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He moved away again, took off his shirt, then tossed it carelessly onto the chair.
Alex gasped and turned her back. She should have known he would be no gentleman. He had probably undressed in front of countless women and was quite used to it by now … maybe even enjoyed it.
She bit her lip in frustration. The evening had lulled her into a false sense of security. Drake had been hospitable … no, downright charming as he had instructed her at the helm. And Alex had been so enthused that she had almost forgotten the sleeping arrangements that awaited her. She had planned to wait until Drake was in bed, slip back into her modestly cut chemise, then climb into the cot. Now that was impossible.
Alex glanced down at her men’s clothes. The breeches were fine for daytime, but far too uncomfortable to sleep in. But, she could remove them and remain in just the shirt, which would easily reach her knees.
Studying the shirt, she shuddered, seeing the black stains acquired during her stint at the helm. The thought of sleeping in a filthy men’s shirt was distinctly unappealing. However, she had no choice.
With a resigned sigh, she listened as Drake prepared for bed. When she was certain he was safely beneath the bedcovers, she would attempt to ready herself for sleep.
Drake couldn’t stop grinning as he watched Alex’s rigid back, every muscle tense with discomfort. He had shocked her; of that much he was certain. But he was not certain why. Surely the sight of a naked man was no novelty to her, unless she was one of those prim types who insisted on making love only in the dark. Somehow he doubted it. She was too outspoken and exuberant to be prudish in bed.
Drake sat down on the bed to remove his boots. It was a good thing he had discouraged Smitty from performing his usual valet duties. Imagine Alexandria’s horror if two men had been present to witness her supposed fall from grace.
Actually Drake had never seen Smitty display such blatant disapproval before. When Drake had suggested that he temporarily relinquish his valet role, Smitty had replied with a curt nod. Drake did not need to ask why he was angry or at whom the anger was directed. In Smitty’s eyes Drake was taking unfair advantage of an innocent young woman from a noble family.
An image of the austere Geoffrey Cassel flashed through Drake’s mind. With a twinge of guilt Drake admitted to himself that Smitty’s opinion had merit. In the earl’s eyes Alexandria would indeed be ruined. In fact, the discovery that his untouched daughter had been forced to share a cabin with Drake would probably cause him to call Drake out.
Drake weighed that possibility as he tugged off his first boot. Obviously the young and impetuous beauty who stood so nervously across the room had not considered that prospect. Actually she had not considered any of the repercussions of her rash act. Was it innocence and naive faith that drove her or willful and self-centered impulsiveness?
Drake frowned, seeing Alexandria wince as his boots hit the floor. Despite his firm resolve, he felt a wave of sympathy for her. No matter how arrogant and hypocritical she might be, she was still very obviously unnerved by the sleeping arrangements. Even with her back to him, Drake could tell, by the way she was looking down at herself, that she was considering her options for the most appropriate nighttime attire. Certainly none of the choices could compare with the sheer silk nightrails she was undoubtedly used to wearing to bed.
Tossing his breeches next to his shirt, Drake put an end to her torment by climbing into his berth.
“You can turn around now, princess. I am respectably covered,” he assured her.
She turned slowly, her chin held high. But Drake could see her lips tremble.
“May I douse the light?” she asked in a small voice. “Or am I to be denied even a shred of privacy?”
The urge to hold her was so strong at that moment that Drake couldn’t speak. He merely nodded, wrestling with the conflicting emotions that plagued him.
“Thank you.” Alex turned down the lamp, plunging the room into utter darkness.
Drake listened to the rustling sounds that told him she was undressing. He visualized her gradually exposed beauty, as each article of clothing was discarded, revealing the naked splendor beneath. His heart quickened; his loins tightened painfully. Desperately he tried to focus on something else, but his brain stubbornly insisted on conjuring up images of Alexandria. Naked. Alone with him in his cabin. At his mercy … in his arms … beneath his body.
He shifted, groaning inwardly. His craving for her was astounding. Having spent his entire adult life being sought after by women, Drake regarded sex as an easily acquired, easily forgotten commodity. It was a sport that was thoroughly enjoyed by his body, rarely involving his mind and never touching his heart, for he knew firsthand how little the act of love actually meant. Once passion was spent, it was gone, as was the bed partner. For that reason Drake kept himself always, always in control.
But suddenly he knew that control was waning, that he would not be able to restrain himself during the months to come.
Drake made a decision. The moment Alexandria was safely tucked beneath the bedcovers, he would go to Smitty’s cabin and bunk with him for the duration of the voyage. For despite his own physical need and the great satisfaction he would derive from their coupling, the last thing Drake wanted was to become involved with Lady Alexandria Cassel. The price was simply too high.
The cabin was silent. Drake could sense Alex’s presence nearby, and he knew instinctively that she was not in bed.
“Princess?”
He heard her jump. “What is it?”
He cleared his throat. “Is there some problem?”
“No … yes …” She paused. “May I use your basin and some water to wash the dirt from my face?”
Drake smiled in the darkness. “Go right ahead. And, princess … if you can find your way around in the dark, help yourself to one of my shirts. They are clean and more than large enough to protect your modesty.”
Again, silence. Then, “Thank you, Captain.”
Her bare feet padded across the room. Drake listened to her opening the heavy chest, taking out one of his shirts, and slipping it on. Splashing sounds told him she was washing, followed by her soft footsteps as she returned to her cot. Then a thud and a cry of pain.
