She snagged it away. “You find this amusing?”
“Nay, I found our kiss…quite captivating.” He searched her eyes.
They flicked between his, unsure, fearful, before she swallowed and glanced away.
He leaned toward her. “Could you not tell?”
“I could hardly think with your bold intrusion into my mouth.”
He chuckled. “You are quite enchanting, Emeline.”
Her brow folded in a most adorable way as she stared at him aghast. “No one has ever called me so.”
“Then they are fools!” Scads! What was he doing? He was supposed to put distance between them, not lure her closer. He took a step back. “Nevertheless, we are to set sail on the morrow for Jamaica.”
Hope, followed by suspicion, traveled across her moist eyes. “What of your demons, Captain?”
“I’m the captain of the pirate ship,Summonsand the king of this island. I can handle a few demons.” He attempted a smile, the joy of which languished within him, for he had no idea how to do such a thing. Perhaps if he acquired a Bible, a flask of Holy Water? There were many things he could attempt. None of which involved either this precious lady or her God.
The look she gave him was rife with doubt, but she said naught for several moments. “I pray you do not trifle with me, Captain, and give me hope where there is none to be found. Will you, indeed, take me home?”
Blake poured more rum into his glass, and, against everything within him, answered her, “You have my word. Now, eat.”
After casting him a dismissive glance, she turned and moved down the buffet, placing morsels of shrimp, cheese, pickled vegetables, and bread onto her plate. Instead of returning to him, she joined Charlie and Pedro, who were engaged in a game of dice along with a few of his crew.
He tossed the rum into his mouth and poured another glass, frustration brewing in his gut. Wasn’t this what he wanted? For her to keep her distance? Finally, the rum took effect, relaxing his nerves and numbing his agitated thoughts. Still, he could not take his eyes off her.
Light followed her, along with the eyes of many of his crew and staff. And he found himself jealous of their attentive stares. Forcing his gaze away, he located two musicians and ordered them to play something…anything…to liven his mood.
Soon the hall brimmed with the dulcet sounds of strings, bassoons, and a harpsichord as more staff and crew entered to partake of this final feast—a soirée he typically held before they set out to sea once again. Laughter, music, chattering, and even a shout or two filled the air as pirates and servants alike enjoyed the food and companionship. Blake prided himself on including everyone, no matter their status. He would not be like his father, who had belittled and berated those beneath him. Especially Blake.
He sipped his drink, scattering thoughts of the man, and glanced at the Ring. The crimson jewel in the center glistened in the candlelight. Nay, not candlelight. It possessed light all its own, shining from within.Power. Ultimate power. With his new venture to begin tomorrow, he’d be on his way to more conquests. Soon his name would be on every trembling lip in the Caribbean—a name that would evoke respect and fear.
After he returned Miss Hyde to her home, that was.
Against his will, his gaze found her again, laughing with Charlie, who apparently had won a pouch of coins. The master gunner excused herself and left the hall, passing Maston as he entered and giving him both a wide berth and a threatening look. Ignoring her, the Frenchman waltzed into the room in a flourish of silk and lace, his sharp gaze scouring its occupants. Upon spotting Emeline, he started for her.
Fury boiled under Blake’s skin. Did the man not see him standing here? Did he think he could accost the lady again and not pay for it with his life? Gripping the hilt of his cutlass, Blake charged toward him just as the Frenchman halted before Emeline, took her hand, and planted a kiss upon it. Disgust flared on Emeline’s face. Tugging from his grasp, she started to turn when Maston must have said something that upset her, for she raised her hand to slap him. But before she could, he caught her wrist and grinned.
All this, Blake saw in the seconds it took for him to reach them. Seconds in which his rage flamed as hot as a furnace. He thought to draw his sword and run the man through, but that would be too quick a death.
Instead, he flung his body against Maston’s, sending him reeling across the floor. Before he recovered, Blake slammed his fist across his jaw. Maston tumbled backward. The music halted. The chattering ceased as all eyes landed on the battling duo. Blake nudged Emeline behind him.
Instead of outrage, the Frenchman grinned, rubbed his jaw, and started for Blake.
Movement lured Blake’s gaze to the doorway. Not just any movement, but a familiar movement, a familiar visage. One that sent a whirlwind of confusion, desire, and anger through him.
All eyes swept to the intruder, including Maston’s, who halted, placed one hand on his hip, and smiled.
Dressed in tight leather breeches and a jerkin, both of which molded to every curve, a flowing rose-colored linen shirt, and a cutlass strapped to her side, the woman marched into the hall with the authority of a captain. Hair the color of black silk cascaded over her shoulder down to her waist, while eyes as sharp, lustrous, and as deadly as a leopard’s locked upon Blake. And just like a cat who’d caught her prey, she grinned.
Josephine Arnaud.
b
Emeline had barely recovered from Maston’s salacious insult and Blake’s heroic rescue when a woman caught the attention of everyone in the room. Including Blake’s. Not just any woman, but a rare beauty, anexoticbeauty. The kind of beauty men only dreamed about and women envied. Despite being dressed in pirate attire, or perhaps because of it, she exuded a feminine charm, an allure that even set Emeline’s heart beating a bit faster.
Whispers sped about the room. Blake seemed unable to speak, and Maston, along with most of the men, grinned at her as if they’d captured a ship full of gold.
