A Pirate of her Own (16 page)

“Ha! You’ve lied to me from the start. Let me believe you were some noble gentleman with my best interest at heart and instead you make free with your hands the first moment we’re alone.”

He had expected her to be embarrassed, not outraged. Instead of the fearful, delicate flower he had expected to comfort, she was a hellcat spitting and hissing at him. Blaming the whole event on him.

Well, it wasn’t his fault solely! Who did she think she was, looking so delectable, wearing men’s clothes and stealing his breath.

She never should have agreed to go to the deck with him in the first place. She should have known better.

Aye, a woman knew not to let a man get her alone! It was her fault as much as it was his.

His own temper flying, he moved to stand before her. “Well, you didn’t seem to mind my touch.”

Her eyes narrowed and she advanced on him without warning.

Too stunned to think, he took a couple of steps backwards.

“You are low,” she accused, poking her finger in his chest.

He backed up a few more steps.

“Vile!” she continued. “Only a blackguard would say such. Who do you think you are, sir? No, wait, allow me to answer. You’re a black-hearted pirate who takes what he wants.”

He wanted to answer her insults, but his mind was too stunned to think of an appropriate response. No one had ever confronted him thus.

As she stood before him, her legs braced wide apart and one hand on her hip, she looked like a savage lioness about to tear its prey into pieces.

He backed up until the wall prevented him from any further withdrawals.

“Well, sir,” she said, again poking her finger into his chest to emphasize her words. “I suggest you find another way to occupy yourself, for this miss isn’t to be had by the likes of you.”

His eyes narrowing at being trapped, Morgan slid from between her and the wall.

Again she advanced on him, backing him up as she railed. “We have two more days until we reach Santa Maria and Mr. Rodale has assured me that there are several trading ships that dock there whose captains are willing to take passengers. I intend to be one of those passengers. So do us both a favor and stay away from me until then.”

It was only then that he realized she had backed him out of his cabin.

Before he could blink, she stepped back into the room and slammed the door in his face.

“Woman!” he bellowed as he heard the lock click into place.

He saw red. Instinctively, he tried the handle.

Oh, it was locked all right.

This was it!

He’d had enough.

His anger coursed through his veins like fire and without thinking, he stomped to the storage room down the corridor where the tools were stored.

The room was tidy and orderly, with several axes secured against the far wall. Grabbing the one nearest him, he retraced his steps back to his cabin.

The wooden handle chafed the flesh of his palms as he gripped the ax tightly in both hands. It was time Miss Serenity James learned he wasn’t some lapdog for her to command.

No one told Morgan Nathaniel Drake what to do or where to go.

No one!

He paused before the door, listening to her tirade on the other side.

“Ooo, he makes me so mad.
I thought I told you not to go to the galley alone,
” he heard her say in a mocking voice. “Really! As if he’s afraid some nice man would harm my reputation after what he did.”

She spoke louder, as if she knew he was on the other side. “I wish I were a man so that I could pound you to dust, Captain Drake. A sound thrashing is what you deserve.”

A thrashing! his mind snarled.

Aye, that sounded like a good idea to him. Thrash the little vixen. Show her who was in charge!

Before he could think twice, he raised the ax and brought it down upon the door.

Just as she started disrobing, Serenity heard the sound of wood splintering. Her heart pounding, she watched as pieces of the door broke apart and the shiny silver head of an ax shredded the wood.

The lock gave way and the door thundered back on its hinges. Morgan stood in the doorway, a dark ominous look on his brow as he held the ax down by his side. “Don’t you ever lock another door against me.”

She should be terrified, she knew that. Yet he stood there with death itself etched on his face, holding the ax like a great woodsman as he glared his rage at her.

Every fiber of his body was tense, and the tattered door swung back and forth with the rhythm of the ship.

It was a ridiculous sight.

All this because she’d locked the door?

In spite of herself, she laughed. Deep and loud. She couldn’t stop.

Until she remembered what she wore. Or more to the point, what she didn’t wear. With a cry of alarm, she rushed to the bed and pulled the quilt off to wrap around her shoulders.

Morgan couldn’t move. His ears were still ringing with her laughter as he watched her sprint to his bed, wearing only her thin camisole that emphasized every sweet feminine curve she possessed.

“What the blazes were you doing?” he asked, dumbfounded to have caught her in the midst of undressing.

“That’s none of your business.”

And then he saw it. Her laundry was once again strung out across his cabin.

“Laundry?” he asked, his brow knotted in confusion. “You were doing laundry?”

She stiffened her spine. “I was about to take a bath, if you must know,” she snapped. “It seemed a good way to vent my anger. At least more practical than destroying doors.”

He tightened his grip on the ax handle, wishing it were her neck he grasped. “I thought I told you water was scarce.”

“You did, but Mr. Rodale and Court brought me a barrel of rainwater this morning so that I could have a bath and wash my clothes. Rather than insult them, I thought I would respect their kindness. But had I known you would throw a tantrum, I assure you I would have waited.”

Now it was his turn to see the humor.

He
had
thrown a tantrum. There was no other word to describe what he’d done.

He drew a deep breath to calm his racing heart. What was it about this woman that made his emotions so volatile?

He’d always prided himself on his even moods.

On his ability to handle even the most difficult situation with calm dignity and rationality.

But when it came to her, his iron control melted like butter.

Was there any way to make a graceful exit from this fiasco? He glanced around at the remnants of the door strewn about the floor and Serenity standing by his bunk, draped in his quilt.

There was definitely no way to make a graceful exit.

“Gather up your clothes,” he said in a low voice. “I won’t be able to repair the door until we get to Santa Maria. You can dress in Barney’s room and I’ll…”

“Clean up the room?”

He nodded.

She gathered her clothes and stopped by his side. Her gaze darted along the pieces of the door before she looked back at his face. “I guess I won’t be locking the door tonight, will I, Captain?”

He growled a low warning in his throat.

Serenity decided it would be best to make a hasty retreat. She practically ran down the hallway until she reached Barney’s room and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Pesty asked.

“It’s Serenity. Is Barney in there?” she asked before she realized how foolish it was to have a conversation with a bird. She waited a few minutes and when no one said anything, she eased the door open. The room was empty except for Pesty.

With a sigh of relief, she entered and shut the door firmly behind her. Only then did she allow the horror of what had just happened wash over her.

The man was insane! He had come after her with an ax!

No, her mind quietly chided. He had come after the door with an ax.

I have never in my life known a girl who could push a man to the limits of his sanity,
she heard her father’s voice in her head
. But you, gal, you take it all. I’ll never know what your sweet mother was thinking when she named you Serenity. It must have been wishful thinking on her part. If I had my way, I’d have named you Incense!

Really Serenity,
her brother had once said,
what is it about you that you have to push people when you can plainly see they’re ready to kill you?

It was a terrible flaw in her personality. One she’d never understood, but it was true. She did so love to aggravate people. Especially arrogant men.

A small smile hovered at the edges of her lips as she again pictured Morgan standing in the room with the ax in his hand, his face etched with fury. It had been a funny sight.

But it was definitely one she never wanted to see again.

“Just two more days and then you’re safe,” she said to herself as she began dressing.

“Two more days,” Pesty repeated. “Two more days.”

Yet for all the safety, a tiny part of her hoped the end of those two days would never come.

Later that night, Serenity was just about ready to go to bed when she heard approaching footsteps.

Footsteps that heralded the approach of Morgan.

As he had promised, he had cleaned up the remnants of the door from his cabin. She had spent the rest of the day in the galley with Mr. Rodale and Court.

By unspoken, mutual agreement she and Morgan had avoided each other all day. Especially once word had gone around the crew about what had happened between them.

At first she’d thought Mr. Rodale would have Morgan’s head, but she and Court had finally talked sense into him.

Now Morgan stood in the doorway with a bedroll hanging from his left hand.

“Is there something you need?” she asked, her voice frigid as she stepped away from the bunk.

He shook his head and without a word to her, began unrolling his blanket and pillow. He stretched out on the floor just outside her door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Serenity asked, arms akimbo as she approached him.

Morgan pulled the blanket up around his chest and looked up at her. “I’m about to go to sleep for the night, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, I certainly do mind your sleeping in my room.”

His gaze traced the outline of the door frame, then he looked directly into her face. “I believe I am outside the cabin.”

“Inside, outside, what difference does it make now that there’s no way to bar your access to my bed? Do you think me foolish enough to sleep with you so close by? You forget, Captain. I know what manner of man you are.”

He gave a tired sigh. “I’m in no mood to fight, Serenity. Go to bed. I’m here simply to make sure no one disturbs you.”

Did she dare believe it?

As if sensing her doubt, he rolled over and gave her his back. “Go to sleep, Miss James.”

Hesitant, she returned to her bed and carefully crawled in, making sure to keep her eyes on him all the while.

He never moved.

All night, Morgan listened to Serenity toss and turn in his bed. Every time she moved, his body reacted, aching for hers. Too easily, he remembered the passion of her embrace, the sound of her ecstasy.

She’s killing me,
he thought sourly.

Slowly but surely she was absolutely killing him with want.

Sighing, he realized he wouldn’t get any sleep this night, and from the sounds of it, neither would she.

Determined not to yield to his body, Morgan said quietly, “I’m sorry about the door. I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

There were a few seconds of silence before she responded to his apology. “I’m sorry I goaded you to such anger.”

Well, it was a start, he thought. At least she was able to see her own part in his idiocy. “You certainly have a way of doing that.”

“So I’ve been told. My father claims it’s my greatest talent.”

They fell silent for several minutes.

Serenity thought about the fact that once they got to Santa Maria, she would never see him again.

Why did that thought bring such a surge of pain to her breast? She should be delighted to go home, yet she couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing his face every day.

But that was the way it must be. She had to go home sometime, and the sooner, no doubt, the better.

“Morgan?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Just before you came, I was remembering how alone I felt after my mother’s death. My father was so grief-stricken that he almost completely forgot about us.”

She gave a sad half laugh. “You probably wouldn’t have liked my mother very much. She’s the one who taught me my mutinous ideas.”

“What did your father have to say about her views?”

“While she was alive, he was very supportive of her. They had a few memorable fights, but all in all he found her unorthodox views…tolerable.”

Tolerable,
Morgan thought with a smile. Now, that was an appropriate word. Especially if the woman was anything like her daughter.

Of course, he found Serenity more than tolerable.

When she wasn’t making him furious, he actually liked her a great deal.

At times she was downright irresistible.

“Did she want to be a writer?” he asked, wondering if that was what had prompted Serenity’s interest in working for her father’s paper.

“Nay, she actually wanted to be an explorer.”

For a moment he was stunned. “She did not!”

“Yes, she did. She said that would be the greatest challenge she could think of. She wanted to be like Sacajawea and go west across the French Territories.”

“Did she ever get to?” he asked, knowing that if Serenity wanted something like that she would do it regardless. He doubted if anything could stop her from doing whatever nonsense she set her mind to.

“Nay,” she said with a sigh. “She never got to travel beyond Charleston and Marthasville.”

“What made her decide to give up her dream?”

“My father. She said living with him and running after her children was enough of an adventure for her. She didn’t need any more than that.”

Morgan laughed at the image he had of Serenity as a small child. He just bet she was indeed a huge handful.