She wasn’t looking at him. She was, but her eyes went through him, and beyond him.
He took her hand, freeing his own. “I cannot take you out there.”
“Then give me a light.”
“Milady—”
“Please!” He stared at her, trying to fathom this woman, and she took his hesitation as a denial. “Please!” she repeated. Her voice lowered and cracked. “Leave me with a light, sir, and I swear that I shall…”
Intrigued, he paused, watching her carefully. “You shall what, mam’selle?”
“I shall—” She paused, but went on then. “I shall repay the kindness.”
“You shall repay…the kindness?”
“Yes!” she screamed.
He arched a brow, inclining his head, taking his time. “Milady, my apologies, but I would that you be a bit more specific. We pirates are known for being dim-witted.”
She wanted to kick him. She might well have done so except that he seemed to sense her intent and carefully caught her by the shoulders, drawing her against him. His eyes bored into hers. She felt his breath once more against her cheeks, against her lips. Curiously, his breath was sweet. It smelled of mint. His teeth were good, his own, and clean and white and straight and handsome, flashing with his every dangerous smile. His beard covered most of his face, but she thought that it was probably a striking face beneath the dark mat, ruthless perhaps, and formidable, but striking nonetheless.
She was thinking this of a pirate. A man who intended to rape her, and barter her back to her father or fiancé.
And worse, she was ready to promise him anything, just so long as he didn’t leave her in the darkness again.
“What are you saying, Lady Kinsdale?” he demanded softly.
“I will do anything you want!” she lashed out. “Just so long as you don’t leave me again in the darkness.” She hesitated again and then whispered desperately, “I promise!”
He stared at her long and hard. Rather than being pleased by her promise, he seemed to be furious. He shoved her away from him. She stumbled, but she did not fall. He strode across the room to the bookcase and she saw that there was a lantern there, protected from falling off the shelf by wooden laths, just as the books were protected from being thrown about the cabin.
Watching her with that same curious fury, he found a striker and flint and went to the stove first, lighting the coals. As the glow rose around him, Skye realized just how cold she had been. He must have been freezing, too, she thought, for he was drenched. Despite herself, she found her eyes wandering over him. Muscle and sinew were delineated clearly.
His eyes fell upon her and she found herself shivering. With great deliberation he found a length of match and lit the lamp from the fire in the Dutch stove. He set the lamp back in its place. “Don’t touch it or the stove,” he said harshly. “I would not survive the storm to burn to a crisp upon the sea.”
“I won’t let anything burn. I promise.”
“You are quick to hand out promises, Lady Kinsdale,” he commented.
She shrugged, staring at the warmth of the fire, ignoring him. He kept watching her. She shivered anew with the warning tone of his next words.
“You will keep any promises you make to me, milady.”
She nodded, playing only for the moment. Light and warmth flooded the room, and courage began to seep back into her along with the warmth. Then he took two steps toward her and she knew that he meant to touch her then and there. Despite herself she screamed. He ignored her, catching her shoulders, dragging her close. “No!” she gasped, seeking to stop his hands as they fell upon her bodice. Little was left of her gown; he found the ties of her corset and tugged upon them.
“Wait!”
“Your promise, milady!”
“You said you were going back out! The storm! The wind, it still rages, stop, please, you must—stop!”
“Be damned with the ship, mam’selle!”
“We’ll drown!”
“Happily shall I die in your arms!”
Her bodice came free and her breasts spilled forth. Color bathed her face, but he barely glanced at her, swinging her around and plucking her torn wet gown over her head. Desperately she flailed against him, but managed only to entangle herself in her clothing. Then suddenly she was naked, shorn of her gown and corset and even her shift, and left only in her stockings and garters. She stared from the pool of her clothing cast upon the floor to his face, and his eyes so cold upon her, denying his taunting words. He took stock of her in a calculating assessment. His gaze was so icily cold that she did not even think to cover herself, to draw her arms about her. He did not in the least seem to appreciate what he saw; indeed, it was almost with disdain that he swept his eyes over her body. He hated her, she thought. But then he took a step toward her again and she screamed with pure primal dread.
