She was aware of the details of fornication, though she was a bit hazy on the actual mechanics. She’d worked in aristocrats’ houses for years, had listened to the other maids expound on male anatomy and physical behaviors. Few of them had been virgins, and most claimed the sexual act was very pleasant. Some even claimed that—once initiated—they couldn’t live without it.
Harriet didn’t know what she believed, but she wasn’t eager to try it, and she definitely wasn’t ready to submit to an arrogant ass like Captain Harcourt.
Would he take her against her will? If he forced her, she hadn’t the strength to fight him off. What would become of them?
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured.
“I certainly hope so.”
“I can’t abide a woman with a temper.”
“Then you shouldn’t constantly harass me. You’re the one who lures it to the fore.”
“So I am to blame for your being a madwoman who insists on proving—over and over—that she’s insane?”
“Why is it that you feel compelled to advise me of all the things you loathe about me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never say a word unless you’re cataloguing my faults.”
“That’s because it’s such a long list, I never get to the end.”
The silence settled in again, and he scowled as if he wasn’t sure how she’d come to be lying beneath him.
His ardor was growing more blatant, and she braced, positive her ravishment was about to commence, but instead, he dipped down and kissed her.
His lips covered hers, his mouth warm and soft, and she was stunned to find that it was the sweetest, most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her. He was very gentle and not in any hurry, and he simply kissed her, then kissed her some more.
She couldn’t have said how long it lasted, but when he drew away, her limbs were rubbery, and she couldn’t lift her arms or move her legs.
She sighed with pleasure.
“I guess”—he was smirking—“I finally figured out how to shut you up.”
“I guess you did,” she replied, too content to quarrel.
He kissed her again, and this time, it was more urgent, more exhilarating.
A hand was fisted in her hair, his fingers on her breast, and there seemed to be a spark of energy flowing from his body to hers. Matters were spiraling out of control, and she should have ordered him to stop, but she didn’t want to.
She thought she hated him. Didn’t she? How could she permit him to take so many liberties? Why would she enjoy it? What was wrong with her?
There was no telling what might have transpired if a knock hadn’t sounded on the door.
Harcourt frowned and pulled away, and he glared over and snapped, “What is it?”
“Sails, Captain,” the gruff Mr. Riley responded. “Off the stern again. You asked to be notified.”
“Dammit,” Harcourt muttered, then he called, “I’ll be right there.”
He slid away and leapt up, in an instant, breaking their physical contact so completely that it was as if he’d never touched her at all.
“What is it?” Harriet queried.
“Nothing.”
Riley stomped away as Harcourt went to a trunk he kept under the table. It was always locked, and Harriet hadn’t been able to open it, so she hadn’t ever looked inside.
She watched, unnerved, as he reached in and retrieved a saber and two large pistols. He strapped them to his waist.
She sat up.
“Will there be trouble?” she inquired.
“No.”
His curt answer infuriated her.
Since she was a prisoner in his cabin, she had no method of gleaning information about what was occurring up on deck, and it wasn’t as if she could get him to talk like a normal human being.
When he deigned to show his face, he was either surly as a goat or they were bickering. They couldn’t seem to interact in any other fashion.
He stepped toward the door, as if to leave without another word, and she jumped from the bunk and beat him to it. She stood in front of it, her back pressed to the wood, a paltry barrier to his exiting, but a barrier nonetheless.
“What’s going on,” she demanded.
“I told you: nothing.”
“I’m not a child, so don’t treat me like one. Don’t lie to me.”
He appeared as if he’d hurl a scathing retort, then he thought better of it.
“Someone is following us.”
Her eyes widened with dismay. “Pirates?”
“Maybe. They never approach near enough for us to see.”
“Might they attack us?”
“I suppose anything is possible.”
She blanched. “Should I be frightened?”
“On my ship?” He huffed, insulted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But what if they—”
“Harriet, I’ve been sailing for over two decades. They’ll never catch us, but if they got lucky, my crew is trained for battle. We haul too much cargo to let some bandit make off with it, and though you think I’m extremely wealthy, I couldn’t absorb the loss. I’m a master swordsman and marksman myself. You’re perfectly safe.”
She glanced at the weapons he’d just donned, and despite their lethal condition, she didn’t feel safe. Suddenly, stories about Barbary pirates and African harems sprang to mind.
What if she was captured? What if she never returned to England? What if she never saw Helen again?
“You’re distraught,” he said, stating the obvious. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared.”
“You? Scared?” He chuckled. “You’re not afraid of anything, remember?”
“I’m afraid of this. I don’t like being out on the water. I don’t like being trapped down here where I never know what’s happening.”
“You’ll be fine,” he insisted very gently. “I swear it to you. I would protect you with my life. Don’t worry.”
He pulled her close and thrilled her by giving her a passionate, desperate kiss, then he picked her up and set her aside.
He marched out, and she was left to fret and panic all alone.
CHAPTER NINE
“Yes, Miss Stewart works for me.”
James glared at the handsome young man who sat across from him.
“Marvelous. I’m so glad I found her.”
“And you are...?”
“Her cousin, Nigel Stewart.”
“Well, Mr. Stewart”—James tried to look very stern, very forbidding—“I am a hard taskmaster, and I’m puzzled as to why I should permit Miss Stewart a break from her duties merely to speak with you.”
“We’d lost touch, and I’ve been very worried about her.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
James studied Stewart. He was dressed at the height of fashion, wearing an expensive jacket, polished boots, and a perfectly-tied cravat. His color was high, his hair tousled, as if he’d been out riding. It gave him a dashing air that James was sure would tantalize many foolish females.
But despite his proper comportment, James didn’t like Mr. Stewart and was wary of allowing him access to Helen, which was silly. Helen was an adult and completely capable of receiving guests without James interfering.
James wasn’t certain why he’d insisted on meeting with Stewart, but when the butler had announced that Helen had a visitor, James had been too intrigued for his own good. He knew very little about Helen. She never discussed herself or her past. It was as if she’d sprung from nowhere, and he suspected that if she was less of a mystery, maybe he wouldn’t be so enamored.
And here was Nigel Stewart! Like a gift! If James asked the right questions, Stewart would provide buckets of information, but James couldn’t appear to be prying. He was supposed to simply be Helen’s employer, so he couldn’t act too interested.
“Where are you from, Mr. Stewart?”
“My estate—it’s called Brookhaven—is a few hours south of London.”
“Miss Stewart grew up there?”
“Yes.”
“Why did she leave?”
“It’s a rather difficult story,” Stewart contended. “I would hate to bore you with the details.”
James was instantly alert. “Is there something in Miss Stewart’s background I should know? She serves as my ward’s companion. If she’s not suitable for the position, I ought to be apprised, don’t you think?”
“Well...”
“Spit it out, Mr. Stewart.”
“I’m loathe to get her into trouble. The scandal wasn’t her fault, and I wouldn’t want you to...blame her for it.”
“For what?”
Stewart dithered, looking torn, and James was incensed. Was the pathetic weasel deliberately attempting to have Helen fired? What kind of cousin was he?
“Tell me, Mr. Stewart. I haven’t got all day.”
“There was a situation involving her mother.”
“What was it?”
“As a girl, she traveled to London for her debut. She was introduced to...ah...an aristocrat who took a fancy to her. She wasn’t chaperoned as carefully as she might have been.”
“What are you insinuating? That the man seduced her?”
“Yes, I guess I am.”
James didn’t know how Stewart accomplished it, but he blushed, as if embarrassed by the admission, but James was positive the revelation had been intentionally made.