Page 27

He kept a firm hold on her wrists, fighting her shock as well as her stubbornness as he did so. He held them long enough to weather the stream of curses that started off as strong as the stinging in her palms and faded, after a time, to disgruntled mutters.

“Better?”

“I was better before.”

“I’ll have Lucifer blend up one of his special decoctions to rub into them tonight. It will make your hands a little rough for dancing, but the skin will heal faster. ”

She was not the least amused by his attempted wit and her eyes flashed upward.

Dante grinned handsomely and although he did see the faint hint of a blush glow through the grime on her cheeks, she did not falter or look away in discomfort.

It was rare enough to find a man willing to meet and hold his gaze for more than a few seconds without faltering.

With women he was more accustomed to admiring the sweep of their lashes and wondering what it was about his feet that could possibly hold their interest for such long stretches at a time.

Unless of course, it was their intent to seduce him, which he did not, for the smallest instant, believe was anywhere in Beau Spence’s repertoire of tricks.

He was, in fact, becoming convinced she had no tricks at all. If she had a thought, she either spoke it aloud or wore it brazenly on her face. And those eyes, by Christ. They were starting to get under his skin, distinctly affecting the way the blood flowed through his veins.

“What are you staring at?”

He met the challenge in her voice with a crooked smile. “You,” he said simply. Then to cover himself, he added in a more matter-of-fact tone, “Your mouth, actually. You have a rather nasty cut on the corner.”

The moist, pink tip of her tongue came out to find it and Dante was thankful it was still daylight and there were men working all around them.

“Because if you were thinking of kissing me again,” she warned, “I have my filleting knife handy.”

He covered his bemusement with a frown. “The thought had not even entered my mind. I am intrigued, however, to know why you would suppose it would.”

“Because it obviously entered your mind a few minutes ago.”

“It did?” His frown deepened .

“Right over there,” she charged, indicating the tiller, “after we cleared the galleon.”

“Ahh.” His brow cleared and his mouth curved upward at one corner. “That kiss. Surely you do not take offense at a harmless little peck on the cheek.”

“It was not a peck, it was a kiss. Nor was it on the cheek; it was squarely on the mouth.”

“A matter of poor aim, I promise you. And it was not a real kiss, not by any measure. It was more an expression of relief, or gratitude, like a handshake. Or a snapping of the fingers to show approval. Or a cheer of ‘huzzah’ to show enthusiasm.”

“It was a kiss,” she maintained flatly. “And the devil will explain you the difference if you ever dare to do it again.”

“If I ever dare do it again, I promise I will take greater pains to show you the difference between a peck of friendship and a kiss. And speaking of the devil,” he said, “our Spanish friends will be expecting to see Satan himself stalk through the gangway.”

“Then they will not be disappointed when they see you,” she retorted.

“What I meant was, your father would have met their every expectation, but since he is in no condition to go anywhere—”

“You think the honor should fall to you?”

He sighed and lifted one of her hands out of the water, inspecting the palm closely for embedded rope fibers. “As opposed to you? Yes, I do.”

“Another outpouring of confidence in my abilities?” she asked sourly.

He saw a piece of cloth lying nearby and tore off a strip to bind around her hand. “Have you ever negotiated for prize monies before? ”

It took a moment for the answer to grate through her teeth. “ No .”

“Are you at all familiar with the order of command and authority on board a Spanish treasure ship?”

“I cannot say I have ever cared.”

“Well, you should, if only to save you from insulting the wrong man.

The feathered peacocks you see in their velvets and armor are the hidalgos—nobles and sons of nobles who were likely given command of the ship in return for some favor they have done the King.

They know very little, if anything, about the actual sailing of a ship, but they like to strut about the decks, brandishing their swords and wishing death upon all the heretics of the world.

“Helping them drink wine, pray, and count their gold ducats are the priests, who know even less about currents and weather gauges, but who strut right alongside the captain-general, exhorting him to follow God’s counsel rather than the advice of any of the real sailors on board.

One of the reasons I encouraged your father to attack was because the hidalgos and priests would be in such a sweat trying to outmaneuver each other and dazzle their captain-general with their brilliance, the sailors on board—well down in the ranks of authority and the only men who would know what their vessel was capable of doing—would be standing there with their hands tied, unable to act without orders, unable to mount any kind of defense whether it was tactically sound or not.

The captain in charge of these sailors would have to watch his men being blown to hell while listening to the priests vow they were all going to glory in the righteous service of their most Catholic king. ”

Beau’s eyes widened in surprise. “You sound as if you feel sorry for them. You pound hell out of them, destroy their ship, force their surrender … and now you feel sorry for them? ”

Dante ignored her sarcasm. “The captain, were he to believe he had been defeated by a woman, would probably reach for the nearest sword and throw himself on it. The captain-general, on the other hand, would be too appalled to even deign to address you, and even if he did, whatever he said would be so insulting or so patronizing, I would likely be angered into killing him.”

“You … would kill a man for me?” she asked haltingly.

“I would kill any man who insulted a member of my crew, wouldn’t you?”

She lowered her lashes quickly. “Of course. Of course I would.”

Dante finished bandaging the first hand and drew the second out of the water, bathing it with enough gentleness to send her lip curling between her teeth and a spray of gooseflesh rippling down her arms. She could not fathom what it was about the man that made her skin hot and her throat close like a trap every time he offered a glib compliment.

The fact he was standing so close, touching her, made it even worse.

Her chest was constricted so tightly, she was forced to breathe through her mouth.

Her blood was pounding through her temples and her feet were rooted to the spot like sticks simply because he was showing concern for her wounds, tending them himself.

She searched his face for an answer, studying the rugged squareness of his jaw, the bold straight line of his nose, the pale blue-gray of his eyes.

It was indeed absurd for a man to have eyes like that, with lashes so long and thick, they lay on his cheek like silk crescents when they were lowered.

And when they were raised, as they were now, the very blackness of them made his eyes dominate his face in such a way, she could not have looked away had she wanted to.

She should have been mortified that he caught her inspecting him so closely and she would have been, she supposed, if her senses had not suddenly deserted her completely.

She had only had one lover—Nate Hawethorne—in all her twenty years.

The son of an earl, he had paid Spence handsomely for the opportunity to sail on the Egret during one of her voyages to the Indies.

He had been looking for adventure and excitement, and his enthusiasm for the romance of the sea had been contagious.

Beau had lost her virginity on a beach in the Azores, and while she had felt warm and trembly when they were in each other’s arms, it was not what she would have called an earth-shattering experience.

It was … warm and trembly, with a lot of sweat and stickiness to clean up afterward—mostly his.

A single glance from Simon Dante roused far more stunning responses in her body, disturbing in their intensity, unsettling in their discovery.

“Would you care to try it again?”

Beau was startled. “Try what?”

“Making a fist with your hand.”

She curled her fingers over her palm and although the linen strips hampered her movements, there was definitely less pain.

“Better?”

She nodded mutely.

“Good enough to defend yourself if you have to?”

She nodded again, this time with a faint crease between her eyebrows. “Are you expecting treachery on board the Spaniard?”

“I always expect treachery. In this case I am almost sure of it. You may or may not have noticed, but the San Pedro is no ordinary treasure ship. I did not see it myself until we were fairly close, but look to the mizzen top— merde , it’s gone. Someone must have worked fast to remove it.”

“Remove what? ”

“A small gold pennant, mounted on the mast just beneath the captain-general’s flag. It means a member of the King’s court is on board, probably acting as an ambassador, returning from the Indies or Panama.”

“Is that important?”

“It could be. Ambassadors carry papers, documents intended for the King’s eyes only.”

“I thought you already had documents; the ones you took from Veracruz.”

“They are important, and revealing to be sure, but easily interpreted as nothing more than export manifests. Royal communiqués, sealed for the King’s eyes only, would surely prove interesting reading to a queen’s eyes, especially if she was searching for ways to defend her country against an invasion.

” He paused and seemed to debate something for a moment before he added, “And there might be another benefit to having a member of the royal family on board.”

“To ensure our safe passage to England?” Beau guessed.

Dante’s eyes kindled warmly. “You are going to have to stop doing that, you know.”

“Doing what?”

“Being so quick with your tongue and your wit.”

“You prefer a woman to be slow and dull?”

“Not at all. But perhaps just a little kinder to a … what was it now? An arrogant, ill-mannered French bull rogue?”

Beau’s eyes, which grew as large and bright as medallions, remained steadfast on Dante’s face as the heat rose up her neck, darkening the honeyed tan of her complexion. For the first time he noticed a fine spray of freckles glowing across the bridge of her nose.

“When I said that, I … did not know you were listening.”

“Would it have stopped you from saying it? ”

She considered the smile he gave her before she smiled herself, openly and frankly. “No. Probably not.”

Her smile, and the total change it wrought in her face took him by surprise again.

Beneath the grime and soot and blood smudging her skin and clothes, she still managed to look fresh and far too vulnerable to be so well acquainted with the stench and violence of battle.

And those eyes, God love him. They would be his downfall yet.

Sparkling like new-minted gold, lashed with strands of pure silk, they were infinitely more desirable to behold with pleasure creasing their corners rather than contempt or anger …

and he was not altogether certain he liked this unsubtle shift in his perceptions.

Despite Pitt’s advice he would feel much safer if he continued to regard her as a doublet-clad, knife-wielding hellion who fought any suggestion of an underlying softness.

He brushed the pad of his thumb gently over the cut on her lip, wiping off the small smear of blood, then took what he hoped was a casual step back.

“Spit is calling for the grappling lines,” he said, indicating the sudden flurry of hooks, ropes, and planks being readied by the Egret’s rails. “I guess it means we have ourselves a prize.”

Beau followed his gaze, startled to see they had come within hailing distance of the smoking Spaniard. She had left Billy Cuthbert at the helm and he was gently easing the Egret alongside the treasure ship, awed, no doubt, by the sheer size and towering magnitude of what they had accomplished.

“I should help Billy,” she began.

“Billy is doing fine. You should go below and try to restore some of that ferocity I so admired the first time I saw you.”

Beau followed his gaze again and saw where the tear in her shirt had widened over the sleeveless gap, revealing more than a comfortable amount of soft, sloping flesh over her breast.

She caught up the torn flap and a second flood of heat darkened her skin but Dante was already moving away, descending the ladder to the main deck, looking every inch the pirate wolf with his sword and pistols glittering as he shouted orders for the men to stand ready by the lines.