Chapter Five #3
The wind got up, blowing the briny salty scent through the air. It was one of the things that always surprised Phylis whenever they returned to London. Despite coming up the Thames for miles from the coast, there was still the hint of salt in the air.
“It’s not a difficult inquiry,” Phylis pointed out, putting her hands on her hips and hating that she was mimicking her father. She’d always teased him about that. She allowed her hands to drop to her sides. “After all, it sounds to me like you are running away—”
“Captain Seaton!”
“—and so I want to know what it is that you are running away from,” Phylis said firmly, fixing him with her gravest of looks. “What is it that you are fleeing, Mr. Chance?”
Perhaps saying his name was a mistake. Instead of paying attention to her question, the man instead took a step toward her and lowered his voice. “I think I would prefer it if you called me ‘Michael.’”
Phylis took a hasty step back, but she was prevented from doing so by the barrels they were surrounded by. “Absolutely not.”
“Because then I would be able to call you ‘Phylis,’” he said quietly, his voice honey as it dripped from his lips. “And I would very much like to call you ‘Phylis.’”
Do not get distracted. Do not think about those lips, about what he could do with them. Do not think about—
“So I was right, you’re not running away from anything,” she murmured, looking up into his deep blue eyes. “You’re just a petulant child.”
“I am sick and tired of the expectations, of the need to control my life, of always being seen as a Chance and nothing else,” came the low, urgent words of a man who absolutely should not have been looking at her like that.
“I am exhausted by living up to the expectations of those who don’t understand the modern world, I do not want to be married off to some chit of a woman who just wants to lounge about and embroider, and I refuse to—why are you looking at me like that? ”
Phylis swallowed. “Like what?”
She did not need to ask the question. Warmth had flooded her body as she had heard the passion in his voice; the frustration, yes, but also the desire for something different. For something better.
But he is still fabulously wealthy, a small voice reminded her. And the man has never worked a day in his life—look at those hands!
Mr. Chance’s hands were soft and clearly gentle, the skin unbroken and with no calluses roughening the smooth.
She hardened her heart. This man was nothing more than a petulant child in a gentleman’s body. As though anyone could just run away from parental expectations!
She certainly hadn’t.
“But now that I have you here, I was wondering if you could do me a…favor,” came Mr. Chance’s quiet words.
Phylis’s gaze sharpened. He couldn’t mean… He didn’t. Did he?
“After all, I’ve done you a favor,” Mr. Chance said, his eyes sparkling.
Phylis’s lips parted in astonishment. The gall of the man—the cheek! Did he really think that merely because he’d pleasured her—once—that she would happily get on her knees in the middle of the docks—though it was admittedly hidden from view—and… and…
Heat burned her cheeks. And pleasure him with her mouth?!
The trouble was, the image of such a thing was flooding her mind and making it almost impossible to concentrate. There was something strangely alluring about the suggestion. Giving a man pleasure. Making his knees quiver. Having such power over him that she could decide whether he climaxed or not.
Much against her better judgment, Phylis swallowed and glanced down at the man’s trousers. His manhood was right there, right underneath that fabric. All she would have to do is reach out—
“And you don’t even have to let me onto your ship.”
Phylis halted her questing hand as she froze. Then she looked up at the man, who arched a sly brow.
“You don’t think I meant anything else, do you?” he said lightly, as though teasing ships’ captains was something he did on a daily basis. “Honestly, Captain Seaton. You’re almost letting your desires get away from you, aren’t you?”
And it was then that Phylis realized what a pompous, idiotic ass the man truly was.
“You are never to be allowed on my ship,” she said smartly. “Not ever.”
The rebuke made all the color drain from Mr. Chance’s face. “‘Not—Not ever’?”
“You seem to be acting under the mistaken belief that I have any interest in you, which I can assure you, I don’t,” Phylis lied, careful to keep her voice low.
The last thing she needed was for the dockyard gossip to center on her and a certain gentleman…
“You have a perfect life, you chowderhead, and you’re willing to give it all up for nothing?
Don’t forget that I hold that secret and if you don’t start treating me with a little respect, then you might find a little note wends its way to your mother’s breakfast tray. ”
Turning in fury, Phylis stalked away from the man toward her ship.
Luncheon, and then she would tar the portside of the hull herself. Anything to give her hands something to do so she wouldn’t have to think of this odious man!