The Sinner Who Seduced Me by Stefanie Sloane

dishonorable man had cut deep—far more than it should have considering the company he was keeping.
    The deckhand slid to a stop at James’s side and handed the scissors over. “Blimey,” he proclaimed, looking out at the storm nipping at their heels. “It’s going to be a nasty one,” he said.
    “You’ve no idea,” James replied before turning for the stairs.
    Clarissa had found great satisfaction in throwing the chair. For a moment. Then she’d quickly regretted its demise, since the less James realized his ability to vex her, the better. And he’d surely know she’d vented her temper by breaking the chair. She’d sighed, gathered up the broken bits, and dropped them into an empty chest at the foot of the built-in bed.
    And then she’d cried. She tried to stave it off, afraid that James would return and find her sniveling in the corner. Of course the man would realize he still held theability to irritate, but did she really need to shed tears over the fact? Nevertheless, her emotions had gotten the best of her—again—and she’d climbed into the hard bed, pulled the coarse bed linens up about her head, and sobbed.
    James wasn’t the man she remembered. Clarissa supposed that was to be expected, at least to a certain extent. She’d been changed forever by their involvement, and logically, it made sense that he had been, too. But it was more than that. When he’d placed his hand on her chin and looked into her eyes, she thought she’d seen a flash of the man she’d known and loved. But the moment had passed too quickly for her to be sure she’d seen something substantive.
    The ship pitched forward, sending Clarissa sliding toward the end of the bed. Before she could right herself, the ship pitched back and she tumbled to her original position, tangled in the bed linens.
    The cabin door was wrenched open. James appeared, holding the doorjamb to steady himself as the ship wallowed, then threatened to rock forward again. “Clarissa,” he called, his gaze quickly searching the small room until he located her in the bed.
    Clarissa attempted to rise from her inelegant position, only to be catapulted to the end of the bed yet again by the rocking ship. “What is going on? Does this have something to do with the blockade?” she demanded.
    He stepped into the room and slammed the door shut behind him, throwing the lock. Just as he turned toward Clarissa, the heavy storage chest slid across the floor and smashed into the opposite wall, narrowly missing him. “No, we made it past the ships. We’re in the midst of a storm.”
    Clarissa planted her hands firmly on the mattress on either side of her hips and struggled to push herself upright.
    “Stay where you are,” James commanded, steadying himself against the wall before staggering across the rolling floor to reach the chest. He grabbed a handle and pulled, dragging the heavy box across the floor and wedging it into the corner at the end of the bed. “This is the safest place for us until the storm passes,” he added, climbing in next to her.
    Waves crashed into the ship, lifting the vessel and sending the floor pitching at an angle again. Clarissa rolled into James and screamed.
    “Clarissa, listen to me.” James wrapped his arms around her and dragged her against his chest. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?”
    Clarissa tried to pull back, but his iron hold on her didn’t lessen. The ship’s timbers groaned as the waves hammered against the sides. Terrified, she buried her face against his linen shirt, comforted by the warm, hard wall of his chest and the solid, reassuring beat of his heart. “Why should I?” she ground out, squeezing her eyes shut.
    “Clarissa, look at me!”
    The sharp command was colored with a faint hint of desperation. Compelled, Clarissa opened her eyes and tipped her face up to his. There was a glimmer of the man she’d once known there, deep within his umber eyes. She felt sure this time. Not