thing.”
“Not to me. I had a proper English upbringing. ’Tis sinful and improper for a woman to enjoy”—she blushed—“sex.”
“You said your mother is French. Are those her sentiments?”
“Mama marches to her own drummer. English society was too restrictive for her, but it suits me very well.”
A slow grin spread over Dariq’s face. “You liked what we did.”
Her face turned even redder. “I… I… You are too experienced for me. I did not know how to protect myself against your sensual nature.”
“Why would you want to?”
Osman’s arrival saved Willow from replying. The lad placed the pitcher of hot water on the washstand and left.
“I shall leave you to your ablutions while I perform mine,” Dariq said as he crossed the room to his sleeping chamber.
The moment the door closed behind Dariq, Willow climbed from bed, wrapped a sheet around herself and padded to the washstand. Taking up cloth and soap, She scrubbed all the places Dariq had touched her with his mouth, his hands and his tongue. Then she scrambled into her clothing, ready to face the day.
Dariq exited his small sleeping chamber a few minutes later, freshly shaved and dressed in loose trousers and shirt.
“If cook was able to fire up the brazier, you should have a hot meal soon. Try to entertain yourself while I inspect the ship for damage. If the
Revenge
fared well in the storm, we will continue our journey to Lipsi.”
Dariq was halfway out the door when Willow said, “I want to come with you. I shall go mad if I’m forced to remain cooped up another day.”
“You are to remain here,” Dariq answered. Then he was gone, leaving Willow fuming in impotent rage.
Dariq saw Mustafa standing near the broken mast and hurried over to join him.
“How long will it take to repair it?” Dariq asked.
“A day or two,” Mustafa replied. “Ripped sails and broken lines are being repaired as we speak.”
“I intend to take a reading tonight to see how far we were blown off course.”
“I did that last night while you slept. As luck would have it, we were blown toward Lipsi, not away from it.”
“That is good news indeed, Mustafa. What would I do without you?”
“That is something you need never worry about, Prince, for I shall always be at your side.”
Dariq clapped Mustafa on the back and went in search of something to eat.
* * *
Osman arrived a short while later with Willow’s breakfast. She was hungry and ate every bite. With nothing to do but ponder her dismal future, she prowled the narrow confines of the cabin. She longed to step outside into the sunshine, to raise her face to the rain-washed air and fill her lungs with it.
“I refuse to stay in here a moment longer,” she muttered to herself.
She found another woolen cap in Dariq’s chest, pulled it down over her ears and stuffed her hair underneath it. Then she opened the door and stepped outside. She lifted her face and sniffed appreciatively. The air smelled of sunshine and freshness.
The deck was a beehive of activity as men rushed about their duties. Willow saw men sewing ripped sails, working on the mainmast, and clearing debris from the deck. Gazing up, she noticed several bare-chested men repairing broken lines. Blushing, she started to turn away. Then she spied Dariq dangling precariously from a mast high above the deck. Had her life depended upon it, she could not have looked away.
He appeared to slip; she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. But the surefooted pirate did not fall. He merely grasped another line, steadied himself and continued his work.
Willow spied an overturned barrel, righted it and sat down so she could watch the activity without getting in the way. The soothing warmth of the sun after the intense drama of the storm made her drowsy, and she closed her eyes. Immediately her thoughts drifted to the wondrous, startling and embarrassing things Dariq had done to her.
The bubble burst when a pair of strong hands
“Not to me. I had a proper English upbringing. ’Tis sinful and improper for a woman to enjoy”—she blushed—“sex.”
“You said your mother is French. Are those her sentiments?”
“Mama marches to her own drummer. English society was too restrictive for her, but it suits me very well.”
A slow grin spread over Dariq’s face. “You liked what we did.”
Her face turned even redder. “I… I… You are too experienced for me. I did not know how to protect myself against your sensual nature.”
“Why would you want to?”
Osman’s arrival saved Willow from replying. The lad placed the pitcher of hot water on the washstand and left.
“I shall leave you to your ablutions while I perform mine,” Dariq said as he crossed the room to his sleeping chamber.
The moment the door closed behind Dariq, Willow climbed from bed, wrapped a sheet around herself and padded to the washstand. Taking up cloth and soap, She scrubbed all the places Dariq had touched her with his mouth, his hands and his tongue. Then she scrambled into her clothing, ready to face the day.
Dariq exited his small sleeping chamber a few minutes later, freshly shaved and dressed in loose trousers and shirt.
“If cook was able to fire up the brazier, you should have a hot meal soon. Try to entertain yourself while I inspect the ship for damage. If the
Revenge
fared well in the storm, we will continue our journey to Lipsi.”
Dariq was halfway out the door when Willow said, “I want to come with you. I shall go mad if I’m forced to remain cooped up another day.”
“You are to remain here,” Dariq answered. Then he was gone, leaving Willow fuming in impotent rage.
Dariq saw Mustafa standing near the broken mast and hurried over to join him.
“How long will it take to repair it?” Dariq asked.
“A day or two,” Mustafa replied. “Ripped sails and broken lines are being repaired as we speak.”
“I intend to take a reading tonight to see how far we were blown off course.”
“I did that last night while you slept. As luck would have it, we were blown toward Lipsi, not away from it.”
“That is good news indeed, Mustafa. What would I do without you?”
“That is something you need never worry about, Prince, for I shall always be at your side.”
Dariq clapped Mustafa on the back and went in search of something to eat.
* * *
Osman arrived a short while later with Willow’s breakfast. She was hungry and ate every bite. With nothing to do but ponder her dismal future, she prowled the narrow confines of the cabin. She longed to step outside into the sunshine, to raise her face to the rain-washed air and fill her lungs with it.
“I refuse to stay in here a moment longer,” she muttered to herself.
She found another woolen cap in Dariq’s chest, pulled it down over her ears and stuffed her hair underneath it. Then she opened the door and stepped outside. She lifted her face and sniffed appreciatively. The air smelled of sunshine and freshness.
The deck was a beehive of activity as men rushed about their duties. Willow saw men sewing ripped sails, working on the mainmast, and clearing debris from the deck. Gazing up, she noticed several bare-chested men repairing broken lines. Blushing, she started to turn away. Then she spied Dariq dangling precariously from a mast high above the deck. Had her life depended upon it, she could not have looked away.
He appeared to slip; she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. But the surefooted pirate did not fall. He merely grasped another line, steadied himself and continued his work.
Willow spied an overturned barrel, righted it and sat down so she could watch the activity without getting in the way. The soothing warmth of the sun after the intense drama of the storm made her drowsy, and she closed her eyes. Immediately her thoughts drifted to the wondrous, startling and embarrassing things Dariq had done to her.
The bubble burst when a pair of strong hands
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