Mark spoke up in her defense until Morgan swung toward him, his face carved into the mask he used on disobedient men. Mark’s mouth snapped shut.
“You can leave us now.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Arianna turned to follow. Morgan clamped his hand on her shoulder. “You wait here.”
****
Arianna’s stomach quivered as Mark marched away, looking back over his shoulder with a sympathetic expression. She didn’t want to be left alone with Captain Danvers. His chocolate-colored eyes had turned dark and dangerous, and he had threatened to flog her.
Unfortunately, all he had said was true. Seamen on her papa’s and brothers’ ships were flogged for disobedience or clamped in irons. Neither thought was pleasant. A fact she only now remembered. She spun, straightened her shoulders, and pulled herself up to her full height. She wouldn’t show fear.
Captain Danvers released her and eyed her up and down. And then his gaze shot to her lower half. He stared at her legs in amazement, his body stiffer than usual if that was possible. “What the bloody hell are you wearing?”
“What you told me to, Captain.”
“Not in that manner, I didn’t.”
Her face burned. She didn’t want him to see any more of her than necessary—she didn’t trust him—but now it was too late. “But—”
“Fix it.”
With trembling fingers that flew, she yanked the hem from her waist, and tugged it down. She straightened the garment and brushed at the wrinkles at a brisk pace. Satisfied he could find no fault, she returned to her rigid stance.
And waited.
And waited.
The groaning of timber, the flap of the sails, the swish of water, and the clang of metal surrounded her but not the captain’s deep voice. Would he flog her? Was she strong enough to bite back her screams and not beg for mercy? She had never seen a man flogged. Her papa had ordered her to remain in her cabin whenever he meted out a punishment. But she had heard the moans and cries of the men, the whip as it slashed through the air, and the tearing of flesh when it landed. Her stomach collapsed upon itself and bile rose. How many times would it slice open her back?
With her legs quaking beneath her skirt, her rapid, shallow breathing and the galloping of her heart drowned out all sounds as her mind conjured disgusting, frightening images. She clasped her hands together in front of her, her knuckles white. How long would he make her wait to learn of her punishment?
She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Captain.”
“Quiet.”
She fell silent again, terrified of antagonizing him further. Arianna glanced at him to gauge his mood and found him staring at her, his face expressionless. She dropped her lids. She was sure the fear that filled her showed in her eyes, and she didn’t wish him to learn of her terror. She must portray bravery and courage. At least attempt to.
“Arianna.”
She jumped.
“Come here.”
His calm, even, controlled voice betrayed nothing.
She shuffled a half step forward.
He huffed in frustration. “Two steps more.”
Her body almost touched his. Heat radiated from him, burning into her. She inhaled his unique scent of spice, the ocean, coffee, and authority and confidence. Her anxiety now mixed with an awareness new to her.
Placing a commanding finger beneath her chin, he lifted her head. “Arianna, look at me.”
She had no choice but to comply. Her gaze landed on his mouth. Mesmerized, an insane urge filled her to touch the smooth flesh with her fingers and feel the moist fire of his lips against her own.
She must be insane. He spoke of punishing her, and she yearned for his kisses. Tearing her gaze away, she stared into his unreadable eyes.
“Do you still want to be a seaman, Arianna?”
“Yes, Captain.”
His lips tightened. “Why?”
She had never told a living soul the real reason, but no one had ever asked her why. Only insisted she couldn’t.
“I met a lady begging in the streets with her three daughters and two sons.
“You can leave us now.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Arianna turned to follow. Morgan clamped his hand on her shoulder. “You wait here.”
****
Arianna’s stomach quivered as Mark marched away, looking back over his shoulder with a sympathetic expression. She didn’t want to be left alone with Captain Danvers. His chocolate-colored eyes had turned dark and dangerous, and he had threatened to flog her.
Unfortunately, all he had said was true. Seamen on her papa’s and brothers’ ships were flogged for disobedience or clamped in irons. Neither thought was pleasant. A fact she only now remembered. She spun, straightened her shoulders, and pulled herself up to her full height. She wouldn’t show fear.
Captain Danvers released her and eyed her up and down. And then his gaze shot to her lower half. He stared at her legs in amazement, his body stiffer than usual if that was possible. “What the bloody hell are you wearing?”
“What you told me to, Captain.”
“Not in that manner, I didn’t.”
Her face burned. She didn’t want him to see any more of her than necessary—she didn’t trust him—but now it was too late. “But—”
“Fix it.”
With trembling fingers that flew, she yanked the hem from her waist, and tugged it down. She straightened the garment and brushed at the wrinkles at a brisk pace. Satisfied he could find no fault, she returned to her rigid stance.
And waited.
And waited.
The groaning of timber, the flap of the sails, the swish of water, and the clang of metal surrounded her but not the captain’s deep voice. Would he flog her? Was she strong enough to bite back her screams and not beg for mercy? She had never seen a man flogged. Her papa had ordered her to remain in her cabin whenever he meted out a punishment. But she had heard the moans and cries of the men, the whip as it slashed through the air, and the tearing of flesh when it landed. Her stomach collapsed upon itself and bile rose. How many times would it slice open her back?
With her legs quaking beneath her skirt, her rapid, shallow breathing and the galloping of her heart drowned out all sounds as her mind conjured disgusting, frightening images. She clasped her hands together in front of her, her knuckles white. How long would he make her wait to learn of her punishment?
She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Captain.”
“Quiet.”
She fell silent again, terrified of antagonizing him further. Arianna glanced at him to gauge his mood and found him staring at her, his face expressionless. She dropped her lids. She was sure the fear that filled her showed in her eyes, and she didn’t wish him to learn of her terror. She must portray bravery and courage. At least attempt to.
“Arianna.”
She jumped.
“Come here.”
His calm, even, controlled voice betrayed nothing.
She shuffled a half step forward.
He huffed in frustration. “Two steps more.”
Her body almost touched his. Heat radiated from him, burning into her. She inhaled his unique scent of spice, the ocean, coffee, and authority and confidence. Her anxiety now mixed with an awareness new to her.
Placing a commanding finger beneath her chin, he lifted her head. “Arianna, look at me.”
She had no choice but to comply. Her gaze landed on his mouth. Mesmerized, an insane urge filled her to touch the smooth flesh with her fingers and feel the moist fire of his lips against her own.
She must be insane. He spoke of punishing her, and she yearned for his kisses. Tearing her gaze away, she stared into his unreadable eyes.
“Do you still want to be a seaman, Arianna?”
“Yes, Captain.”
His lips tightened. “Why?”
She had never told a living soul the real reason, but no one had ever asked her why. Only insisted she couldn’t.
“I met a lady begging in the streets with her three daughters and two sons.
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