Page 22 of The Rogue

He looked at her sharply. Was she implying that he was a coward? He’d never run from a fight in his life. He’d gained his reputation as a charismatic lover and charmer perhaps, but he’d not lived this long in a brutal world by being afraid of a fight. But it wasn’t accusation he saw in her eyes, it was compassion.

“I’m not afraid,” he replied, his voice hard.

“Then why did you look like you’d seen a ghost when you saw that ship?”

A mirthless bark of laughter escaped his lips. “Perhaps I had.”

He reached down and grasped the bottle at his feet, drinking deeply once more, but to his annoyance she snatched it away from him, stuffed the cork back in and shoved it in the nearest desk drawer.

“If you are to find a way out of whatever predicament you seem to be in, I think you need a clear head. Don’t you?” she demanded.

Lars stared at her. Those warm brown eyes were on him with such fierce determination as though she’d decided to save him again and she was damn well going to do it.

“What do you care?” he asked, refusing to believe what he saw there. “I’m not going to escape this one. I can’t outrun them, and we didn’t have time to provision properly, so they can just sit on our tail until we starve to death, or the men decide to give me up in return for their freedom, and I have a fair idea which they’ll choose.”

“But then why don’t you fight?” she demanded, and he was quite taken aback by the ferocity behind her words. “Aren’t you the Rogue? The stories I read about that man lead me to believe he would never run from a fight!”

“I cannot fire upon The Revenge!” he shouted in frustration and then buried his head in his hands.

He deserved this, he realised, he knew he did. But how the devil was he going to get out of this mess? He couldn’t allow The Revenge to blow his men out of the water, and if he didn’t take control of the situation and lead them to engage the vessel, they would appoint another captain who would. And he couldn’t allow that either. No harm would come to The Revenge, he wouldn’t let that happen, not now.

He started as the gentle slide of a hand stroked his hair. It was soothing, calming, and he took a breath as she repeated the motion.

“Who is on that ship?” she asked, her voice quiet.

He glanced up to see those beautiful eyes looking at him as though she really did care, as though she would save him if she could. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Well, the fates were really getting their money’s worth today, he thought with a bitter smile. Now they send him a woman like this when there was damn all he could do about it.

“The past,” he whispered. “The past is on that ship, and I cannot do it any more damage than I already have.”

She frowned and held out her hand, holding it to his face, her thumb caressing his cheek bone. “You are in quite a fix, aren’t you, pirate?”

Despite himself, he laughed. “You could say that.” Not daring to move any further for fear she would remove her hand, he stilled. He didn’t want her to stop touching him.

Lawrence wanted to sit here and look at those pretty eyes and feel her hand, warm against his cheek. He wanted to pretend that great black spectre on the horizon was nothing more than a storm cloud that would pass by if he was patient. If he kept looking into her eyes.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

Kiss me.

The words were in his head in an instant and he knew she must see it in his eyes, but he wouldn’t say it. He didn’t feel he could. Not now. If he was going to die, whether he was consigned to the depths of the ocean or taken to hang, he would do one good thing before he died. He wouldn’t take anything more from this woman than had already been taken.

But then, she moved forward and pressed her lips against his.

Chapter 13

“Wherein fires are lit in a room full of powder.”

Henri pulled away and saw her own shock reflected back at her in his eyes. The bright blue had seemed dull, his expression so utterly hopeless that she hadn’t known what else to do. She only knew she wanted the insufferable, arrogant pirate back, that all too charming man with the merry blue eyes who made her blood boil and her heart race. She wanted to take away the pain she saw in his eyes and lift off the shadow of the past that hung over him. Henri felt she could almost see it, the weight of it at least, as it bowed his shoulders. And so she had kissed him.

His breath caught at the first press of her lips, an encouraging sign she thought, as she had drawn back, just a little, to brush her lips against his again. She was tentative, not really certain of what she was doing, and only knowing she was mimicking the manner in which he had kissed her before. Had it really only been this morning?

But it was not only shock in his eyes and her heart began to crash with wild abandon as she understood what that meant.

She had read enough romance novels in her life to know she could never be happy being married to a cold and indifferent man who would never love her to distraction. She had wanted to know love and passion, to know what it was to be desired above all else.

Well, her foolish plan may mean she would not experience what it was to be married to a man who loved her, but she knew this man needed her, for the moment at least. And she was likely the biggest fool in the world, but she could no more walk away from him now than she could have let the militia men drag him away to the gallows.

She raised her other hand, holding his face between them and feeling a warmth that spread through her chest as a smile tugged at that gorgeous mouth of his.