“Your word you will not run, Miss,” he ground out.
Heaving a deep breath, she finally nodded.
Thetap-tapof raindrops drummed an ominous cadence on the roof of an overhang above them that stretched from Delphine’s house to what was once a stable.
He freed her, and she took one step and spun to face him, anger blooming red over her moist face. A single saturated curl dangled across her cheek. He neither expected nor saw the slap that stung his jaw.
Repressing a grin at her tenacity, he rubbed it, studying her.
Her eyes sparked fire. “What do you want with me? Have you not done enough harm?”
Rain glistened in her lashes and dripped from her hair, down her neck and onto….He forced down a burst of desire.
She slapped him again. “Stop looking at me like that!”
He arched his brows. “That’s the last strike that will go unpunished, Miss.”
Her body stiffened—with anger or fear he couldn’t tell. Either way, it drew his gaze once again to her chest. He’d not thought the lady possessed such curves. “When I left you with Delphine, I had no idea you would take up the trade so quickly,” he teased.
“Very amusing.” The lady’s eyes became slits of fury as she attempted to cover her chest with her hands. A blush exploded across her cheeks, pushing aside the anger. She lowered her gaze. “’Twas the only gown she had to replace mine.”
Adorable. Her rare innocence had a curious effect on him.
She swallowed hard as moisture filled her eyes. And he suddenly felt like the cad he was.
“What is it you want?” she muttered.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Raindrops fell from the roof and splashed into puddles below. The storm was heading out. The one within this lady had only just begun.
A sudden urge to take her in his arms and comfort her sent a tumult of confusion through him. Hang it, what was wrong with him? He stiffened his jaw. “I want what is mine.”
Burning arrows fired from her eyes. “Is that the only reason you came?”
“Should there be another?”
She stomped her foot in the mud, splashing his boots. “Perhaps leaving a defenseless lady alone in a brothel far from home would be enough reason for a gentleman to reconsider his actions and return to make amends.”
She said the words so matter-of-factly, so honestly, that they brooked no argument, save the only one he had. Hewasno gentleman. Yet that she considered it a possibility made something inside him suddenly want to be.
“I left you in good hands, provided for your care, and sent a post to your father.” He huffed. “’Tis more than any other pirate would do.” Then why did he feel so ashamed?
b
Chilled, Emeline hugged herself, doing her best to cover her low neckline, and gazed toward the street. A rivulet of water streamed over the muddy cobblestones, lit by a single ray of sunshine that pierced the departing clouds.A single ray of light in the darkness. A ray of hope from her Father above? She would cling to that, for ’twas quite obvious this pirate took no care for her welfare—for anyone’s but his own.
She faced him. His black hair hung in strands about his face, dripping water onto his leather jerkin then onto the white cambric shirt he wore. Saturated, the cloth clung to firm rounded muscles across his chest and ripples of strength down his belly. An odd warmth spiraled through her. She thought of the Jesuits. This man had the strength to protect her. He could be her champion, just like her father had been for her mother. But heroes were made of more than sinew and strength.
He drew an impatient breath and glanced onto the street where more rays of the sun broke through the clouds, creating rainbows in the puddles. The black pearl in his ear glistened, and she wondered at its significance, along with the cross and emblem he always wore around his neck.
He faced her again and for a moment she thought she saw remorse, even shame in his eyes, giving her hope that perhaps he would protect her and take her home.
Instead, he rubbed his knuckles over the stubble on his jaw, then gripped the hilt of his sword with one hand and held out his other, palm up.
Did he intend to run her through if she refused him the Ring? Huffing, she flattened her lips and shoved her hand into her skirt pocket. The cold, wet fabric sent a chill across her shoulders. Why had she not thrown the hellish thing in the bay as she’d planned? She dropped it into his hand. “Take your cursed Ring and be gone, Captain. May our paths never again cross, for you are an insolent sot, a scoundrel of the worst kind!”
He closed his fingers over the artifact and chuckled. “The worst kind, you say? Nay.” He raised his hand toward her. Flinching, she started to back away, but then he eased a strand of hair behind her ear before running the back of his fingers over her cheek. Ever so gently, ever so softly, as a lover would do. “If I were, I would do with you what every ounce of me longs to do.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Fear flooded her at both his words and the simmering look in his eyes—eyes that examined every inch of her face.
