Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) by Barbara Devlin Page B

hour was sufficient time to wash, explain his position to Caroline, and partake of a pleasant meal.  And he had a few persuasive weapons at his disposal.  Perhaps they would share a few conciliatory kisses.  He smiled at the thought.
    Reaching the entrance to his chamber, Trevor twisted the knob and entered.  Closing the door, he turned around--and ducked.
    The object on a collision course with his head connected instead with the wood panel.
    Whack
    Before he could say anything, he caught a glimpse of another item and barely avoided it.
    Moving into the room, Trevor crouched again.
    “Caroline, stop it.”  He raised his arms in defense even as he sidestepped her bombardment.
    “Go to the devil!”  She launched another volley.
    “I demand that you cease this childish behavior and talk to me.”
    “Childish, indeed.”  Her blue eyes glittered with fire and ice.  “I should think you would expect it, as you spanked me in front of everyone.”  Her arm flung wide, catapulting an additional attempt to de-brain him.
    As he evaded another attack, Trevor lowered his hands.  “So help me, if you throw one more thing, I will do it again.”
    With high dudgeon, she stomped her foot.  “You wouldn’t dare.”
    Snorting in surprise, he couldn’t stifle a chuckle.  No woman had ever defied his authority, and at that precise moment, ill timed as it was, he decided he liked it.
    “I would dare,” he said in jest, because, devil take it, Trevor couldn’t resist her.
    “Who do you think you are?”  Drawing herself up, looking every inch a blueblood, though he knew she was not, the demirep pinned him with a narrow stare.  “You do not own me, and I am not a member of your crew to be ordered about or subjected to your abuse.”
    “Come now, we both know I did not hurt you.”
    “That may be, but I am not to be disciplined as one of your men.”
    “I’ll grant you that, but you are aboard my ship.”
    “We both know how I came to be here.”
    In that he could not argue.  Gazing on the beautiful ladybird poised with a book in her grasp, no doubt considering another shot at his head, Trevor could not be mad at her.  And he was trying, with every ounce of strength, to summon anger, indignation, ire--anything to keep the mistress at a safe distance.
    She stood before him, breasts heaving, thick hair jutting wildly, her cheeks flushed in fury, and all he wanted to do was kiss her silly.
    Every inch of her.
    But that would violate his promise.  Revenge had been won at the expense of young Randolph.  There would be no seduction tonight, because he had sworn a personal oath that he would not take Caroline to his bed.
    “We will continue our conversation when you are ready to discuss this as an adult.”  He crossed to the washstand, peering out the corner of his eye on guard for another barrage.  “Dinner will be served soon, so I suggest you settle yourself.”
    “Rot you, Trevor.”  Her chin rose to impressive heights.  “And don’t ever touch me again.”
    He reached for a towel as she marched to the bunk.  “Are you not going to eat?  The ovens are lit, and we’ll have warm fare tonight.”
    “I shall do as I please,” Caroline snapped.
    “Suit yourself, madam.”
    Movement on the floor caught his attention, and he retrieved a brass candlestick holder.  A brief search yielded the mate where it had come to rest.  Then he found the hairbrush they had been sharing.  The next discovery was a bar of soap and, at last, a leather-bound tome.
    Pursing his lips, he forestalled the laughter dancing on the tip of his tongue.  It did not take a genius to know his little hellion would not appreciate his good humor, and he was no glutton for punishment.
    Someday, when the seas no longer entertained his roaming spirit, and he decided to fulfill the duties of his title, Trevor resolved to find a mate with a more docile temperament.  An agreeable spouse, one who would give him heirs and content herself