Chapter 7 #2
She couldn’t speak. She began to insistently throb in response to the pressure of his restless stirring and she couldn’t control herself. She gasped and then whimpered, her body seeking his. Wet aching warmth met slick heat. More pleasure crested.
He grunted, rubbing his stubbly jaw against her cheek, his lashes drifting closed against her skin.
“I am so very close to losing my mind and all control and taking you, Amanda,” he said thickly.
“Is that what you want? Do you really want me to use you and abuse you, as if you were a worthless pirate’s daughter? ”
His body jerked in a spasm and she cried out, in both physical pleasure and emotional pain. He lifted his head; their eyes locked.
She could barely think. Of course I don’t want to be a cheap and tawdry pirate’s daughter. Not to you….
And he saw her answer. “I didn’t think so.” He tossed the sheets aside and leaped from the bed, then turned to rake his gaze directly over her exposed limbs.
Amanda jerked to sit, pulling down the nightgown. Instantly he yanked the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around his waist and hiding his huge, engorged penis. He gave her a dark, still-furious look.
Amanda closed her eyes tightly and willed her body to still, to calm. But she had been very close to a fatal precipice, and in that moment, the task of discovering some sanity seemed impossible.
His cruel words made it easy. “I do not want a liaison with you, Amanda.” His tone was scathing.
She blinked, saw the distended sheet, and half giggled hysterically. “Of course you do.”
He braced himself a foot from the bed. “That,” he cried, pointing at himself, “is the reaction I would have to any female who slips into my bed.”
The hysterical laughter vanished. He couldn’t be telling her the truth, she thought, a terrible hurt beginning. “You wanted me this morning,” she whispered, staring only at his face now.
His laughter was harsh. “I am a man! A virile man! I always want sex,” he said tersely.
She cringed against the pillows, the pain of rejection stabbing through her like a cutlass slicing open the jugular of the enemy.
“What my body wants is irrelevant, because I am not a beast. What my mind wishes is an entirely different matter—and I do not wish to share my bed with you. Could I be any clearer? Must I elaborate?”
She didn’t know what elaborate meant, but she could guess.
She felt tears rising. “I’m not a fancy lady,” she muttered, staring at her nightgown.
She could put on the nightgown and wash up and brush her hair, but that wasn’t going to change anything.
He didn’t want her. He wasn’t like any man she had ever known before—he was educated, a gentleman, nobility.
And when they put into London harbor, he would take up with one of his blue-blooded lovers. She choked.
“No, you are not.”
Her gaze flew to his because his tone had changed. The rage was gone, and there was only a hard grim quality to his words now. Their gazes held.
Amanda shook her head. “I knew it couldn’t be true,” she said. “I knew you couldn’t really be kind.” She slid from the bed and marched to the door, trying to keep her head high when what she wanted to do was cry. He had been so cruel.
He hesitated. “Amanda.”
She froze. His tone was almost normal, and she prayed he was going to call her back, take her into his arms and smile softly and tell her it was all right—that they would remain odd companions after all and that what had just happened wouldn’t change anything.
His expression was rigid. His eyes were hooded. He said, “If I had wished for your favors, I would have already taken you to bed.”
She cried out. Then she whirled and ran from him.
Cliff turned and smashed the wall with his fist.
CLIFF STOOD on the starboard of the quarterdeck, arms folded across his chest. He stared almost unseeingly over the railing, where the ocean was a pale, silvery gray, mirroring the clouded sky overhead.
White horses frothed and spray spit from the frigate’s bow.
He was cruising with only courses and topsails set.
Still, in such strong winds, they were traveling at a fast clip, one he usually enjoyed. Instead, he was irritated and annoyed.
He slowly turned to look at his passenger.
It was just past noon and his children and Amanda were on a short recess from their studies.
Ariella had gone below to read, and Alexi was in the rigging with the fore topmen.
He was prouder of the boy with every passing day, as he could not seem to soak up knowledge of the ship and sailing quickly enough.
He might be a poor student when it came to academics, but he was brilliant when it came to seamanship.
His passenger, however, was another matter.
According to Michelle she was rapidly proceeding in her studies.
The Frenchman waxed poetic over his new charge’s intelligence and dedication, boasting she would be reading the London Times by the day they arrived in town.
As far as Cliff was concerned, the man was quickly falling under her spell.
But why not? Even now, having just come out of the schoolroom, so to speak, she was an enchantress with her windblown hair, her exotic green eyes, her slim but voluptuous body.
Amanda met his gaze, glaring.
He stared back, unsmiling. She had not spoken to him in five days.
In fact, all she had done was glare rudely or ignore him as if he was not there.
He understood that he was being punished for his cruelty.
But had she wished to be seduced and ruined?
Did she understand that he would have taken her in an instant, with her in his bed so scantily attired, already in the throes of pleasure and passion?
Did she know what control and discipline he had used to walk away?
Did she not understand that he wished to be honorable with her?
His cruel words had been deliberate, a calculated device to push her as far away as he possibly could, and to forestall her ever trying to seduce him again.
He knew that should there be a next time, he would cave in to a monstrous and barbaric desire.
But goddamn it, he had had enough. He felt horrible, he was guilty, he was sorry, she was right! He did not wish to renew their previous camaraderie, as it was far too dangerous, but did she have to act as if she despised him?
Giving him a hateful look, she turned her back to him and waved up at Alexi. Alexi was seated on a yardarm and he grinned at her. “Amanda! Come up!”
What nonsense was this? Women did not climb the rigging, even if Cliff had seen her do so once, years ago, on her father’s sloop.
Amanda turned and looked right at him, her challenge clear. Then she whirled and ran to the mainmast, where she quickly leaped into the main shrouds. He stalked down from the quarterdeck as she scrambled up to Alexi, as agile as his best sailors.
The fore topmen did not know what to do, so they looked at each other and then down at the decks, as if pretending a beautiful woman was not in their midst.
“You really can climb rigging,” Alexi said in surprise. “I thought you were joshing me!”
“I’ve been climbing rigging since I was younger than you,” Amanda boasted. She glanced down, meeting Cliff’s gaze, before abruptly looking away.
He snapped. “Amanda, please come down. I wish a word with you.”
She smiled at Alexi. “It is such a fine day. If these winds keep up, we will cut a few good days off of our voyage.”
“I hope our voyage lasts forever. I don’t care about England at all,” Alexi declared.
Cliff was incredulous. She was going to ignore him when he gave her a direct command? Perhaps, though, it hadn’t really been a command, but a request. “Amanda.”
Her jaw set. She gave him a sullen look.
“Come down. Into my cabin,” he barked. He turned and strode off. If she did not obey, he’d climb up the rigging himself and carry her down over his shoulder, never mind that commanders did not ascend the shrouds.
But he heard her as she landed, soft and catlike, on the deck. She trailed after him, keeping a safe distance, as if he might turn on her like a dangerous predator and bite. But then, he had bitten her, hadn’t he, when he’d told her he had no wish to bed her. But damn it, he had not had a choice!
He paused in the center of his cabin as she entered behind him.
He decided he would pretend that nothing was amiss, that they had not spent five days with his hoping for a genuine smile and her staring mutely at him with unabashed hostility.
He turned, smiling. “I understand you have progressed to a second level reader,” he said.
She stared, mouth firm, eyes hard, absolutely mute.
He sighed. “Are you enjoying your studies?”
She folded her arms across her chest, clearly refusing to speak.
“Well, I believe I have proven my point. You are hardly a grown woman. I have never seen such childish behavior in an adult.”
She smiled grimly at him.
He was incredulous. “Do you intend to ignore me for the next four weeks?”
“Am I ignoring you, Captain, sir?”
He was at a loss. She was angry and he couldn’t blame her.
What was worse, he knew the anger was a facade to hide her hurt.
It was so utterly ironic. He had only wished to shield her from heartache; instead, he had caused more grief.
Softly and truthfully, he said, “I am sorry I hurt you, Amanda. I obviously misled you with my earlier behavior. At least now we both know where we respectively stand. It will be a very long voyage if you continue to glare and refuse to speak to me.”
“The voyage is already too long,” she said.
“I am afraid there is nothing I can do about the length of our voyage,” he said.
She shrugged. “Just think, when we do get to England you can go to your fancy whores.”
It was a rare moment, but he felt her pain and did not know how to respond.
“Is that all? I have lessons to finish.”