Captured for the Captain's Pleasure

His tongue tangled with hers. A thrill exploded low in her abdomen. A small moan rose up in her throat.

He pulled away and gazed at her with gleaming eyes, his chest rising and falling with rapid intakes of breath. A sensual smile curved his lips.

Easy virtue. That was what his smile said. Wanton. As if he knew. He couldn’t. Not from just a kiss. ‘Get away from me,’ she snapped, only too aware of her own humiliating shortness of breath.

He let his arms fall to his sides and straightened, looking a little surprised. ‘Perhaps you’ll have more care with your words in future. Then I won’t feel the need to stem the tide.’

She didn’t want to talk to him at all. She dodged beneath his arm, and scuttled ignominiously across the room, jerking around to face him when she reached the far side. To her relief, he made no move to follow. ‘I wish to go to my brother.’

He cocked a brow.

Her heartbeat slowed and she felt more like herself. ‘If you please,’ she said regally.

He leaned against the doorpost, folding his arms over that broad expanse of very male chest and observed her with narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t please. Sit down, Miss Fulton. We need to have a conversation.’

‘What can you and I possibly have to discuss?’

‘Your future and that of your companions.’ His voice was flat and hard and full of confident power.

Her stomach dipped, but she kept her expression calm. ‘Very well.’ She marched to the only other chair in the room apart from the one behind the desk. She perched on its edge, folding her hands in her lap, praying he wouldn’t see how she shook inside and pinned an afternoon-tea-with-strangers smile on her lips. ‘What are your plans?’

‘It depends on you.’

‘How?’

He pursed his mobile mouth as if deciding how to deliver bad news.

Looking into his eyes was like watching the ever-changing ocean. If eyes were the windows to the soul, his had turned the colour of storms at sea, the cold grey-green of the Atlantic in winter.

The cold crept into her blood.

He pushed off from the doorway and stalked to his desk. He perched one lean hip on the corner. Once more he was far too close for comfort. She squashed the urge to flee.

‘We might as well be civil,’ he said. ‘May I offer you some refreshment after your ordeal?’

Now he would play the gentleman? And would she submit meekly? Play the polite lady? ‘No, thank you.’

‘You won’t mind if I do?’ He reached down, clearly not caring if she minded or not, and opened a drawer. He pulled out a bottle and glass, poured a measure into the goblet and returned the bottle to the drawer. Every movement was elegant, unhurried, yet rife with leashed power.

It was all she could do to simply draw breath and sit unmoving beneath his cool stare.

‘To the Fultons.’ He grimaced and swallowed a long draught as if to remove the taste of her name from his tongue.

One booted foot swung as he observed her over the rim of his goblet. She’d never seen such long, muscular legs displayed to such heart-stopping effect. Oh, no! How could she be impressed by this an awful man? The problem was, he was too dreadfully handsome and his kisses were like a drug to her senses.

She pressed her lips together. Let him speak what was on his mind. It worked in business. It would work with him too.

‘Why were you on board?’ he finally asked. ‘You and your brother?’

If it wasn’t too strange to contemplate, she might have thought the note in his voice was gloating. ‘I was visiting a friend in Lisbon. My brother loves the sea. It was a treat for him, before he goes to school.’

‘A spree? With a war on?’ He shook his head. ‘Your father must care very little for your safety.’

‘If it wasn’t for men like you, our safety wouldn’t be an issue.’

His dark brows drew together.

Dash it. It really wasn’t a good idea to poke a lion with a stick to see what it would do, but this man had her feeling ill at ease, not herself at all. Not afraid so much as frazzled. Now she understood how an oyster felt with a bit of sand beneath its shell. Irritable. If she could only keep her gaze from admiring his manly physique, she might gather a few coherent thoughts.

‘You’ve a sharp wit to go along with your sharp tongue, I believe,’ he said. ‘You used it to good effect on the merchants in Lisbon.’

Everything had depended on her forcing Anderson up to the mark in his dealings for this cargo, but she had the feeling the less this man knew, the better. And on this occasion, she didn’t mind playing the female card. She widened her eyes and curved her lips in a vacuous smile. ‘La, sir. Me? Engage in business?’

‘And the other woman? Lady Selina Albright? Your last-minute addition to the passenger list? Why is she on board?’

She lifted a shoulder. ‘If it is any business of yours, Lady Selina is a friend. She wanted to return to England early. I offered her a berth.’

Offered was far too gentle a word. Selina had showed up in tears on the night of their sailing demanding to be taken home. To make room for her, Alice had been required to leave her maid behind on the dock.

‘I see,’ he said.

The words had the weight of a threat.

Chapter Three

She had more courage than half the men he knew. The rays of the setting sun warmed her pale skin and glinted in the wisps of caramel hair at her temples. He hadn’t expected such a prim little mouth, with its full bottom lip, to issue such blistering condemnations.

He certainly hadn’t expected a gently bred, haughty English female to respond to his kiss with the passion of a tropical siren. Not that he had any interest in her kisses. He’d simply wanted to stop her words. He’d learned early that women forgot their nagging when you pleasured their senses. He’d kissed lots of them quiet. Most of them far more lush and lovely than this one.

To his annoyance, he found himself aroused. But he did not want her silence. He had uses for Miss Fulton’s tongue that had nothing to do with the blood stirring in his body.

He scratched at his chin. ‘Albright,’ he mused. ‘A wealthy family, I recollect. She would fetch a fine ransom.’

‘Ransom?’ The high pitch of her voice revealed her shock. Anger bloomed rosy on her cheeks. ‘Aren’t you getting enough from stealing the cargo?’

Not nearly enough. ‘Did you think I brought you on board for the pleasure of your company?’ He flashed a smile. ‘Delightful though it is, of course.’

Her eyes widened. Her body shifted. He saw worry in the way she lowered her gaze, and fear in the way her fingers plucked at her skirts.

Small strong hands. Clever hands that felt good on a man’s body. Not that he’d feel them again.

Finally she raised her head. ‘Why am I here?’ She gestured around her. ‘Why are you keeping me from my brother?’

A perfectly logical question. Something he didn’t expect when dealing with females, but he’d already learned that this one had a brain when she wasn’t worrying about her sibling. ‘Before you return to your friends, I need some questions answered.’

‘I won’t tell you anything.’

‘Then you will remain here.’