cringed in disbelief. “I know I’m not fancy enough for you—” she began, about to tell him that she was a virgin.
He grasped her arm and their bodies collided. “Is this what you do when you need something? Offer your body in exchange for some goods or service?” he demanded. Instantly he released her, stepping away from her. “I may chase pirates, but I am a gentleman, and a de Warenne,” he ground out, his eyes blazing.
She was trembling and her heart raced with fear. She couldn’t understand his anger. “I have to get to England. Papa said I should go with you. I just want to pay you!”
He held up both hands. “Enough! Is your mother there?”
Amanda nodded, incapable of looking away. Was he refusing her because she wasn’t a fancy, fat beauty? And why wasn’t she relieved?
He inhaled. “I had already planned to take you to London, assuming you did have family there.”
He had? She was stunned. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you need to go to family,” he said harshly.
“But how will I pay for my fare? I am not a beggar, to be tossed a crumb!”
“You won’t pay!” He was abrupt. “And I have never once indicated that I think you a beggar. The truth is, I was leaving at the end of the month, but considering all that has happened, we’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She started backing up. All dismay was gone—there was only gut-curdling fear. “That’s too soon! And what about Papa’s burial?” How could they leave tomorrow? “The end of the month is better.” She had just lost Papa, she wasn’t ready to meet her mother.
“We will bury your father at sea after we set sail. We leave tomorrow,” de Warenne snapped. He pointed at her. “And you will not be dressed like that. I prefer you in a boy’s clothing.”
CHAPTER FOUR
SLEEP ELUDED HIM.
Huge, almond-shaped green eyes held his. Masses of pale, almost silvery hair framed an equally exotic and beautiful face. Long wild strands twirled past her full breasts, clearly visible beneath the fine cotton nightgown. How could she have appeared in the public rooms of his house, clad in such intimate and revealing attire?
He jerked at his loins, which were full. He debated behaving like a schoolboy, but he hadn’t done so since the age of twelve, and felt ashamed to even contemplate the act of masturbation. How could he be this attracted to, and this worried about, the pirate’s daughter? Even though he knew her name now, he refused to think of her as Amanda. It must be La Sauvage or the pirate’s daughter or even Miss Carre, just as he must fight such an insane attraction.
He turned onto his belly, trying to ignore the raging blood in his loins. He must never forget that she was very young, absurdly young…too young. And she wasn’t his type of woman! By the time he had run away from home at the age of fourteen, he had been seducing the daughters of his father’s friends. He had always looked older than he actually was and there were many beautiful, elegant older noblewomen to choose from. When the choice was between a wildflower or a hothouse rose, he had always turned toward the latter.
But she was entirely different from them all. He had only to think of her barging into King’s House with a loaded pistol or riding her canoe in frothing seas to know that. Then his smile vanished and he cringed, recalling her language in the gold salon. But a moment later he almost chuckled, thinking of how she had deliberately chased Miss Delington out of his house. Aruptly his thoughts veered. Cliff lunged from the bed for a drink.
Was she even innocent? She certainly knew what she was offering. Considering the culture she had been raised in, it was unlikely she was inexperienced. Why else would she so readily bargain with her body? Of course, it was an ancient ploy for women without power or means. She had nothing else to barter with. That dismayed him and saddened him immensely.
He was beginning to have a distinct sense of dread about taking her to England.
He knew he could control and hide his lust. It would be unpleasant and difficult, but he was a disciplined man. And she was too young! He need only recollect that. Because he had shortened his time at home, he would bring his children with him. Alexi had already sailed the islands with him and had been demanding a “real” cruise for some time now. Ariella had been dropping hints and he knew she wished to travel abroad and see the sights she had been reading about. He was acutely aware that his children would provide a distraction for him. They would be a buffer zone.
But there was more. Cliff sat down with a cognac in the dark. Rumor had it that Rodney Carre had once been in the Royal navy. Was it true? Because if so, Amanda’s mother might be from a genteel background.
And that worried him terribly.
La Sauvage had no sense of modesty, no sense of shame and no manners whatsoever. If her mother was well-bred, their reunion would be a disaster.
Yet he didn’t want her to discover that her mother was a whore or a pockmarked hag, either. The pirate’s daughter had had a difficult life, he didn’t need to know the details to be certain of that. She deserved some of life’s luxuries and that would require a fine family from her mother’s side.
In six weeks, she might be able to acquire some airs and a sense of propriety, just enough not to be so shocking. Anahid could teach her. But he wasn’t confident. He wasn’t even certain La Sauvage wished any instruction in decorum, and he had only agreed to transport her, not to transform her into a young lady. Besides, it wasn’t his affair.
Cliff gave up thinking of sleep. It was almost dawn and he had a voyage to make. His children’s baggage had been readied last night, and he had decided to bring their language tutor, as well. That decision had been made with Miss Carre in the back of his mind.
He almost felt as if he had acquired another child, but he had only to recall her in her nightgown to know he had not.
Cliff drained the cognac and dressed. The sky was stained fuchsia over indigo seas when he left his suite. He went directly to the children’s wing. Alexi’s door was open and he was already dressed and standing at the washbasin, brushing his teeth. He turned and grinned at his father, his mouth full of water.
Cliff’s heart softened. He tossed a cloth at him. “Is your sister ready, too?”
“I heard her complaining about the hour to Anahid. Papa, we have good winds today.”
Cliff winked. “I know. Do not rush. Miss Carre is undoubtedly still asleep.”
He left his son spitting out his rinse water and paused at his daughter’s door. “Ariella? Anahid?”
A moment passed and the Armenian opened the door. He felt her smile. “My lord?”
He glanced past her and saw that Ariella remained in her nightshirt, bleary eyed. She was clutching a book to her chest. He had to smile. “Good morning. Don’t worry, Anahid packed dozens of books for you. And if you manage to get through all of that, there is always my Bible.”
She yawned.
“We will be downstairs in ten minutes, my lord,” Anahid said quietly.
He left. Cliff
