LITMIR.BIZ

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is not—”

      He patted her shoulder. “Of course not, Captain, sir. That’s why you scooped him up, naked as the day he was born, and tossed him into your hold.”

      “I was in a hurry.” She was aware she sounded surly, but could not help herself. Sometimes, Chetri considered himself entirely too much like her father. Only worse.

      Chetri continued, “You had time to let him put his trousers on before you rolled him up in a carpet. Nice cock like that, you ought to wrap it up safe.” He lifted his eyebrow, the silver ring through it glinting in the sun.

      “Enough.” She thrust the orders into his hand. “Get us out of here. Every scrap of canvas we have. Spring a topmast if you have to. I’m going below.”

      Imena had intended to invite Maxime up to her cabin, now that the chance of discovery was so much less, but that was before he’d tried to seduce Chetri. As she unlocked the door to his refuge, she considered simply leaving him in the hold. The accommodations might not be to his liking. She was no longer in a mood to please him. However, if she left him down here, who knew how many more of her crew he would try to subvert? Or seduce? Or both? Who would be next? No doubt Maxime would like a challenge. Seretse? Leggy Roxanne, the second mate?

      It was a pity they needed to shift the cargo, poorly stowed thanks to their precipitous departure. Maxime would be in the way belowdecks. The needs of her ship were more important than a small act of revenge.

      She shouldn’t have expected better of him, anyway. She knew what he was like. She knew far too much about what he liked.

      But he’d made a fool of her on her own ship. It would serve him right if she treated him as a prisoner for a little while. Did she dare? She thought she might be angry enough to dare. And perhaps jealous enough, even though she had no right to be jealous.

      She swung the door open a bit too hard, and it slammed against the temporary bulkhead. Maxime sat cross-legged on the deck, eating an orange. The tart scent perfumed the cabin. His lips and fingers were shiny with the sticky juice, forcibly reminding her of how he’d looked, smiling at her with her juices on his mouth.

      “Keep your hands off my crew,” she said.

      “Even if they ask nicely?” He rose slowly, effortlessly, and held out a crescent of fruit. “Orange?”

      “Chetri didn’t ask.”

      “He was certainly looking. I know that’s mostly frowned upon in the empire, but surely you—”

      “I should leave you locked in here.”

      “That won’t be much fun,” Maxime said, and popped the slice of orange into his mouth. Hypnotized, she watched him chew and swallow.

      She said, “I would leave you down here, but we need to shift the cargo. We stowed it hastily, and—Never mind. Get your things. I’ll put you in my cabin.”

      Maxime smiled and bowed. “Thank you. I’m at your command.” Nearly naked and smeared all over with sweaty streaks of grime from the smuggling cubby, he nevertheless made her want to straighten her spine. Belatedly, she realized he had that in common with her mother, and winced.

      “Hurry up, I have things to do.”

      As they ascended the stairs, Imena first, Maxime said, “You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble. I was willing to fuck you yesterday. But if you enjoy games—”

      Outraged, she exclaimed, “Is that what you think?” She’d left port with her ship barely provisioned and still bristling with barnacles, for his sake, to save him from potential murder, and all he could think about was making the tide. She bit back a longer retort.

      “I must admit, the carpet was novel. Being carried off by two muscular young men—I assume they must have been muscular—the solitary confinement to think it over—”

      She whirled on him. “I never realized you could be so utterly infuriating.” She would not fight with him now. She would not.

      “It’s a talent I spent my entire childhood honing. If I had to live with Camille’s father after he’d killed my parents, I wasn’t about to make it easy for him.” He paused. “So, did I make you jealous? With Chetri? I’d be willing to go further with him, if he’d consent, if that would make you jealous. Or if you’d like it.”

      If he didn’t shut his mouth, she was going to have to kill him. Perhaps she’d better shut it for him. “In,” she said, swinging wide her cabin door.

      “I’m to be a prisoner in your cabin now, am I?” He grinned and swept through the doorway. “I feel a flutter of virginal apprehension. I’ve always wondered what went on in the cabins of privateers. Though I did fuck in a hammock once. That was terribly awkward, but it came out all right in the end.”

      “Sit.” She pointed at one of her two trunks that doubled as seats; they were spread with folded layerings of cloth, to pad the hardware fittings. Maxime did her bidding, but he sat straddle-legged, his cock and bollocks lewdly on display through the cloth of his trousers. Idly, he stroked the length of his cock, which was considerable.

      “Stop that,” she said. “I need to speak with you.”

      “Oh, I can speak and do this at the same time,” he said, grinning at her. “You’ve really made me wait quite a long time. I’m not sure I can wait much longer. I might have to ask Chetri to ease my pain—”

      Imena’s hand closed over the coil of line Norris had left behind. It was fairly soft, chosen so it wouldn’t snag silk clothing. “You were less asinine before I let you bathe me,” she said.

      His grin faded. “That was before you locked me up and left me, then sailed me out into the ocean without so much as a please or thank-you. I think that entitles me to be as asinine as I like.”

      Imena strode over to him. “Give me your hands,” she said.

      “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. His irritation sounded genuine, and she felt a glimmer of triumph.

      She said, “You won’t fight me.”

      “Won’t I?”

      Imena grabbed his wrists and, in a few swift movements, lashed them together with a series of hurricane knots.

      Maxime stared down at his forearms, now wrapped in hempen line. “I didn’t think you truly would do it.”

      Imena grinned at him. Suddenly, she felt much better. She sliced through the long end of the line with her belt knife, knelt and snugly hitched his ankles to the trunk’s deck braces, which were loops of iron embedded in the planking. To do so, she drew his legs even farther apart. As she sat up, her mouth nearly brushed his knee, and she saw his thigh muscle twitch.

      “Tying my hands was enough to make your displeasure clear,” he pointed out.

      “Not for me,” she said. Her eyes were nearly on a level with his genitals; quickly, she shoved herself to her feet before he could get the wrong idea. “I’ll return in a while, and then I will talk and you will listen.”

      “Wait!” Maxime said. “We’re not finished. Why are you leaving me again?”

      Imena grabbed a piece of candied lemon peel and popped it into his mouth before she escaped. She didn’t trust herself not to truss him head to foot, just for the pleasure of seeing him at her mercy.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      MAXIME HEARD THE SHIP’S BELL RING TWO QUARTER hours before the cabin’s door opened again. Norris poked her head in, then slid around the door and shut it behind her, reaching for a basket on the deck. When she saw Maxime, she stopped and looked at him incredulously.

      “Is this your rope?” Maxime asked mildly.

      Her mouth opened, then closed.

      “You can have it back if you

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