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Her hair. She needed no one to tell her of its appearance. A quick appraisal of the cabin revealed no comb. Ah, well. There was a solution to everything. Her fingers were the closest thing she had to a comb. Using them, she carefully untangled the thick waves until they cascaded in moderate disarray and total freedom to her waist. She longed for a mirror to tell her the results of her handiwork. There was none. Actually, she amended with a wry grin, that was probably a blessing, considering her state of dress.
Well, for good or for ill, she was ready. Alex moved along the deserted passageway leading to the stairs. She could hear voices coming from the deck above, as the men engaged in cheerful banter with one another. The ship’s movement was brisk and steady as it cut cleanly through the slapping waters of the river.
Alex felt relief wash through her. The crewmen are too busy to notice me, she told herself as she climbed the steps. My presence won’t affect them in the least, she assured herself, strolling onto the deck.
You could have heard a pin drop on the main deck.
Twenty pairs of male eyes stared, unblinking and unbelieving, as the shockingly dressed young woman walked calmly to the railing to inhale deeply of the cold air.
They are appalled by my atrocious attire.
They were stunned by her unconcealable beauty.
No amount of effort could diminish Alexandria’s regal presence. The ill-fitting garments she wore hid some of her feminine curves, but they did little to detract from her fine-boned, delicate features or from the graceful sway of her hips, emphasized by the breeches that clung to them.
Embarrassed by what she construed as disapproval, Alex tried to ignore the men’s stares. She gazed around her with genuine pleasure, noting every detail of the magnificent ship. Although still not allowed full freedom, the sails snapped proudly in the crisp wind, the heavy masts gleamed in the thin sunlight, and the decks shone, polished and clean. Alex ran her hand appreciatively over the timbers. She had never seen a ship of this size up close and had only dreamed of sailing on one. Like a child opening her Christmas presents, she wanted to take it all in at once—the smells, the sounds, the very essence of the three-hundred-ton merchant brig. The enthrallment of discovery glowed in her eyes and spoke volumes to the two men who watched from their lofty positions on the quarterdeck.
“That child is a rare treasure,” Smitty commented. “I cannot blame the men for staring.”
Drake gave the wheel a vicious turn. “That is shock you are seeing, Smitty. Total, utter disbelief. I should never have agreed to this insanity.”
Smitty fought back his smile and his taunting retort as well. “Not merely shock, Captain,” he disagreed mildly. “Admiration. Lady Alexandria is a beauty.”
Drake’s jaw tightened. “That’s lust, Smitty, not admiration. Most people are ruled by lust—unless, of course, they are ruled by greed or power. In this case, it is lust.” He gave a snort of disgust. “The fools cannot take their eyes off her. Do they realize how ridiculous they look?”
“I suppose not, Captain.” Smitty again refrained from mentioning that, whatever the men’s affliction, Drake seemed also to be suffering from it.
Drake could not tear his gaze from her. Damn it, he had thought the clothes would do a better job of disguising her charms. Instead, they clung in all the right places and made her look even smaller and more vulnerable, dwarfed within them. He wanted to wring her neck.
He hadn’t noticed the color of her hair before; the cabin had been too dimly lit. It was like
honey, rich and golden brown with droplets of sunlight drizzling through it. Loose and unbound, it was thick and silky, and Drake had an uncontrollable urge to wrap handfuls of it around his fingers, to feel its texture against his mouth. God damn her. She had to be doing this on purpose; no woman could be as oblivious as she to the impact her presence made. Yet she hadn’t even looked at him—or at any of his men, for that matter. She couldn’t seem to stop admiring the ship.
He watched her stroke the polished wood of the hull in a sensual caress that Drake could almost feel. His loins tightened so painfully that he nearly groaned aloud. He closed his eyes, struggling for control.
“You have an exquisite ship, Captain.”
Drake’s eyes flew open as Alexandria addressed him. He looked down to where she stood on the main deck, her clear gray eyes regarding him without a trace of guile.
Damn her.
“And you have excellent taste, my lady.” His aloof tone gave no indication of the internal struggle that raged within him. “She is indeed a beauty.”
“And she has a great deal of spirit,” Alex noted.
Drake relaxed a bit. “Yes, she does.”
“Of course, she should be allowed more freedom.”
“Pardon me?” His brows rose in disbelief.
“We will soon be in open waters,” Alex explained calmly. “Can you not feel the increase in motion? There is a fine breeze from the northeast, so it is unnecessary to keep her so tightly in check. She should be allowed to pick up speed, to move more rapidly with the wind.”
Drake’s eyes had darkened to a forest green, a warning light flaring within them. How dare she criticize the way he ran his ship. Not even Smitty, who knew as much about sailing as Drake did, would be so bold.
“Before long it will be night,” she continued, oblivious to the tempest brewing before her. “You will be reducing sail by taking in the staysails, royals, and flying jib. Why not gain as much distance as possible prior to darkness? Then we can pick up speed when we set the canvas again at daybreak. That way—”
“Enough!” The eruption was expected—in fact, considered long overdue—by all those cringing sailors within earshot. But Alexandria looked stunned by the outburst.
