She groaned and was afraid he’d heard her when he sighed and added, “Never mind. You’re already abed, and we wouldn’t want to test the fates that put you there on your first try.”
Her teeth gnashed together. So he’d gotten the blasted gibe in anyway. The man was a devil clear to the core. She almost said she’d see to the lanterns anyway. She’d show him that the fates had nothing to do with her and her hammock. But she’d have to open her eyes to do it, and he wasn’t in bed yet and covered up. And coming face-to-face with him undressed…Well, she’d be smart not to.
But her eyes cracked open anyway. The temptation was just too great to resist. And besides, if the man was going to put on a show, she reasoned, he ought to have an audience to appreciate it. Not that she did. Certainly not. It was just curious fascination, not to mention self-preservation. She’d keep her eye on a snake if it was this close to her, wouldn’t she?
But as interesting as she found this unusual experience, she wished he’d hurry up. She was starting to feel nauseous again, and this time he wasn’t even close to her. Lord, but he had nice buttocks. Was the room getting hotter? And such long legs, such firm flanks. His masculinity was overwhelming, blatant, intimidating.
Oh, God, was he coming toward her? He was! Why? Oh, the lantern over the tub. Double-damn him for frightening her like that. When he doused it, her end of the room darkened. Only one light remained by the bed. She closed her eyes and kept them closed. She wouldnotwatch him getting into that heavenly soft bed. What if he didn’t use a cover? The moon had already risen, had lit the deck above quite brightly, and was bound to light the cabin through that wall of windows. She wouldn’t open her eyes again to save her soul. Well, that was a bit extreme. Maybe just to save her soul.
Where was he now? She hadn’t heard his feet padding back toward his bed.
“By the by, lad, is Georgie your given name, or just a pet name your family has burdened you with?”
He’s not standing right next to me, stark naked. He’s not! I’m imagining it, imagining the whole thing. He never dropped his robe. We’re both sleeping already.
“What’s that? I didn’t hear you, lad?”
Didn’t hear what? She hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t going to, either. Let him think she was asleep. But what if he touched her to wake her, just for her answer to his stupid question? As tense as she was right now, she’d probably scream her head off, and that just wouldn’t do.Answer him, you ninny, and he’ll go away!
“It’s my given name…sir.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. It really won’t do, you know. Why, I’ve known females to call themselves that, short for Georgette or Georgiana, or some other godawful long name. And you wouldn’t care to be likened to a female, would you?”
“I never gave it much thought one way or the other,” she replied in a fluctuating tone, half growl, half squeak.
“Well, don’t worry about it, lad. It might be the name you’re stuck with, but I’ve decided to call you George. Much more manly, don’t you think?”
He didn’t give a fig what she thought, and she cared even less what he thought. But she wasn’t going to argue with a naked man standing only inches away from her.
“Whatever pleases you, Captain.”
“Whatever pleases me? I like your attitude, George, indeed I do.”
She sighed as he walked away. She didn’t even wonder why he was chuckling to himself. And despite her firm resolve, after a moment her eyes cracked open again. But she’d waited too long this time. He was in bed and decently covered. But moonlight did indeed flood the room, so she had a clear view of him stretched out on his bed, his arms crossed behind his head, and smiling. Smiling? It had to be a trick of the light. And what difference did it make anyway?
Disgusted with herself, she turned over to face the corner so she wouldn’t be tempted to look at him anymore. And she sighed again, unaware that this time it was a purely deflated sound.
Chapter Eighteen
Georgina had had the worst time getting to sleep that night, but the next thing she knew, the captain’s voice was calling, “Show a leg, George,” the age-old sailors’ adage that meant shed the covers quick and get moving. She blinked, and sure enough, daylight filled the cabin, bright enough for her to suppose she’d overslept.
She located the reason behind her lack of sleep and found him dressed, thank God, or at least partially so. Breeches and stockings were better than nothing. And even as she watched, he slipped into a black silk shirt similar in style to the white one he’d worn yesterday, though he didn’t lace up the front closing. The breeches were black, too. Give him an earring, and the cursed man would look like a pirate in that billowing shirt and tight pants, she thought uncharitably, and then sucked in her breath as she noticed hewaswearing an earring today, a small golden one just barely visible under the blond locks still disarrayed from sleep and not combed back yet.
“You’re wearing an earring!”
That brought those bright green eyes to her, and the affectation she considered his most arrogantandirritating habit, the raising of just one golden brow. “Noticed, did you? And what d’you think of it?”
She wasn’t awake enough yet to think of being flattering instead of truthful. Baldly, she said, “It makes you look piratical.”
His grin was positively wicked. “D’you think so? I would have said rakish myself.”
She caught herself about to snort. She managed to just sound curious instead, “Why would you want to wear an earring?”
“Why not?”
Well, he was a fount of information this morning, wasn’t he? And what did she care if he wanted to look like a pirate, as long as he wasn’t one in actuality?
“Well, come along, George,” he said briskly now. “The morning’s half gone.”
