Nay!Blast her feminine vanity! She had just begun to remove the gown when a knock on the door preceded Charlie’s face peeking through the opening. Instantly her brows shot up and she whistled. “Whoa. Is that you, Emeline?” She entered the chamber, dressed in her usual breeches, shirt, and leather waistcoat. Though they appeared cleaner.
“Nay. ’Tis not me.” Emeline continued unlacing the stomacher.
“Stop. I’m to take you to the banquet.” Charlie grabbed her hand, halting her in her task, then cocked her head. “Better to go fully dressed, Miss, than exposing anything to those besotted leches, eh?”
Emeline frowned. “Do I have a choice? Can I not remain here?”
“You know the captain. Now come along.”
And that was how Emeline now found herself walking into a large hall, complete with a long, white-clothed table in the center, lined on both sides by richly upholstered chairs. Livered servants scrambled about, placing steaming bowls and platters across it, while the captain’s crew stood in clusters, yammering and partaking of drinks offered by native servant girls on platters. Most of the pirates remained in their normal buccaneer attire, though some had donned more colorful vests and had run a comb through their hair. Their presence, however, was starkly at odds with the opulent room.
Richly embroidered damask tapestries decorated most of the walls, while oil paintings depicting ships and the sea were hung in gilded frames throughout. A chandelier of cut crystal hung from the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the room. Beyond the long table, a marble fireplace took up most of the wall, and she wondered whether it ever grew cold enough to use. To its right, a raised platform held various instruments in anticipation of a concert, causing a twinge of excitement within Emeline at the prospect. Elegant side tables lined the room, holding bowls of wine, punch, and sweet meats. A breeze, scented by wildflowers and the sea, drew her gaze to two large doors on her left, leading out to what appeared to be a portico overlooking a garden.
Several eyes pinned on her like falcons to their prey. Only one set of eyes made her heart race. Captain Keene broke off from a group of his pirates and headed her way.
Emeline glanced over her shoulder, looking for Charlie, feeling a sudden need to run back to her chamber as fast as she could. But Charlie had abandoned her and was helping herself to a plate of cheese on the sideboard.
Leaving Emeline frozen in place, unable to enter the lions’ den alone, unable to even move as the king of the lions approached, a hungry grin on his lips. He’d traded his pirate attire for a fine linen shirt with lace at the cuffs, covered by a black silk jerkin over which his necklaces dangled. Tight black breeches were stuffed into leather boots that clapped across the tiled floor as he moved. His dark hair was slicked back and tied behind him, but stubble still peppered his jaw. A silver dagger winked at her from his belt while his cutlass hung at his side, an ever-present symbol of danger that always hovered about the man.
Penetrating eyes swept over her in appreciation before they locked onto her face.
She swallowed down a burst of both excitement and fear.
Halting before her, he took her hand and placed a kiss upon it.
“Emeline.” He spoke her common name softly, sensuously, the sound of it on his lips making her blood heat. “You look lovely.”
Against her will, her traitorous breath fled her, and she uttered a tiny gasp. Which only made him smile all the more.
He knew his effect on her, the cad!
She must not play into his charm. Jutting out her chin, she jerked her hand from his. “I am not a doll for you to dress up for your pleasure.”
His smile grew even wider. “On the contrary, my little sugar bird, it seems that’s exactly what you are.”
“Sugar bird?” She stared at him, indignant.
“’Tis a bird native to this island, quite small in size yet armed with a powerful chirp.” He extended his elbow, still grinning. “It suits you.”
Frowning, Emeline turned to leave, but he clutched her arm.
“Forgive my impertinence,” he said. “Please,”—He seemed to choke on the word—“join us for dinner. You must be famished.”
The scent of roasted pork wafted beneath her nose, eliciting a growl from her belly. She needed to eat. She needed her strength if she was to escape this madman’s clutches. And escape she must. A better chance of that on land than at sea. Though how she would accomplish such a feat on an island, she had no idea.
She gave a tight smile, and ignoring his outstretched elbow, pushed past him.
’Twas Maston who pulled out her chair for her, his appreciative gaze scouring her gown and, in particular, the curve of her chest peeking above her décolletage.
“You look quite alluring tonight,” he said, then took a seat beside her, whilst the captain sat at the head of the table on her other side.
His pirates sat around them. Other members of his crew, along with those who surely ran the estate while he was gone, sat further down the table.
The dinner was uneventful. The food beyond delicious. In truth, Emeline had not seen such a feast in quite some time—roasted pig, lobster in cream sauce, turtle soup, yams, Cassava biscuits, guava, papaya, and pickled vegetables. Even the conversation did not bear the usual curses, drunken slurs, and ribald boasts. ’Twas as if the elegant surroundings leeched some of the vulgarity from the men. Finn had even manicured his overgrown beard for the occasion, and Rummy, who still drank more than he ate, seemed to have at least washed the grime from his skin. The surgeon, in his fine attire, looked out of place amongst these buccaneer fools, saying very little, as was his way, yet she sensed he observed everything around him in great detail. Then there was Charlie two seats down from her, conversing, laughing, and eating with these men as if she were one of them. Though weaker in physical strength and of a gender kept in subjection to men, her confidence astounded Emeline, and she found herself longing to have a smidgeon of the woman’s tenacity.
Emeline slipped a spoonful of turtle soup into her mouth and once again found the captain’s eyes upon her, assessing her reaction.
“My chefs are quite good, are they not?” he asked.
