“Best food I ’ad in a long time,” Finn answered with a belch before she could respond, but his eyes were on the Ring gleaming from Blake’s finger.
Maston leaned toward her, the scent of his rosemary cologne overwhelming. “You must ignore his barbaric manners, mademoiselle. He’s unaccustomed to such fine dining and good company.”
“An’ ye are?” Rummy chuckled. “Don’t let ’im fool ye, Miss. Maston’s usual fine dinin’ consists o’ a bevy o’ whores in ’is bed.”
Finn chuckled.
A heated blush rushed up Emeline’s neck at the lewd discussion, and she silently chastised herself. Having grown up around pirates, she should be accustomed to such bawdy remarks.
“At least I have the use of both my limbs and can attract the attention of females,” Maston retorted, seemingly unaffected by Rummy’s insult.
Rummy slammed down his bottle, stood, swayed uncontrollably, and then plopped down to his chair again. “Out to swords, ye French toad! But when I’m sober.”
“Then never,” Charlie interjected, eliciting chuckles from the men.
“Enough!” Blake’s shout brought all gazes his way. “When you are on theSummons, you may act like the ill-bred, vulgar louts that you are. Here, I expect you to make an attempt at civility.”
Tension tightened down the table like a taut line, and Emeline sucked in a breath, praying a fight would not ensue.
Maston must have sensed her nervousness, for he laid a hand on her arm and smiled. Normally she would have been touched by the gesture, but a hunger lingered beyond the grin that sent a chill through her.
The exchange did not go unnoticed by the captain, who glared at Maston before ordering the footman to remove his plate and serve dessert.
By the time the rum-soaked cake and candied fruit were served, Emeline’s stomach had twisted in a knot. All the elegant surroundings, the fine attire, and scrumptious food in the world could not make gentlemen out of pirates. Only God could do that. She’d seen it happen more than once. Still, she had foolishly allowed herself a moment’s reprieve from the horror of her situation, allowed herself to be overcome by the lavish surroundings. But these men had brought her crashing back to reality.
With the meal completed and everyone’s bellies full of food and wine, Emeline rose, feeling her strength already returning. With it came a desperation to retire to her chamber to pray and plan her escape.
But the captain quickly took her by the arm. “The evening is young, Miss Hyde. I have provided music and dancing.”
Surely, he jested. Confused, she met his gaze, stunned to find sincerity in his penetrating eyes. “If you please, Captain, I have a headache and wish to retire.” She turned away.
“Nonsense.” He held her in place and smiled. “Music is the best healer, wouldn’t you agree?”
She would, for she could easily get swept away during a good concert. “I see I have no choice since I am your prisoner, Captain.”
“I prefer disinclined guest.” He gave a slight bow.
“You mock me and my grisly situation.”
“Grisly?” He jerked back in feigned shock. “Come now, is it so bad?” He waved his arm over the room and the table still laden with sweet fruit and cake.
Frowning, Emeline refused to answer.
“Then allow me to make your situation more pleasant.” He led her to the side as liveried servants cleared the table. “At least for tonight.”
“If you wish to make my situation more pleasant, then I beg you, send me back to my father.”
His eyes narrowed. “In good time, Miss. For now, a little music should soothe your soul.” He urged her to sit in one of the chairs lining the walls as servants moved the table aside and several musicians began tuning their instruments.
Once the captain’s attentions were elsewhere, Emeline made her way to the open doors where a light breeze stirred the curls at her neck and filled her nose with the scents of earthy loam and flowers. One peek outside revealed a long porch overlooking gardens too dark to see in the slim moonlight.
The most delightful sound turned her around. Was that Handel’s Rinaldo? One of her favorite operas by the talented composer. To her added surprise, the men playing it were quite good.
Blake must have noticed the approval on her face as he marched toward her. “Ah, you recognize Rinaldo?”
“Of course.” She studied him, the strength of his jaw, those piercing green eyes—all pirate captain, and yet this night for some reason he played the part of a gentleman. Real or a charade? Truth or lies?
He must have read her thoughts, for he snorted. “You wonder how a lowbrow thief and blackguard could possibly appreciate the finer things in life.”
