more, Damian, the lessons of a father. Mine made sure to teach me everything about sailing.” While the ship was moored, of course. Drake had never taken her out to sea. This was her first voyage, in fact. “Didn’t your father teach you how to be a tar?”
“My father wasn’t a sailor…and he never taught me anything of value.”
She looked into his azure blue eyes, so gloomy for an instant. She recognized that doleful expression, having often felt the same way herself. But the intensity in Damian’s gaze was unique. A depth of sorrow even she couldn’t fathom.
Suddenly curious, she decided it was time to learn more about the mysterious navigator and put her suspicions to rest. “If not a sailor, who was your father?”
Damian appeared to dislike the question. A pulse ticked in his neck. “He was no one special.”
Well, that wasn’t very informative. “Yes, but who was he—”
“Enough of this, Belle,” he said roughly. “Get down.”
Her flicker of curiosity smothered, she returned his poignant glare with a tart, “I will not.”
“Get down or I’ll haul you down myself.”
He wouldn’t dare, the blackguard! “I have to fix the ship, Damian. Captain’s order.”
“I’ll fix it.”
“It’s my ship. I’ll fix it.”
A black brow cocked in disbelief.
“Well, it is—sort of. It belongs to my brothers and I, so I have as much right to be here as any of them.”
“So why did you stow away?”
She took in a sharp breath. The conniving bounder! “You had no right to pry like that, Damian.”
“ You have no right to be here.”
She snorted and whacked the nail head hard. “My brothers are just being stubborn.”
“More like wise.”
Affronted, she demanded, “And what does that mean?”
“You shouldn’t be on the ship, Belle—at all.”
Oh, men were such a tenacious brood! “That’s not your choice to make, Damian.”
He glowered at her. “Get off the yard, Belle.”
“Why?”
“Because you have neither the strength nor the proper balance to be up here.”
“I’m hammering a piece of wood, not towing the ship.” She glared at the iron nail and imagined Damian’s head. Thwack! “How much strength do you think I need?” Thwack! Thwack! “And my balance is perfectly fine.”
Of course, the ship chose that very moment to dip and roll, tipping her sideways.
Damian reached for her, her muscles aching under the pressure of his grip.
He yanked her forward.
She gasped at the feel of his nose bumping hers. Dark eyes, burning hot, scorched her soul. He was so close. The heady scent of him swarmed her senses, making her heart tick hard and fast. She could almost taste him. She almost wanted to…
“Get down, Belle. Now!”
It was a cold command. Cutting and to the point. She didn’t argue. She could see it in his gaze, the tenacious resolve. If she so much as parted her lips for a breath, he’d take it as a sign of willfulness and toss her over his shoulder.
And what would James think with Damian dragging her down the ratlines? That she was stirring up trouble, that’s what. It was always her fault.
Snapped from her reverie, she gnashed her teeth and resisted the urge to clock Damian over the head with her mallet.
After a quick scan of the deck below, to ensure no one was watching, Mirabelle swung her leg over the yard and began to climb down the ratlines, Damian in tow.
She hit the deck.
Offering Damian one last scowl, she flounced off, fuming.
Chapter 5
T he sounds coming from the belly of the ship had Damian bristling.
He had come below in search of canvas, ordered by the captain to replace one of the badly worn jibs, but the noises stemming from the bowel of the ship, akin to groans, had him rooted to the spot.
Mirabelle.
He would recognize that smoky voice anywhere. And that she was making the most sensuous racket he had ever heard in his life had his body simmering with rage, for he was not the one making her sing like a wanton.
The abrupt
“My father wasn’t a sailor…and he never taught me anything of value.”
She looked into his azure blue eyes, so gloomy for an instant. She recognized that doleful expression, having often felt the same way herself. But the intensity in Damian’s gaze was unique. A depth of sorrow even she couldn’t fathom.
Suddenly curious, she decided it was time to learn more about the mysterious navigator and put her suspicions to rest. “If not a sailor, who was your father?”
Damian appeared to dislike the question. A pulse ticked in his neck. “He was no one special.”
Well, that wasn’t very informative. “Yes, but who was he—”
“Enough of this, Belle,” he said roughly. “Get down.”
Her flicker of curiosity smothered, she returned his poignant glare with a tart, “I will not.”
“Get down or I’ll haul you down myself.”
He wouldn’t dare, the blackguard! “I have to fix the ship, Damian. Captain’s order.”
“I’ll fix it.”
“It’s my ship. I’ll fix it.”
A black brow cocked in disbelief.
“Well, it is—sort of. It belongs to my brothers and I, so I have as much right to be here as any of them.”
“So why did you stow away?”
She took in a sharp breath. The conniving bounder! “You had no right to pry like that, Damian.”
“ You have no right to be here.”
She snorted and whacked the nail head hard. “My brothers are just being stubborn.”
“More like wise.”
Affronted, she demanded, “And what does that mean?”
“You shouldn’t be on the ship, Belle—at all.”
Oh, men were such a tenacious brood! “That’s not your choice to make, Damian.”
He glowered at her. “Get off the yard, Belle.”
“Why?”
“Because you have neither the strength nor the proper balance to be up here.”
“I’m hammering a piece of wood, not towing the ship.” She glared at the iron nail and imagined Damian’s head. Thwack! “How much strength do you think I need?” Thwack! Thwack! “And my balance is perfectly fine.”
Of course, the ship chose that very moment to dip and roll, tipping her sideways.
Damian reached for her, her muscles aching under the pressure of his grip.
He yanked her forward.
She gasped at the feel of his nose bumping hers. Dark eyes, burning hot, scorched her soul. He was so close. The heady scent of him swarmed her senses, making her heart tick hard and fast. She could almost taste him. She almost wanted to…
“Get down, Belle. Now!”
It was a cold command. Cutting and to the point. She didn’t argue. She could see it in his gaze, the tenacious resolve. If she so much as parted her lips for a breath, he’d take it as a sign of willfulness and toss her over his shoulder.
And what would James think with Damian dragging her down the ratlines? That she was stirring up trouble, that’s what. It was always her fault.
Snapped from her reverie, she gnashed her teeth and resisted the urge to clock Damian over the head with her mallet.
After a quick scan of the deck below, to ensure no one was watching, Mirabelle swung her leg over the yard and began to climb down the ratlines, Damian in tow.
She hit the deck.
Offering Damian one last scowl, she flounced off, fuming.
Chapter 5
T he sounds coming from the belly of the ship had Damian bristling.
He had come below in search of canvas, ordered by the captain to replace one of the badly worn jibs, but the noises stemming from the bowel of the ship, akin to groans, had him rooted to the spot.
Mirabelle.
He would recognize that smoky voice anywhere. And that she was making the most sensuous racket he had ever heard in his life had his body simmering with rage, for he was not the one making her sing like a wanton.
The abrupt
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