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Drake was blazing with rage. Hastily Smitty hurried to the helm, anticipating the confrontation that was about to occur. Drake swung his long body down to the main deck, taking slow, threatening steps toward a startled Alexandria.
“You neglected to include one small detail in your eloquent discourse.” His tone was scathing as he stopped, his eyes burning down into hers. “And that is that the fair wind of which you speak will become a foul one when we reach the Strait of Dover, in which case we would have to wait in the Downs until nature chooses to reverse the winds and allow us access to the Channel. Should this be necessary, it would increase our risk in the Goodwins, the treacherous sandbanks that could mean our destruction. Therefore it is infinitely more prudent to move at a more cautious pace, hoping that the wind will change as we reach the strait and thus ensure our swift journey down the Channel.” He drew in a slow breath, striving for control.
“Further,” he continued, towering over her, “it will be a cold day in hell before I begin taking orders from a woman on how to sail my ship.”
“I was not issuing an order, Captain.” Realizing her error, Alex wanted desperately to back away from this fearsome man whose cutting words and piercing gaze were like daggers to her very soul. But his damned arrogance made her stubbornly refuse to give in to her urge to back down. “And,” she added, raising her chin a defiant inch, “although I have not your experience on the Thames, I was merely offering you a qualified opinion.” She placed her hands on slim hips, meeting his glare with a challenging look.
“Qualified opinion? And just where did you acquire your knowledge, my lady?” he sneered.
“Through my own sailing, through reading, and through asking frequent intelligent questions.”
They faced each other in white-hot anger, oblivious to everyone else around them.
“Does that reply satisfy you, Captain?” Alex taunted.
Smitty glanced from one to the other, amazement and amusement on his face. Below him, twenty gaping mouths and twenty pairs of disbelieving eyes watched the scene unfolding. Never had they seen their captain lose control like this. And never had they heard a woman speak so knowledgeably about sailing. They were still reeling from the shock of seeing Alexandria on board. And now this. They froze, waiting to see who would react next.
They did not have long to wait.
“Right now we are discussing my ship,” Drake replied in a deceptively silky voice. His fists were clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were white. “We will discuss what will satisfy me later this evening in my cabin, my lady.”
Alex’s shocked gasp could be heard as clearly as Drake’s crude words. Color flooded her cheeks, as she glared at Drake’s mocking face.
“You are disgusting and rude, Captain. Were it not that I needed safe passage, I would—”
“But you do,” he reminded her.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then you will do as I say … whatever I say.”
Alex bit back her reply. She became aware for the first time of the wide-eyed stares around her. Smitty, standing just beyond Drake, was frowning disapprovingly at his captain’s back. Drake could feel Smitty’s unspoken censure and his crew’s shock, but he ignored them all, his jaw set, his gaze locked with Alex’s.
She lowered her long lashes to her cheeks, feeling helpless. He was purposely goading her. She was at his mercy and he knew it. And if he wanted to demean her in front of his men, he had the power to do so.
“I recognize your superior knowledge of sailing, sir, and so I defer to you. However”—she raised her mutinous storm-gray eyes to his—“my concessions apply only on deck, not in your cabin.”
She turned and strode away, pleased to have salvaged some of her pride.
The blood was pounding in Drake’s head. And hearing Smitty’s barely concealed chuckle did not help to calm him.
“Smitty, I’m warning you …”he ground out, returning to the helm. “As for the rest of you,” he barked at the gaping crew members, “what the hell are you staring at? You’re not being paid to ogle! Now get back to work!”
The deck was cleared in seconds.
Smitty patted Drake’s shoulder. “There, there, Captain,” he said blandly. “I think you handled yourself remarkably well.”
Drake shot him a look. “The little twit does know something of sailing,” he conceded, but only for Smitty’s ears.
“So it would seem,” Smitty agreed.
Drake’s piercing eyes followed her to the ship’s bow, where she leaned forward to view the world moving by her. She tossed back her hair, letting the wind blow in her face, unconcerned that the elements could mar her perfect complexion. She looked utterly free and abandoned.
He wondered if she was as abandoned in bed. He could imagine her—passionate, wild as a tigress, demanding as much as she gave. Ah, what a challenge she would be to tame …
Drake brought himself up with a start. What the hell was he thinking about?
Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he turned his attention back to the helm. Smitty had gone below, leaving Drake alone. Engrossed in his thoughts, Drake barely noticed his absence.
