Page 9 of The Rogue

“Yes,” he murmured, his tone sending shivers over her skin. “A very good job you are a woman, my lady.”

She folded her arms, hoping she looked confident, though in truth she was trying to disguise the fact her hands were trembling. “Then it seems I must be thankful for the fact I have been born a female,” she said, not attempting to disguise her contempt. “There is a first time for everything I suppose.”

He frowned, his expression curious as he reached for the bottle and poured another measure. “Why would you say that?”

She stared back at him, eyes wide. It never ceased to amaze her that men believed women should be grateful for the accident of their birth. That they should be content to be considered property with no rights of their own, to be given by their fathers to be married off to another man who would own them in turn.

“Why would I not?” His attitude pricked at a grievance that had infuriated her since she was a small child and had first understood the restrictions of her life as a girl. She snorted as his obvious lack of understanding made his frown deepen. “Tell me, why is it you’re a pirate? There are many honest ways of working at sea.”

He removed his feet from the desk and leaned forward, regarding her with an intense expression. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” he said.

There was amusement in his eyes, and she felt a spark of anger.

“Because you don’t like rules and you don’t like to be told what to do and when to do it. Because you want to be free.”

She watched as he smiled, a slow smile that changed his face. In her fear of the past hours she had forgotten just how handsome he was. That smile reminded her, and she remembered again the moment in the shop when he had pulled her close and kissed her.

“Well you’re half right,” he said, and she fought the blush she felt rising behind her skin as his eyes travelled over her. “That’s not why I became a pirate, but it is why I remain so.”

She knew he would not answer the question, so she asked it anyway. “Why then, what drew you to this life if not freedom and adventure?”

He chuckled again, and it was a warm sound that rumbled through her. A good sound, it made her want to make him do it again. It was all too easy to forget her fear in the warmth of that laughter and she realised this was the power he had, that easy, seductive charisma that made abducted wives want to stay with him rather than return to their lives. His long fingers caressed the side of his glass as he considered her.

“Oh no.” He shook his head, smiling and rubbed at the stubble on his chin with a calloused hand. Henri looked away, wondering why those hands held her attention so. “I asked first after all,” he said, “and you still haven’t answered.”

She huffed and turned away from him with annoyance. “Yes, I have,” she snapped. “If you had only listened.”

Henri sipped at her drink, enjoying the warmth that burned in her throat at least and hugged her arms about herself. The freezing temperature was biting now, and she shivered. She was tired, cold to her bones and dismayed by how badly things had gone wrong.

Perhaps the men were right, she should have been happy with her lot. Maybe she should have put her own desires and ambitions aside and been content to sit and sew and paint, to make polite conversation and marry and have children as she was supposed to, fighting it had never bought her anything but trouble and dissatisfaction. She would have been happier if she’d just done as she’d been bid.

She hadn’t heard him move, and so his voice when it came directly behind her made her jump.

“You mean to tell me you long for adventure, that you want to be free?”

She turned to find him standing far closer than was comfortable. To her surprise there was no mockery in his tone, and only curiosity in his eyes. She blinked and looked away from him. She was unwilling to tell him she no longer knew what she wanted.

“Doesn’t everyone?” she replied, hearing her own despair and knowing the weight of hopelessness was evident in her answer. How many people in the world were truly free, men or women?

He gave a bark of laughter. “No.” He gave an emphatic shake of his head and she frowned at him. “Most people do not wish to be free. They like the security of the confines of society. It makes them feel safe. Everything in order and in its place.”

For a moment she dared to stare at him, to stare into those cool blue eyes and try to see what it was he truly thought. Again, she saw no condemnation, no scorn for the idea of a woman wanting to be free, independent of a man. He looked interested though she was no fool. That interest was most likely laid in the best way he could profit from her.

She turned her back on him. “Please, take me home.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” His voice was cool and unyielding, and she turned around to demand he explain and staggered as the ship lurched sideways. Her glass slipped from her hand and smashed to the floor. He grasped hold of her arms, steadying her and tutting in irritation at the broken glass on his cabin floor.

“Where are we going?” she demanded as she realised the movement had been steadily increasing while they spoke.

He grinned at her, and this time the wickedness that was illustrated in the tales of his exploits was only too clear. “Far away from here,” he said, showing a row of even white teeth.

Henri tried to wriggle out of the grasp of his hands. “Let me go!” She figured it didn’t really matter whether she meant from his hands or off the ship, either way she needed to get away from him, for so many reasons. “Please, you must let me go, surely you do not want to add kidnapping to your list of crimes?” she raged at him.

She gasped as he pulled her closer, one arm snaking around her waist to hold her body flush against him. Putting her hands flat on his chest she pushed him away, but both his grip around her and his chest were hard and immovable.

“You really think I care what they hang me for?” he demanded, his tone just as angry. “If I’m caught, I have enough crimes to condemn me, do you think it matters if I hang for piracy or the kidnapping of Lady Henrietta Morton? Dead is dead.”

“The only reason you’re not swinging from the end of a rope right at this moment is because I saved you,” she said, her voice full of fury as rage outweighed terror. “There was no way out of that shop, and you know it. I saved your life, the least you can do is return me to land before you make your escape.”