A traitorous smile lifted her lips. “I admit to being surprised.”
He extended his elbow. “When they play an Allemande, I will surprise you even further.”
Against her better judgement, she slipped her hand onto his arm and allowed him to usher her back inside.
The rest of the pirates seemed disinterested in the musical selection and more interested in the fresh bowl of wine punch on the sideboard. Charlie, Pedro, and two other pirates sat at a small table in the corner playing cards, while Finn with pipe in his mouth, Rummy, and a dozen others stood staring at the orchestra as if they’d flown in on wings.
’Twas such an odd sight that Emeline began to wonder if she was still asleep on theSummons, dreaming the entire event. It had to be a dream, for none of it made sense. Though why would she dream such an outlandish night? Perhaps her longing for a hero had perverted her thoughts into thinking Captain Keene could be that man. Preposterous!
Therefore, when the gentle, melodious notes of the Allemande filled the room and he asked her to dance, she agreed. If this was all but a figment of the frivolous imagination her father always teased her about, why not enjoy it?
b
Blake swept the lady onto the floor, bowed, and began the steps of the dance he’d learned a year past. It involved quite a bit of hopping and shifting of his feet, but he was intent on conquering it. If some dandified nobleman could do this, then hang it all, so could he!
The lady maneuvered the steps with grace and precision. Of course she did. She came from noble stock, her grandfather an earl—a man of power and culture. Both of which Blake would soon gain for himself.
When they finally met together and entwined their arms, her shocked expression, tainted with delight, warmed him.
“You are quite the dancer, Captain. Wherever did you learn?”
They spun around, still clung together. “There is much you do not know about me.”
“Nor do I wish to as long as I am your prisoner,” she spat back.
Her curt statement broke his jovial mood. Still, he finished the dance with as much flourish as he’d been taught, aware of how his crew gaped at him. He could only hope that seeing their captain behaving the coxcomb would not give them the false impression he was any less ruthless and commanding as always.
If so, they would find out the hard way.
He led Emeline to the side table and handed her a glass of punch. She hesitated at first, casting a suspicious glance his way before taking it. Did she think he would drug her?
The thought saddened him. Then again, how could he blame her?
To be honest, he’d been quite surprised at his own reaction to the lady when she’d entered the banquet hall. Quite surprised, indeed. ’Twas not so much the elegant silk gown and bejeweled stomacher, nor the delightful curve of her breasts peeking above it. Nor even the way her hair was swept up in a bouquet of curls, bedecked with glistening jewels. Nay. ’Twas the way the lady floated into the hall like a princess and not a prisoner, the way light and goodness entered with her and chased away the dark depravity that always hovered around him and his men.
Now, as he watched her take a sip and her striking gold eyes met his, he wondered why he’d ever thought her anything but stunning.
Shaking off the thought, he searched the table, found a bottle of port, and poured himself a large glass. He needed a drink. A strong one. The sweet, potent wine lit a fire in his belly and sent torrid waves throughout him. Alack, what spell had this lady cast upon him? For he had vowed to himself and to any God who was listening that he would never give any part of his heart away again. He fingered the Ring. Perhaps ’twas the relic that caused his enchantment. If so, he must be more careful to resist.
The orchestra struck up a harmonious tune, drawing Emeline’s gaze. The dulcet sounds of a violin rose above the melody, and she closed her eyes, seemingly lost in the music, delight written on her face.
“You enjoy the violin?” he asked.
She smiled before she opened her eyes. “Yes, my mother plays. She taught me.”
His brows shot up. “You play? I should like to hear you.” And he meant it, for the sound of a violin always soothed him.
In an instant, her joy fled her as she tightened her lips. “As I have said, I’m not here for your entertainment, Captain. Either I am your prisoner or you must set me free.”
Downing his port, he took her by the arm to a nearby chair, where he all but forced her to sit. She had broken the spell, thank the stars, for he found his anger rising.
She gazed up at him, moisture glistening in her lustrous eyes. “What is it you want from me, Captain?”
“For now, to stay here whilst I arrange for Pedro to return you to your chamber.”
’Twas for the best, Blake told himself as he marched across the floor, seeking the cabin boy and cursing himself for a complete buffoon. There was no other explanation. For some idiotic reason, he’d wanted to impress the lady this night. Ludicrous. How could a prisoner be impressed with her captor?
Pedro was nowhere in sight.
