The Infamous Rogue Part 23

"You should have thought of that before you sneaked her onboard."

The muscle in his cheek twitched. "She sneaked onboard."

"Then keep her quiet and locked in your cabin."

James imagined Sophia locked in his cabin, naked in his bed. He imagined the ship undulating as he rocked between her thighs in harmony.

"Are you crazy?" James charged.

"Me? You have your mistress stored aboard ship. You're the one who's crazy."

"She is not my mistress."

"Then what is she?"

She was a witch. She haunted him. She tortured him. She made his life even more miserable than it already was, for the memory of their past, and heated, affair was always at the forefront of his mind.

"Don't tell the crew the woman's here. The men will think it bad luck." William was firm: "But we're not turning back."

"I am the captain."

"You're not acting like one."

James saw red. "I can put you in the brig for that insubordination."

"Go ahead. Put me in chains. Return to port. What wil the crew think? The impostors?"

"I don't give a d.a.m.n what anybody thinks!"

"That's your problem; that's always been your problem. A little conciliation can make your life a lot easier, James."

He hardened. "What did you call me?"

"I mean Captain. d.a.m.n it, we have a mission-"

"I know! But she's a woman. It's too dangerous for her to be here."

"She's familiar with a gun battle at sea. She once sailed aboard her father's pirate ship, remember? She'll be fine."

Blood pounded in James's skull. He wanted to crush something...like his brother's head.

James grabbed the wheel to prevent William from keeping control. "If you ever give an order without my approval again, I'll drop you into the brig with the rats and let you rot.

Is that clear?"

"Aye, Captain," he said stiffly.

Chapter 14.

S ophia sat on the bed.

Two days at sea. Two miserable days at sea. She wasn't nauseous from the swelling waters, but sick at heart. What was she going to do? How was she going to make things right back in England?

She pressed her legs against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, set her chin on her knees. She was trapped aboard the Bonny Meg, secured in the captain's cabin. How long would the mission last?

A fortnight? A month?

She should never have followed the black devil back to his ship. Curse him for riling her senses so! She wouldn't be in this mess then.

She sighed. Lady Lucas would have an apoplexy. Perhaps the matron had already had one. Had she summoned the authorities to search for her missing charge? Had she asked the earl for a.s.sistance?

The earl. What would he think to learn his intended bride was lost? That she was off gallivanting with a b.l.o.o.d.y cutthroat?

"Arrgh!"

Sophia slammed her fists against the bedding. She was restless. Bored. She wanted to swim back to England, to make things right with the earl and Lady Lucas.

Sophia was determined to keep her misadventure a secret. No one would ever know what had transpired between her and Black Hawk. But what would they think about her disappearance?

Perhaps she was fretting too much. Lady Lucas was a savvy woman. She might tell the earl her charge was "ill" and recuperating, that she wasn't seeing visitors or attending parties. And surely the matron wouldn't summon the authorities, creating a stir? She would set about a clandestine search for her charge, wouldn't she?

The damage to Sophia's reputation might not be so great. A missing young woman was always cause for speculation. However, if Lady Lucas remained calm and didn't voice her worries in public, Sophia might come out of this mishap without social scars.

She curled her arms around her knees. There was only one real way to determine the damage to her reputation: she had to return to England and confront the ton.

She shuddered. Thoughts of Imogen filled her head. Gruesome thoughts. The memory of the woman's suffering, her cruel fate still swirled in her skul .

You could have saved her!

Unwelcome tears welled in her eyes and she blinked to keep them back. Could she have saved Imogen as the boorish captain had charged? She would never know. Fear had crippled her. And her own deep desire to be a countess had prevented her from even trying to offer the girl a saving hand.

And that haunted her.

The cabin door opened.

Black Hawk entered the s.p.a.ce. He filled the room with his robust presence. He was dressed in a white shirt, the fabric at his collar parted. The laces dangled, revealing the tufts of dark hair smattered across his strapping chest.

She licked her lips. He had the shirt tucked into his black trousers. Tight trousers. The material hugged his thick legs, his hips...

The swelling muscle between his legs made her heart quiver with longing. She tamped the wild pa.s.sion into the pit of her soul. He still bewitched her mind. He still stirred her blood. She hated him for it. She hated herself even more for having the feelings a'tal .

He paused to look at her. Blue eyes, so riveting, fixed firmly on her, making her hot and needful-of him.

Could he hear her thoughts? See into her heart? He looked at her as though he could.

She felt exposed. She wasn't naked. She was dressed in a shift. She had removed the formal frock, the jewelry to keep the articles from being wrinkled or broken. But even the flimsy white shift seemed too heavy, too rough against her skin. She wanted to take off the chafing garment. She squirmed as she imagined the pirate lord's warm, wet body pressed against her sweaty flesh.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. The d.a.m.nable rogue! She needed to cut out his eyes. The haunting blue pools always put her wits in disorder.

James closed the door and headed for the small table in the corner of the room. The top was slanted, the papers and charts pinned to the surface. He flipped through a few sheets; she heard the rustling.

She humphed. That was the other reason she wasn't wearing stiff and proper attire; she was alone. Why be uncomfortable? She didn't a.s.sociate with the crew or the pirate lord.

She spent most of her time mil ing around the captain's quarters. The blackguard ignored her. He stayed out of the cabin during the daylight hours. In the evening he returned to the room to sleep in the hammock while she stayed in the bed. He said not a word to her.

He didn't touch her, either...He only looked at her with those seductive eyes.

"What did you do with Sophia?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

The man's voice was like a low boom in the small s.p.a.ce. It made her shiver. "Sophia.

The snake. I thought she didn't like to sleep alone. Did you give her to your sister?"

James snorted and looked back at the papers. "No. She sleeps with the butler when we're al at sea. Sometimes I even take her with me. She takes care of the rats aboard ship."

Sophia made a moue. She hated that d.a.m.n snake. She wished it, too, would drown. But the snake could swim, she suspected. Curse it!

"Why are you crying?"

Was she crying? Sophia wiped her cheeks. There was a single tear there, a lone drop of moisture she had failed to stave off. She rubbed and rubbed until her skin ached. She wasn't the maudlin sort.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.

He was quiet for a short while, mulling over papers. Then: "I didn't give the order to set sail with you onboard."

She humphed. "Aren't you the captain?"

He gripped the edge of the table. "I didn't give the order."

She looked at him. He was so big. He had so much energy. He had so much strength.

The blood moving through his veins pulsed with life. A life she sensed. A life she had once craved on the island.

Once upon a time, she had longed for the man every night he was away at sea. She had rejoiced every time the Bonny Meg had moored-and he had come for her. It had been more than pleasure, their affair. It had been more than l.u.s.t...for her. But he had only wanted an island mistress.

Wh.o.r.e.

She wasn't fit to be his wife then. Now he wanted to let her know he had not devastated her? That he had not set sail with her onboard to ruin her reputation? That he cared?

She snorted inwardly.

He stiffened.

He had sensed her cynicism. Lush lips thinned as he stared at her. Eyes slanted. The beautiful blue pools darkened-and burned.

He approached the bed.

She bristled.

A warmth seeped into her belly: a familiar heat. That look in his eyes! She remembered that look.

Hunger.

He was always so hungry after a long voyage at sea...hungry for her.

It's good to see you, sweetheart.

She shivered.

But the wily cutthroat paused next to the st.u.r.dy sea chest instead. He flipped the lid, the roof landing on the bed with a thump, and rummaged.

She glared at him, pinched her lips together. He had rattled her senses, tossed her wits about with that scorching look.

For naught.

He had wanted to upset her, was all.

Slowly she slipped her foot across the bedding and reached for the lid with her toes. It wasn't a very heavy sea chest. It was constructed from wicker with canvas stretched across the frame. Still it was c.u.mbersome. She angled her toes just under the clasp-before she flicked her foot and sent the roof crashing.

"Blimey!"

James curled his fingers together, the appendages red and swelling.

He glared at her.

"Oops." She smiled. "Sorry about that...my foot slipped."

She started to retract her leg. He grabbed her by the ankle and yanked her roughly toward him.

Sophia gasped as her a.r.s.e sc.r.a.ped across the linen. The friction warmed her b.u.t.tocks.

She stopped at the edge of the bed, heart pounding. Skirt rucked up to her belly, bottom hanging precariously, she was vulnerable and exposed.

The way he liked it.

The way she liked it.

"You b.l.o.o.d.y witch."