"I didn't feel like getting up for anything."
"Matt and Megan are seeing to Penny and the puppies."
"Thanks. I knew the puppies wouldn't starve, but I was worried about Penny. I came down with this yesterday morning."
So he'd probably kept his date Monday afternoon, Elizabeth reasoned. She started to ask him how his lady friend had liked the teddy, but she really didn't want to know. "Can you feed yourself?"
"If you'll hold the tray, I think I can manage."
She gingerly lowered herself to the edge of the bed and lifted the tray onto her lap. He bent over it, supporting himself on one elbow. Lifting the spoon awkwardly, he dipped it into the soup and slurped it into his mouth.
"It's good. Thank you, Elizabeth."
"You're welcome."
He ate most of the soup before setting down the spoon. "That's all I want for now."
"All right." She moved the tray off her lap and returned it to the nightstand.
Before she could lower her arms, she felt his hand at her waist. It molded itself to her shape and drew her around. "You feel so cool," he murmured.
Elizabeth stared down at him in mute dismay as he rested his head on her thigh and buried his face in the fabric of her skirt. He ground the tousled crown of his head against her stomach.
She went very still and let every feminine, maternal, giving, loving fiber of her being have its way. Easily, her caution was conquered. Then, acting instinctively, she laid her hand against his flushed cheek. He sighed and reached up to cover it with his own. Her other hand smoothed the damp strands of graying hair off his forehead.
After several moments, he raised his head and looked up at her. "Was I dreaming, or did I really kiss you?"
"When?"
"A few minutes ago. When you first came in." He stroked her cheek and toyed with the wisps of hair that had escaped her bun.
"You must have been dreaming."
"I wasn't touching your breast?"
Breathless, she shook her head no. "You sort of socked it."
"No, I remember that. In my dream, I was caressing it, stroking it with my thumb." His eyes traced a hot path from the cameo brooch at her throat to the row of buttons on her blouse. "And you were caressing me."
Remembering the placement of his hand, she went hot all over. "I'd better go. My kids will be wondering…"
He lay back against the pillow. She picked up the tray and all but ran from the room. Her hands were shaking, the very hands she had wanted to use to draw his head to her breasts and let it rest there for as long as he wished.
She quickly cleared off the tray and reloaded it with a pitcher of ice water and a clean glass. She avoided looking at Thad directly as she set the tray on the nightstand.
"Don't forget to take the aspirin. And drink plenty of water. I won't bother you again unless you call for help. And please do if you need to. Well," she said, clasping her hands together and nervously backing toward the door, "bye."
She turned to flee, but he caught her hand. "Elizabeth, I'm glad you came by. Thanks for everything." He ran his thumb over the inside of her wrist. "But in a way, I wish you hadn't woken me up when you did. I'd like to know how that dream ended."
Chapter 7
I trembled before him, more terrified for my virtue than for my life. At least dying had dignity. Being the sexual slave of a pirate king didn't.
Coarse, bearded, foul-smelling men had kidnapped me from my bedroom and carried me, bound hand and foot, to this ship. I was still blindfolded, but I knew we were on the open seas now. The creaking deck heaved beneath my feet and I could hear the popping canvas sails above me.
The wind was high. My cloak billowed around me and plastered my thin white nightgown to my naked body. I shivered, not with cold, but with the intuitive knowledge that he, the commander of this band of cutthroats who had ordered my abduction, was standing not far away, complacently observing me like a malicious cat with a trapped mouse.
Not to appear cowed, I lifted my chin a notch higher. He could abuse me, even kill me, but he'd never break my spirit. His dark laughter mingled with the wind. Seconds later I felt the vibration of his approaching footsteps through the soles of my bare feet. My heart went wild with anxiety, but I maintained the proud posture that governesses had drilled into me from infancy.
My head was snapped forward when he jerked the blindfold from my eyes. I flung back my hair and glared into his face. But my hostile stare turned into a gaping mask of surprise. I knew the pirate king! Had known him all my life. He was the wastrel second son of the family who lived on the neighboring estate, the one reputed to be a gambler and ruthless womanizer. Because of his flagrant disregard for propriety, his family had disowned him years ago. His name was rarely spoken in polite company, and only then in whispers. Now, here he was, my captor.
He laughed at my astonishment. Then he informed me in a voice laced with menace that he was avenging an ancient wrong my father had done him. Sneering, the pirate slid a saber out of the leather scabbard that was buckled around his lean hips. Thinking that he meant to kill me on the spot, I flinched when he made one downward swipe with the sword.
When I realized that I was still alive and apparently unharmed, I opened my eyes, only to discover that he had slashed through the ties of my cloak and that it had pooled around my feet. My nightgown, growing damp from the sea spray, clung revealingly to my naked body.
His cold, glittering eyes moved over me, pausing to stare with interest at my breasts and the triangular shadow between my thighs. He made me shudder with dread. That's what I told myself I didn't want to acknowledge that my trembling had another, altogether different, source.
I remembered this neighbor as a slender youth. He had since filled out, come into his full maturity and developed into a man of impressive form. His wide-sleeved, loose white blouse was opened to the waist, displaying a muscular chest. It was covered with hair, darker even than that on his head. A wide leather belt emphasized the narrowness of his waist. Tall boots, cuffed just above his knees, drew my attention to thighs that were as hard and smooth as the masts of his ship. His manhood, I was revolted to notice, was indecently outlined beneath the tight, thin breeches, which fit better than his skin.
He noted the direction of my gaze and laughed with insufferable conceit. Before I could utter any of the epithets that rushed to my mind, he swept me up against that solid, wide chest. I thrashed my legs as much as my bonds would allow and bowed my back, demanding to know where he was taking me. My struggles only served to delight his men, who cheered their leader on and offered him advice on how to tame me. Their lewd catcalls made my ears and cheeks burn with indignation.
He kicked open the door to his cabin with one booted foot and, after carrying me inside, shut it in the same angry manner. Unceremoniously he dumped me onto the bed. I landed hard, but the bunk was surprisingly soft and wide. In fact the entire room was much more luxurious than I would have expected.
I lay amid the pillows covered in Oriental silk and watched with fearful fascination as he peeled his shirt over his head and nonchalantly tossed it to the floor. Every muscle in his chest and arms rippled beneath his sun-baked skin as he slowly removed his leather belt. Keeping me spellbound with his eyes, he unfastened his breeches.
I gasped with fear and dismay. Smiling, he swaggered toward the bed on which I still lay. Taking a long, double-edged knife from the nearby table, he moved closer and lifted both my bound ankles in one hand. The inescapable knots didn't survive the slash of his knife and my feet came free. He frowned as he inspected the bruises the tight rope had made on my ankles and stroked them with his thumb. Reaching behind me, he freed my hands in the same manner, then drew them forward and inspected my chafed and discolored wrists.