Bound by Decency by Claire Ashgrove Page B

swept her hand around the room. “Locked away on a pirate ship, captive to a crafty man. Surely, y our doctoring skills are not so… benign.”
    Cain nearly choked on his own saliva. The light in her eyes shifted, assuming a darker, more suggestive glimmer. Were he not mistaken, he would swear she flirted with him.
    She is well into her drink. Do not be fooled by lies.
    His tongue refused to obey. He held her gaze in challenge. “I assure you, Miss Prescott, my skills are quite effective. It is the patient who must be willing to follow through.”
    “So you say.” She smiled, before a husky laugh trilled in her throat. “And what is it you would have me follow through on to assure a speedy recovery from this insufferable heat that has overcome my body ? ” A thoughtful frown puckered her brow before her grin became mischievous. “I do believe you have made it worse.”
    Cain groaned inwardly. She could not possibly mean what she implied. She was in her cups, unaware of the looseness of her tongue. Damnation—where had she learned to speak like such? Surely her father hadn’t taught her those lessons.
    He slowly shook his head, refraining from comment. Truth be known, he could enjoy this banter for several more hours. However, her body needed sleep, and his would benefit a great deal from the silence. He would no longer suffer the way his nerves stood on end, all too aware of the woman in his bed, once she stilled her spriteful tongue.
    Her smile lingered on him a heartbeat too long. He shifted in his chair. Dropped his gaze to study the scar across the back of his hand. If she didn’t cease those infernal smiles that held just enough innocence to drive him mad, he’d be sorely tempted to forget the reason he hauled her out to sea. He might actually come to believe he could be Teddy once more, the man who could have offered her something more than scandal.
    At his prolonged silence, India sank into the covers and turned toward the window. Her heavy sigh replaced the echoing melody of her laugh. Assured she would trouble him no more, Cain dropped his feet and picked up a feathered quill. He dipped the sharpened point into a jar of dark ink, then bent over his open ledger.
    With meticulous detail he logged the direction they’d taken away from Britain , including a brief sketch of where they’d met the Navy warship. He noted their change in course, recorded the solitary cannon blast. On the next page, beneath the date, he entered what he knew of Reggie’s ruckus. While the notations would likely serve little purpose, he couldn’t break the ingrained habit. At the very least, if he needed to take Reggie to task, he could refer back to when the problems began and issue proper punishment. Not to mention the habit helped to keep days from blurring into one another.
    When he finished, he set the quill down and looked again to the bed. India lay on her side, one arm exposed. The heavy quilt that gathered at her hips afforded him the most exquisite view of her bare back. His gaze followed the gentle curve of her ribs to the subtle incline of her tiny waist.
    Against the blanket’s dark red hue, her skin was a stark and pleasing contrast. No freckles marred her flesh. No single mark of birth disturbed the flawless ivory canvas. The indentation of her spine, just before it dipped beneath the layers of cotton, marked a path his tongue itched to trace. Below that boundary lay generous hips. A delectable bottom. Legs meant to wrap around a man.
    As another visual of India soft and willing burst within Cain’s mind, his body responded like sails put to a fierce gale. Before his heart could thump a heavy beat, his chest tightened, and his blood warmed.
    With a whispered oath, Cain clenched a hand into a tight fist. Intent on ignoring the preposterous effect she had on him, he spread a rolled map across his desk. This was insanity at its finest. He meant to ruin her, but his initial plans had held little to do with the