Chapter Five #2
“Do not test my patience.” The words rumbled free, laced with warning. Without his crew watching, he reached forward and ripped off the straw hat. Pins went flying and a mess of sleek, dark hair tumbled down. With shoulders straight, she finally lifted her head and slowly turned to face him.
He took a step back, mind reeling as he stared at the familiar face. “Miss Montclair?”
Holy hell. His pulse thundered in his ears. He’d nearly flogged the governor’s daughter. The room started to spin. Another step back and he bumped against his door. This was not happening. He shook his head, willing himself to wake from what was surely a nightmare.
And then, she had the audacity to smile at him. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
He blinked. It was all he could do.
“I’m sorry I caused a disruption. I hope you can forgive me.”
His mouth opened. Then closed. “Sorry? Disruption?”
His blood rushed through him in hot waves. If he’d given her even a single lash…Good God, the thought of hurting a woman was bad enough, but the already poor relations America had with Tortuga could have been jeopardized, putting his job on the line.
Her smile faltered. “Lieutenant?”
His momentary shock dissipated in a flash and he stalked forward. “Do you have any idea what just nearly happened?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth at his growled words.
He stopped directly in front of her, grabbing the collar of her shirt and pulling her close. “When exactly were you planning on revealing your identity, before or after your dozen lashes?”
She blanched. “A dozen?”
“Yes, Miss Montclair. That is the punishment.” He loosened his grip. “Why didn’t you tell my men who you were when you were found?”
Her shoulders moved up and down with each breath and his gaze dropped to where her breasts swelled above the binding, nearly brushing his knuckles. Damnation. He let go and dropped his hands to his side.
“I-I wasn’t sure what they would do to me.”
“And what about me, Miss Montclair? You decided it would be better to take your lashes instead of answering me when I questioned you?” His pulse began to pound anew.
“I was going to tell you. And then I saw how angry your face was…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes met his. “Just like it is now.”
Double damnation.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and walked past her, stopping at the windows. Blue sky stretched as far as the horizon, the pretty scene doing little to soothe his emotions. He could be angry—was angry—but didn’t need to lose his temper.
Too late.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Do you have any inkling of what it feels like to receive a lash?”
“No.” Her voice came out small. “I thought I could endure a few.”
“A few?” He spun, trying and not quite succeeding in keeping his voice level. “If I had given you even one…” Another long breath brought his volume down. “I could never have forgiven myself.”
The curve of her bare waist flashed across his mind. The thought of marring the perfect skin there sent a cold wave through his gut. If he had hurt her…
She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t think…Didn’t think anyone would find me.”
The stricken look on her face gave him pause and he pulled his hat free to rake a hand through his hair. “Why are you here?”
Her head remained hung. “I wanted safe passage. If you can imagine, respectable ships do not pass through Tortuga often.”
“Why did you not ask? If your father had requested, we would have provided you transit.”
She jerked her gaze up. “My father would never have given me permission to leave.”
The vibrations in the boards beneath his feet lessened and he frowned. The ship had slowed. While he wanted to ask her to clarify, he needed to get back outside and brief his crew. He pushed his hat back on and walked past her to the door.
“This conversation is not over. You are to stay in here. Under no circumstances will you leave this cabin.”
Outside, the sun’s heat flooded through him. He jogged up the stairs to the quarterdeck where Silas stood at the helm. “Why are we slowing?”
Silas raised a brow. “I thought you might want to return our visitor to Tortuga.”
Isaac weighed his options. On one hand, they could return to the island and deposit Miss Montclair back where she belonged.
On the other, such a trip would waste six days.
Already short on time, the thought made him cringe.
He was supposed to stay on the Georgia governor’s good side, and being tardy would not win him any favors.
Yet, what did one do with the wayward daughter of a prominent Caribbean official?
His lips tugged up as the perfect solution presented itself. “No, we continue to Savannah. Make sure there’s an extra bunk for me, I’ll be quartering with you the rest of the journey.”
Although Silas hesitated, he did not argue.
Instead, he nodded and descended to the deck, shouting orders to continue the course.
Minutes later, the sails billowed taut in the wind and energy coursed through the deck as the Tempest picked up speed.
Isaac fixed his gaze on the horizon, willing his mind to focus on anything other than the infuriating, yet undeniably beautiful, problem waiting for him in his cabin.
He made a subtle adjustment to the wheel, aware that a single choice could change the course of an entire life.
He had learned that lesson all too well over the past few months.
The spokes beneath his hands vibrated and his skin prickled. Something had already been set in motion, and now, only time would reveal the consequences.