Page 145 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
A horrifying thought flew through Alana’s mind. Gasping, she retracted her hand. “What if your father recognizes you?”
“It’s been years since our last interaction. Even with the resemblance, he would never suspect I falsified my demise, and with the name of a Frenchman, he would have no cause to investigate.” He retook her hands, pinning them above her head, his intense gaze sliding over her body.
“But what happened to the rest of the jewelry, the pieces you sewed into your coat?” she asked, wriggling impatiently beneath him.
A tiny smile pulled at his mouth. “Before I reveal all my secrets, my dear wife, we must reach Boston.”
“How much longer will that be?”
“A few days.” One hand released her wrists, skating across her collarbone. “More than enough time to properly introduce myself to every part of your body.”
Alana blushed, heat rising to her face. “I’m shocked by your words.”
“Are you?” He tilted his head, grinning. “I am a pirate.”
“A reformed pirate.”
Dipping his head, he touched his mouth to the hollow of her throat, dragging his lips along her jawline.
“At this moment, there is only one thought in my mind.”
“Which is?” Alana asked breathlessly.
“Hearing my new wife yell my name with abandon.”
Her blush darkened, the heat flowing across her skin like ocean waves. Desire rippled through her body, pooling in her stomach.
“What name should I scream?”
“Charles,” he replied, “I’d like to hear mygiven name on your lips.”
“Charles,” she said, testing the word, and his eyes blazed. Murmuring his name again, she pulled one arm free of his grip and cupped his face.
With a growl, he lunged forward, his mouth finding hers, his hands sliding over her body, caressing, teasing.
“Alana?” A light tapping came at the door.
The frustration pouring from Charles… Cedric was palpable, but he dragged himself off of her, adjusting himself, and strode to the door.
“Mrs. Parker,” he said as he jerked the door open. “What a delightful surprise to see you again.”
“Captain Shaw?” she shrieked.
Before Mrs. Parker could scream again, he clamped his hand over her mouth and yanked her into the room, wrapping his arms around her torso.
Struggling in his grip, she slammed her foot down on his and smashed her elbow into his ribs. He groaned, releasing her, and Mrs. Parker issued a blood-chilling scream that echoed through the cabins.
“Louisa!” Alana climbed from the bed, wrapped in a blanket, and grabbed hold of Louisa’s shoulders, shaking her. “Stop yelling! That’s not Captain Shaw. That’s my husband.”
“Your husband?” Mrs. Parker frowned, her mouth still hanging open in confusion. Her head whipped back and forth between them. “I thought your husband was dead.”
“What does she mean your husband is dead?”
Pulsating with anger, Wallace stood in the doorway, his pistol drawn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CEDRIC/CHARLES/SEBASTIAN
