Read Devil and the Deep Sea for Free Online Page B

.
    She put up a hand and tugged at the ribbon which confined her hair
    at the nape of her neck, jerking it loose.
    He was propped on one elbow, watching her in silence, his face
    enigmatic, but she had the feeling he wasn't overly impressed with
    her performance so far.
    She supposed she couldn't blame him. He'd spelt it out for her, after
    all. 'My bed or that of Hugo Baxter,' he'd said. 'The lesser of two
    evils.' Well, she'd made her decision, and now, it seemed, she had
    to suffer the consequences.
    She bent her head, letting her hair swing forwards to curtain her
    flushed face while she tried to concentrate her fumbling fingers on
    the buttons which fastened the front of her dress.
    The sharp, imperative knock on the stateroom door was as shocking
    as a whiplash laid across her overburdened senses, and she jumped.
    'Radio message for you, boss. Maitre Giraud—and I reckon it's
    urgent.'
    Roche Delacroix swore under his breath, and made to throw back
    the sheet, pausing when he encountered Samma's stricken look. He
    paused, his mouth twisting cynically. 'You'll find a robe in that
    closet, cherie. Get it for me.'
    She hurried to obey, holding the garment out to him almost at arm's
    length.
    He laughed. 'Now turn your back, my little Puritan.'
    Heart hammering unevenly, she heard the sounds of movement, the
    rustle of silk as he put on the robe. But when his hands descended
    on her shoulders, turning her to face him again, a little cry escaped
    her.
    'How nervous you are.' The laughter was still there in his voice.
    'Like a little cat who has never known kindness.' He picked up her
    hand, and pressed a swift, sensuous kiss into its soft palm. 'I am
    desolated our time together has been interrupted, ma belle, but it is
    only a pleasure postponed, after all.'
    He strode across the cabin, and left, closing the door behind him.
    Samma's legs gave way, and she sank down on to the chair. She
    lifted her hand, and stared at it stupidly, as if she expected to see
    the mark of his lips, burning there like a brand.
    He'd only kissed her hand, she told herself weakly. There was
    nothing in that to set her trembling, every sense, every nerve-ending
    tingling in some mysterious way. What would she do if—when he
    really kissed her? When he . . .
    Her mind blanked out. She couldn't let herself think about that. She
    would cope with it when she had to.
    And she would soon have to, a sly inner voice reminded her. 'A
    pleasure postponed,' he'd said.
    For the first time in her life, Samma found herself cursing her own
    inexperience. She wished she had some real idea of what Roche
    Delacroix was going to expect from her—when he returned. Would
    he make allowances for her ignorance—or would impatience make
    him brutal?
    She bit her lip. Oh, God, what right had anyone as sexually
    untutored as she was to throw herself at a man of the world like
    Roche Delacroix?
    I can't stay here, she thought, panicking. I can't! I'll have to
    leave—go back on shore—find some other way out. I must have
    been mad.
    She retrieved her espadrilles and ribbon and, picking up her bundle,
    went to the door. The handle turned easily enough, but the door
    itself didn't budge.
    She twisted the handle the other way, pushing at the solid wood
    panels, but it made no difference. He'd locked her in, she thought
    wildly.
    She might have come here of her own free will, but she was staying
    as a prisoner. And when her jailer came back—what then?
    When the door eventually opened half an hour later, Samma was as
    taut as a bowstring.
    'How dare you lock me in?' she stormed.
    Roche Delacroix's expression was preoccupied, and he looked at
    her with faint surprise. 'I did not,' he said. 'The door sticks
    sometimes, that is all. I'll have it corrected when we reach Grand
    Cay.'
    That's all? Samma thought, wincing. Because of a sticking door,
    and her own horrendous stupidity, she was still trapped on Allegra
    with this—this pirate.
    She said. 'I've been thinking it