Laughed?
Bandit joined him, hopping up and down and squeaking like a mouse.
“You find me amusing, Captain?”
“Very.” He contained himself and poured more rum into his glass.
“I have seen naught that pits your skill above my father’s at sea battling.” She gestured toward his hand. “Save for this Ring you say has power.”
He touched it, grinning. “Indeed. And it has more than proven itself.”
“Then what need have you of me? Release me, I beg you.” She hated the tinge of fear in her voice.
“Beg? Somehow that does not become you.”
“You mistake me again for your crew, Captain, for, unlike a pirate, I harbor no exaggerated opinion of myself that forbids me to grovel for my freedom.”
He sipped his rum, studying her with interest. “Hmm. I sense I have been insulted.”
She would insult him further if she had the courage. As it was, she tightened her lips and assessed him. A leather jerkin hung over a cream-colored shirt that spanned across broad shoulders. Wavy dark hair drifted over his collar, matching the stubble on his chin and thin mustache. But ’twas those almond-shaped green eyes, staring at her with such intensity, that sent a quiver through her. The stern rose and fell, shifting light over the black pearl in his ear and odd emblems dangling around his neck. He was an imposing man who displayed confidence and leadership and evoked loyalty among the crew. But she sensed an emptiness in his soul.
He walked steadily toward her.
Her heart quickened. Her breathing came hard. Still, she refused to cower before this man.
He halted inches from her, his gaze traveling over her face, not in anger, rather as someone studying a curiosity. The scent of rum, leather, and the sea flooded her nose.
“You don’t fear me?” he asked.
“Should I?”
A vision. An older man with a sword wound. Accusations, hatred, and violence all tangled into a web of evil in her spirit. She dared stare into the captain’s eyes. Darkness swirled in their depths.
He cocked his head…lifted a hand.
She didn’t flinch.
Then, ever so gently, he ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. Not in a harsh way, nor a sensuous way, but…tenderly.
He drew closer, his lips hovering over hers.
Her pulse raced. She closed her eyes.
Warmth spiraled through her. Warmth…andterror.
“As soft as it looks,” he whispered so close, she felt his breath on her cheek.
Was he to ravish her? Moisture filled her eyes. She opened them. “Please let me go. I will bring you no pleasure, I assure you.”
One side of his lips quirked. “I doubt that.”
Her pulse pounded so loud, she feared it could be heard over the rush of water against the hull.
The monkey leapt onto the captain’s desk and squealed loudly as if attempting to draw his master’s attention away from her.
“But ’tis good to see that you are indeed afraid of me.” Turning, he sauntered away.
Emeline took a moment to settle both her breathing and her heart. “Why is that good? Is it your goal that all, men, women, and animals”—she gestured to Bandit—“tremble before your majesty?”
