The Pleasure of His Bed. Donna Grant

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СКАЧАТЬ reputation has suffered from his empty promises. And many an unclaimed bastard walks the streets of every port he’s visited, dear Sofia.”

      She raised one eyebrow, assessing these claims. “What has that to do with me? Had I been concerned about my reputation, would I have stowed away on a ship run by lusty, sex-starved sailors?”

      Quentin chortled and kissed her quickly. “All the more reason Delacroix won’t be choosy, come time to sell you. I, on the other hand, would love to settle on my estate with a fine, feisty wife. Life aboard a pirate ship is an adventure for a while, but the tightening of international maritime regulations means privateers and pirates will soon be caught and executed for their misdeeds. We’re a dying breed, no matter how you look at us.”

      So it was true, then? Damon Delacroix had presented himself as an honorable escort for the Havisham girls, yet he intended to profit from this voyage—from the vast quantities of English textiles, spices, and gems in the holds of these three ships—even more than Lord Havisham had encouraged? Was he as heartless as he was unscrupulous?

      What—whom—should she believe?

      She knew nothing about this man Thomas except that he was playing upon her circumstances—taking every advantage of this situation. Sofia squirmed to see beyond his broad shoulders, prepared to cry out for help. But the mist was drifting around them again, and when Quentin Thomas placed his knee between hers, she was pinned to the wall by her uniform skirt.

      “Please, Mr. Thomas,” she pleaded. “I’m expected in the galley. I have an obligation to Captain Delacroix to—”

      “Sofia,” he breathed. His eyes narrowed, and he inhaled raggedly. When he pressed against her thigh, his erection felt very hard. Ready to invade her in the time it took to lift her skirts and step between her legs.

      She stood absolutely still. Anything she said or did fueled his need to possess her. To overpower her.

      “If you won’t agree to my generous offer, I’ll have no recourse but to report this indiscretion to the captain,” he whispered. His kiss was hard and greedy and fast. “You were wandering the deck like a wanton, and I nobly offered to protect you—your honor—and provide for your future. Only an ungrateful little bitch would turn me away.”

      Sofia held his gaze, assessing her options. She was damned if she gave in to Thomas and damned if she didn’t: he was second in command to the captain. Quentin Thomas was in charge of steering the ship, and he had authority over all matters of deportment aboard the Courtesan—matters of life and death, in cases of extreme violations of the rules.

      Rules he applies to everyone but himself.

      The wind blew her hair in her face—which meant either the ship or the wind had changed directions, didn’t it? And where were the sailors who should be clambering up the ropes to the yardarms, to position the huge sails? If she could bide her time, surely someone would interrupt this distasteful discussion, which smacked of blackmail.

      “On the contrary, Mr. Thomas,” she replied in a purposeful purr, “I find your offer generous and attractive—especially because I must consider the welfare of someone other than myself. You see, my mother is aboard the Lady Constance. I was waving to her when you found me here, and—”

      The quartermaster’s laugh was edged with sarcasm. “What sort of fool do you take me for? I didn’t become the captain’s lieutenant by believing every far-fetched story a pretty wench fed me, so—” He yanked her skirt to her knees. “What’ll it be, Miss Martine? If you need more time to decide, perhaps the rats and roaches in the hold can assist with your decision.”

      10

      Damon awakened with a start. His dream of Sofia had gone awry when a faceless stranger had stepped from the mists to lure her away from him. And when he’d tried to rise up against the intruder, he couldn’t move!

      “What the—?” Pain shot through his wrist when he tried to roll over, and then his knee-jerk reaction nearly broke his damn foot!

      He groaned. He’d been so concerned about rescuing Sofia from the stranger in his dream, yet she’d chained him to the bed—with his own irons! The minx must’ve hidden the manacles before dinner…and while her trickery put him at a disadvantage, he was chuckling. She’d planned this little slave game—had worn him out last night to show him who really had control of their arrangement, which had grown even more sexually charged since he’d freed her from these chains.

      He admired her for that. Sofia Martine was anything but boring.

      But how the hell was he supposed to run his ship? The gray light at his portholes announced an overcast dawn and a day aboard the Courtesan that had started without him.

      “Sofia? If you’re behind me laughing—”

      But only the ticking of his desk clock broke the silence in his quarters. Last night’s brandy soured his mouth. How long had she been gone?

      What sort of trouble is she causing? Even if it’s unintentional?

      “Somebody? Anybody!” he cried hoarsely. “Ahoy, sailors! Your captain needs—”

      But did he really want his men to find him this way? His eye patch had slipped to the pillow, and his bandanna felt askew on his rumpled hair—reminders of the costuming Sofia had coaxed him into. His limbs felt heavy from being driven by her insatiable wanting, her unspoken challenge to keep up with her need. Again and again.

      Surely someone would notice his absence. Surely Quentin would come along soon, and by now Sofia would be busy in the kitchen under Comstock’s watchful eye.

      He should relax. No sense in thrashing about, possibly reopening the wound on his face. His men were perfectly capable of navigating and carrying out their duties until he appeared.

      Yet as the minutes ticked by, marked by the four-note chiming of his clock at the quarter hour, Damon grew uneasy. Why did his gut tell him something was terribly amiss—just as in that dream in which he couldn’t identify the man who’d seduced Sofia?

      More important, where’s the key to these handcuffs?

      A secretive knocking interrupted his racing thoughts. At the quiet creaking of his door, Damon cleared his throat loudly. “Yes? How may I help you?” he demanded, hoping he sounded fit and ready to come around the room divider to greet his visitor.

      “Captain, sir? I had a sneakin’ suspicion—” Thunk…ka-thunk…

      Damon closed his eyes, awaiting his cook’s reaction. Better Jonas Comstock than some of his other men, but he could predict what the crotchety old salt would lecture him about.

      “Well, now. Why’m I not surprised to find you ‘indisposed,’ captain? Things ain’t been goin’ right ever since that hoyden hid herself here,” he remarked gruffly. “Gives credence to that superstition about females bein’ unlucky on board.”

      Jonas approached the side of the bed so he could fully take in Damon’s predicament and speak to his face rather than to his bare backside. He pursed his weathered lips and glanced around, presumably for the key.

      Delacroix coughed awkwardly. “This was a little game Sophia—only a joke she played after—”

      “I’d СКАЧАТЬ