“Quite so.”
She heard the humor in his tone, as if he found her remark pretentious, and so it was, for a twelve-year-old boy. She really was going to have to weigh her words more carefully before she let them out. She couldn’t forget for a single minute that she was supposed to be a boy, and a very young one. But it was extremely hard to remember just at that moment, especially since she had finally noted his accent was decidedly British-sounding. It would be the worst luck imaginable if he was an Englishman, too. She would have been able to avoid the others on the ship, but she couldn’t very well avoid the captain.
As she was contemplating swimming for the riverbanks herself, she heard a brisk, “Present yourself, lad, and let’s have a look at you.”
All right. One thing at a time. The accent could be an affectation. He’d just spent time in England, after all. So she got her feet moving, came around the table, approached the dark shape until a pair of gleaming hessian boots were clearly in her line of vision. Above them were dove-gray breeches molded to a pair of thickly muscled legs. Without raising her bowed head, she stole a quick look higher to see a white lawn shirt with billowing sleeves, cuffed tight at wrists that rested rather arrogantly on narrow hips. But her eyes went no farther than the patch of dark skin visible at mid-chest through the deep V opening of the shirt, and she got that far without abandoning her meek posture only because he was so tall…and wide.
“Not in my shadow,” he continued to direct her. “To the left, in the light. That’s better.” And then he remarked the obvious, “You’re nervous, are you?”
“This is my first job.”
“And understandably you don’t want to muck it up. Relax, dear boy. I don’t bite off the heads of babes…just grown men.”
Was that supposed to be an attempt at levity for her benefit? “Glad to hear it.” Oh, God, that was too flip sounding by half.Watch your blasted mouth, Georgie!
“Is my carpet so fascinating, then?”
“Sir?”
“You can’t seem to take your eyes off it. Or have you heard I’m so ugly you’ll turn into pea soup if you clap eyes on me?”
She started to grin at what was obviously gentle teasing meant to put her at ease, but thought better of it. Itdidrelieve the worst of her anxiety. He was staring at her in full light and she hadn’t been denounced. But the interview wasn’t over yet. And until it was, it would be better if he still thought her nervous and attributed any more mistakes to that nervousness.
Georgina shook her head in answer to his question, and as a boy of her supposed age might do, she raised her chin very slowly. She was going to execute a quick peak at him, all of him this time, and then duck her head again, a shy, childish action that she hoped might amuse him and fix in his mind her immaturity.
It didn’t quite work out that way. She got her sneak peek in, dropped her head again as planned, but that was as far as the planning went. Involuntarily her head snapped back up and her eyes locked on green ones that she remembered as clearly as if they’d been haunting her dreams, and on a few nights they had.
This wasn’t possible. The brick wall? Here? The arrogant manhandler she was never supposed to cross paths with again?Here?This couldn’t be the man she had committed herself to serve. No one could bethatunlucky.
She watched in fascinated horror as one tawny brow quirked curiously, “Something wrong, lad?”
“No,” she squeaked and dropped her eyes to the floor so fast that a pain streaked through her temples.
“You’re not going to dissolve into pea soup after all, are you?”
She choked out a negative sound to that droll inquiry.
“Splendid! Don’t think my constitution could bear it just now. The mess, you know.”
What was he rattling on about? He should be pointing a finger and condemning her with an appalled “You!” Didn’t he recognize her? And then it registered. Even after seeing her face clearly, he’d still called her lad. That brought her head back up for closer scrutiny, and in his eyes and expression there was no surprise, no suspicion or doubt. The eyes were still intimidating in their directness, but they merely showed amusement at her nervous behavior. He didn’t remember her at all. Not even Mac’s name had jarred his memory.
Incredible. Of course, she looked quite different from that night in the tavern when she had been done up in oversized and undersized clothing. Her clothes fit her perfectly now, not too tight or loose, and all new, right down to her shoes. Only her cap was the same. The tight bindings about her breasts and the loose ones around her waist gave her the straight lines of a boy. And then, too, the lighting hadn’t been the best that night. Maybe he hadn’t gotten as good a look at her as she had of him. Besides, why should he remember the incident? Considering the rough way he had handled her in the tavern, it was possible he had been as drunk as a loon.
James Malory was aware of the exact moment that she relaxed and accepted his pretense of not knowing her. There had been the chance thatshemight bring up their original meeting, and he had held his breath when she first recognized him, afraid she might give up the game then and there with a return of the temper he had been treated to that night at the tavern. But in not suspecting that he was on to her, she had obviously decided to hold her tongue and stick to her disguise, which was exactly what he had hoped she would do.
He could have relaxed himself, except for the sexual tension that had taken hold of him the moment she walked through the door, something he hadn’t felt so keenly in the presence of a woman in…Good God, it had been so long he couldn’t remember the last time. Women had simply become too easily obtainable. Even competing with Anthony for the ladies most fair had lost its challenge long before he had quit England ten years ago. The competition had become the sport, not the prize. The winning of one particular lady simply hadn’t mattered when there were so many to choose from.
But here was something altogether different, a true challenge, a conquest that mattered. Why it mattered was disconcerting to a man of his jaded experience. For once, just any woman wouldn’t do. He wantedthisone. It could be because he’d lost her once and been more than a little disappointed over it. Disappointment in itself was unusual for him. It could be simply the mystery she represented. Or it could be no more than that cute little backside he remembered so well.
Whatever the reason, having her was now all-important, yet in no way a foregone conclusion. Which was why his shell of boredom had been cracked, and why he was rife with a tension that wouldn’t let him relax with her standing so near. In fact, he was just short of actual arousal, which he found utterly preposterous, considering he hadn’t even touched her yet, nor could he, at least not as he would like, if he was going to play this game through. And the game presented too many delightful possibilities to abandon just yet.
So he put some space between himself and temptation, moving to the table to examine the contents under the silver domes. The expected knock at the door came before he finished.
“Georgie, is it?”
“Captain?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Your name?”
