Between A Rake And A Hard Place [Pirates of London Book 2] (4 page)

“I’d be more than happy to help.” His smile was deliberately innocent.

A becoming pink tinged her smooth cheeks. “You’ve been more than gallant already, Mr. Ives. I think I can manage my own bath.”

Smoothly, he countered, “I meant by providing the hot water, of course. Let me demonstrate.”

He went to the tub and twisted a metal spigot, producing a jet of water, then after a moment, a gentle steam began to rise as the tub started to fill. “Just turn it the opposite direction to shut off the supply,” he instructed. “Enjoy.”

“This kind of luxury…here?” She seemed quite amazed.

“The owner embraces convenience. In the kitchen, they keep a kettle on at all times and there is some sort of feat of engineering to bring it here that I don’t quite understand, but yet enjoy.”

Clad only in his breeches, he left the stateroom, which was just as well. Lady Cassandra was a bit too tempting and he was curious to see how much of a pursuit had been organized.

* * * *

It was, in a word, impressive. The quickly disappearing bay was full of ships, lanterns winking, and as Christopher padded across the deck, the sea breeze ruffling his hair, he couldn’t help but smile. He would never call his occupation noble, but there were some satisfactory moments now and again, this being an example. Thwarting the lady’s autocratic abductor was his pleasure. The Sultan had other women, but none so gloriously blond and English, and it appeared the despotic Ali was not willing to let her go easily. Perhaps it was just the insult of having her snatched away when he was anticipating enjoying her charms, but whatever prompted such effort on the behalf of a mere female, it was futile. Already the lights were fading in the distance as they gathered speed, the sails snapping, the waves splashing against the hull.

Mission successful
.

He found one of the crew on deck, made a request to be informed if, for any reason, the Sultan’s ships were able to gain enough to appear a threat—which was unlikely, and then went to the galley. The chef was a volatile Frenchman who fiercely resented the presence of anyone not invited in, so Christopher wisely stayed on the correct side of the doorway. He’d been a passenger on the
Sappho
before, but as the man could cook like an angel, it was worth a bit of groveling now and again. Gaston’s roast duckling was a work of art.

“
Merci,
Gaston,” he said with as much charm as possible, “in advance for the delightful meal I know you will offer the earl’s lovely daughter.”

“And yourself as well,
Christophe
, eh?” The chef eyed him, wiping his hands on his pristine apron. He was slender and dark-haired with angular features and a dramatic mustache. “If you came to make a specific request, it is too late and I wouldn’t listen to you in any case. I have already decided on scallops with white wine, beefsteak,
pommes
, baby artichokes I have been hoarding to impress a beautiful mademoiselle, and for dessert, candied fruit.”

The menu reminded Christopher that he hadn’t eaten since early that morning and whereas at one time he could ignore minor discomforts, at the ripe age of thirty, he wasn’t nearly as tolerant as he used to be. There was already an exotic hint of garlic in the air and a pan steaming on the stove.

He might, he thought philosophically, be getting too damn old to be scaling palace walls and clattering through narrow streets at full speed on an empty stomach.

“I am confident she will be dazzled, but as she waits, could the lady possibly have some wine? Whatever you choose will be perfect, I am sure.”

“She has been through an ordeal, I agree.” Gaston snapped his fingers at a boy currently peeling vegetables and gave a staccato order. Moments later Christopher found himself armed with two elegant crystal glasses, a fine bottle of claret, and a bottle of some cool, golden wine that he was assured was perfect to soothe a lady in distress.

That very lady, he found when he opened the door of the stateroom, was still in her bath. The slight splash of the water behind the screen unfortunately conjured images of silken limbs and wide violet eyes, and he did his best to carefully ignore both as he uncorked the wine.

He poured himself a glass first. He needed it the most, he reasoned wryly.

There was another splash.

This was going to be a long evening.

* * * *

Cassandra was gradually coming to realize they’d given her some kind of drug. When the woman who’d brought her the sweet drink had insisted she take it, not accepting her instinctive refusal and a request for water, she’d been forced to drink it because she’d been so thirsty. The almond flavor had not been unpleasant but it
was
unfamiliar, the honey used to sweeten it not enough to cut through the narcotic taste.

And now she was adrift in the aftermath, not just of her dramatic rescue, but of the reason for it. The Sultan had wanted her pliant and receptive, and perhaps it was why she’d been so willing to jump to the roof without trepidation, or for that matter, ready to leave with the English stranger in the first place. The rest of it, too, had been out of character, for normally she was a lady. For heaven’s sake, she’d climbed a ladder in front of four men who had seen her half-naked and she should be more mortified, if nothing else.

That she didn’t care more was rather damning evidence.

Languid in the water, her body was so sensitive that when she took a cloth to wipe away the vivid red rouge on her nipples, she was startled at the spike of pleasure and made an involuntary sound. Cassandra bit her lip, the flush in her cheeks not just embarrassment. Ives had returned, she could hear him moving about the stateroom, but while she might normally be horrified at the idea of a man in the same room while she bathed, he’d seen every bare inch of her already, and under the circumstances, she could hardly object.

“Here’s my dressing gown,” he said, his voice a low, masculine sound as he hung the garment over the top of the screen. “It’s the best I can do, I’m afraid. There are no other women on board. When you are finished, there’s a glass of wine waiting, and food is being prepared. I’ll sleep below deck in the crew’s quarters, but I hope you won’t mind if we share a meal. I’m famished.”

“I am hardly so ungracious, Mr. Ives, as to complain about whatever you wish to do.” She reached for a towel and rose, even the droplets of water running along her thighs and down her breasts shockingly pleasurable. It made her voice tremble. “I am deeply in your debt.”

“I feel certain your father will be able to pay it in your stead.” His voice held a hint of amusement easy to discern even without being able to see his expression. “He offered a rather princely sum for me to find you. Granted, I think it was well-earned, but nonetheless, there’s no need to thank me.”

“Mercenary or not, your chivalry is still appreciated.” That was better. At least she was able to modulate her tone.

“Make no mistake, I am
never
chivalrous, but as we are exchanging compliments, may I say I appreciate that despite your beauty and your privileged background, you are not a whining, spoiled twit like most aristocratic ladies.”

Cassandra had to admit she had no idea what to say to that. If that was a compliment, it was unlike one she’d ever received before.

She dried off as quickly as possible, and slipped into the navy silk robe, the hem pooling on the floor as she knotted the sash around her waist. There was a small stand holding a comb and brush, so she quickly worked the tangles from her hair, emerging from behind the screen to find her companion seated comfortably in a chair by a table in the corner of the room, the spot obviously meant as a place to sit down and eat, a crystal goblet dangling from his long fingers.

For the first time, she was able to get a good look at him in a well-lighted space when she wasn’t running for her life.

Dark hair, thick and slightly wavy, framed a face that maybe wasn’t classically handsome, but still strikingly attractive. His eyes were a very light crystalline gray, his nose straight, the line of his jaw masculine and clean. Since he was still only clad in his breeches, she could see the muscled contours of his bare chest, tanned to a light bronze, and his long legs were extended. There were smudges of ash on his torso and small smear on his chin. His mouth quirked upward in one corner and he rose in a lithe movement to pull out her chair. “Such a pity to swathe you in concealing cloth from the neck down, but I must admit, for the best. If you will excuse me for a moment, I still smell like whatever that sulfuric concoction was that Marc used to start the fire to distract the guards. Have a glass of the wine the chef swore to me you would appreciate.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled. Christopher Ives was quite tall, which she’d already noticed, and though the cabin was spacious, he seemed to take up more than his fair share of the room when he was on his feet, and she needed a moment to get her composure back.

Cassandra picked up her wine and took a sip, finding it to be crisp and a bit sweet, the vintage unknown to her but lovely and refreshing. Trying to ignore the sound of splashing water, she studied her surroundings. The room was luxurious in an understated way, the chair she now occupied covered in dark gold velvet, the screen behind which Mr. Ives was now undoubtedly naked exotically painted with palm trees and camels. The rug on the floor was finely woven in brilliant hues of azure, saffron yellow and red, and the bed large, well-appointed and hung with silken drapes.

The bed.  At least he’d made it clear he would sleep elsewhere. This was all disconcerting enough without having to worry over that, too.

He made a much faster business of his ablutions than she had, and when he emerged, his damp ebony hair curling against the strong column of his neck, he wore a white, full-sleeved shirt and fawn breeches, but was still barefoot. He unceremoniously took the opposite seat again and refilled his glass. The slight splash of the waves against the hull was soothing.

He said, “I imagine we’ll be in Gibraltar soon given an uneventful voyage. Uneventful is a hope. Don’t let me alarm you, but Barbary pirates can be an issue in these waters.”

He resembled a romanticized version of a pirate himself, she thought, wickedly handsome and dangerous.

“I am rather beyond being alarmed, and I thought the
Sappho
couldn’t be caught.”

“An altercation is always an inconvenience.” Silver eyes regarded her steadily, his lean body relaxed in a negligent pose she sensed somehow was deceptively casual.

He seemed like a man who knew quite a bit about danger. Whatever he said about it, there was no question he’d freed her at great personal peril.

What she might have said next was interrupted by the arrival of their dinner, a light knock on the door followed by a young man with a tray, a rich smell filling the air at once. She’d eaten barely at all since her captivity, mostly because she’d been drugged almost the entire time to keep her docile, and up until this point, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. The first course looked delicious; pristine white scallops fragrant with melted butter and lemon and once she was served and the first bite devoured, she took another sip of wine and murmured, “That’s superb.”

“The chef has a weakness for women in general and beautiful ones in particular.” Her companion smiled wryly. “I have a feeling he will try to outdo himself this evening. From a purely selfish point of view, I am just glad I am here to enjoy the experience, even if it isn’t done to please me.”

“Isn’t this your ship?”

He shook his head. “No. It belongs to a friend of mine.”

“I see.” She didn’t really, but was too hungry to ask more questions.

They both ate, Ives with considerable relish and Cassandra with ladylike restraint, once the first flush of hunger was past. When they were through and coffee and port had been brought in, she explained haltingly all she remembered of the abduction. “I was just leaving a shop and nothing really more happened that I remember except someone jostled me as I stepped toward our carriage. The next I knew I was bound and being put on a ship.”

Mr. Ives looked unsurprised, his gaze speculative. “The Sultan favors European concubines, or so I’m told. He has emissaries who understand his preferences and make the arrangements. Your coloring must have caught their eye. It’s possible a third party is involved who saw you and decided he could make a tidy profit.

The word concubine conjured images of subservience that were infinitely disturbing and as she had experienced firsthand the experience of being prepared for the honor of his attentions, Cassandra shuddered. “They gave me some sort of potion earlier. I can still feel it. It’s very…strange.”

Though a lot had happened since she’d been forced to drink the mixture, in truth, not that much time had passed. She wondered how long it would take for the effects to go away. Her heightened sensitivity had made eating an almost sensual experience, as if she could taste each bite with vivid appreciation for the nuances of the flavors, and whenever she moved, she was aware of the brush of his silk robe on her skin.

Aware of
him
, sitting just across the table. Of the efficient grace of every movement he made, of how deftly he refilled her wine glass, of the rather fascinating memory of how he’d looked only half-dressed.

It was disturbing, and yet somehow oddly tantalizing, as if she’d been given a glimpse into a forbidden world.

“Strange in what way?” Christopher Ives asked, his lashes lowering slightly over his silver eyes, his regard intent.

There was no helping it, she blushed. The heat of it warmed her skin as it rose upward and he didn’t miss it, but she doubted he missed much.

“Ah, I see. An aphrodisiac no doubt,” he said, the timbre of his voice audibly deeper, “so the Sultan’s perception of his prowess is preserved. I’ve heard the women take it to ensure they climax during intercourse, both for the sake of their pleasure and their lives, I’m sure. I doubt Ali would be pleased if he sensed one of his houris didn’t enjoy his attentions. He might even retaliate.”