Page 31 of The Pirate Lord
Because of that blasted Englishwoman. Sara had planted these foolish doubts in his mind. Sara, with the caramel-tinted eyes and the soft, yielding body … Sara, who could make a man lust with only a toss of her copper hair. His loins tightened, and he groaned. No woman had ever affected him quite this way before. Like any sailor, he’d had his dalliances, but no sloe-eyed island beauty had ever sent his blood racing at just the thought of her.
It didn’t matter what Sara did to his blood … or anything else, he told himself with a grimace. There was more to marriage than passion. His parents had proven that.
The last thing he wanted was to let his cock lead him to take up with some pampered daughter of an earl—even an adopted one. Her kind of woman was never satisfied with what a man could give her. Her kind of woman never gave a man a moment’s peace.
Moving to the rail, he leaned against it with his back to the sea. No, Sara Willis wasn’t for him. He’d have to look elsewhere among this crowd for a wife. With a curious distraction, he watched the dance of courtship playing itself out before him, wondering if he could indeed throw himself into it with theenthusiasm of his men. He ought to. That was what he needed—another woman, a different woman to pursue, one who more closely fitted his idea of a wife.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, then winced when his fingers touched a wadded up cloth. Sara’s cap. The one that had covered her glorious mass of fine, silky hair.
With an oath, he jerked it out of his pocket and tossed it into the sea. He never should have taken down her hair. He certainly shouldn’t have kissed her. His attraction to her was as unwise as sailing directly into the wind, and kissing her had only sharpened his desire. Confound it, she was a witch to occupy his thoughts so constantly even when she wasn’t in sight!
He scanned the crowd uneasily. Wait, she wasn’t in sight. Where was she? At the other end of the ship? Below decks with one of his men? That brought a scowl to his face.
While he was still looking for Sara, another woman approached him, a buxom blond whose eyes skimmed his flanks like a dock official inspecting a ship. She took his hand and put it on her waist with a coy glance from heavy-lidded eyes. “Well, well, if it isn’t the man who saved us from that wretched prison ship. You’re lookin’ for yer own woman to mate with, aren’t you? And Queenie’s just the woman for that.” Tugging his hand up to rest on one of her ample breasts, she leaned into his palm with a smile. “I got everythin’ a man like you could want, and more besides.”
A frown of distaste crossed his brow as he jerked his hand from her breast. “Sorry, Queenie, I’ve got other things on my mind tonight.” It was clear what this woman had been imprisoned for, and he was in no mood to put up with such solicitations. Sara mightn’t be the woman for him, but neither was Queenie.
Unfortunately, Queenie didn’t seem to realize that. Quick as lightning, she slid her hand to cover the bulge in his breechescreated by his thoughts of Sara. “Ooh, guv’nor,” she cooed, her accent thickening to a more cockney one as she rubbed him with practiced fingers, “y’re lyin’ through yer teeth. Y’re horn-mad, you are, and I know just how to soothe that sort of madness.”
He didn’t even crack a smile at what was probably an unintentional pun on his name. Instead, he shoved her hand away. “Every man on this ship is horn-mad tonight, Queenie. Go find one of them to entice. I’m not interested.”
She looked insulted. “You savin’ it for somebody else then?” When he lifted one eyebrow, a mulish expression crossed her face. “You savin’ it for ‘milady’? ‘Cause if you are, y’re wastin’ yer time. She thinks herself too good for the likes of me and you. She’ll not satisfy that burnin’ in your breeches, I warrant you that.”
The fact that she was probably right didn’t make her words sit any easier. He fixed her with his most blistering look, the one that sent his men scurrying for cover. The blood drained from her face.
“Thank you for the warning about Miss Willis,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “But I don’t take advice from whores.”
That was enough to send her flouncing off in a huff. But not enough to gain him solitude, for another woman appeared to take her place. This could get tedious. When he’d given the women a choice, he hadn’t thought they’d be running after him with such enthusiasm. He started to walk away, but the woman called out to him.
“Cap’n Horn, sir! I brought you your supper!” When he halted and turned toward her, she thrust a plate loaded with food at him. “Mr. Drummond told me to give you this.”
She wouldn’t look at him, and he suddenly realized this wasn’t a task she’d wanted to perform. He should’ve known that not all the women were of Queenie’s insolent stamp, buthe was unused to having a woman do things for him, so he’d overreacted.
Relaxing, he took the plate from her. “Thanks. I must admit I’m hungry.” She seemed at a loss for words, and now that she was standing nearer, he could see the fear on her face. “What’s your name?”
“Ann Morris, sir.” Her eyes flitted from him to the other women. Clearly she wanted to be anywhere but here talking to him, and for some reason that made him determined to allay her fears.
“Morris. That’s a Welsh name, isn’t it?”
Her eyes went wide. Then she nodded. “From Carmarthenshire, sir.”
He smiled. “You needn’t keep calling me ‘sir,’ you know. I’m no better than you or any of the other women.”
“Yes, sir. I-I mean, yes.”
He speared some meat on his fork and brought it to his mouth. It was tough and tasteless as usual, but he was hungry and it was all Silas was capable of. As Ann fidgeted and shifted her stance as if preparing to dart off, he asked, “Have you eaten?”
Her head bobbed furiously up and down, making her curls jiggle. He flashed her a smile. That seemed to ease her fears some, for she stopped fidgeting. Between bites of biscuit and stew, he looked her over. She was a little thing, with fetching eyes of a color indeterminable in the lantern light, and dark, curly hair cropped short about the ears, probably by the prison authorities. If it hadn’t been for her womanly figure, he might have thought her only a child.
This was the sort of woman he ought to consider as a wife. She was pretty and personable. She probably knew how to provide those feminine comforts he’d never had in his life.Once she got past her fear of him, she’d be a sweet and pleasing companion.
A pity the only feeling she brought out in him was paternal. He sighed. “Are you and the women comfortable? Is everything below deck to your satisfaction?”
Her face brightened, making her look even more angelic. “Oh, yes, it’s all very nice. Much nicer than on theChastity.”
He sopped up some gravy with his biscuit. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to be on theChastity?”
A sorrowful look crossed her face. She perched her small frame on a nearby box with a sigh. “I was sent to prison for stealing.”
