panicked? “Like I said, Belle, I don’t remember.”
Her amber eyes drifted to the floorboards. “It was a gift from my father for my twentieth year.”
He went to the next crate to grope. “Does it have any meaning?”
“No.”
Well, that was uttered posthaste. Damian stuck his head out of the crate to stare at her. “You don’t know its meaning?”
“It has sentimental meaning.”
“So your father gave you a ring without bothering to understand its message?”
Those amber eyes, alight with fire, pinned back on him. “I would think the message was rather clear.”
“Aye, time getting away. But why give you such a ring?”
She shrugged.
“So you have no idea? Rather odd if you ask me.”
“Well, no one’s asking you,” she snapped. “And there’s nothing odd about my father.”
She blushed when she made the assertion. Now that was definitely odd.
“Something you’re not telling me, Belle?”
“Never mind.” She huffed and headed for the door.
He grabbed her by the arm. He wasn’t sure why. He should let her go. He had work to do and she only distracted him. But he held her steadfast.
“Don’t worry about your peculiar family,” he murmured. “Mine’s not normal either.”
She made a moue and broke free of his hold, verily stomping out.
Mirabelle wrinkled her nose at the pungent scent. It was making her a bit queasy. She was entombed below deck, ordered to disinfect the causeways with vinegar and salt. After a brief repose, she went back on her hands and knees and scrubbed away, but in the shiny, wet wood planks, she imagined the rugged features of one aggravating navigator, a seductive glow in his deep blue eyes, and her whole body started to hum.
Mirabelle sloshed more vinegar over the floor, scouring across the haunting face. She was a bloody half-wit, letting Damian affect her so. She had so much work to do. Precious time should not be wasted on idle daydreaming.
And why the devil was she thinking about him of all men? The arrogant blackguard who ordered her about like a tyrant? He only upset her at every turn. Unnerved her, too, with all that huffing and glowering…and grabbing.
The queasiness in her belly grew worse. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sultry sensation of his hard-muscled thighs pressed against her buttocks as he’d yanked her from the wood posts. But it did no good. She shuddered in remembrance. Her body wasn’t willing to forget the tingles of excitement that had washed through her when he’d strapped his large body behind hers. The power surging through him had been palpable. It’d scorched her flesh, whipped her insides into a frenzy. Something had stirred deep within her womb. A pulsing need she had never felt before.
Mirabelle opened her eyes and blinked a few times. She really had to stop her woolgathering. She had been washing the same spot for the last five minutes. At this rate, she would never get done.
Moving to a new area, she set to work on polishing the floor. But try as she might, she simply could not dismiss the thought of Damian from her mind. Worse, prickles of pleasure dotted her skin, as though the man were still touching her, staring at her…
Mirabelle glanced over her shoulder and stifled a gasp.
Damian stood at the far end of the gallery, thick arms crossed over his strapping chest, hip cocked and resting against the wall. He was watching her, intent in his smoldering gaze. Intent to do what, though?
She shivered under the lazy caress of his burning blue eyes. He moved from the wall and started toward her, a slow saunter that made the nerves in her body dance a jig.
It was hopeless, evading the man. On a ship like the Bonny Meg there wasn’t much room for privacy. She had to accept that. She had to get used to the new navigator and bring her capricious emotions under control. Otherwise, the journey home was going to be a thorny pain in the—
“I remember now, Belle.”
Damian came to crouch beside her,
Her amber eyes drifted to the floorboards. “It was a gift from my father for my twentieth year.”
He went to the next crate to grope. “Does it have any meaning?”
“No.”
Well, that was uttered posthaste. Damian stuck his head out of the crate to stare at her. “You don’t know its meaning?”
“It has sentimental meaning.”
“So your father gave you a ring without bothering to understand its message?”
Those amber eyes, alight with fire, pinned back on him. “I would think the message was rather clear.”
“Aye, time getting away. But why give you such a ring?”
She shrugged.
“So you have no idea? Rather odd if you ask me.”
“Well, no one’s asking you,” she snapped. “And there’s nothing odd about my father.”
She blushed when she made the assertion. Now that was definitely odd.
“Something you’re not telling me, Belle?”
“Never mind.” She huffed and headed for the door.
He grabbed her by the arm. He wasn’t sure why. He should let her go. He had work to do and she only distracted him. But he held her steadfast.
“Don’t worry about your peculiar family,” he murmured. “Mine’s not normal either.”
She made a moue and broke free of his hold, verily stomping out.
Mirabelle wrinkled her nose at the pungent scent. It was making her a bit queasy. She was entombed below deck, ordered to disinfect the causeways with vinegar and salt. After a brief repose, she went back on her hands and knees and scrubbed away, but in the shiny, wet wood planks, she imagined the rugged features of one aggravating navigator, a seductive glow in his deep blue eyes, and her whole body started to hum.
Mirabelle sloshed more vinegar over the floor, scouring across the haunting face. She was a bloody half-wit, letting Damian affect her so. She had so much work to do. Precious time should not be wasted on idle daydreaming.
And why the devil was she thinking about him of all men? The arrogant blackguard who ordered her about like a tyrant? He only upset her at every turn. Unnerved her, too, with all that huffing and glowering…and grabbing.
The queasiness in her belly grew worse. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sultry sensation of his hard-muscled thighs pressed against her buttocks as he’d yanked her from the wood posts. But it did no good. She shuddered in remembrance. Her body wasn’t willing to forget the tingles of excitement that had washed through her when he’d strapped his large body behind hers. The power surging through him had been palpable. It’d scorched her flesh, whipped her insides into a frenzy. Something had stirred deep within her womb. A pulsing need she had never felt before.
Mirabelle opened her eyes and blinked a few times. She really had to stop her woolgathering. She had been washing the same spot for the last five minutes. At this rate, she would never get done.
Moving to a new area, she set to work on polishing the floor. But try as she might, she simply could not dismiss the thought of Damian from her mind. Worse, prickles of pleasure dotted her skin, as though the man were still touching her, staring at her…
Mirabelle glanced over her shoulder and stifled a gasp.
Damian stood at the far end of the gallery, thick arms crossed over his strapping chest, hip cocked and resting against the wall. He was watching her, intent in his smoldering gaze. Intent to do what, though?
She shivered under the lazy caress of his burning blue eyes. He moved from the wall and started toward her, a slow saunter that made the nerves in her body dance a jig.
It was hopeless, evading the man. On a ship like the Bonny Meg there wasn’t much room for privacy. She had to accept that. She had to get used to the new navigator and bring her capricious emotions under control. Otherwise, the journey home was going to be a thorny pain in the—
“I remember now, Belle.”
Damian came to crouch beside her,
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