LITMIR.BIZ

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if I may,” she said in a tempting sing-song, “who will be the wiser if I simply remain here, in your quarters? I promise you, sir, I didn’t stow away to make a nuisance of myself or to cause trouble among your men—”

      Damon snorted in disbelief.

      “—but once you reveal my presence, you must contend with their curiosity…their insistence on following the Code. Do you really want to die for having me aboard your ship, captain? I could be…your sweet little secret. For the entire trip to America.”

      Oh, she tempted him! For a brief and shining moment he envisioned the fantasy she’d spun with her alluring words….

      But a knock at the door brought reality crashing home. “Captain, sir, we need your opinion about our navigational bearings as we leave the harbor for the open—” His quartermaster, Quentin Thomas, scowled from the doorway. “Irons already, sir? I’ve never known you to constrain a sailor before the rum kegs were tapped.”

      What could he say? Damon glanced at the iron cuffs that dangled from his hand and knew he could keep no secrets, no matter how badly he wanted this woman all to himself. “The abigail who was to accompany Lord Havisham’s daughters has stowed away in my quarters, Thomas,” he confessed. “She refuses to return to her post—”

      “Can’t blame her, from what I’ve seen of the girls.” He stifled a laugh as he glanced at the captain’s bulging breeches.

      “So I must confine her until we reach port, where I will sell her as a slave to the highest bidder,” he continued in a loud, purposeful tone. “She will earn her meals by doing whatever Comstock demands in the galley. Tell the men I’ll be on deck shortly with the stowaway in tow.”

      Quentin’s expression held a hint of conspiracy. “Begging your pardon, captain, but if none of the men are the wiser…” Thomas’s eyes widened, but he quickly refocused on Delacroix. “I—You could trust me to keep your secret, sir. You’ll have nothing but trouble if you let this cat out of the bag.”

      Damon turned, exasperated. Why was he not surprised to see Sofia standing at his partition, wrapped in only a sheet? She’d followed their conversation with wide, dark eyes.

      “After all the joy I’ve brought you, Captain Delacroix, how can you sell me, sir?” she spouted. “And why are you telling this man such a tale when you told me we’d play a little…slave game when you return from your duties on deck?”

      Quentin snickered. “I’ll set our usual course south and west, sir, until you have time to render your final decision on this most pressing matter.”

      “No! By God, I am the captain, and I have spoken!” Scowling at Sofia, he stalked out of his quarters behind Quentin Thomas. His mind was made up. He would have no more of her impertinence.

      Never mind that he slammed the door on Sofia’s laughter.

      5

      “Because Sophia Martine is aboard the ship illegally—and she’s as wily as the slyest fox—anyone caught speaking to her will be marooned.” Damon spoke from the quarterdeck beside the Courtesan’s wheel, overlooking the curious crew gathered below. “She will follow orders from Comstock and myself, and under no circumstances are you to engage her attention or say one word to her. Is that clear?”

      The sailors glanced at each other, but then they gazed at his prisoner: Sofia stood in shackles, cuffed to his arm. She wore her gray uniform, but with her ebony hair blowing around her dusky face, wearing a dejected expression, she looked alluringly helpless. Any man would volunteer to be marooned for the favor of a single caress. A single kiss.

      “What’s to become of her, sir?” one sailor piped up.

      “She’ll be sold as a slave—for more than any of us could afford in our lifetimes, I’ll wager,” he added to stem any interest in pooling their funds. “We’ve voted to uphold the Code, and for good reason, when one considers—”

      “So where’s she sleepin’, sir?”

      Damon searched the crowd for the upstart who’d made everyone snicker. “She will be confined to my quarters,” he replied in his most commanding voice. “Who among you wants the responsibility of Sofia’s welfare? Comes a time we must fight to protect the common good, we can have no jealousy or distractions. No sense that I favored any man above the others. I alone will bear the burden of her safety, understood?”

      The sailors nodded, muttering among themselves.

      “Back to your posts, then.” Damon stood in front of Sofia to keep her from making eyes at those who favored her with a last, fond gaze as they dispersed. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he muttered over his shoulder.

      “You had other options, captain. Your quartermaster would’ve kept me a secret.”

      “And we know what sort of payment he’d expect.”

      “Is that such a high price to ensure your own gratification during this loooong voyage, sir?” Her breath teased at his ear: once again he’d invited trouble by scolding her. “And why did you relegate me to the galley? Surely leaving me at Mr. Comstock’s mercy is inviting—”

      “Jonas Comstock hasn’t pleasured a woman since a cannonball took off his leg.” Damon turned to glare sternly at her. “So don’t think you’ll tease your way out of—” Her kisses—one, two, three of them in rapid succession—left him gaping. “Have you no respect for—”

      “None whatsoever.”

      “—my position as—”

      “The position I like best,” she teased, “involves lying facedown in your cozy bed while you ride me from behind and I squeeze you inside my—”

      “Dammit, Sofia, you try my patience!”

      She smiled, triumphant. “And if you’ll try my attributes, captain, we’ll both be so much happier. Won’t we?”

      The warmth of her breath…the waves of heat coming from her lush body, which undulated shamelessly against his…the caress of her hair in the breeze made Delacroix very aware of what he could be enjoying if he disappeared with his captive. She was now officially his slave. And a woman like Sofia Martine would leave him no peace—no sanity—until he shut her up.

      His pulse quickened, and his cock nudged Sofia of its own accord. “You’re coming with me. Let there be no mistake about whose authority will be served—and who will serve.”

      Grasping her bound wrists, Damon hurried toward his quarters at a pace that made Sofia scuffle along in her leg irons. He scowled fiercely as a warning to any sailor who might smirk at them. When they came to the stairway, Damon descended ahead of her. As he opened the door to his quarters, he watched Sofia hobble unevenly down the steps in her leg chains. “Perhaps, so you’ll suffer for stowing away, I should make you navigate the longest stairways—”

      With a little shriek, Sofia pitched forward.

      Had she stumbled, or had the ship shifted? Damon rushed to catch her, again aware of her power to completely disarm him. Sofia landed against his shoulder, soft and light and voluptuous.

      And she was laughing, dammit. Not one whit of fear or apology as his arms closed around her.

      “What am I to do with you?” he muttered as he entered his cabin. He kicked the door shut behind them and set her unceremoniously on her feet. “You cannot continue to demand my attention—”

      “So give in.” She gazed pointedly at his bulging fly buttons. “Let me suck that long, lovely cock, and we’ll both be happier, captain. I’ve tried to tell you this, but you won’t listen.”

      He closed his eyes, determined not to succumb. “Who’s giving the orders on this ship, wench?”

      “Why, you, sir.”

      “Damn right. Enough of your cheeky

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