The Wayward One (The De Montforte Brothers Book 5) by Danelle Harmon Page B

she’d refused. “Suit yerself. But starvin’ yerself won’t change yer situation. Might as well make the best of it.”
    She said nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him reaching for one of the bowls of gruel and plunging a spoon into it. He ate rapidly, not savoring the food but shoveling it down with the same finesse that one might find in a hungry horse.
    Ill-bred cretin.
    “You have the manners of a trough animal,” she said scathingly.
    “Aye, well, at least I won’t be as hungry as one when I’ve finished both my portion and yers. Good stuff, this. Are ye certain you don’t want any?”
    “It looks disgusting.”
    “Oatmeal and peas. Navy food. Puts hair on yer chest.”
    “I don’t want…hair on my chest. I want to go home.”
    “Worth much to yer brothers?”
    “That is a stupid question. But considering its source, I’m not surprised.”
    “Because if you are, then this business will be over and done with before ye even have time to starve yerself. I dispatched a ransom note before we put to sea. You in exchange for the explosive and the formula on how to make it. I’m glad ye’re a close family. ’Twill be nice to have them hand over that formula with no trouble and no questions asked.” He looked up, smiling and all but batting those ridiculous long lashes of his, and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “To think, the mighty Duke of Blackheath doin’ me bidding. Now there’s a thought!”
    At this, Nerissa actually laughed, for the idea of Lucien doing anyone’s bidding was about as ludicrous as that of a mermaid popping up in their wake and waving hello.
    “Ah!” said the scoundrel beside her. “So ye do smile, after all. Laugh, even. Should do it more often. Makes ye even prettier, it does.”
    She immediately sobered and glared at him. “My amusement comes from imagining what is going to happen when that mighty duke catches up to you.”
    “Ye think he can best me in a fight?”
    Nerissa laughed again, harder this time.
    And now even her captor’s lips were twitching and the hard, intimidating edge to him had softened, his eyes sparkling with merriment. “Ye mustn’t love yer brother much, lass, if the idea of his demise brings ye such delight! Saints alive, Sunshine, if he doesn’t love you either, we might be stuck with each other longer than we both thought.”
    “That is not why I’m laughing.”
    He dug his spoon into his bowl and shoveled another glob of oatmeal into his mouth. His eyes were mischievous again, happy, bright. “Oh?”
    “I’m laughing because it brings me delight to imagine your heart speared on the end of his sword.”
    “Got a lot of faith in this brother of yers, do ye?”
    “Captain O’ Devir, I think you have a death wish.”
    “Aye, maybe I do,” he said, scraping the bowl with his spoon, “but at least I won’t die hungry.”

Chapter 5

    Ruaidri left her with the untouched bowl and, hoping she’d eat something by the time he returned, picked up his hat and left the cabin.
    He shut the door behind him, donned his tricorne and let out a deep breath.
    God almighty, involve a female and a situation was never simple. Involve a rich, spoiled, aristocratic English one who felt she was above everyone else on God’s green earth and it made things even more complicated.
    And amusing.
    He enjoyed baiting her. Making her angry. Thawing the ice in her lovely blue eyes and watching her try to maintain her composure, probably thinking he didn’t notice when he couldn’t help but notice ever damned thing about her. Like her pretty pink mouth that he ached to kiss—and almost had. The willowy elegance of her body that he longed to mold with his hands. The curve of her cheek and the shade of her hair, like wheat bleached by the late summer sun or the sand on a Connemara beach. What he did not like, though, was that bruise on her elbow—and the fear that had come into her eyes when he had come purposely up behind her.
    That