His Wicked Kiss (17 page)

The heavy, claw-foot table, strewn with charts and maps, was part of a suite of mahogany furniture with chairs in red leather upholstery; the main piece, however, dominating the stateroom, was the grand baronial desk. But although the room’s furnishings suggested the establishment of a prestigious
London
merchant, there was no forgetting they were on a ship in the middle of the sea, for along the back wall, a row of sparkling stern windows revealed an endless horizon of deep sapphire ocean.

Built-in storage benches below the windows were cushioned with the same red leather upholstery as the chairs. Beyond the stern windows, a narrow jib door led to a private, open-air balcony with a carved, gilded railing and a few low-slung chairs here and there. It was shady and cool out on the stern gallery, sheltered by the overhang of the poop deck above.

Turning to Jack again, she watched him roll the barrel of water into the room before closing the door in the cheeky sailor’s eager face. He locked the door then turned to her.

She took a wary step backward.

“You, Miss Farraday, are one bloody-minded individual,” he informed her, resting his hands on his hips for a moment. “I could almost admire that, if you weren’t so damned much trouble. But—you’re here now, aren’t you? So I’m just going to have to deal with you.” He trailed a brooding glance over her from head to toe.

Eden
shifted her weight uncomfortably.

“Right,” he said with a businesslike nod. “Take off your clothes.”

Her eyes shot open wide. “What?”

“Take them off and throw them in the ocean,” he instructed, nodding toward the balcony as he prowled across the room.

“I shall do nothing of the kind!”

He paused and looked at her, one eyebrow arched. “Pardon?”

“No!”

“I gave you an order.” His dark stare sharpened. “Or would you rather I do it for you?”

“You stay away from me!” she cried, darting around the worktable.

“Then do as you are told,” he warned, but instead of coming around the table to forcibly disrobe her as threatened, he disappeared through a small door into a roomy storage closet that adjoined the cabin.

Eden
made no move to obey his scandalous order, instead only peering after him as he reached up and brought down a large wooden bathing tub that had been securely stored out of the way on hooks sunk into the bulkhead.

He backed out of the little room, angling the big tub carefully through the narrow doorway. “What are you waiting for?” he asked when he saw her. “Strip.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He just looked at her, and it was obvious he wasn’t jesting.

“Really, my lord! Is this how you treat all your passengers?”

“You are not a passenger, Eden, you are a thief,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Now, if you would rather not be treated like one and spend the duration of our voyage in the brig, to be turned over to the authorities when we arrive, I suggest you comply.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Quarantine you for the safety of my men? You’re damned right I would. Come, Miss Farraday, you are a physician’s daughter.” He rolled the bathing tub over to a large rectangle of sunlight streaming in through the stern windows. “You know fevers brew down in the hold where you’ve been hiding. Illness kills more men than battle out at sea, and I will not have you spreading disease among my crew. You must wash, and those clothes must be destroyed. Let’s just hope you haven’t picked up any lice, as well, or we may have to cut off all those pretty auburn tresses.”

She gasped, her hand flying up to protect her long hair, but she remained rooted in place, clutching her jacket closed despite the heat.

Lifting the seat of one of the red leather window benches, Lord Jack pulled out a fresh white bedsheet, shook out the folds, and then used it to line the bottom of the bathing tub.

“There,” he said with a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Now you won’t get a splinter in your lovely bottom. Though if you did, I would be glad to get it out for you. Return the favor, don’t you know.”

Eden
narrowed her eyes at him in warning as her cheeks turned scarlet. Her pulse was pounding.

With some chagrin, she recognized the truth of what he said about observing proper hygiene at sea to avoid any outbreak of disease.

On the other hand, she also remembered his lascivious threat about how she would pay for her passage if she came aboard his ship, and here he was telling her to get naked.

It did not bode well.

Lifting the heavy water barrel easily onto one mighty shoulder—the one she had lately occupied—Jack carried it over to the tub and set it down again. He popped the seal off the barrel’s lid and removed it. “Go on,” he said, glancing at her as he picked up the water barrel again, pouring half its contents into the bathing tub. “I don’t have all day.”

Eden
just stood there, at a loss. Lord Jack had turned this into a battle of wills, but everything was so far stacked in his favor that how could she possibly win?

When he set the barrel down again, the masterful nod that he jerked in her direction needed no words to order her into the water.

Yes, she had stowed away, but was she really a
thief
? She had never thought of it like that; she had known it was naughty but hardly an actual crime. Yet he had threatened to hand her over to the law if she did not do as he said. She glanced in distress from the bathing tub to her captor, realizing that her insubordination so far had only been tolerated because of her sex.

But if that thought inspired a fleeting sense of gratitude, he ruined it when he dropped casually into the armchair across from the tub.

Her eyes widened. “Aren’t you going to leave?”

“Hell, no. Why should I?”

“But—you don’t mean to sit there gawking at me?” she cried.

“Oh, my dear, I think I am entitled to it.” He stretched his arms upward and then linked his fingers behind his head, regarding her with a diabolical smile. “Looking at naked women, after all, is one of a man’s few great joys in life, a pleasure sadly lacking at sea. But don’t worry, my dear. You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before. Proceed,” he commanded with a kingly wave of his hand. He sat back again and waited for the show.

Eden glared at him.

His eyes danced; his stare caressed her.

She looked at him imploringly.

“I told you this was how you would repay me,” he reminded her softly, reckless charm edging his faint smile. “You brought this on yourself, my wild little jungle flower. Go on. It’s just you and me,” he said in a silky tone that had probably bewitched young ladies on several continents.

Eden was trembling.
Horrible, wicked blackguard
. Fortunately for her own sake, she bit her tongue instead of uttering her sentiments aloud. Her chin came up a notch. “What then, am I, your entertainment for the journey?”

“Yes. Something like that.”

He enjoyed toying with her, she realized. It was written all over his handsome face.

“Is it so hard for you to obey one simple order?” he inquired, then he reached over and picked up a quill pen off his desk. “Must I flog you into submission?” he murmured, waving the feathery plume back and forth suggestively.

Eden shivered as she scowled. “You are despicable.”

“I just saved your arse,” he reminded her with a pointed smile.

It was clear the captain wasn’t budging; she might as well have argued with the rock of Gibraltar. Her heart was pounding fiercely as she cursed him in her mind. She bit her lip, turning toward the waiting bathtub. If only it did not look so wonderfully inviting. She eyed it longingly.

Truly, she might have found the strength to make a stand against the barbarian, but she yearned to wash and was too practical to refuse the creature comforts of which she was in such dire need.

A fact the scoundrel knew full well, she thought, abruptly recalling the many times she had gone swimming
au naturel
in the jungle with her sweet friends among the Waroa maidens.

The young Indian girls had known all the hidden places where it was safe to play in the crystal waters. Many a day she had gone with them to escape the heat, splashing about and collecting the gorgeous blooms of water lilies, softening their skin with mud and clay mixtures, and adorning themselves with pearls that they harvested from the oysters that grew in the river.

Nudity had never bothered her then any more than it had bothered the native girls. Yes, she must think of it like that. She’d just pretend he wasn’t even there.

Sending him one final look of reproach, Eden turned away, fingering the hem of her long white shirt.

“Ahem.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder.

He swirled the feathery plume in a little circle in the air, instructing her to turn around again. “Don’t try to hide, my sweet. I’ve paid for this, remember?”

Eden looked at him in loathing.

Lord Jack smiled.

Fine
. If he wanted to be so abominably rude, she’d do her best to shock him right back without letting one iota of modesty get in her way.

Gathering up the remains of her still-defiant courage, she pulled off her boots and stockings and kicked them aside, sending him a withering glance as she did so, then untied the length of cord holding up her breeches.

Veiling her gaze behind lowered lashes, she took them off. Lastly, she lifted her damp, tattered shirt off over her head.

She quickly bent and scooped up the whole pile of her clothes, leaving behind only her boots.

Naked as the day she was born, she walked past him, shooting him a go-to-hell smile as she proceeded out onto the stern gallery, where she dropped all her dirty and allegedly disease-ridden clothing over the rail.

She watched them fall into the waves far below and for a moment let the wind ripple through her hair and enjoyed the warm kiss of the sun on her bare skin. This, at least, was a good deal better than the cargo hold. The sun, like the very source of her strength, restored her to feeling some small semblance of control over this frightening situation. Taking a deep breath, Eden pivoted away from the railing and strolled back languidly inside.

Lord Jack’s turquoise eyes had glazed over as she walked toward him. His stare traveled down every inch of her body, consuming her with unnerving intensity.

Frank, open lust.

It rather terrified her, but she was too angry to let her fear show. She didn’t grovel to anyone and certainly not to a blackguard like him.

She stepped into the bath with an expression of cool pride and lowered herself into the water. When she sat, she drew her knees up against her breasts, finally hiding herself from him as best she could.

With a ragged inhalation, it seemed Lord Jack remembered then to breathe.

He looked away for a moment as though to collect himself, his hand obscuring his mouth.

“Are you entertained n-now, my lord?” Eden asked resentfully, her teeth chattering a bit, though the day was warm.

He did not answer at first. He looked at her again, dragged his gaze up from her body and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. It seemed as though there was something he wanted to say, but no words came.

He locked his fingers loosely before him and just looked at her.

“Stop staring at me,” she said with a plaintive note in her voice.

“Forgive me, Eden.” His voice was husky. “Your body is sublime.”

Truly, she wanted to die of mortification. “Could you at least pass the soap?”

Amusement registered in his eyes at her request, chasing off some of that intimidating, dark intensity. He rose and went to get it for her. When he returned, he handed her an oval of fine, transparent amber soap wrapped in waxed paper.

Eden cautiously took the soap, then dunked herself under the water, holding her nose. Her hair floated around her, but she refused to resurface until she was confident she could simply ignore him. She must try harder to pretend he wasn’t there.

How horrid he was, tormenting her like this.

Coming up again from beneath the water, she rested her head back against the tub’s rim, determined to relax and enjoy her long-needed bath. The tepid, silky water soothed her agitated skin and aching muscles. At length, she began washing with the expensive soap, doing her dead-level best to ignore the hulking, six-foot, muscle-bound pirate sitting less than two feet away, devouring her with his gaze.

“I need to wash my hair,” she announced after several moments. “Do you have any shampoo?”

With a grunt of assent, he got up again, went back into the side closet, and returned to present her with a small bottle containing a luxurious concoction of French shampooing.

Eden accepted it while he stood by the tub; he picked up the barrel and lifted it, nodding at her to indicate he would help her wet her hair. She tilted her head back and waited for the water to descend on her, a man-powered waterfall.

At least there was one good use for all those muscles.

“So,” he said slowly after a time as he poured some water gently on her hair, “you thought you’d stow away. Ignore everything I said.”