Though Allard schooled his expression, the barb hit its mark.He sipped his drink, relishing its power to numb his pain, then took his seat at the table.
“What is it between you and Captain Hayes?”Gabrielle asked as the deck tilted slightly.
“Sit, eat, and I will tell you.”He gestured toward the chair opposite his, then watched as she moved across the room toward him.
She truly was a lovely woman, all softness and curves with hair any goddess would envy.Tonight, she wore a portion of it pinned back, allowing the rest to cascade down her back.His gaze dropped to a figure that had changed for the better since he’d seen her last, fuller, rounder.Creamy skin and brazen alluring blue eyes completed the exquisite picture.
She eased onto the chair, casting him a look of disdain.Candlelight flickered over her lustrous skin, and he longed to touch it, to feel its softness once again.
“Drink.”He pushed her glass closer, but she shook her head.
“I have learned to keep my wits about me in your presence.”
He cocked his head.“Your tongue has sharpened since we last saw each other.”
She lifted her chin.“I have endured much and have little left to lose.”
“Ah, a dangerous predicament, that.”But one he well understood.
Lifting the silver lid from a platter, he smiled, inhaling the scent of salted cod, garlic, and onions.Cook had done well.He scooped a portion onto the lady’s plate.
She stared at it, gripping her stomach.
“What ails you,ma douce.Surely you are famished.”
She snapped angry eyes his way.“What ails me?You have imprisoned me once again aboard your ship.”
“Imprisoned is such an unpleasant term.”He waved his hand through the air.“I prefer temporarily unwilling guest.”
He had wanted to make her smile as she used to do when they’d first met, when she trusted him, when perhaps she was beginning to love him.
Instead, she frowned.“What happened to you, Damien, to make you so cruel?Were you beaten as a child?Tossed onto the streets?Had your heart broken?”
Water sloshed against the hull as the ship tilted to starboard, sending its timbers creaking, the sound grinding on his nerves.
He stared at her, fingering his glass.Non, he’d had every privilege growing up in a noble home in Lyon.Every privilege, except the one thing he craved, the one thing he craved even still.Love and belonging.
He gestured toward her food.“Eat.Before it gets cold.”He took another sip of brandy.
The lady finally drew a fork full of fish into her mouth, pleasing him when she seemed to enjoy it.
“Where are your parents now?”she asked him in between bites, making him wonder what possible interest she could have.Perhaps, like him, she realized that it was best to know one’s enemy in order to defeat him.The thought did not settle well in his gut.
“My father is no doubt seducing a new courtier somewhere and my mother is dead.”
She stopped chewing and looked up at him.Good.He could play this game as well.He could use his past to garner her sympathy, for women’s hearts were so tender and weak.
“I am sorry,” was all she said as she set down the fork and raised her glass for a sip of grog.
Damien downed the rest of his brandy and poured more.“My mother hailed from British nobility.Hence, I have no real loyalty to either country.”
This did not seem to surprise her as she studied him.“You promised to tell me what tragedy has made enemies of you and Cadan.”
Cadan.He hated the sound of his given name on her lips.He gulped his drink, needing its numbing power to dredge up a past he’d rather forget.“Aside from my mother, did I ever tell you of my noble connections?”
“You mentioned something about a cousin.”
“My father’s cousin is Hugh de Dreux, viscount of Gimois.”He studied her, waiting for some indication of admiration, but the lady seemed bored.“Surely Cadan told you of his wife?”
