Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] by A Pirates Pleasure Page B

mam’selle, for then I should have been forced to slay him.”
    Skye gasped.
He
was lying now! she thought. But how could she know? The man was an enigma. He leaned toward her then, speaking softly. “Indeed, I warn you, Skye, take care with my men. Any who touches you will die, and I will come to think that I do not give you adequate attention if you must seek out others.”
    “I seek escape!”
    “You will be free soon enough,” he said flatly. He started to rise, and she was glad, for she was sure that he meant to leave, and she was trembling terribly. But there was a knock upon the door and it opened and Robert was there again. He looked at the Hawk, who waited expectantly. “We’ve the hip bath, Captain.”
    “Bring it in.”
    Skye looked at him in horror, swirling to the far corner of the cabin quickly. She sought to hide, she realized, but there was nowhere to go. Two sailors walked in with the woodentub between them and it seemed that a score of others followed with buckets of water.
    And they all saw her. Every man saw her there in his quarters like a common … harlot.
    She locked her jaw but didn’t make a move. The men filed out, one after the other, until only Robert remained, explaining that he had set a kettle within the stove and that towels and soap were set upon her trunk. Then he, too, was gone, and she was left alone with the Hawk and her steaming tub.
    Still, she remained dead still. Steam wafted above the tub and silence hung heavy upon the air. It dragged on and on. Then the Hawk idly lifted a hand. “Your bath is ready.”
    “Well, I am not.”
    “The men worked long and hard to prepare this water for you, milady. I suggest that you use it.”
    “I see. And I don’t suppose that you might consider leaving so that I might do just that?”
    “No, I will not consider leaving.”
    “Sea slime!” she hissed.
    “A previously established fact, milady.”
    “Oh, stop it, will you!”
    “Why?” he inquired innocently. “Stop what? I am trying to be a gentleman sea slime and refrain from arguing with a lady.”
    “This is absurd. I will not get into that tub with you here.”
    He arched a brow, and she saw that he was not at all in a good humor, no matter how light his words. “How cold, Lady Kinsdale, how very cruel! I bear the burning tortures of the flesh by night to offer comfort and nothing more, and for my pains I return to my cabin—where I strive to keep you in comparative comfort and ease—to find you casting yourself into the arms of my second mate! Then, when I find my own leisure from the travail of captaining the ship, it is only for you to suggest I leave! Have pity, milady.”
    “You should have sought a career upon the stage, sir,” Skye told him curtly. “It would have been a legal profession, and one at which I am quite sure you would have excelled.”
    “Skye, I will not leave my cabin.”
    “And I will not crawl into that bath.”
    “I can make you, you know.”
    “So you can. But it will be against my will.”
    “Then is it your will that we clash by flesh again?”
    She flushed, grating her teeth. Was she insane? He spoke the truth. It would be easier to move of her own accord. But that would be surrendering to his command, and she could not bring herself to do so.
    “I will not crawl into that tub,” she repeated.
    “By all the saints!” He swore with such vehemence and fury, leaping to his feet, that she cried out and backed further against the wall. She’d been a fool. He would touch her and with violence. He would rip the gown from her and toss her into the steam and …
    She didn’t know what came after the “and.”
    “Wait!” she pleaded, but he ignored her. With deadly menace he walked around his desk, his hands upon his hips. He stared at her hard, and his voice rang out with a deep tenor that caused a tremor in her heart and made surrender seem a most viable possibility. “Well, milady, if you will not get into that tub—” He