“Now there’s a word.” Ruark strode the full length of the room and returned to stand before her. “ ‘Tis my first sight of something worth the keeping. A treasure? Aye, so ’tis, my love. A thing of value, but cheapened if not valued. And now I have it from your lips. A treasure.” He nodded. “Aye, I have a need to hear that word from you.”
He went to the window, there to stand staring thoughtfully out across the island. In confusion Shanna frowned at his back. She had meant to prick his pride but somehow had given him a weapon to use against her.
She made use of his averted attention and crossed to the armoire, shrugging out of the jerkin and kicking it free as it fell to her ankles. She snatched a black velvet gown from the door, slipped it over her head and with a quick wiggle, settled it in place upon her body. The deep front gaped open to her navel with a crisscrossing of laces across her bare skin. The fabric barely held the rosier hue of her breasts in its confines. Shanna worked the laces tight as she moved to stand before the nearest mirror, and there she stopped, her breath catching in a gasp as she viewed herself. The gown did more to destroy her modesty than protect it.
She saw of her image a somewhat disheveled maid with wildly tossed hair tumbling over her back and shoulder and, with breasts pressed together, forming such a vale as to entice the sternest miser. The velvet gown would not close, coyly showing the white of her belly. Shanna glanced back to the armoire, wondering what she had overlooked in her haste to don the dress. There had to be something more to the garment. A blouse? A shift?
Wrinkling her nose in aggravation, she turned slowly before the mirror and over her shoulder caught sight of Ruark. He no longer watched the breezes, but, instead, yielded her his full attention. A wicked grin lifted a corner of his handsome mouth as he sat on the edge of the window, arms folded across his naked chest, silent but deeply appreciative.
“This cannot be all there is to the thing,” she said in some perplexity. “There must be more.”
Leaving his perch, Ruark came to stride behind her musingly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he contemplated her reflection. In a casual tone he finally commented as he looked pointedly toward the overflowing bosom, “There doesn’t seem to be much room for anything else.”
“There should be at least a shift,” Shanna argued.
Ruark went to stand beside the mirror to ponder the matter, gazing at her directly. He nodded. “Harripen should like it. The Dutchman too, I think.”
“Ruark!” She stared at him in horror that he might make her wear this below, but suddenly she saw the laughter twinkling in his eyes. In impatient exasperation she stamped her foot, setting her hands on her hips, letting go the ends of the lacing. Ruark choked on his breath as her splendorous beauty nearly burst forth. As he stepped forward, Shanna cast him a challenging glare, struggling with the strings in an effort to cover herself.
“Madam.” Ruark’s voice was strained, strangely tight. “I have never cast my coin for a lady’s bed nor exerted my will beyond a tender lass’s power to resist.” His stare was fastened on the swelling curves, which seemed so eager to be out. He heaved a slightly tremulous sigh. “But on occasion there comes a point in a man’s life when he is greatly beset and tempted beyond his will.” At her raised and questioning brows, he stated himself more bluntly. “Madam, rape does have its rewards, even if they be one-sided. And if I am brought to this brink, do you think yon pirates will hold themselves in check? I suggest you find a gown that would not entice them overmuch and in the course of such, spare me as well from thoughts of violence.”
Petulantly Shanna went to search through the sea chests, discarding garment after garment; none would suffice. It seemed when the size was right, the cut was overbold, and when the style was right, the size was large enough to boggle the mind with the immensity of its wearer.
It was a treasure near the bottom of a large trunk which caught her eye, and she could barely suppress her glee as she examined it. How a Puritan garment found its way into a pirate’s possession, she could not guess, but she was as happy with it as if she had received a precious gift. It was black wool, high at the neck, with sleeves to the wrists. A wide, stiff collar and cuffs were folded in the long skirt, and beneath it lay a bonnet, as drab as the gown.
Tossing a glance over her shoulder, Shanna assured herself that Ruark was paying no heed. He stood with his back turned, stropping a razor at the washstand as he prepared to shave. Gathering everything into a bundle, she slipped behind a mirror where she would be screened from his wandering gaze. She doffed the black velvet, donning in its stead the heavy woolen. No chemise had been found, not even the simplest shift, and the prickly gown was, at the least, a monstrous torture for her tender body, causing second thoughts to gather quickly in her mind. Still she had a need to disturb that confounded complacency of his, and with puckish anticipation she carefully settled the straight-cut garment in place over her narrow waist and round bosom. Moving to stand behind Ruark, she made a small request.