T
he next two days passed in a blur of shame, fear, and loneliness. Save for occasional outings during the day with Pedro as her chaperone and a prattling Bandit in her arms, Emeline remained in her chamber. Even when Blake sent Charlie one night and Finn the next to escort her to dinner, she insisted she was ill and refused to come. She could not face the captain. She could not face herself. Had she forgotten all her parents taught her, what God taught her about keeping herself pure for marriage?
Moving to the window, she admired the exquisite swaths of maroon, saffron, and tangerine the Almighty painted across the horizon above the setting sun. An evening wind sent palm fronds dancing and leaves fluttering across the small island, bringing with it the sweet scent of flowers and earthy loam.
She pressed fingers onto her lips as memories returned of the unimaginable sensations Blake had evoked with his kiss. She’d never kissed a man before, save for the one Blake had stolen once before. That one didn’t count. This one…this one…suffice it to say, she had no idea the power of a man’s touch.
She’d already repented repeatedly of her wanton reaction and had hence decided she must avoid Blake at all costs and escape as soon as possible. Yet each night as she waited for the house to grow silent in sleep, Blake had opened the door between their chambers, drawn up a chair, and sat just inside her room. He said not a word, not a good evening, not a reproof, nor even a request for her to play the violin. He merely sat there in silence like a predator keeping watch over an unsuspecting prey. She pretended she was asleep.
Again, the man baffled her. Why did he not say something? Mention their kiss? Insist she accompany him to dinner? Why did he make no effort whatsoever to see her? Perhaps he’d found her kiss dreary. Perhaps he’d felt nothing. Worse, it disgusted him. ’Twould certainly explain why he’d told her to leave soon after.
“Lord, I’m being silly.” She turned from the window and moved to sit on her bed. “Worse than silly. Why should I care what he felt? I’m grateful he dismissed me.” She heaved a sigh and caught her reflection in the looking glass. The same plain woman stared back at her, the same dull hair, same ordinary features. She looked away.
One thing shedidknow. If the captain were to sit in her chamber each night, she must make her escape during the day. She must choose the time wisely, when servants and crew alike were busy with their tasks. Better, she must create a diversion—something that captured the attention of everyone.
b
Blake plucked a pickled oyster from the platter and popped it in his mouth. The sharp fishy taste tickled his tongue and brought a sense of satisfaction. Cook had done well. Surely, Emeline would appreciate having her choice of so fine a variety of small dishes instead of a main meal. Especially since she’d not eaten dinner the past two nights—two nights he’d kindly afforded her. But his kindness was at an end.
He glanced around the banquet hall, his gaze shifting over Charlie pouring herself a drink next to Rummy who already held a bottle in hand. Then over to Sam Goode, who appeared to be lecturing a small group of sailors about something that kept them riveted. Down the table from Blake, Pedro helped himself to potted shrimp on toast, while Finn, who had donned a clean bandana for the occasion, headed his way, pipe in his mouth. The rest of his crew lingered about the room chattering like a band of monkeys. Speaking of…where had Bandit run off to? Blake had not seen him since yesterday when he’d spotted him in Emeline’s arms as she strolled about the gardens with Pedro. Yet another member of his crew appeared to be missing—Maston. Odd. The Frenchman rarely missed one of Cook’s fine meals.
Finn drew up beside him and plucked the pipe from his mouth. “Quite a fancy spread ye got goin’ tonight, Cap’n. What be the occasion?”
Grabbing a bottle of rum, Blake poured himself a glass. “No occasion. Just thought the crew would like one more hearty meal before we set sail on the morrow.”
“Aye, Cap’n. A good idea. It’ll soon be back t’ nothin’ but ’ard tack, salted pork, an’ over-ripe fruit.” Crossing beefy arms over his chest he glanced about the room. “Where be that miss you been keepin’ all t’ yerself? Hadn’t seen ’er in a while. She still ill?”
Instead of answering him, Blake rattled off a list of tasks he’d given his quartermaster to accomplish to ensure theSummonswas stocked and in fine shape for sailing. Regardless, his thoughts were on themissthat Finn had mentioned. He’d sent one of his crew, a rather imposing man, to her chamber to bring her to the banquet hall. Whether she wanted to or not. He’d have done it himself, but ’twas not his place to beg a lady for attention.Hang it! When it came to the fairer gender, he’d never had to plead for favors at all.
Finn poured himself a drink and began answering each of Blake’s concerns, but Blake’s attention shifted to the open doors at his right.
Emeline Hyde walked in. Nay, more like she was dragged in by his man, Layton. The pirate started to pull her toward Blake, but she jerked from his grasp and said something that caused the man to send a questioning look his way.
Blake gestured for him to leave her be.
There she stood, head held high, chin in the air, staring him down as if he were the Kraken himself. She was an angel perched amidst a pack of demons. A bright light in a dark world. Sweet as honey yet sour to the taste. Soft as silk yet sharp as any knife.
“There the wench be, Cap’n,” Finn interrupted his list of accomplishments. He stuffed the pipe back into his mouth and took a puff, but his gaze wandered to the Ring on Blake’s finger.
The woman made no move in his direction. Ignoring Finn’s obsession with the Ring—for now—Blake started toward her, all the while gauging her mood. He knew he’d frightened her with his kiss, knew his reaction to it must have caused further alarm. For it had greatly alarmed him. Hence, the reason he’d left her alone the past two days. That and the fact he knew now without a doubt he must return the woman to her family posthaste. Her goodness, her purity was infecting him like a cancerous tumor spreading throughout his heart, turning the pirate into a puritan, the thief into a benefactor, the libertine into a gentleman. This was no way for a pirate captain to behave! Concerned for the feelings and chastity of a woman prisoner? Pish! He should have heretofore had his way with her and been done with it. Locked her in chains in his bedchamber to keep his demons at bay. He frowned. At best, he must avoid any and all contact with her.
Her golden eyes, sparking with both defiance and fear, locked upon his as he approached. He’d brought her here to both feed and inform her they were to set sail on the morrow. But in truth, he’d wanted to see her. Now that he did, he felt all resolve to keep her at arm’s length trickle off him onto the tile floor.
“You summoned me, Captain?” Her sharp tone cut, yet he sensed a tremble course through her, and she lowered her gaze.
“You must eat, Emeline.” He proffered his elbow.
Anger accused him from her eyes, but she slipped her hand onto his arm, nonetheless, and allowed him to escort her to the long table where all manner of meats, fish, cheese and pastries were elegantly displayed.
“I was sorry to hear you’ve been ill,” he teased as he swept an arm over the buffet and handed her a plate.
Her lips flattened. “An illness borne from being your captive, Captain.” She took the plate, her eyes moistening. “And from being your plaything.”
He could not help a slight grin. “You speak of our kiss.”
“’Twasyourkiss…a kiss you stole.”
“I am a pirate, after all.” Raising a brow, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips.
