Drex brushed past her, but felt her curious gaze burning his back. Inside, he sizzled. Damn it, he had to get her dewy mouth and tentative response out of his head. Her tangy-floral scent, her clenched fingers, her erratic breathing when they kissed, all raised hell with his self-control.
Glancing over his shoulder, he warned, “If you want to keep your bed a solitary one, don’t kiss me back again.”
* * *
Christina spent the day in a daze. Her brain registered the sound of the cook’s voice as he instructed her about the various instruments in the galley.
But her concentration wandered elsewhere. As he spoke of the Friday diet consisting of oatmeal, cheese and dried peas, she could only think about the captain.
-49-
Shelley Bradley
My God, she’d allowed the Black Dragon to kiss her, not once but twice.
And instead of revulsion, she’d felt…tingles. Heat. A slow-burning desire firing her blood for more. Definitely not anything her grandmother would approve of.
Nonetheless, the memory of his firm yet gentle lips on hers prompted her to consider kissing him again, as he’d warned against, just to feel his reaction.
Part of her was strangely giddy when she should have been repelled.
Absolutely horrified to have such a heathen touching her. Something was wrong with her. Only that explained why she found such a dangerous man so intriguing. Yet it was more than his looks. She knew a bevy of dashing blades, all respectable peers, eager to win her favor. They bored her.
With a flash of insight, she knew why: The masked, tattooed captain possessed something all the ton’s fops lacked—a passion for life. She saw it in his intent expression, heard it in the bark of his orders, tasted it in the flavor of his kiss. And she responded to him on a level so elemental, it vibrated within her.
Dear Lord, was she a candidate for Bedlam? Maybe exhaustion was simply taking its toll on her thoughts.
As the morning shadows lengthened into afternoon, Pauly gave her small chores. The first, fetching ingredients about the galley for the meal proved easy, if tedious. The second, slicing rations of cheese, became more difficult and less appealing. In an effort to keep her nose away from the smelly cheese, she winced and looked away—and sliced right into her finger. She tried to ignore the wound and finish her task, but bled on most of the meal instead.
Pauly was not pleased. Nor did she imagine the captain would be.
Mumbling something beneath his breath, the crusty cook sent her away—
without a reminder to come back for the evening mess. Christina couldn’t decide if she should be relieved or insulted.
Upon leaving the galley, she tip-toed her way about the maze of the ship, trying to find her cabin again. She passed one sailor, a tall man in a blue vest, shockingly minus a shirt.
Averting her gaze from his exposed flesh, she began, “Excuse me, can you…”
-50-
The Lady and the Dragon
The ill-dressed man walked past, gaze trained down as if she didn’t exist.
The fear on his craggy face bespoke the captain’s warnings. The Black Dragon had to be the most dreadful kind of ogre to inspire such fear. The overbearing, over-handsome lout!
Sweet heaven, the man was too much like her grandfather. Dictatorial, unbending, unhearing, unfeeling. Oh, his tactics were different. Grandfather claimed his iron-clad decisions stemmed from his care and concern for her.
The Black Dragon used her uncertainty of her tenuous position here, of him, as a means of control. Well, just as she had thwarted Grandfather, she would not allow the captain to get the better of her.
A difficult task, however. The man seemed to know her every thought. He awakened her senses and confused her so easily.
When she passed the next sailor, a stocky red-haired giant, she again asked for assistance. He turned to her, the lust burning in his gaze rooting her in place.
“Come here, sugar. If you’re lost, ol’ Talbot will be mighty glad to help ye find yer way.”
“A—actually, I just remembered how to find my cabin.”
“C’mon, now. Don’t be afraid.” He grinned, showing the gaps where his missing teeth had been. “I’ll be your friend if you’ll be mine.”
His leer told her friendship was the last thing on his mind. Restraining her panic, she mustered up her haughtiest expression. “We are not acquaintances, sir, much less friends.”
“Come closer, and we’ll get to know each other real well.” He inched nearer and reached for her.
Christina jumped back and sprinted away, the sounds of Talbot’s mocking laughter ringing in her ears.
With an uneasy sigh, Christina continued, and to her relief, stumbled across the correct companionway a few minutes later. As she opened the door to her cabin, she heard a series of bells chime in the distance.
Even this motley bunch had some order, she thought sleepily, groping for her narrow bed. She lay down on the lumpy mattress and pulled the limp
-51-
Shelley Bradley
blanket up under her chin. She was used to far better, but at the moment, the bed felt like heaven.
Briefly, she worried about Talbot, but decided he wouldn’t be bold enough to barge into the cabin adjoining the captain’s.
The next sound she heard was a door slamming against a wall. She lifted a groggy eye, fearing she’d made an incorrect assessment of Talbot. Instead, the Black Dragon stood in her portal, wide chest rising with short, angry breaths, long, dark hair framing a taut, black-masked face.
“Now what?” she groaned.
“You’re late. Again.”
She stretched. “I overslept. I was tired.”
He stared, his dark eyes following her every move. “The men are hungry. It’s six-thirty, the evening meal will begin soon, and I want you back in the galley.”
Christina pulled one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings out of memory.
“And people in Hades want cold water.”
With an oath, he stormed across the room to her bed. Christina tried to scramble away, but he snatched her into his grasp, holding her against his chest with a ferocity that made her tremble.
“Don’t you understand? If you don’t work, the crew will do everything possible to make your life complete hell.”
“More than you’ve done?” she asked archly. At his warning glare, she smoothed her dress irritably. “All right. I’ll go.”
“Good. The men appreciate a female’s cooking now and again,” he said as he followed her out the cabin door and headed through the companionway.
Obviously, he hadn’t talked to Pauly. “They will hardly appreciate mine.”
“It can’t be too bad,” he argued.
Since she’d never cooked before, Christina knew better. But to admit she’d never stood before a stove would reveal too much about her identity. Instead, she mumbled, “We’ll see.”
They strode into the galley, currently devoid of anyone save the cook. “Ask Pauly for instruction.”
-52-
The Lady and the Dragon
After that brief command, the captain left. And Pauly gave her a job she knew she’d botch: cooking oatmeal.
After dumping a bucketful of the flakes into a tub of boiling salt water, he told her to watch it. For what, she wanted to ask, but didn’t dare for fear they’d discover her ignorance and realize she was no impoverished merchant’s daughter.
Pauly left to find an additional ration of peas and bring up another casket of ale.
A boring half hour later, the bearded cook peered over her shoulder at the slop of oatmeal.
“Good Lord! What’d ya do to it?”
Wide-eyed and aware she’d done something wrong, she answered, “Nothing.
I—I watched it, just like you said.”
“Ya didn’t stir it?” He sounded shocked.
“You didn’t say to stir it.”
“Hell’s bells, I didn’t think I had to.”
With that, he reached for a long, wooden spoon and stuck it in the mushy substance. The spoon stood straight up.