Page 54 of Scandalous

He snorted. “You wanted to complete the task of throwing away your virginity?”

“It is mine to throw. Was mine,” she corrected, not looking nearly so cool.

Martín studied her flushed face and sighed. “So, what do you want from me now, eh?”

Her already flushed face mottled. “Don’t worry! I don’t expect a declaration of everlasting love or marriage from someone like you.”

Someone like him? What did she mean? Had she learned what he’d done in New Orleans? Was that why she’d come to him today?

“Somebody like me,” he repeated, the words like broken glass in his mouth.

“What I meant was—”

He held up one hand. “So, you came to me for a lesson in bed sport. Now you know what somebody like me can do to someone like you.”

“I did not mean it the way it sounded.”

“How did you mean it?”

“I have lived in a jungle my entire life. I wanted to know more about . . . things . . . before I reached England. I am tired of being ignorant in such matters. I will be twenty-five on my next birthday and am no longer a girl.”

“Why didn’t you have Mies teach you about things?”

“Mies is a gentleman. He would never—” She stopped, her eyes widening. “I did not mean that the way it sounded. What I meant was—”

“Please, don’t apologize for something that does not bother me,” he lied. “I know I am no gentleman.” He forced an expression of tolerant amusement onto his face. He’d cut off his own damned head before he’d show how much her words rankled. “How do you think your slave-trading gentleman will feel when he learns what you have let me do to you? Begged me to do to you, in point of fact.”

Her face tightened, but she was honest enough not to argue with his assessment. “How would Mies ever find out about this?”

“Husbands usually learn such things on their wedding night.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “Mies has not asked me to marry him.”

“What will you tell him if he does?”

“That is hardly your affair, is it?” She stood and looked down her nose at him, smoothing her hideous dress across her hips. “I daresay I shan’t see you again after tomorrow.”

Martín felt as though he’d been kicked in the stomach by a horse. He lunged to his feet. “Well then, I am very pleased I could be of service to you before we parted ways. It was the least I could do after you answered my bookkeeping questions.” He flung a hand toward the cabin door. “I would like to return to what I was doing before you interrupted me.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and Martín could only hope he’d hurt her. He could only hope that she felt cheapened by the fact that she’d used him as a stud service since Graaf was too much of a bloody gentleman.

She touched his sleeve, and he jerked his arm away. “What is it now, Miss Fisher?”

“This is all a mistake. I’ve made a dreadful hash of things.”

“What? You regret begging me to take your virginity? Don’t worry, I will not tell Mies, or Daniels either,” he sneered.

She stamped her foot. “Why do you keep bringing Mies into this? Or Daniels? Are you jealous of my relationships with them? Why can’t you see that—”

Martín’s head buzzed at the word “jealous,” and he raised one hand, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. “One last piece of advice, mademoiselle. When it comes to bed sport, men are not interested in exhaustive discussion after they’ve had their fuck.”

She recoiled at the vulgar word, her mouth a shocked O and her face as pale as the sheets of paper scattered across his desk. Martín flung open the cabin door and turned his back on her.

She left without a sound.

* * *

Sarah stumbled to her cabin, grateful nobody was in the corridor to witness the tears streaming down her face. She locked the door and collapsed on the narrow bunk, her body shaking with silent sobs.