Page 98 of Debtor’s Daughter

“Lars?”

He nodded, smiling at the look on her face.

“But that isn’t even a name,” she objected. “Is it short for something?”

His smile dipped a little and he shrugged. “Perhaps, or at least it was a long time ago.”

“Oh?” Had that been regret in his eyes? Intrigued, she looked at him closely and wondered who he really was, or at least who he’d been. Were people born pirates? Or had fate or circumstance fallen on him just as it had for her. He’d implied as much at least. “What is it short for?”

“It really isn’t important,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “But I insist, as we are going to be living together in such ... close quarters, that you call me Lars.”

The seductive tone was back in his voice, and she knew damn well what he was playing at. She stood, squaring her shoulders and glaring down at him, which to her annoyance just seemed to amuse him all the more.

“Captain Savage,” she said, her voice as cold as the air that clouded in front of her as she spoke. “Take me to the galley or I shall find it myself.”

“Come, Hetty,” he said, using a nickname she despised.

“Henri!” she corrected him. “I loathe the name Hetty, though you may call me Miss Morton.

He chuckled. “Ah yes, Henri. I can see how well that suits you,” he said, raising one eyebrow.

Damn the man, mocking her again, but nonetheless her name on his lips sent an illicit thrill down her spine.

“Can we not at least be friends?” he asked as he lifted his feet from the edge of the desk and rose, moving with languid ease but never taking his eyes from hers.

“We are not friends, and I did not give you leave to use my name in such a familiar manner.”

Henri froze, rigid with tension as he began to move around the desk. She turned and circled away from him, moving to the side he had just vacated. This was ridiculous, she thought as panic began to scrabble around in her chest like a terrified mouse. Not that she was afraid, she amended to herself, though being afraid in such a situation was quite right and proper. The fact that she wasn’t as afraid of him as she was of herself, however, was quite outrageous.

“Do you really wish for me to chase you around the desk?” he asked, with a merry twinkle in his eyes.

Henri glared at him and prayed he would ascribe the flush she could feel colouring her cheeks to anger and not to the fact he’d almost read her thoughts.

“I do not!”

He started to chuckle and then appeared to think better of it and cleared his throat. With all trace of mockery and amusement wiped from his face he looked at her with every expression of kindness and sincerity. “Miss Morton,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “Please would you accompany me for a turn about the deck?”

She frowned at him, perplexed by his sudden change of course.

“It is a beautiful day,” he added. “The sun is up, and I know a sheltered spot where you may enjoy the sunshine. It will be warmer than this frozen box, I assure you.”

The idea of getting out of the cabin and feeling the sun on her face was too alluring to refuse. Plus she would surely be safer out there than in here alone with him.

“That would be ... lovely,” she replied, even though she didn’t trust the change in his demeanour one little bit. She was perfectly aware that he was simply trying another tack. There was no doubt in her mind that he meant to seduce her, and despite the fact that the idea made her blood thrill in her veins she had no intention of letting him. Let him try to charm her, she thought, gritting her teeth, for in return he would find her as cold and welcoming as the sea beneath them.

With reluctance she allowed him to place her hand on his arm and she followed him outside.