Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (17 page)

“Of course,” she said, much too docilely and took a soft linen rag and began lathering it with soap.

Though the tub was large, Hawk appeared ridiculously huge in it. He’d drawn up his legs, extending them over the sides, and the water barely covered his waistline. The bandage around his middle would need to changed, but for now it wasn’t his wound which intrigued her. It was the man.

“Do you never remove your mask?” she asked, and knelt beside the tub with rag upraised.

“Never.”

“I don’t believe you. There must be times you do. What about when you sleep?”

“Depends on whom I’m sleeping with.”

Bethlyn couldn’t help but blush at such a forthright reply. As she began washing his back, the thought streaked across her brain that Hawk was quite vulnerable to her at that moment. She could pull away his mask and inform the authorities of his identity whenever she reached port. But a large, restraining hand clamped down upon hers when her fingers came into contact with the back of the mask. “I warn you, Beth, that I’m not a fool.”

“I didn’t think you were, sir.”

“Just so you know that.”

Arrogant, pompous boob! she silently fumed. He released her, and she washed the muscular and hard lines of his neck and back, aware of his every breath. Gulping, she found the courage to lightly skirt the rag across his pectoral muscles, very much aware of the steel-like quality against the softness of her fingers.

From behind the mask, he watched her and she sensed his perusal. Though she wished to keep her face composed, she couldn’t help but bite her lower lip, her eyes growing huge when she stopped washing only to have him gently move her hand down the length of one thigh.

“I need to be washed everywhere, Beth.”

His voice sounded husky but detached, as if he took great delight in humiliating her but didn’t wish her to know it. A part of her recognized that touching him so intimately was causing a part of her own body to throb, and never had she experienced any such feeling in the center of her womanhood. She wasn’t quite certain how to stop the sensations, but she did know that this man was causing them and she’d prove to him that she could resist him.

Clearing her throat, and setting her face into a more than passive expression, she nodded and proceeded to move the washcloth along the length of one thigh, lightly trailing across his manhood and washing the other thigh. The water barely covered his shaft, and Bethlyn couldn’t believe her eyes when it began to grow. Somehow she knew that her ministrations were the reason for this phenomenon, and a sense of power filled her.

Hawk might believe he had her at his mercy, but she’d prove to him just who possessed the upper hand, and if he touched her, she’d declare him less than a gentleman and the scurvy rogue she thought him to be. And maybe this time, she’d finish off the bounder.

With a sensual movement, she dangled the washcloth above his manhood, then casually she combed it through the dark bush of hair before finally locating her target. Beneath the cloth, she clearly felt the pulsating heat of him, the hugeness of him. She’d never touched a man in any way except for a few brief kisses, never had any indication of how a man looked when aroused, but realizing Hawk’s arousal was for her, she didn’t seem to mind. He was a fine specimen of a man, and Bethlyn slowly discovered that she enjoyed touching him.

“Am I doing a good job, Captain?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Ah, what did you say?” His voice sounded unusually thick.

“I want to know that I’m not remiss in my punishment.”

“You know you’re not. Beth?”

“Yes?”

“I want something from you.”

She stifled a smile. This was the moment he’d command her to come to his bed, and she’d refuse, forcing him to live up to their agreement. “What is it, Captain?” she practically purred.

“Hand me the towel. I’m finished my bath.”

She blinked in disbelief, watching his lips turn upward in wry amusement. Plunking down the washcloth, she stood up and grabbed the towel from the back of a chair and handed it to him. The hateful man had somehow guessed what she was about, and fresh fury rose within her. Somehow she’d best this man!

Rising from the tub, he resembled an Adonis. Rivulets of water dripped down the hard length of him, and that strange sensation tightened and coiled within her womanhood at the mere sight of him. He handed the towel out to her.

“Your duties aren’t finished, Beth. Dry me.”

Words of rebuke rushed to her lips, but Bethlyn didn’t utter them. What good would it do to call the man names? He knew what he was and knew how much she hated him. Matters would only be made worse if she filled his ears with vituperations.

Smiling a dangerously sweet smile, she took the towel and in a most brusque manner, she dried him.

When finished, he changed into another pair of breeches and got onto the bunk, leaning weakly against the pillows.

“My wound needs tending.”

Pointing to clean linen, he explained how she was to undo the old bandage, wash the wound, then wind the new cloth around his chest. The procedure seemed simple to Bethlyn, and she dutifully unwrapped the linen, but couldn’t suppress a dismayed moan to see the damage she’d done.

The wound was an ugly red line, about half an inch wide, halfway between his navel and rib cage. She realized fully how lucky Hawk was not to have died. How lucky she was not to have incurred his entire wrath.

“It’s quite ugly, isn’t it?” he said without emotion. “Old Bluebelly, the man who acts as surgeon and physician on board, did an adequate job of stitching me up. He said I’ll be as good as new in another week or two. But I will be scarred.”

“I’m … sorry,” Bethlyn said, and meant it.

Hawk shrugged. “Goes with the life I lead. Now, please clean it and cover the blasted thing.”

Immediately Bethlyn took a washcloth and dipped it into a bowl on the table beside the bunk. The bowl contained healing herbs which Bluebelly deemed would heal the cut more quickly. After she’d applied the sticky salve, Bethlyn managed to wind the linen around Hawk’s chest. When she finished, she stood back and noticed that Hawk appeared pleased with her.

“Thank you, Beth.”

He didn’t need to express his gratitude as she felt quite rotten for what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to stab him and she told him so.

“I still won’t ask your forgiveness,” she contended with a bit of defiance in her voice. “You acted like an animal that day.”

“Then perhaps I should ask your forgiveness.”

Had she heard him correctly? “You’re apologizing to me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry for frightening you. I’m not sorry for wanting you. Before this trip is over, you’ll want me, too, Beth. You’ll beg for me.”

“Never,” she shot back.

He laughed and wagged a finger at her. “Never say never, my sweet.”

Suddenly he lunged off of the bunk, looking less than weak, and began pulling at her dress. She tried to back away, but in one swift rip, he tore the gown in half, leaving her clutching at her scanty chemise. Breathing hard, her eyes filled with hatred which quickly dissolved into disbelief when he pushed her near the tub.

“I think you need a good washing. You’re a mess, a fetching mess, but a mess nevertheless. That gown is ruined. Here.” With a purposeful stride, he crossed the cabin and went to a trunk against the wall and withdrew a pretty violet and pink print gown. He tossed it on the bunk. “You should look very nice in this dress. Take your bath and put it on.”

“But … but…”

“Do as I say, Beth. I shall leave you to your privacy. And don’t ask me where I got the gown.” Hawk left the room.

Bethlyn’s mouth dropped open in complete bafflement, not having expected this turn of events. Could the man have a heart after all? When Mavis entered unexpectedly, she almost thought he did.

“Captain Hawk wants me to help you bathe,” Mavis informed her.

“I don’t understand him at all.” Bethlyn cast aside her torn gown and pulled off the chemise to delight in the feel of the cleansing water when she sat in the tub. Her body flowed with heat to think that Hawk had sat in this same water only minutes earlier. Somehow the situation struck her as obscenely intimate, and somehow she didn’t mind.

“Hmm,” Mavis muttered, and helped Bethlyn wash her thick mane of hair. “I understand the man only too well. He said that if you’re not squeaking clean and presentable, he’ll wash you himself.”

Bethlyn pulled her dripping wet head out of the water. “That bully of a man said that?”

“He did.” Mavis nodded.

“Good Lord! I wouldn’t put anything past that bounder.”

Though Bethlyn pretended to be outraged by such a statement, she did feel that perhaps Hawk’s strong hands moving across her body wouldn’t be such an awful thing.

8

Bethlyn snuggled deeper within the feather mattress of the bunk, pulling the soft blanket about her shoulders. For the first time in a week she felt quite contented and imagined herself in her room at Aunt Penny’s. It was only when she heard the loud, insistent ringing of a bell that she fully woke, startled and then angry.

“Aggravating man!” she muttered and rose from the bunk to quickly don the gown Hawk had given to her. Running slender fingers through her hair, she swiftly arranged the long tresses into some semblance of order. When finished, she spun around and pulled open the heavy door of the cabin which adjoined Hawk’s.

“What is it now?” she asked him, and set her hands on her hips in a gesture of defiance.

“What a testy wench you are this morning,” Hawk said from his spot on his own bunk.

“It took me quite a long time to fall asleep last night,” Bethlyn admitted and stifled a yawn.

“Come now. Don’t tell me that you haven’t enough to do. If that’s the case, I can think of a few more chores for you.”

“No! I mean, I have quite enough to occupy myself.” If he gave her anything more to do, Bethlyn felt she’d be too tired to move a muscle. For the last two days she’d waited on this man hand and foot. Each time he wanted a drink of water, food, or a cover, she fetched them. She was growing to feel more and more like an obedient dog than a human being. Though Hawk hadn’t informed her how much longer this voyage would take, Mavis had told her that Crane mentioned they’d be landing within the next three days. Then she’d be free of her servile existence, and, more importantly, free of Captain Hawk.

“Consider yourself lucky that I don’t force you to sleep in here with me each night and play my attentive servant. I didn’t have to supply you with accommodations any woman on this ship would kill for.” Flashing her a dazzling white smile, Hawk folded his arms across his chest. His subtle threat found its mark. She’d rather die than sleep in here with him and didn’t want to go back to that sorry room in which she’d been imprisoned.

“Thank, you, Captain. You’ve been most kind.” She hid a sneer and smiled at him. “What can I do for you?”

Did she imagine that his eyes blazed beneath that mask?

At first she’d thought his eyes were black, but now she knew they were green, a beautiful, translucent green, filled with dancing sparks of fire. She hated when he looked at her like that, as if he were mentally taking inventory of her and undressing her. Yet she shivered with some perverted sense of anticipation when he did.

“I’d like my pillows puffed.”

“You woke me for that?”

“I require your expert puffing, my sweet.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Not any longer…” Hawk inclined his head towards the two pillows behind his back.

Gritting her teeth and holding back the less than kind comments she wished to hurl at him, Bethlyn moved forward and rearranged the pillows, patting them in place. When one of her hands brushed against the thick pelt of fur on his chest, Hawk grabbed it and placed a warm, sweet, and totally endearing kiss upon her silken flesh. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, Beth.”

Bethlyn’s face flushed a deep shade of scarlet. She felt at a loss as to what to say to him, and a part of her softened. She’d thought Captain Hawk was a man with no heart, but she was fast finding that he could be kind and a man of his word. He could have whipped her, or worse, for what she’d done to him, no matter how justified. Instead, each evening he left the cabin so she could bathe and had provided her with a cozy cabin next to his. She knew that he was regaining his strength quickly, and at any moment he could attack her. So far, he hadn’t. Hawk was proving to her that he was a gentleman.