Page 53 of A Prince Among Pirates
I look at Renard. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”
“Ah, nae one else disappeared,” he says quickly. “I’m sure he worked alone.”
I nod, but his comment gets me thinking. “I wonder if he’s spent it all.”
“I guess we’ll never ken,” Renard says.
“We may,” I say, taking another long sip of my wine and smiling. “The captain asked me to find him.”
At that, Renard appears truly shocked, which is rather annoying. Whyshouldn’tI be able to find him? I’ve surely proven myself at this point. My scheme to rescue our captain from the French navy went off (almost) entirely without a hitch, did it not?
“What?” I demand. “I’m capable of finding someone.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Pishposh,” I say, waving a hand. “He won’t know why I’m looking for him. I’ll ask around at a few taverns in Jamaica,pretending I’m seeking a bookkeeper. The captain will take over after that. It’s hardly a daring rescue mission.”
Renard is silent for a while. I take the opportunity to finish my glass of wine and pour another. Then his mouth widens into a dangerous grin—the gold of his tooth glinting in the candlelight. For a moment he looks like the dashing villain out of a faerie story.
“What?” I ask, somewhere between delightfully charmed and irrefutably disquieted.
“Usin’ yer pretty face ta lure him in, are ye?”
“Hardly, more like my heavy purse.” Then I blink and narrow my eyes at Renard. Is he flirting with me? He’s called my clothes pretty in jest before—but neverme. Immediately I slip into my usual manner, letting my thighs fall open as I lounge back in the chair and grin. “You think I’m pretty?”
Renard watches me for another long while with a frown. Just when I am about to take it back, he seems to come to some kind of decision. He gets up off his seat and leans over me, one hand on either arm of my chair. I raise my brows and stare up at him. And a moment later his mouth is on mine.
Though in truth I am shocked by this turn of events, I let him kiss me. I let him take the glass of wine from my hand and set it on the table beside us. I let him take hold of my collar and pull me up—all while his tongue is in my mouth. It’s been ages since I was kissed like this. Digby was the last person to touch me, and I find that, despite my not having expected it, I want it.
Ineedit.
I wrap my arms around Renard’s neck and moan into the kiss as he backs me towards the bed. I don’t know how far I should let this go, but at the moment all I can think about is how desperate I am to have his hands on my body. Really,anyhands on my body… but his are here, and already exploring.
Though I can think of another set of calloused hands I would vastly prefer to these…
The thought nearly kills the mood entirely for me. When did I become so…romantic? Some part of me wants this to continue, if only to expel these unfamiliar—andunwelcome—thoughts of monogamy from my head.
I need to stop thinking about Captain Sharpe. Especially in this moment. I work open the buttons of my waistcoat and somehow do not trip as we move across the room. I drop the navy silk onto the floor, and it lands with the chink of coin, then my arms are around Renard’s neck once more.
He breaks the kiss as my calves bump the side of the bed. His hands are on my waist now, sliding up to free my shirt from the waistband of my trousers. My pulse quickens as I feel his skin on mine, his fingertips sliding across my belly and then hooking in the front of my trousers.
I am dizzy with want for this, even as my mind wanders to brown eyes and beaded locs.Stupid.I push the thought away once more. I didn’t realize until this moment just how starved for touch I have been since running away from home. For more than companionable slaps on the back or nudges from the men. Ineedto betouched—and if Captain Sharpe can’t be the one to do it, maybe this is fine…
I plop onto the bed, drawing Renard in for another kiss. He presses his knee into the mattress beside me as he leans into it, grunting under his breath. Somehow the kiss is losing momentum. Is he losing interest, or am I? Lord in heaven, have I gone soft in my months at sea? Am I ruined now, all because of one damned pirate’s dashing smile and irresistible charm? He’s never even expressed—
Then Renard bites my lip, and I jerk my head back with a gasp.
I try not to blame him. He doesn’t know how much I hate rough play. But before I can tell him, his hand is in my hair and he’s jerking my head back to expose my neck.
“Hey,” I gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot just under my earlobe.
Suddenly I am in my father’s study with Digby Hale once again, the taste of metal on my lip. Ihatethat. I shove Renard away—probably a bit too hard, but I am drunk and he is still on one foot. He stumbles back and nearly collides with the chair behind him.
“The fuck?” he snaps at me, looking understandably bewildered and annoyed.
“Sorry, I—”
He steps forward before I can finish, and then he strikes me with an open palm across the face. The son of a bitch actuallystrikes me.
