disrespect. She felt as though he had slapped her across the face. Gone was the teasing, roguish, outrageously flirtatious and rather foolish drunk he’d been—or pretended to be—at the naval gathering back in London. This man had a sharp intelligence about him, an edge like a freshly-honed knife. That hard mouth was unsmiling, almost cruel. Those glittering eyes were cold beneath their thick black lashes. Those shoulders were wide and powerful, the legs long and well-shaped in their white breeches, and there was an almost untamed savagery about him that dwelt, she sensed, just beneath the surface.
Well of course there was. He was, after all, Irish.
And she was alone with him.
Fear gripped her heart and she forced herself to remain composed, telling herself that she had nothing to worry about, that Lucien, that all of her brothers would be turning the world upside down to get her back and punish this—this savage for his audacity.
There was a knock on the door.
“What is it?”
“Wind’s backed a point, sir. First lieutenant sends his respects and wants to know if you want to change tack.”
“Aye, ’tis as good a time as any. I’ll be on deck shortly.”
The footsteps retreated and her tormenter stuck the mug, now empty, onto a hook that protruded from the painted planking that would pass, in any other space, for a wall. He picked up what looked to be a smart blue and white uniform coat from the back of a chair and began to shrug into it, already dismissing her.
“Sir?”
Blue uniform?
Answers. She wanted answers.
“You can’t just abduct me and hold me for hostage! And hostage for what? Who do you think you are? My brother is one of the most powerful men in England! When he catches up to you, he’ll slit your belly and strangle you with your own entrails! Do you know what you’ve done ?”
The Irishman just shrugged, unconcerned, and shoved his other arm into his coat sleeve.
“Does your sister Mrs. Lord know that I’m here? Does your brother-in-law, Captain Lord? The admiral, Sir Elliott?”
“Don’t be stupid, of course not.”
“Does anyone know?”
“Not yet.”
“Who are you? In actuality?”
“Ruaidri O’ Devir, ma’m, just as ye thought.” He picked up a tricorne hat and headed for the door.
“I wish to know why I am here!”
He stopped then, his patience exhausted, and looked her straight in the eye. “Your brother developed an explosive which he’s about to sell to your country. My country needs it so we can win this miserable struggle with yours. Since I doubt England or your brother are going to just hand it over to us, ye’re my payment for it. A ransom, if ye will. Understand?”
“What do you mean your country? Ireland is not at war with England…you are mad.”
“No, Sunshine. I’m not mad. I’m a commissioned captain in America’s Continental Navy if ye must know, and because John Adams decided there’s nobody in the Navy as audacious, reckless or downright foolish as I am, he chose me to come and get that explosive. Ye’re my ransom. If yer family wants ye back, they’ll hand it over as well as the formula on how t’ create it. Now are ye finished? I’ve a ship to see to.”
She stared at him, aghast. “Your sister is married to a captain in the Royal Navy…her brother-in-law is a famous admiral…you would dare do this right under all their noses?”
He smiled then, his long lashes throwing shadow against his cheekbones in the dim orange glow of the lantern and in that moment, he looked almost handsome. Almost. “Indeed, I would.” The smile spread. “Indeed, I have.”
And with that he shoved open the door and without a backwards glance, left.
* * *
On deck, a cool breeze was blowing out of the south and a slice of moon glinted against the breaking crests of dark, nearby seas.
Ruaidri was glad to be out of his cabin. That woman back there—she stirred things in his bones, put unwelcome thoughts in his head, caused his cock to