The Pleasure of His Bed. Donna Grant

you intended all along to get into my pants—”

      “So you got into mine! And you loved every moment!”

      Damon blinked. “You weren’t wearing any.”

      “At last! A rational thought from a man who finds me distractingly attractive.” She flashed him an adorable grin while thrusting her bare breasts at him. “You can’t tell me you’re not happy to see me, Captain Delacroix. A man will say all manner of misleading things, but his cock never lies!”

      “You can’t stay here,” he challenged in an ominous voice. “We don’t allow women on our ship. It’s bad luck.”

      Damned if she didn’t sneer at him—and then she threw something! Hit him in the chest with it!

      “What do I care about your silly superstitions?” she demanded. “You treated me like a slut last night—pressing money on me, no less! I’ve come to demand restitution.”

      He bit back his retort. Studied the lush woman with the raven hair cascading over her shoulders…spilling over his pillows in invitation. “And just what does that mean, restitution?”

      “Aha! So you weren’t paying attention in class, either!” Sofia crowed. “I know plenty of things that got past Daphne and Trix during their time with the tutors.”

      Damon shifted, aware of the light in her dark violet eyes and the flush on her pretty cheeks—and his body’s reaction to them. This alluring domestic had no inkling of her place, which meant this conversation could continue down the primrose path for a long, long time. What man really wanted intelligent conversation from a fine, feisty female displaying herself so brazenly in his bed? Especially one who’d locked his own damn door on him?

      He had half a mind to spank her. The thought of his hand landing a satisfying smack on her curvaceous backside made him shift his weight again. She was distractingly attractive, dammit, and she knew her power well.

      “I apologize for my clumsy show of appreciation,” he murmured. “Even as I gave you those coins, I realized such payment might offend you.”

      She pursed her lips in a pouty little moue, which made her extremely kissable. “Apology accepted—if you don’t commit any further faux pas.”

      “You still can’t stay, Sofia. I must follow the code of conduct my men have agreed to uphold,” he insisted. Although, as she stretched, teasing him with her womanly attributes, a list of male rules was the furthest thing from his mind. “The Code states that any sailor who seduces a woman and brings her aboard shall suffer death.”

      Sofia’s gaze didn’t waver. She sprawled proudly, with her lovely shoulders back, contemplating his edict. “But that doesn’t apply here, does it, captain? You own the Courtesan! And we’ve agreed that it was I who seduced you.”

      How could he could he not like this woman? God love her, she was even more alluring by day than she’d looked in the twilight shadow of the hedgerow. “I doubt my men will make that distinction,” he said, swallowing a snicker. “Even if I’m their captain—of a ship we plundered awhile back—it’s unfair for me to have a lady at my disposal if they don’t get the same—”

      “Thank you, sir. Not many address me as a lady.”

      Damon stopped midsentence. Why should he care if she’d been treated poorly? She was a domestic—a servant who’d shirked her duties by running off and who’d cost him precious time this morning! “Stop leading this conversation astray! I’m telling you any man who has a woman aboard is to die. ‘Restitution’ of his life and rights is not an option!”

      “So if the man dies…what happens to the woman?”

      He gaped. Her distinctive eyebrow arched as she awaited his reply…studied him with unwavering attention…expected an answer at least as astute as her question. Damn! He didn’t have an answer, but he had no doubts about the propositions this wench would receive before she was removed from the Courtesan. Just thinking about his men lusting after her made him seethe!

      It was time to take charge by approaching her from another angle. “Why did you run off, obviously plotting to stow away on my ship?” he demanded. “Few serving girls are fortunate enough to sail to America with their—”

      “Would you stay with Daphne Havisham?” she cried. “My God, the puking and bawling when Lady Constance tiptoed around the subject of ‘wifely duties’ and fucking! No, thank you!” Sofia declared, her cheeks flaring. “I’ll take my chances at whatever punishment you serve up, sir!”

      Damon clenched his jaw to keep from laughing, as it would give her more advantage than she already had. Any moment now one of his men might come looking for him, and the sound of a female voice…or of his bed creaking in that unmistakable rhythm of…

      Damn! He had to keep his mind on discipline! He was the captain here! “What punishment would you suggest, Sofia?” he asked slyly. “If you were one of my crew caught at wrongdoing, I’d clap you in irons on the deck, at the mercy of the wind and rain. Or I’d sic the cat on your back. What a pity, the scars our cat-o’-nine-tails would inflict on your lovely skin. And then there’s keelhauling.”

      “And what might that be?” she asked in a more subdued voice.

      “Your wrists would be bound, and you’d be tossed over the stern on a rope to be dragged from one side of the ship to the other…until you stopped struggling for air. You’d most likely be rubbed to a bloody pulp by the barnacles on the the ship’s underside.”

      Her expression tightened. Then her gaze drifted to his waist. “It takes a resourceful man to acquire two ships and crews—and to be hired as an escort for Lord Havisham’s daughters,” she stated coyly. “You’ll come up with something, captain.”

      Damned if she didn’t burrow into his bed as though to claim it for herself. Damon strode toward the long lump under his bedclothes, ready to yank back the coverlet and haul her out of—

      But that’s exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it? He’d fall prey to her charms the moment his skin touched hers…from the first brush of her lips against his ear as she whispered provocative suggestions.

      Delacroix paused at the side of the bed to compose himself. Every word he said would be an invitation for Sofia to sidetrack him, to lure him into joining her between his clean sheets, which would smell like her perfume long after he sent her away.

      “Sofia, if you won’t willingly return to the Lady Constance I must bind your wrists and ankles and deliver you there myself. You have no choice.”

      No response. Just the slightest shift where her backside would be.

      “Fine. I’m fetching the irons,” he warned. “You leave me no recourse.”

      She uncovered her face to smile slyly. “You don’t want me telling the Havisham girls they’re only so much ‘ballast’ among the goods you intend to trade along the way,” she informed him. “Just as you don’t want me telling Lord Havisham’s crew you plan to meet up with Blackbeard himself! To barter the dowries in exchange for keeping the brides alive, I’m guessing. You’ll split the profits with him later. Won’t you?”

      Damon bit back a sigh. “Your imagination is every bit as keen as your tongue, eh? I’m tired of arguing for—”

      “Ah, but what will you have to barter if Daphne and Beatrix order their ship turned around?” Sofia sat up, and when the coverlet fell past her mussed hair Delacroix again caught sight of her smooth, bare shoulders and breasts. What in God’s name was he to do with this brazen woman? She knew too much and had no qualms about telling Havisham’s crew of his intentions. If they turned around, he and O’Roark and their men would forfeit several weeks’ wages—and he wanted no part of a mutiny. Didn’t want to hire new men after these sailors walked out on him, either, dammit.

      Control. He must take control…even if his cock so badly wanted to