Page 19 of A Siren for the Duke

“Save your empty compliments for the ladies in Port Royal, Captain. I am not so easily impressed by smooth talk.”

He chuckled and leaned against the wall, a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face. She hated that he looked so good at that moment, as she was quite determined to hate him, but she could not deny he cut a fine figure in his Navy coat.

“You wound me with your skepticism, Madam. Are you suggesting I am incapable of sincerity?”

“Sincerity?” she balked, looking up from the book, finger still holding her place. “Is that what they call your talent for weaving lies and deceit?”

Lionel straightened up and frowned, his voice dripping with mock hurt as he spoke.

“My dearest lady, I am pained by your lack of trust. Here I am, risking life, limb, and my professional status to protect your precious reputation.”

Jemima snapped the book shut and set it on the desk beside her.

“Protect my reputation? There is nothing left. You did a fine job of ruining it already, and I did not ask you to protect me during this journey. If you think you will earn my forgiveness by paying penance somehow, you are sorely mistaken.”

Lionel feigned offense, dramatically placing a hand over his heart.

“Ruining it? I prefer to think of it as adding a little spice, a little excitement, to your otherwise mundane life.”

She rose to her feet and crossed her arms defiantly.

“Ah yes, nothing says ‘respectable lady’ like being held captive in a handsome rogue’s cabin.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth upon hearing the word “handsome.”

“You are a scoundrel, and I hate you more than you can fathom,” she asserted.

“A scoundrel? No, indeed. I prefer the term charming rascal. It has a certain pleasant ring to it.”

“Yes, because it sounds much more pleasant than ‘self-absorbed tyrant.’ Wouldn’t you agree?”

Lionel shook his head. “No, I would not.”

“Why are you here? You have not graced my presence in a long time. Why now?”

He sidled up to her, still smirking. She backed away on instinct, and he chuckled.

“A seagull told me you are unhappy being a prisoner here.”

Jemima’s eyes darkened with understanding. Ellis had told him about their conversation last night. Odd, she did not think he would take her so literally.

“Oh?”

“Yes. If you are so desperate to be useful, you can help the cook in the galley.”

She frowned. “What if I don’t want to?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“I’m afraid you have no choice.”

Before she could react, Lionel lunged forward and scooped her up, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. She screamed and pounded on his back with her fists, imploring him to let her down.

But he disregarded her protests, and she realized she had no choice but to comply as he carried her down to the galley.

How funny life was – one day, she’d been a lady, and now she was to be a scullery maid.

CHAPTER NINE