Chapter 15 #3
“Get out,” Gideon added in a threatening voice. “Get out of this cabin and off my ship. You’ll get your gold, though I ought to toss you to the sharks. Be on that sloop tomorrow, or I swear I’ll do just that.”
Casting her a quick, apologetic glance, Petey sidled between her and Gideon, then fled. For a moment, she felt paralyzed by terror, but she recovered her composure quickly. It wouldn’t do to let him know she was afraid of him. He’d take advantage of that.
She took a deep, steadying breath as she crossed her arms over her chest to cover her trembling. “I suppose you think you’ve won now. You’ve gotten rid of Petey, so you assume I’ll just fall into your arms.”
With an inscrutable look, he entered the cabin and closed the door behind him.
“I know better than to assume anything where you’re concerned.
You never concede defeat easily. But at least I’ve eliminated your best ammunition.
” His eyes roamed her with a familiarity that brought flame to her cheeks.
“And I promise, sweetheart, I can handle anything else you throw at me.”
He took a step toward her, then stopped.
A grim purpose showed in his face as the lamp lit him in an unholy light.
Stretching out his hand, he stroked the line of her jaw, leaving fire behind wherever he touched.
Just this morning, he’d touched her like that, making her blood sing, dragging cries of pleasure out of her.
But he was different now. She couldn’t put her finger on how.
He was just different. In his steely eyes shone the same cold calculation she’d seen the first day of the capture.
This wasn’t the Gideon who’d held her while she cried.
This was a Gideon who wanted only her body, who would take her without a jot of caring.
Though she found this Gideon as seductive as the other, this one terrified her as the other hadn’t. And this one had the power to destroy her.
Backing away from his outstretched hand, she whispered, “What happens after the battle is over, Gideon? You marry me? Is that what you want? For me to choose you as husband?”
At once his expression grew shuttered. Tucking his thumbs in his belt, he stared at her, a sneer forming on his lips. “Are you saying you would marry me? A disgusting, blood-hungry American pirate?”
“That’s not the question, is it?” She thrust the heavy weight of her hair back over her shoulder, and his eyes followed her movements hungrily, making her regret the gesture. Tucking her hands beneath her arms, she hastened to add, “You haven’t said you’d marry me, an English noblewoman.”
“Why don’t we skip discussion of our impending nuptials until we see if we suit each other?” With a sudden lunge that took her by surprise, he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into his embrace. “Unlike Hargraves, I like to sample the goods before I pay the price . . . milady.”
He spoke the last word with such sarcasm that her heart sank. He only called her “milady” when he wanted to remind himself of how much he hated “her kind.” And the rest of his crude words, meant to demean her, were more of the same.
“You won’t be sampling anything of mine!” She shoved against his chest. “Release me at once, you . . . you—”
“Despoiler of women? Wicked ravisher? Come now, Sara, say what you like, but we both know you want me to make love to you. This morning—”
“This morning you were different,” she blurted out. When his gaze burned into her, she added quickly, “You cared about me. And yes, I wanted you to make love to me. I admit it. But not now, when you’re like this. Not when you detest me so.”
“Do I act like I detest you?” He ground his hips against her until she felt his arousal. “Do I feel like a man who detests you?”
She shoved her hands against his chest, now almost frantic to get away from him.
“I’m not talking about what you think of my body.
I’m talking about what you think of me. I’ve heard the contempt in your voice when you speak of my position in society.
I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes, with anger and resentment, as if you hate me for being English and . . . and privileged.”
“That’s neither here nor there.” He caught her chin in his hand, trying to force her head up so he could kiss her. “Your body wants my body, and God knows mine wants yours. So let’s satisfy both our needs and be done with it.”
“No!” She wrenched her head from his hand. “I’m not a plump hen for you to gobble up simply because you’re hungry! Nor will I bear the brunt of your hatred for ‘my kind’!”
This time when she shoved at him, he released her, though his breath came hard and fast. “What do you want from me? Undying love? A vow of constancy? A proposal of marriage? What’s your game?”
“That’s just it. I have no game. And since you can’t seem to believe that, I . . . I want no part of you. Leave me be. If you can’t see me as plain Sara Willis, then stay away and let me find someone who can.”
“You mean Hargraves.”
“I mean, a man who doesn’t hate what I am.” Sadness laced her tone. “And I don’t think you can be that man.”
A sudden coldness came over him. “You’re right.
I can’t.” He started to leave, then hesitated.
“But I doubt you’ll find anyone else here to fit your lofty expectations, now that your friend Hargraves is leaving.
My men hate your kind as much as I do. Your tastes are much too refined for any of them anyway. ”
His voice lowered a notch. “And we both know I’m the only one who can satisfy your other needs, the needs you keep pretending you don’t have. So who will be your choice of husband? Who?”
That question echoed in her ears as he bent his head to clear the doorway and was gone. A thousand curses upon the man for knowing her so well! Yes, who could she choose if not him? Who?