Page 107 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
“No.” She shook her head, her face roughing to the same brilliant pink as the sunset, and she turned toward the wall. “You misheard me.”
“I’m certain I did.” He drew her face back, tucking a strand of red behind her ear. “You couldn’t possibly love someone who almost killed you.”
“But I could love the man who risked his life to save mine.” He opened his mouth, but she lifted her hand, pressing a finger to his lips. “I’m aware of the peril you and Mr. Hayward have placed yourselves in by falsifying my death.”
“We’ve actually done it before,” Cedric admitted and laid back. “Otis, my previous cabin boy, now works at the distillery.”
Alana fell silent, her breathing soft, and he thought she’d fallen asleep. He was about to withdraw his arm from beneath her when she suddenly spoke.
“Why do you need to rescue your sister?”
“My father… he isn’t a kind man. He tried to control me, and when he could no longer force me to obey his commands, he accused me of theft. I escaped from the authorities, with the help of your brother, and sailed for America.” He paused. “Where my ship was beset by pirates.”
“Were you given a choice?”
“I was.”
“And you decided to remain a pirate?”
“It was easier than being Charles Ashmore.” He shrugged. “That is until I received a letter from Patrick informing me that Dinah had sent him a missive begging for assistance. He thought I should involve myself with my sister’s future before my father caused her irreversible harm.”
“It must have been quite a shock to receive a response from her deceased brother.”
“I think she always had a suspicion that I’d survived the attack. That’s why she reached out to Patrick.” Cedric turned on his side, facing Alana. “If anyone knew how to find me, it’d be him.”
“When my family learns my ship was attacked by pirates…”
“I’m not the only one who ambushes passenger ships, but I expect Patrick will send a missive inquiring if I’ve heard anything.” He trailed a finger softly down her arm, skirting the bandages wrapped around her bicep. “It’s a pity you decided not to send him a letter when the first group of hostages were taken ashore.”
“You sound smug,” she said, her eyes remaining closed.
“I am.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “I recall advising you to write your brother.”
“Because you wanted to extort money from him!” Her eyes snapped open.
“I would have recognized his name! How many Patrick Flannery’s are there in the world?”
She held his glare.
“It would have been addressed to Aidan.”
“Whose name is still Flannery.”
Nose to nose, the fire blazing between them was hot enough to burn through his clothing, but he wasn’t going to back down, and he was quite certain Alana wouldn’t either.
“You are exactly like your brother!” He rolled onto his back, his body loudly protesting. “It must be the hair.”
“Mrs. Parker…”
“I’m including her in my observation,” he replied, the bite in his tone causing Alana to pull away from him.
He turned over, curled his arm over her hip, and dragged her flush with his torso, digging his erection into her pelvis.
“I didn’t dismiss you.”
“You said I couldn’t do anything physical,” she gasped, her hands sliding between them.
“And you’re not going to.” His other arm slipped beneath her head and wrapped around her back, pulling her closer. “You’re going to sleep.”
