82
" And yet, I can’t believe it’s been only a month that I’ve known you. I can’t decide whether it’s been the longest month of my life, or the shortest.”
His eyebrows gathered in an exaggerated frown. “I can’t decide which pays me the fainter compliment.”
“Neither,” she teased, linking her arm in his. “To compliment you, I should tell you it has been the best month of my life. And it has.” Truer words, she’d never spoken.
“Oh, nicely managed. My pride is rescued.” Despite his air of nonchalance, his eyes held genuine emotion. They were fully blue today-a rich, azure blue, clear and inviting and endless. Just like the sea.
Sophia laughed at herself. How had she missed the obvious? All this time, she’d been puzzling out the color of his eyes. They were always shifting and changing, from green to blue to gray. And now she knew why. They always reflected the sea.
“Do you know,” he said, “if you keep gazing at me like that much longer, I shall be forced to pack you off belowdecks.”
“Am I truly gazing?” She fluttered her lashes at him. “I am making a trip to the storeroom soon, you know. But mind-this is the last good frock I’ve got.”
“Siren.” He gave her a surreptitious pinch on the hip. “No, it’s the cabin I have in mind for you, and you’re going there alone. You need to rest.” He walked her toward the hatch.
“You won’t come rest with me?”
“If I come with you, neither of us will rest.”
A current of pleasure shot straight to her center. Then a more practical thought intruded. “But what of the noon meal? It won’t make itself.”
At that instant, a flying fish as long as her arm sailed over the rail of the boat and flopped on the deck at their feet.
Gray looked at the thrashing fish, then raised his eyebrows at her. “Somehow I think we’ll manage. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
83
" She was a woman now. A fallen woman in truth, alone in the world, responsible for her own choices. She had to pull herself together, be strong. No more tears, she admonished herself, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. Gray could not ignore her forever. He would come to her eventually, most likely to hurl further angry accusations. When the time came, she would not sweep or make excuses. She most certainly would not beg.
But by God, she would look pretty. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
86
" Agitated, he hooked a finger under his neck cloth and pulled it loose. “Care for her,” he muttered. “How could that be possible? I’ve scarcely gone near the woman in weeks.”
“I don’t know how it’s possible, but it seems to be true. In fact, I think you’re half in love with her. More than half, perhaps.”
Rising from his chair, Gray straightened to his full height. “Now wait. I’m half out of my mind with lust, I’ll grant you that. More than half, perhaps. But I’m certainly not in love with that girl. Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Joss. I keep my conscience in my bank account, remember? I don’t even know what love looks like.”
Joss paused over his desk. “I know what love looks like. Using up all those Portuguese on one meal, killing a valuable goat, bringing out porcelain from the cargo hold…Crack one plate, and you’d lose half the set’s price. Serving meat onto a lady’s plate.” He shrugged. “Love looks something like that.”
Gray ran his hands through his hair, shaking off the lunatic notion before it could take root in his brain. “I’m telling you, I’m not in love. I’m just too damned bored. I’ve nothing to do on this voyage but plan dinner parties. And it’s about to get worse. No chance of cracking a plate tonight.” He jerked his chin at the lamp dangling from a hook, which on any normal night would have been swaying in time with the waves. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re becalmed.”
“I’d noticed.” Joss grimaced and motioned for the flask. Gray tossed it to him. “Good thing we’ve given the men a fine meal and grog tonight. Becalming’s never good for the crew’s morale.”
“Not good for the investor’s morale, either.” Gray rubbed his temples. “Let’s hope it doesn’t last. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
87
" Which one was it? He’ll pay for it with his life, I swear to you.”
“Settle down, Gray. And for God’s sake, don’t go punching yourself in the eye just to even the score.”
Gray shot him a look. “Not amusing, Joss.”
“Oh yes, it is. Give me credit for a joke when I make one. It’s nothing, Gray. I’ve had worse. You’ve given me worse. And it’s no more than a man can expect, I suppose, when he’s an alleged pirate.”
“Piracy charges.” Gray cracked his neck. “What a joke.” This was the voyage he’d finally gone respectable, and what had it gotten him? Jilted and jailed. No good deed went unpunished. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
88
" I’m telling you, you bastard, you’re going to pay for that rum. In gold or goods, I don’t care which.”
“Captain Mallory.” Gray’s baritone was forbidding. “And I apply that title loosely, as you are no manner of captain in my estimation…I have no intention of compensating you for the loss of your cargo. I will, however, accept your thanks.”
“My thanks? For what?”
“For what?” Now O’Shea entered the mix. “For saving that heap of a ship and your worthless, rum-soaked arse, that’s what.”
“I’ll thank you to go to hell,” the gravelly voice answered. Mallory, she presumed. “You can’t just board a man’s craft and pitch a hold full of spirits into the sea. Right knaves, you lot.”
“Oh, now we’re the knaves, are we?” Gray asked. “I should have let that ship explode around your ears, you despicable sot. Knaves, indeed.”
“Well, if you’re such virtuous, charitable gents, then how come I’m trussed like a pig?” Sophia craned her neck and pushed the hatch open a bit further. Across the deck, she saw a pair of split-toed boots tied together with rope.
Gray answered, “We had to bind you last night because you were drunk out of your skull. And we’re keeping you bound now because you’re sober and still out of your skull.”
The lashed boots shuffled across the deck, toward Gray. “Let me loose of these ropes, you blackguard, and I’ll pound you straight out of your skull into oblivion.”
O’Shea responded with a stream of colorful profanity, which Captain Grayson cut short.
“Captain Mallory,” he said, his own highly polished boots pacing slowly, deliberately to halt between Mallory’s and Gray’s. “I understand your concern over losing your cargo. But surely you or your investor can recoup the loss with an insurance claim. You could not have sailed without a policy against fire.”
Gray gave an ironic laugh. “Joss, I’ll wager you anything, that rum wasn’t on any bill of lading or insurance policy. Can’t you see the man’s nothing but a smuggler? Probably wasn’t bound for any port at all. What was your destination, Mallory? A hidden cove off the coast of Cornwall, perhaps?” He clucked his tongue. “That ship was overloaded and undermanned, and it would have been a miracle if you’d made it as far as Portugal. As for the rum, take up your complaint with the Vice Admiralty court after you follow us to Tortola. I’d welcome it. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
90
" Good Lord, Gray thought. Here he held this woman in his arms while she made him out to be some sort of…not a saint, exactly, but a man possessing a shred of honor. And all the while she trembled against his body, soft and damp and warm, never suspecting the dozens of ways in which he longed to dishonor them both.
Would she still allow him to hold her like this, encircled in his arms, her backside pressed against his swelling groin, if she could read his thoughts? If she knew that when she titled her head to bury her face in his sleeve, she gave him a direct view of the alabaster curve of her neck, the carved ivory of her collarbone, and the exquisite image that would haunt his dreams-the soft, rose-scented valley between her breasts?
God, what a lecherous bastard he was.
He’d been ashamed of many things in his life, but never before had he felt so ashamed simply to be a man, a part of this violent, brutish race of creatures who flogged one another, beat helpless boys with marlinespikes, and lusted after unsuspecting governesses while they were overset with emotion. This woman was bred for better things, deserved better things. Better than this ship, this life. Better than a base, craving creature like him. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
92
" Well, well, he clucked, narrow-set eyes peering at her around a hooked nose. “If she stays with this ship, I might stop protesting. Can’t say I’d turn down a taste of that tart.”
Her cheeks burning, Sophia turned to Gray. To her horror, she watched as his mouth tipped in a smirk. Almost a smile. Curse him, he even chuckled as he strolled back across the deck to face Mallory.
Was that how he saw her now, too? As a tart? Just another of his countless paramours? They might as well have been right back in that seedy tavern on the Gravesend quay, when she’d mistaken him for a gentleman-and he’d looked at her and seen only a bit of skirt.
“Mr. Mallory,” he said, striking his habitual pose of arrogant swagger, “I’d like to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving me an excuse to do this.”
Gray swung his fist, putting the full force of his body behind the blow. The punch connected with Mallory’s jaw, sending him reeling against the ship’s rail. Before Sophia could even draw breath, Gray hit him again, this time delivering a solid blow to the stomach. With a choked groan, Mallory doubled over his boots and crumpled to the deck.
“I told you, I don’t like violence,” Gray forced out, shaking his hand as he stood over Mallory’s writhing form. “But I’m not above using it. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
93
" What the devil was Davy doing up there with a marlinespike? That’s what I’d like to know. It’s a sailors duty.”
She put her head in her hands. “I’m afraid that’s my fault, too. I’d been talking to him about moving up to the forecastle, and I…I think he wanted to impress me.”
Gray choked on a laugh. “Well, of course he did. You ought to take care how you bat those eyelashes, sweetheart. One of these days, you’re likely to knock a man overboard.”
The legs of her chair scraped the floor as she stood. The color returned to her cheeks. “If Davy was trying to impress me, it’s as much your fault as mine.”
“How is that my fault?” Gray’s frustration came right back to a boil. He hated himself for growling at her, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
“You’re the one who humiliated him in front of the crew, with all those questions. You goaded him into saying he…well, you know what he said.”
“Yes, I know what he said.” Gray stepped toward her until only the table separated them. “I know what he said. And don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it. Don’t pretend you don’t use those men to feed your vanity.”
“My vanity? What would you know about feeding my vanity? You don’t so much as breathe in my direction. At least the sailors speak to me. And if that entire ‘Kind of the Sea’ display wasn’t one long exercise in feeding your own vanity, I’m sure I don’t know what is.” She jabbed one finger on the tabletop and lowered her voice. “Those men may flirt with me, but they worship you. You know it. You wanted to feel it. Bask in it. And you did so at Davy’s expense.”
“At least I only teased the boy. I’m not the one poised to break his heart.”
She blinked. “It’s only infatuation. He’s not really in love with me.”
He pounded the table. “Of course the boy’s in love with you! They all are. You talk to them, you listen to their stories-even Wiggins’s prattling, God only knows why. You draw them little sketches, you make them paintings for Christmas. You remind them of everything they’ve left behind, everything they pray they’ll one day hold again. And you do it all looking like some sort of Botticelli goddess, surely the most beautiful thing they’ve ever laid eyes on. Damn it, how’s a man to keep from falling in love with you?”
Silence.
She stared at him.
She blinked.
Her lips parted, and she drew a quick breath.
Say something, Gray silently pleaded. Anything. But she only stared at him. What the hell had he just said? Was it truly that bad? He frowned, reliving the past minute in his mind.
Oh, God. Gray rubbed his face with one hand, then gave a sharp tug on his hair. It was that bad. Damn it to hell. If Joss were here, he’d have a good laugh at his expense. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
96
" Grayson, I’m going to dance on the day that you swing.”
“If he swings, I swing with him.” Joss rose to his feet.
Gray drilled his brother with a glare. “Joss, no.” Sit down, damn you. Think of our sister. Think of your son.
“I’m the captain of the Aphrodite.” Joss’s voice rang through the courtroom. “I’m responsible for the actions of her passengers and crew. If my brother is a pirate, then I’m a pirate, too.”
Gray’s heart sank. They would both die now, he and his idiot of a brother.
Joss walked to the center of the courtroom, the brass buttons of his captain’s coat gleaming as he strode through a shaft of sunlight. “But I demand a full trial. I will be heard, and evidence will be examined. Logbooks, the condition of the ships, the statements of my crew. If you mean to hang my brother, you’ll have to find cause to hang me.”
Fitzhugh’s eyebrows rose to his wig. “Gladly.”
“And me.”
Gray groaned at the sound of that voice. He didn’t even have to look to know that Davy Linnet was on his feet. Brave, stupid fool of a boy.
“If Gray’s a pirate, I’m a pirate, too,” Davy said. “I helped him aim and fire that cannon, that’s God’s truth. If you hang him, you have to hang me.”
Another chair scraped the floorboards as its occupant rose to his feet. “And me.”
Oh God. O’Shea now?
“I boarded the Kestrel. I took control of her helm and helped bind that piece of shite.” The Irishman jutted his chin at Mallory. “Suppose that makes me a pirate, too.”
“Very good.” Fitzhugh’s eyes lit with glee. “Anyone else?”
Over by the window, Levi stood. His shadow blanketed most of the room. “Me,” he said.
“Now, Levi?” Gray pulled at his hair. “Seven years in my employ, you don’t say a single goddamned word, and you decide to speak now?”
Bloody hell, now they were all on their feet. Pumping fists, cursing Mallory, defending Gray, arguing over which one of them deserved the distinction of most bloodthirsty pirate. It would have been a heartwarming display of loyalty, if they weren’t all going to die. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
97
" We need to talk. Alone. And we may not have the chance once we’re aboard the Kestrel. I’ll be busy.”
“Then I’ll thank you now.”
“For what?”
“For Captain Mallory.”
“For hitting him, you mean?” He shook his head, looking off toward the horizon. “Save your thanks. I felt like hitting someone. He was convenient.”
“Oh.” Sophia searched the opposite horizon. Tears welled in her eyes again, much to her frustration.
“Jesus.” He pulled hard on the oars. “I never hit people. Look what you’ve done to me. This was supposed to be the voyage I go respectable. Instead, I’m throwing fists, seizing ships, defiling virgins…”
Wincing at his harsh tone, Sophia sniffed and shifted sideways on the plank. Abruptly, he dropped the oars and began to wrestle with his coat.
“Why are you doing this?” Despite her bruised feelings, she caught the edge of one coat sleeve and held it as his arm slid loose.
“Easier to row with no coat.” He wriggled free of the other sleeve.
“Gray.” She waited for him to meet her eyes. “You know that’s how what I mean.”
He folded the coat and handed it to her. “Here.”
She stared at the bundle of wool. “What am I to do with it?”
“Sit on it,” he said, thrusting it toward her. “You must be…tender.” His gaze dropped briefly to her lap.
Sophia’s face burned. She was indeed tender, and the wooden plank was torture beneath her thin skirts, but the presumptive manner of his gesture piqued her pride. She crossed her arms and glared at the proferred coat. “I might have been a virgin, Gray, but I’ve never been a fool. I knew it would hurt, but I wanted it anyway.” She lifted her chin. “I knew you would hurt me.”
Hus face hardened to stone. “Did you now?” He dropped the coat and reached for the oars, “Tell me,” he asked in a vigorous pull, “did you pause to consider those you would hurt? "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
98
" She gazed at the man across from her. Her lover. His powerful shoulders worked beneath his shirt as he pulled on the oars. The display of strength and agility, set to a steady rhythm…memories of their lovemaking assailed her with quiet force.
In some other place, under some other circumstance, they might have been a courting couple. Rowing across a placid lake, caressed by a glowing sunset. From a distance, this could have been the picture of romance.
But the reality was confusion, and resentment, and pain. Did she feel sorry for misleading him? Sophia considered. She was not sure she could. By his own admission, he would not have made love to her had she not. And she could not regret that exquisite pleasure; nor could she regret sharing it with him. She looked at the handsome, strong, charismatic, passionate, exhausted man across from her. Selfish and wicked though she might be, she could not feel sorry that he was now bound to her-that for good or ill, he had not left her behind.
Sophia was, however, unequivocally sorry for one thing.
“Gray,” she said, “I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you.”
His eyes flashed, and there was a slight hitch in his stroke. "
― Tessa Dare , Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2)
