Lord of Temptation by Lorraine Heath

Shelley.
    Martha joined her, and only then did he step inside. The room seemed to shrink with his presence.
    “You read,” she said inanely.
    “Boredom can easily find a home on a ship.”
    “Yes, I can imagine.” Only she couldn’t. She’d thought he’d have little time for her, that he’d be steering the vessel, but obviously he had others to handle such matters.
    “The room next to this one is where my first mate sleeps. It’s available to your maid.”
    Anne spun around to face him. “There was no need to go to such bother. I’d planned on her staying with me.”
    His eyes glittered. “If you wish.”
    “I do.”
    He gave a curt nod. “Is there anything else you need before I leave you to your dreams?”
    She nodded, swallowed hard. “Martha, leave us for a moment.”
    Martha opened her mouth, and Anne gave her a pointed glare. She’d tolerate no mutiny. Martha snapped her mouth closed and walked toward the hallway.
    “Shut the door after you.”
    She slammed it.
    “She doesn’t approve of this journey,” he said.
    “She’s just protective.” Removing her pelisse, she set it carefully over the desk. She met and held his gaze. “I thought you might like your payment before we’re too far out to sea.”
    “Did you now?” In two long strides, he was near enough that his breath mingled with hers and she had to tilt her head back to continue to gaze into his icy blue eyes. He rested his curled fingers in the curve of her cheek, his thumb stroking her lower lip.
    Her tongue slipped out on its own accord to lick where he touched and she could have sworn she tasted the saltiness of his skin. His eyes darkened. He had such incredibly long lashes. Their ebony shade made the blue of his eyes seem that much fairer, like the sky on a bright summer day.
    He leaned in.
    She held her breath.
    His gaze dropped to her lips.
    They tingled.
    He lifted his eyes to hers.
    She waited, waited . . .
    He came nearer. Her eyes began closing—
    “The moment is of my choosing, Princess. And this isn’t it. Sleep well.”
    Grinning, he tweaked her nose, spun on his heel, and strode from the room.
    If she could have drawn in a breath past her fury, she’d have shrieked at him. Martha rushed in. “Oh, dear God, what did he do?”
    “Nothing.” He tweaked my nose! She wasn’t about to admit that. Didn’t he want to kiss her? Had he changed his mind? She dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at the closed door. She popped back up. “He told me to sleep well. I’ll show him. I shall accomplish that with remarkable success.”
    As they prepared for bed, they were both surprised to find warm water in the basin. Obviously the captain had someone prepare the room before they came down. The bedding was crisp, freshly laundered, but when Anne climbed onto the bed, the spicy scent of Crimson Jack rose around her.
    Martha blew out the lamp and crawled in beside her, but they had enough room between them that they didn’t touch. Anne didn’t want to consider that the bed had been specially designed to accommodate for the captain’s size and a woman lying in his arms.
    “I think my brother might have been mistaken,” Martha whispered. “I think this captain might be a very dangerous man.”
    “If he were dangerous, he’d have locked that door, and he—not you—would be in this bed with me.”
    In the darkness, Anne listened to the creaking of the ship. But she didn’t sleep. Instead, she wondered why he could so easily resist kissing her. And why she wished he’d just get it over with.
    S tanding at the helm, Tristan gripped the wheel so tightly that his hands were beginning to ache. Walking away from her without tasting those succulent red lips had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. When he touched his knuckles to her cheek, skimmed his thumb over that pouting bottom lip, inhaled her scent . . .
    When her breath hitched and her eyes began to close . . .
    One kiss. That was all he’d