitched in silver was tied about his neck.A rapier with a jeweled hilt hung at his side.Light hair, slightly lower than his shoulders had been slicked back and tied, revealing a strong jaw, noble nose, and piercing blue eyes.Lantern light glistened over the ruby eardrop hanging from his ear.
No wonder she’d so easily been caught in his web.Little had she known that a snake lurked behind the peacock.A fact she would never forget.
He grinned and gestured for her to sit at a small candlelit table set for two.
China plates, silverware, and glasses glimmered in the light while the scent of roasted fish filled Gabrielle’s nose.
“What need have you to put on such pleasantries, Damien?I am fully aware of your darkened heart.”
He placed a hand over his chest.“You cut me, my sweet.”
She’d like to do more cutting than that.Gaining her strength, she forced back her shoulders.“What do you want?”
“Merely to offer you a meal.You must be famished after giving birth to our son.”
Our.The word sent a wave of nausea through her stomach.“I fear I have no appetite.”
“Tsk-tsk.A tragedy, for my cook is quite proficient.”
As she remembered.Her glance took in the bed against the bulkhead, and an unavoidable tremor skittered down her spine.
He followed her gaze.“I have no need to take what is already mine.”
“You cannot claim that which you stole, Damien.”She regretted the curt reply immediately for his face contorted with a fury she well knew.
???
Damien ground his teeth and forced down his anger at the woman’s impertinence.He’d not brought her here to argue, to castigate, nor to ravish—though the idea was not without its merits.In truth, he’d wanted a pleasant evening with the woman who had consumed his thoughts for the past six months.A yearning that was only reinforced after seeing her on that island with Cadan and discovering she was with child—hischild.She’d been a tasty treat to be sure, but no woman had ever carried his seed within her.This may just be a woman he should keep close to nurture their child, for he well knew what life without a mother could do to a young boy.
“Let us put the past behind us, shall we?”He pulled out a chair for her.“Our dinner grows cold.”
Not as cold as the look she gave him.“If you are so interested in spending time with me, why did you leave me in prison on Nassau?”
“I did not know where you were,ma douce.”In the thick of a battle with a French merchantman, the royal navy had come upon them so fast, Damien had no idea where most of his crew had been hauled off to.“I myself was escorted to Jamaica to stand trial for piracy, but as fate would have it, I was finally able to prove that I held a Letter of Marque from the British.I am half British, after all.”
Grabbing the flask of brandy, he poured two glasses, then picked up one and glanced out the stern windows, where a scattering of stars flickered in and out of view with the sway of the ship.
“Privateering, is it?”Her curt tone brought his gaze back to her.“Do you not also have papers from the French?”she added.“And did I not witness you blowing up British munitions?Pray tell, which side of this war are you on, Damien?”She huffed in disgust.
He shrugged.“I am on my side.”
“You are a liar and a thief.”
