Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] by A Pirates Pleasure

He kept watching her. She shivered anew with the warning tone of his next words.
    “You will keep any promises you make to me, milady.”
    She nodded, playing only for the moment. Light and warmth flooded the room, and courage began to seep back into her along with the warmth. Then he took two steps toward her and she knew that he meant to touch her then and there. Despite herself she screamed. He ignored her, catching her shoulders, dragging her close. “No!” she gasped, seeking to stop his hands as they fell upon her bodice. Little was left of her gown; he found the ties of her corset and tugged upon them.
    “Wait!”
    “Your promise, milady!”
    “You said you were going back out! The storm! The wind, it still rages, stop, please, you must—stop!”
    “Be damned with the ship, mam’selle!”
    “We’ll drown!”
    “Happily shall I die in your arms!”
    Her bodice came free and her breasts spilled forth. Color bathed her face, but he barely glanced at her, swinging her around and plucking her torn wet gown over her head. Desperately she flailed against him, but managed only to entangle herself in her clothing. Then suddenly she was naked, shorn of her gown and corset and even her shift, and left only in her stockings and garters. She stared from the pool of her clothing cast upon the floor to his face, and his eyes so cold upon her, denying his taunting words. He took stock of her in a calculating assessment. His gaze was so icily cold that she did not even think to cover herself, to draw her arms about her. He did not in the least seem to appreciate what he saw; indeed, it was almost with disdain that he swept his eyes over her body. He hated her, she thought. But then he took a step toward her again and she screamed with pure primal dread.
    He did not touch her. He wrenched the knit coverlet from the bed and tossed it upon her nakedness. She stumbled to her knees as she caught it, sweeping it around her shoulders and hovering there, her eyes lowered.
    “You’ll die of pneumonia and be worthless to me, mam’selle, if you do not dry off,” he said curtly. She did not answer him. She saw his boots before her lowered eyes. His gleaming black boots. She did not look up.
    The boots moved. He turned around and strode toward the door. He paused there and spoke very softly. “Don’t deceive yourself, Lady Kinsdale. I have not forgotten your promise. You do give your oath freely, mam’selle. And with little meaning, so it appears. What you promise to me, you will give.”
    She heard the slam of the doors against the wind, and then he was gone.
    Skye pulled the cover more tightly around herself. The cabin slowly became warm, and it was bright and comfortable.
    And she slowly ceased to shiver, and when she did, she hated herself. The fear! It was so awful, and so ridiculous. Shehad humiliated herself before the very dregs of the earth because of it. She had made a promise to a pirate!
    Suddenly she was shivering again, remembering the way that he had looked at her, as if he hated her. As if he knew her, or knew something about her, deep inside, and hated her for it. What?
    Why should she care?
    She should cling desperately to every moment that kept her away from him.
    He teased her now. He taunted her. He would come back, and it would be all the worse for her because he hated her, too.…
    At least he had all of his teeth. And he didn’t smell bad. His husky whispers carried the scent of mint.…
    What was she thinking?
    Skye bolted to her feet and raced to his desk. She tore open drawer after drawer. He was a pirate, wasn’t he? He had to be carrying about some kind of grog.
    But his desk was empty. As she stood there perplexed, the ship took a sudden harsh keel and she landed flat upon her derriere. She swore softly and wished heartily she were back in London. London! Suddenly she loved it. There was so much there! Not the struggling new city of Williamsburg. In London there were balls and there was the theater