She was furious with herself, but she took it out on him. “This won’t work, you fool!” she snarled at him as she strained to get out of his lap.
“Want to bet?”
The amusement was still in his tone. It didn’t even sound like he was exerting any effort to hold her, and that just infuriated her even more. She tried to take him by surprise and topple them over.
He laughed at her again. “Nice try, but the chair is bolted to the floor.”
She should have realized that it would be, like everything else in the cabin, but she merely hissed, “Which is where you’re going to be if you don’t let me up!”
“I hate to mention it, wench, but I have the upper hand here. Actually, let me rephrase that. I don’t mind mentioning it at all!”
“It’s temporary and you know it! One yell and you’ll have a dozen pistols trained on you!”
“No, they’ll be trained on you,” he disagreed. “You make a very nice shield. But if you don’t stop squirming, you’ll have something else to think about.”
That was a warning tone. She heard it, she just didn’t grasp his meaning. She’d managed to squirm around to the side. It didn’t help, he was still holding her fast, and she’d exhausted herself trying. But suddenly he was kissing her. She had no idea how it happened or why. One moment he was staring at her mouth and then…
The hold he had across her chest, that had locked her arms at her sides, changed. He gathered her closer for the kiss, but he wasn’t holding her as tightly as he had been. She actually got one arm loose. She had to fight the urge to put it around him. Good grief, she had to fight more than that. His kiss was too sensual and every bit as nice as she remembered it being. She found herself enjoying it far too much and she didn’t want to end it. Just a few minutes, God, the taste of him, the heat that shot up between them, how he could make her feel so wanton so damn quickly! Just like before, not just once, but twice before—and now…despising him made no difference, the passion he stirred in her was overwhelming.
She almost gave in to it completely, that’s how powerful the sensations were, coursing through her. If it wasn’t a matter of her father’s life and death, she would have. Still, she was loath to do what was necessary now that she could. But she had to.
She found his pistol in her pocket and wrapped her hand around it tightly. And she had enough semblance of thought left to realize that she probably wouldn’t gain her release if she just pointed it at him. She couldn’t take the chance that it might not be loaded and he’d know it. That would just amuse him, and she’d done enough of that. Though if it was loaded, he might not believe that she’d shoot him. Of course she wouldn’t. She was pretending to be a pirate, not a murderer.
But she felt some real regret when she eased the weapon out of her pocket and slammed it against the side of his head. His arms slid off of her, dropped to his sides. His head fell back. She jumped off his lap immediately, her heart pounding. She hadn’t meant to hit him so hard that he’d be rendered unconscious or worse, and the “worse” terrified her. If she killed him when she had only meant to startle him into releasing her…
But he was just stunned. Before he shook it off and got his feet loose to turn the tables on her yet again, she ran out of the cabin and grabbed the first sailor she saw and dragged him back with her. She shoved the pistol into the man’s hands.
“I’m going to tie him again. If he makes any move to stop me, shoot him.”
The man nodded. She’d given him the gun because she was still sure that Drew wouldn’t believe thatshewould shoot him, or he’d be too angry to care. A few seconds more and they would have found out, though, because he was already reaching for the ropes at his feet when she returned and gave the order. She saw only that he sat back in the chair slowly. She avoided his eyes completely, her nerves too frazzled to see what was there, so she didn’t know if he was watching the man with the weapon or her.
“You actually hit me?”
There was more surprise than anything else in Drew’s tone, but Gabrielle didn’t answer him. Getting him secured again was the only thing on her mind and she’d probably never moved so fast as she did in dragging his hands back behind the chair to rebind them. She also found another rope and wrapped that around him, too. She even thought briefly about getting a sack to put over his head, but since that had nothing to do with restraining him, would only have been for her sake, to keep her from getting mesmerized again, she managed to resist the urge.
Satisfied that his bonds would hold this time, she finally checked his head, hoping she hadn’t broken the skin. No such luck. Blood had dribbled down through his hair and behind his ear. She dismissed the sailor, put the pistol back in her pocket, and left to find some water and a cloth.
She almost sent someone else to tend him. She knew Drew was furious. She’d almost been able to feel his rage. And he’d flexed his fingers repeatedly when she was wrapping the ropes around his wrists, as if he were thinking about squeezing the life out of her.
“Are you going to answer me now that your lackey is gone?” he asked.
She still didn’t. She carefully got rid of the blood, then left a cold cloth over the swelling. He made a sound, not quite a moan, as she pressed the cloth to the side of his head. But as soon as she let go, he shook it off. She tsked and came back around to stand in front of him, finally ready to deal with his anger over his failed escape.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, “Yes, you dense man, I actually hit you. It was either that or shoot you. Consider yourself lucky.”
“Son of a bitch,” he growled low. “What’d you hit me with?”
“Your pistol. Found it in the drawer.”
“Great, just great,” he snarled. “That will teach me to kiss a viper.”
A blush arose. She suspected that remark was merely rancor, but it still hurt. He was testing his new bonds—no, he was actually trying to work them loose again. The man was impossible.
“Stop that,” she told him sharply.
He gave her a nasty look that was self-explanatory. She gritted her teeth, added, “Do I need to find more rope?”
“Do what you have to do, sweetheart.”
