"With your permission, I'l begin preparations."
"Good man." Isaac watched the lieutenant weave his way through the tavern crowd. He had preparations t o make a s well—accounts t o be settled,
business to be transacted before he sailed again. The list was never-ending when one spent the majority of time at sea. But tonight he wouldn't do any of
that.
Tonight he'd visit Coral once again.
He glared at his piece of beef, his mood foul as he remembered how she'd used him the night before. He'd known making love to Coral wouldn't be easy,
but the woman had used him like a goddamned whore. And then she'd somehow expected him not to notice that she'd never been engaged in the act at
al . He'd left her before he said or did something he'd regret later.
"Wil ye be wantin' more ale, sir?" the tavern wench asked flirtatiously at his elbow.
He looked up and unconsciously transferred his glare to the poor woman. Her pretty blue eyes widened in fright.
Isaac smoothed his expression and made his voice gentle. "Nay, lass, I'm done here."
Outside, the sun was beginning to set, taking her warmth with her. Isaac pul ed his cloak about his body as he walked to Aphrodite's Grotto. All the way he
brooded on Coral and her deceptions and the kind of fool who would return to a woman such as she. But when he at last stood before her little door and
watched it open he forgot al that. Coral's chin was lifted, her mouth stretched in a faintly mocking smile, but he could see the uncertainty that lurked in her
exotic green eyes. Isaac sighed. "Invite me in, love."
He saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes before she stepped back.
"Please come in, Captain Wargate."
He nodded. "Thank you."
Her smal concession soothed him a bit. He entered the room and turned to study her. She didn't seem to know quite what to do, now that he was here.
Wel , that made two of them.
"I don't know what you want," she said, sounding accusing.
"I know," he replied drily.
She looked hurt.
Oh, Christ. He rubbed his jaw, realizing absently that he needed a shave. "Do you have any wine?"
"Yes." She glided to the table and poured him a glass, bringing it to him. She offered the wineglass to him silently, holding it in both hands. He took it,
meeting her gaze. She wasn't the type of woman to apologize, even if she'd known—and admitted—what she'd done wrong. The very first captain he'd
served under—a wise old seadog—
had told him that happy men accepted what was real and under their nose. Chasing after impossible wishes only drove a man to melancholy and
excessive drink.
Isaac sipped his wine, then walked to the table and set the glass down, feeling suddenly lighter. He looked at Coral. "Come here." Her expression was
clearly wary, but her curiosity must've won out over her reticence. She crept closer, stopping just out of arm's reach.
He sat on a chair and spread his legs, patting one knee. "Come." Her look was almost resentful, but she came nonetheless, perching uneasily o n his
thigh. He wrapped an arm around her, but held her back when she tried to kiss him.
"What do you want from me?" she exclaimed irritably.
"Let me explain," he said soothingly as he drew her skirts up with his free hand. "You and I have a confusion as to terms." She glanced down distractedly
as he slid his palm under her skirts, along her bare thigh. "What?"
"Making love," he stated and traced a gentle circle against her warm skin. She was s o soft, i t was like petting a kitten. "To you the phrase means an
exchange of money, a business transaction with only one of the parties deriving pleasure. To me making love is a mutual thing of benefit to both."
She caught his wrist, stil ing the hand on her thigh. Her eyes were a little desperate. "What do you mean to do?"
"I'd like to show you my way of making love," he said gently. She hesitated, clearly thinking it over. He let her, patiently waiting. She had to agree to the act
—he'd not make her.
Final y she let his
"Good man." Isaac watched the lieutenant weave his way through the tavern crowd. He had preparations t o make a s well—accounts t o be settled,
business to be transacted before he sailed again. The list was never-ending when one spent the majority of time at sea. But tonight he wouldn't do any of
that.
Tonight he'd visit Coral once again.
He glared at his piece of beef, his mood foul as he remembered how she'd used him the night before. He'd known making love to Coral wouldn't be easy,
but the woman had used him like a goddamned whore. And then she'd somehow expected him not to notice that she'd never been engaged in the act at
al . He'd left her before he said or did something he'd regret later.
"Wil ye be wantin' more ale, sir?" the tavern wench asked flirtatiously at his elbow.
He looked up and unconsciously transferred his glare to the poor woman. Her pretty blue eyes widened in fright.
Isaac smoothed his expression and made his voice gentle. "Nay, lass, I'm done here."
Outside, the sun was beginning to set, taking her warmth with her. Isaac pul ed his cloak about his body as he walked to Aphrodite's Grotto. All the way he
brooded on Coral and her deceptions and the kind of fool who would return to a woman such as she. But when he at last stood before her little door and
watched it open he forgot al that. Coral's chin was lifted, her mouth stretched in a faintly mocking smile, but he could see the uncertainty that lurked in her
exotic green eyes. Isaac sighed. "Invite me in, love."
He saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes before she stepped back.
"Please come in, Captain Wargate."
He nodded. "Thank you."
Her smal concession soothed him a bit. He entered the room and turned to study her. She didn't seem to know quite what to do, now that he was here.
Wel , that made two of them.
"I don't know what you want," she said, sounding accusing.
"I know," he replied drily.
She looked hurt.
Oh, Christ. He rubbed his jaw, realizing absently that he needed a shave. "Do you have any wine?"
"Yes." She glided to the table and poured him a glass, bringing it to him. She offered the wineglass to him silently, holding it in both hands. He took it,
meeting her gaze. She wasn't the type of woman to apologize, even if she'd known—and admitted—what she'd done wrong. The very first captain he'd
served under—a wise old seadog—
had told him that happy men accepted what was real and under their nose. Chasing after impossible wishes only drove a man to melancholy and
excessive drink.
Isaac sipped his wine, then walked to the table and set the glass down, feeling suddenly lighter. He looked at Coral. "Come here." Her expression was
clearly wary, but her curiosity must've won out over her reticence. She crept closer, stopping just out of arm's reach.
He sat on a chair and spread his legs, patting one knee. "Come." Her look was almost resentful, but she came nonetheless, perching uneasily o n his
thigh. He wrapped an arm around her, but held her back when she tried to kiss him.
"What do you want from me?" she exclaimed irritably.
"Let me explain," he said soothingly as he drew her skirts up with his free hand. "You and I have a confusion as to terms." She glanced down distractedly
as he slid his palm under her skirts, along her bare thigh. "What?"
"Making love," he stated and traced a gentle circle against her warm skin. She was s o soft, i t was like petting a kitten. "To you the phrase means an
exchange of money, a business transaction with only one of the parties deriving pleasure. To me making love is a mutual thing of benefit to both."
She caught his wrist, stil ing the hand on her thigh. Her eyes were a little desperate. "What do you mean to do?"
"I'd like to show you my way of making love," he said gently. She hesitated, clearly thinking it over. He let her, patiently waiting. She had to agree to the act
—he'd not make her.
Final y she let his
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