My Wicked Pirate. Rona Sharon
up when Rocca escorted Alanis to the foredeck the next day. They abandoned their chores and gawked as she traversed the sun-drenched deck in an ice pink gown with bolstered hips and far too deep a cleavage to remain calm in a sea of lecherous stares. She took shelter beneath her wide-brimmed hat, squinting against the radiant light, and reminded herself anything was preferable to dreary Yorkshire.
Eros sat on the foredeck railing, his long mane catching the breeze, as he wielded a dagger on an orange and spoke to Giovanni. He wore a white lawn shirt and black breeches with a purple stripe along the side seam. Black and purple, she smiled mockingly; the man certainly advertised his colors. She swept her gown’s silk train off the plank floor and took the steps.
Giovanni noticed her first. He smiled broadly. “Capitano, sono innamorato! I’m in love!”
Eros ordered Giovanni to make himself scarce and greeted her with a gleaming white smile complemented with a disarming pair of dimples. “Buongiorno, bellissima.”
A strong flutter rippled in her belly. Not only was the blasted villain annoyingly handsome, but also the eyes glittering like gems in his suntanned face were the clearest, most unusual ocean blue eyes. Sapphires, she mused, somewhat dazed—a stone once believed to be the core of the earth and reflected by the sky. How could she have mistaken his eyes to be black?
His keen gaze raked her from head to toe, not missing an inch of face, bare ivory skin, or tastefully exhibited figure. And to her deepest chagrin, Alanis discovered she felt no less affected now than she had last night. She tingled, knowing this godless pirate, for whom the world was an oyster, found her—beautiful.
He grinned, munching a juicy slice of orange. “I trust you slept well…in my bed?”
So he couldn’t resist asking. She leveled a glare straight into those confounding, ultrablue eyes. “I most certainly did not sleep in your bed, villain! Perhaps I will tonight, though,” she riposted tartly, “and take pleasure in knowing I am depriving you of it.”
“Touché!” His dagger sliced the air as he tipped his head. “My bed is at your disposal.”
She eyed him hostilely, finding the suggestive gleam in his eyes contradictive to his gallant gesture. “You merit no thanks from me. Honorable men do not kidnap innocent ladies.”
“Indeed they do not.” He popped another slice of orange into his mouth. “The fools.”
A tall wave broke on the bow. She skidded back, but Eros got soaked through and through. She laughed and licked salty drops of seawater off her lips. His boots landed hard on the plank floor. “Mannaggia!” he growled, wrenching water from his dripping mane. He glared at her, his eyes sparkling. “I’m amusing you?” Not waiting for a reply, he peeled his wet shirt off.
She gaped. He had a stupendously beautiful body. Tanned, smooth of hair, and shaped in male perfection, it displayed supple strength obtained through years of a strict athletic régime. A golden medallion, large and lustrous in contrast to his burnished skin, dangled over his chest.
He threw her a cocky smile, setting her cheeks on fire, and sauntered to a table laid out for two. Crystal goblets, silver cutlery, and porcelain plates shimmered over a snowy tablecloth.
“Join me for lunch?” he offered and pulled out a gilded chaise caré.
She dithered. Verbal sparring was one thing, but consorting with a pirate? “I am not hungry,” she lied, striving to keep her eyes off his powerfully wrought torso. It wasn’t easy.
“You haven’t had a bite to eat since yesterday, and it would be a shame if even a dram of beauty were to be lost. E dai,” he said sweetly, “I’m certain you’ve built up some appetite.”
“I lost my appetite when I was captured by a rude pirate.”
The indulgent smile disappeared. “You shall join the rude pirate regardless and keep him company while he eats.”
“I will not,” she articulated boldly. She hadn’t escaped England to wind up dancing to a pirate’s whims. Pivoting on her heel, she headed for the flight of steps. She managed two strides before a steely, tanned arm swept around her waist, pinning her back to a naked granite chest.
“Don’t make me chase you,” Eros whispered softly in her ear. “I’m endeavoring to behave like the perfect gentleman. Do not tempt the beast in me.”
Her breath caught at the feel of his warm mouth moving in her ear. Realizing she liked it charged her with greater antagonism. She twisted around and gave his chest a hard nudge. “I will never sit at your table, not unless you strap me to a chair!” Yet the instant her hands touched his velvety, suntanned skin they jerked free as if singed by fire. She had felt his heart drumming, strong and steady, beneath cords of warm muscle.
Eros twisted his lips. “Strapped to a chair, eh? Don’t put ideas in my head, Alanis. I’m half tempted to strap you to my lap and feed you myself. I shall make it very clear to you. If you wish to keep enjoying my gracious hospitality, you shall have lunches and dinners in my company until I return you to your viscount. Now, will you sit at my table like a good girl?”
He released her and she staggered back, nodding obediently. He seated her and dropped into the opposite chair. “Vino?” He gestured at the green bottle gracing the edge of the table.
Giovanni appeared out of nowhere and seized the bottle. As he filled her glass with rich red wine, despite his black eye patch, he seemed more human to her than the dark Lucifer sitting across the table, his one brown eye lacking the diabolical fire of Eros’s blues.
“I thank you,” she said warily, and raised the glass to her lips.
Giovanni beamed. Unable to peel his one good eye off her, he let vast quantities spill into Eros’s glass. Red wine gushed on the pristine white tablecloth. Eros caught Giovanni’s wrist and pried the bottle from his fingers, snapping, “Ma cosa fai, idiota? What the devil are you doing, idiot? Have you nothing better to do than to make a pest of yourself?”
Giovanni grinned sheepishly. “No. Nothing.”
Eros slammed his fist on the table and got up, radiating supreme annoyance. “away!”
“Va bene. I got it.” Giovanni chuckled. He sent Alanis another shy smile and walked off the foredeck, snickering loud enough for every sailor to hear.
“Are you always ill tempered with your subordinates?” Alanis inquired as Eros regained his seat. “If you keep this up, next thing you know, they’ll be caballing behind your back, knocking you on the head, and making off with your ship.” She smiled prettily.
“Isn’t it impolite to wear one’s hat at the table?” he inquired with a hint of a smile.
Arrant mutiny tilted her cat eyes. “Not when one is coerced to dine in poor company.”
“This may come as a shock to you, but taking silly maidens and irksome maids hostage is not my idea of first-rate entertainment.”
“Then, what is?” She winced, flaming obscenely red. “I meant…why did you abduct me?”
He cast her a brain-muddling smile. “My idea of first-rate entertainment is abducting silly maidens without their irksome maids.” He chuckled when she averted her gaze. “Ma dai, come now. Don’t sulk. You’ll have your revenge on me yet. Besides, I’m famished. Remove your hat so we may finally eat.”
Reluctantly, Alanis complied. A manservant dressed in a long white tunic approached the table. He set down silver platters heaped with fresh bread, colorful antipasti, and a covered bowl.
“Ayiz haga tanya, ya bey? Would there be anything else, master?” he inquired respectfully.
“Lah, shukran, Raed. No, thank you, Raed.” Eros dismissed him.
“Was that Arabic?” she asked, failing to hide her admiration. Upon his nod she added with grudging respect, “You speak many languages.”
“Grazie.”