Andrea Kane (5 page)

“Further,” he continued, towering over her, “it will be a cold day in hell before I begin taking orders from a woman on how to sail my ship.”

“I was not issuing an order, Captain.” Realizing her error, Alex wanted desperately to back away from this fearsome man whose cutting words and piercing gaze were like daggers to her very soul. But his damned arrogance made her stubbornly refuse to give in to her urge to back down. “And,” she added, raising her chin a defiant inch, “although I have not your experience on the Thames, I was merely offering you a qualified opinion.” She placed her hands on slim hips, meeting his glare with a challenging look.

“Qualified opinion? And just where did you acquire your knowledge, my lady?” he sneered.

“Through my own sailing, through reading, and through asking frequent intelligent questions.”

They faced each other in white-hot anger, oblivious to everyone else around them.

“Does that reply satisfy you, Captain?” Alex taunted.

Smitty glanced from one to the other, amazement and amusement on his face. Below him, twenty gaping mouths and twenty pairs of disbelieving eyes watched the scene unfolding. Never had they seen their captain lose control like this. And never had they heard a woman speak so knowledgeably about sailing. They were still reeling from the shock of seeing Alexandria on board. And now this. They froze, waiting to see who would react next.

They did not have long to wait.

“Right now we are discussing my ship,” Drake replied in a deceptively silky voice. His fists were clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were white. “We will discuss what will satisfy me later this evening in my cabin, my lady.”

Alex’s shocked gasp could be heard as clearly as Drake’s crude words. Color flooded her cheeks, as she glared at Drake’s mocking face.

“You are disgusting and rude, Captain. Were it not that I needed safe passage, I would—”

“But you do,” he reminded her.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you will do as I say …
whatever
I say.”

Alex bit back her reply. She became aware for the first time of the wide-eyed stares around her. Smitty, standing just beyond Drake, was frowning disapprovingly at his captain’s back. Drake could feel Smitty’s unspoken censure and his crew’s shock, but he ignored them all, his jaw set, his gaze locked with Alex’s.

She lowered her long lashes to her cheeks, feeling helpless. He was purposely goading her. She was at his mercy and he knew it. And if he wanted to demean her in front of his men, he had the power to do so.

“I recognize your superior knowledge of sailing, sir, and so I defer to you. However”—she raised her mutinous storm-gray eyes to his—“my concessions apply only on deck, not in your cabin.”

She turned and strode away, pleased to have salvaged some of her pride.

The blood was pounding in Drake’s head. And hearing Smitty’s barely concealed chuckle did not help to calm him.

“Smitty, I’m warning you …”he ground out, returning to the helm. “As for the rest of you,” he barked at the gaping crew members, “what the hell are you staring at? You’re not being paid to ogle! Now get back to work!”

The deck was cleared in seconds.

Smitty patted Drake’s shoulder. “There, there, Captain,” he said blandly. “I think you handled yourself remarkably well.”

Drake shot him a look. “The little twit does know something of sailing,” he conceded, but only for Smitty’s ears.

“So it would seem,” Smitty agreed.

Drake’s piercing eyes followed her to the ship’s bow, where she leaned forward to view the world moving by her. She tossed back her hair, letting the wind blow in her face, unconcerned that the elements could mar her perfect complexion. She looked utterly free and abandoned.

He wondered if she was as abandoned in bed. He could imagine her—passionate, wild as a tigress, demanding as much as she gave. Ah, what a challenge she would be to tame …

Drake brought himself up with a start. What the hell was he thinking about?

Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he turned his attention back to the helm. Smitty had gone below, leaving Drake alone. Engrossed in his thoughts, Drake barely noticed his absence.

Their lovely passenger was right about one thing, he acknowledged: they were nearing open waters. He could feel it, and so could his ship. Like an eager child, her sails tugged at their restraints, longing to be free. Soon she would get her wish. They would not need to coast gently much longer, for the wind was already beginning to change. He had timed it perfectly. The ship would gracefully sail into the Channel, needing little time to pause in the Strait of Dover.

Triumph danced through Drake’s blood. As always, he and
La Belle Illusion
made an incomparable team—he in planning the strategy and issuing the commands, she in sleekly and unconditionally carrying them out. She followed his orders without question, responded to his every touch, shared his thirst for freedom and adventure, and asked no more of him than he was willing to give. The perfect woman.

The sun began its descent, vibrant shades of lemon and orange streaking the western sky. Drake flexed his muscles, enjoying the beauty of the late afternoon.

“Congratulations, Captain. It seems you were correct, after all.” At the grudging admission, Drake glanced down in surprise to see Lady Alexandria standing beside him, gazing out to sea. None of his men ventured onto the quarterdeck without permission. Yet there she stood, uninvited, as if it were her right to do so. The woman was maddening.

“I usually am.” Taunting her gave him pleasure.

Alex knew he was not going to make this voyage an easy one for her. “Usually? But not always.” She gave him a sideways look. “If you are fallible, Captain, surely you can accept my noble acquiescence in good faith and end this unnecessary bickering.”

His anger faded into amusement. Acquiescence would hardly be the word he would have used to describe her reluctant admission. “Can I? Well, since you have admitted your inferiority, I suppose that it is the least I can do.”

Alex swallowed, then gave him a practiced smile. “I might just succeed in taking you down a notch or two before we reach our destination, Captain.”

“I look forward to the experience, princess.” His husky voice made her shiver, and she gazed out to sea, ignoring his comment.

Drake chuckled at her reaction. She really was a little spitfire. “Where did you learn to sail?” he asked curiously.

“At Sudsbury.”

“And where, pray tell, is Sudsbury?” Drake almost laughed aloud at his own feigned ignorance. After all, he was supposed to be a mere ship’s captain.

She did turn to look at him now, explaining as one would to a small child. “Sudsbury is my home. It is a large estate on the coast of Kent. Kent is along the English Channel, and its distance from London—”

“I know where Kent is,” he interrupted, unable to endure her ridiculously patronizing explanation any longer.

Alex looked surprised, then nodded. “Of course. You must dock there on occasion.”

“Of course.” He could barely conceal the sarcasm from his tone.

“Do you stay in one place for any length of time?” It was her turn to be curious.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how potent the charms are in that port.”

Alex flushed. “Do you never speak of anything but your animal needs?”

Drake gave her an innocent look. “I was speaking of the land, princess.” He shook his head in mock dismay. “Careful, my lady; your true colors are showing. It does not befit your station in life. Remember, you live in a world far above us mere mortals. It would not do for your mind to be in the gutter.”

Alex looked as though she had been slapped. Never had she been spoken to with such cruel disrespect. Certain that the hurt she felt was reflected on her face, she turned away, unwilling to let him witness her vulnerability.

She did not turn soon enough. Drake saw her reaction immediately and acted instantly.

“I apologize, princess,” he said softly, touching her arm. “You did not deserve that.” It did not occur to him at that moment that he had never apologized to a woman before.

Alexandria turned back, her expression now curious. “Why do you assume that I feel superior to you?” she asked.

“It is part of your aristocratic education,” he responded, wondering how she could change from a willful child to an arrogant “lady” to a beautiful and vulnerable woman in rapid succession. “I don’t believe that you are even aware of it. But trust me, princess; I know of what I speak.”

“You seem to know a great deal—about sailing, about women, about the nobility. Is there nothing left for you to learn, Captain?” She searched his face.

“Perhaps not, my lady. Perhaps I have seen it all.”

“Then I envy you.” There was no anger in her pearl gray eyes now, only sadness.

“You envy me?” He was shocked by her statement and amused by the irony of it. He, too, envied the man she believed him to be. Captain Drake Barrett, unencumbered and free. But he wondered at her reasoning. “Why?”

“Because you know who you are. Because you have everything you want. But most of all, because you have lived all the adventures of which I can only dream.”

“What could I possibly have that you, in your fairy-tale world, would envy?”

She stared off into space, the sounds of the crew and the motion of the sea fading away. At his question her eyes became vague and dreamy. “Freedom, the ability to decide your own future, a place where you belong.”

“You want those things?” He was dumbfounded.

Her gaze returned to his. “I don’t expect you to understand, Captain.” The softness was gone; the arrogance was back. She turned to leave the quarterdeck.

“You never answered my question,” he reminded her.

She paused. “Which one?”

“Where did you learn so much about sailing?”

“I told you. At home.”

“Firsthand?”

“Yes. I have a small skiff.
The Sea Spray
is nothing compared to
La Belle Illusion,
but she means a great deal to me.”

That he understood. “There is a tremendous difference between steering a small skiff and maneuvering a large vessel like this one,” he pointed out.

“I guessed as much.”

Silence.

“Would you like to try your hand at the helm?” Drake had no idea what possessed him to ask the question.

Alex looked as amazed as Drake felt. Her shock quickly faded into little-girl eagerness. “May I?” Her whole face lit up.

Drake grinned, unable to resist the enchanting picture she made. Quite a contrast: a desirable woman with the enthusiasm of a child and the tongue of an outspoken shrew, dressed comically in the attire of a man.

“Man the helm, princess, before I regain my senses and change my mind.” With an exaggerated gesture, he motioned for her to take the wheel.

She needed no second invitation but fairly flew to the helm. It felt glorious, the surge of power beneath her hands, the clean cut of the ship through the water. The proud snap of the British flag waving from the mast heralded her arrival and welcomed her. All around, the boisterous sounds of the sailors at work and the shrill of the boatswain’s pipes filled the air. In those first seconds at the helm the world was hers.

Drake watched the elation on her face and felt an answering echo inside him. “The wheel is larger than you are,” he chuckled, as she struggled to keep it steady. He placed his large tapered hands over hers, preparing to instruct her.

Her hands felt cold and small beneath his.

He might have been able to resist the protective and primitive instincts she aroused in him had it not been for the motion of the ship, which chose that moment to sway slightly, pressing Alexandria back against Drake’s chest.

They both froze at the contact.

He was aware of her all at once—the scent of her hair, the fragile feel of her fine-boned body against his, the shivering warmth and softness of her body. Unleashed hunger pumped through his veins, and he gritted his teeth, striving for a control that appeared out of his reach.

Alex felt him tense, but all of her energy was being channeled into finding her own self-control. He was so overpowering, everything about him dominating and strong. His well-muscled body, parts of which she remembered only too vividly from her view beneath the bed, his masculine scent, his towering height, the sheer magnetism that radiated from his very presence. Alex closed her eyes, her heart threatening to beat its way right out of her chest.

His arms tightened around her and she allowed herself, for just a few seconds, to relax in his embrace, to forget the rest of the world.

Drake nuzzled her hair, his own breathing unsteady. “You have an incredible effect on me, princess,” he muttered, his voice husky, his lips buried in her hair. He lifted one hand from hers, wrapped it around her waist, and pulled her more firmly against his throbbing body. “Incredible,” he repeated, marveling at how good she felt.

Alexandria tensed. Inexperienced as she was, she knew what the hardened contours of his body meant. “Don’t,” she whispered in a small, frightened voice. “Please.”

Drake drew back, surprised as much as frustrated. There was no mistaking the genuine panic in her voice. Had he heard disdain, he would have assumed she felt it beneath her to want a lowly ship’s captain. But what he heard was not haughtiness; it was fear. He glanced down at her as she struggled to stand on her own.

“Let me go,” she demanded.

“I thought you wanted to learn something?” He grinned.

“Not what you have in mind to teach!” she shot back.

He chuckled, moving to put a respectable distance between their bodies. “You win, princess,” he conceded. “I promise to limit your education to sailing.”

She eyed him suspiciously, then nodded. “All right. As long as I have your word.”

“And do you trust my word?” Laughter lurked in the brilliant green eyes.

“I suppose I must.”

“Thank you for your faith, grudging though it may be,” he laughed. “Very well, let us begin your first lesson.”

Alex took to the helm like a fish to water. Even Drake had to admit that she was a natural sailor. She hung on to his every word, asking frequent questions, then experimenting with the explanations. Despite her diminutive size, she was tireless, refusing to give in to hunger or fatigue.