Her Master and Commander

  He glanced down at where his hand closed over her elbow. “Good lord, woman! Why are you so cold? Surely you weren’t on the stoop that long?”

  “I—i—it was a l—l—long w—w—way here,” she managed, the shaking deepening.

  “You walked? The entire way?”

  “I w—w—walk that far all of the t—t—time.”

  His face darkened. “Not in this weather, you don’t. Blast it! I thought you’d bring a carriage.”

  “We d—d—don’t have one.”

  “Then I shall send one for you from now on. Bloody hell, do you want to catch your death? No doubt you’d blame that on me, too.”

  “Y—y—you didn’t invite m—m—me in and—”

  Large hands grasped her shoulders and marched her across the room to where a warming fire crackled. “Stand here and stop talking. I cannot stand to hear all of that stammering.”

  Once they reached the hearth, he turned her to face him. “Don’t move.”

  She looked up at him, unable to speak for her chattering teeth, and nodded.

  He paused, and to her surprise, the faintest hint of a grin touched his mouth, momentarily softening his face. Prudence blinked. He was always a handsome man. But when he smiled, his entire face changed. He looked approachable and gentle, his handsomeness compounded. He appeared so handsome, in fact, that her chest tightened in a most distressing way.

  Stop that! she told herself, forcing her gaze downward. But all that did was put the earl’s broad chest directly in line with her eyes. He was built on massive lines, a giant, in a way.

  She shivered, hugging herself, the warmth from the fire slowly seeping through her skirts. “Th—thank you.”

  He grunted. “You need something more to warm you.” He turned away and limped to the small table by the terrace doors.

  An odd sense of loss filled Prudence at his absence, which was completely silly for he was only across the room. The cold was truly affecting her. She put her hands behind her, blessed warmth soaking through her, stilling her trembling a good bit.

  He returned then, a small brass pot in his free hand. “You’re damned lucky I was about to make some rum punch. I already had it mixed and on the fire. I had to remove it to answer the blasted door.”

  Prudence started to tell him that she didn’t drink rum, but her lips wouldn’t form the words.

  The captain sent her a wry grimace. “Don’t even try. I’m fixing it whether you want it or not.” He set his cane to one side and took up an iron hook. He slid this into the pot handle and used it to hang the pot on a metal peg over the fire. “It won’t take long. I had the fire stoked a few moments before you arrived, just for this purpose.”

  Even more of the shivers receded. Prudence turned to face the fire. The orange and blue crackle of the flames chased the chill from her body, a faint lassitude seeping through her.

  The earl stirred the contents of the pot. The tantalizing scent of lemon and cloves and cinnamon filled the air, spiced with something more pungent.

  He replaced the lid and regained his cane, then limped back to the table to collect some glasses.

  Prudence was left by the fire. She held her hands to the dancing flames, soaking in the heat.

  “Warm yet?”

  The voice was so close to her that she jumped.

  A deep chuckle met this and he passed her to set the glasses on a table. Then he lifted the cover off the small brass pot.

  “That smells w—wonderful.”

  “It is. It’ll warm you up, too.”

  She squinted her eyes at him, but his attention was back on the brass pot. He took the ladle and poured a goodly amount into a glass mug, then turned and pressed it into her hand. “Here. Drink this.”

  The amber liquid sparkled in the half-filled glass. Light from the fireplace reflected in the depths and the mouthwatering scent engulfed her. “I don’t think I sh—”

  “Yes well, I think you should. I’m master and commander of this rig, and a bloody earl to boot, so drink up.” He came to stand near her, leaning an arm against the mantel and glinting down at her. He held a glass himself, this one filled almost to the rim.

  He was so close. And so…large. The heat from the fire was slowly melting her frozen skin and she lifted the glass and took a delicate sip. Warmed liquid drenched her mouth, filled her senses, heated her stomach…and sent a swirl of rum-soaked pleasure through her. She gasped, staring at the glass with surprise.

  He grinned, taking a deep drink himself. “Good, isn’t it?”

  She pressed a hand to her throat.

  “Take another drink.”

  She eyed the glass with misgiving. It was as potent as the man who’d made it, and as dangerous. “No, thank you.”

  He chuckled, his green eyes sparkling. He took another drink, as if in challenge. “I daresay you’ve never before had spirits.”

  “I’ve had wine. And sherry.”

  “Water, both of them. This is premium rum punch.”

  She looked at the glass. “It’s quite strong.”

  “Yes, it is. Which is why you should drink some. Try it again, only this time, go a little slower. After that, we shall begin the lessons.” An amused twinkle lit his eyes. “I promise to be a very apt pupil.”

  She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to take one drink. Besides, her chest was pleasantly warm where she’d tasted the beverage before. She lifted the glass and took another slow sip. This time the liquid slid down her throat and tickled her palate, caressing her chilled bones.

  “Better?” He watched her from over the rim of his own glass.

  “Much,” she murmured, drinking a bit more. A curious warmth trickled through her, heating her from heels to shoulders. She was suddenly very aware of everything around her—the man before her, the warm red of the room, the coziness of the roaring fire, the delicious scent of the rum punch. “What a pleasant room.”

  He paused, his glass halfway to his lips, his gaze never leaving her. “Yes, it is. I like it better than all of the others.”

  “I know that. Stevens told me.” Prudence smiled and finished off her rum punch. “He likes to talk about you.”

  “Odd,” the earl said, giving Prudence a lopsided smile that quite stole her breath. “He rather likes to talk to me about you.”

  “What does he say?”

  “Ask him yourself. He is but down the hallway. All you’d have to do is open the door and yell.”

  She lifted her chin. “I do not yell for servants. Perhaps that is a good place to begin our lessons—how to address servants.”

  He reached over and took her empty glass from her resistless hands. “Why not?”

  “A true gentleman never raises his voice.”

  “That is a hard rule for a man of the sea.” He refilled her glass with fragrant punch and placed it back in her hands.

  Prudence curled her fingers over the warmed glass. She wouldn’t drink this one; she’d just hold it. She was already the tiniest bit tipsy from the first glass. A second glass would be dangerous. “It isn’t what you know of manners, it’s what you wish to know.”

  “I don’t want to be fettered to such nonsense, though it seems I have no choice.”

  “I don’t consider using manners being fettered.”

  “That depends on what your objectives are, my dear,” the captain said, his voice deep with meaning.

  She eyed him narrowly. “What do you mean by that?”

  He grinned. “Nothing, my love. Pray have another sip of punch. It will make things all the clearer.”

  “I think you’re trying to get me drunk.”

  “Trying? Does one try to walk? Try to breathe? No, one does it or dies.”

  “Ah ha! You are, then!”

  He chuckled softly. “You are too swift for me.”

  She smiled triumphantly, holding her glass before her. “I didn’t drink any of the second glass. I knew what you were trying to do.”

  “Oh, you did, did you?”

&
nbsp; “Yes. Which is a good deal too bad because I really like the punch and I would like to drink it.”

  “Then drink it.”

  “I can’t. You will take advantage of me.”

  His brows lowered. “I do not take advantage of women, tipsy or no.”

  “Ah, but you said you didn’t like being fettered by manners.”

  “And?”

  “A true gentleman would not attempt to take advantage of a lady. I think that is why you don’t want to learn any manners.” She waved her hand grandly. “It all seems very simple to me.”

  He chuckled. “I am rather glad you aren’t drinking that second glass of punch. Madam, let me assure you that I shall not take advantage of you.”

  For some reason, a small flicker of disappointment settled in her heart. “Not at all?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” She stared into the fire, mulling this over. “Wait! What about a seduction? That is quite different from taking advantage, and it is something gentlemen do with frequency.”

  His laugh enveloped her. “Very true. A seduction is not necessarily a bad thing. It could, in fact, be quite pleasurable.”

  Prudence found the thought fascinating. What would it be like to be seduced by a man like this? He was unabashedly male and did not follow the normal dictates of society. Whatever he did, it would be exciting. Beyond exciting. She cleared her throat. “This is not a proper topic of conversation for us.”

  His eyes laughed at her. “No?”

  “No.” It was all such a pity. Not only could they not pursue interesting topics of conversation, but they could not allude to the improper things they’d already done. She sighed and, to ease the pressure in her throat at the memory of their passionate kiss, took a sip of the punch. Just a very, very tiny sip.

  It sent a flash of warmth through her. “Oh, who cares for propriety. My lord, I owe you an apology.”

  “What for?”

  “For kissing you. You must understand, it has been quite a long time since my husband died, and I miss—” Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. Good God, what was she doing? That was not something she’d meant to admit. She glared at her glass and set it down with a decided thunk. “Never mind. I don’t know what I am saying.”

  “I do. You miss ‘kissing.’” He shrugged, though his gaze remained riveted on her with an intensity that belied his casual stance. “I imagine that is quite normal.”

  It didn’t sound quite so bad when he said it that way.

  He waved his glass. “Sometimes, I miss ’kissing,’ too.”

  Her gaze drifted to his leg, her thoughts fixed on him. “Ah,” she said softly, wondering at the stab of disappointment that met this revelation. “Your wound prevents you from…relationships.”

  The captain’s brows snapped down. “What? Relatio—no! No indeed! I can assure you that I can—that is not an issue here!”

  She blinked, rather astonished at the harshness of his voice. “I am sorry to have offended you, I just thought you might have hurt yourself and that was why—”

  “I am well aware what you thought, madam. Let me assure you that your fears are unfounded. I only injured my leg from the knee down. As I mentioned yesterday, I am fully functional.”

  “Then why do you miss ‘kissing’?”

  “It is sometimes difficult to focus on enjoyment when people have died.” His gaze dropped to his glass. “I cannot tell you what that is like.”

  The somberness of his voice caught her. “I’m sorry. You—Reeves was right.”

  “Reeves?”

  “He said you had been through some very difficult situations.”

  The captain finished his drink, and then used the ladle to dip some more punch into his glass. “We must all run through a storm or two before we reach our destinations.”

  She considered this a moment. “Well I, for one, have no intentions of running through anything. I shall go around the bad weather in my life, thank you.”

  A deep chuckle met this. He had such a lovely lopsided grin; it made her heart flutter.

  He took a drink, then set his glass aside. “Mrs. Thistlewaite, you are a soft night wind, the kind that blows from the east and gently sets you down in the port of your choosing. I am glad you will be here to help me navigate the shoals set out by my bastard father.”

  Well! That was certainly poetic! And not at all like the harsh and rather unpleasant man she’d thought the earl to be. She started to take a step forward, when she realized that her foot seemed to be fixed in place. She glanced down to find that her skirt had caught on the bracket of a small table that held her glass of punch. “Oh bother. I am anchored.”

  He chuckled and picked up his cane to limp to her. There he set the cane aside, leaning it against the settee, then knelt down, his bad leg straight to one side. She couldn’t help but admire the muscles in his thighs. With large hands warmed by the punch, he untangled her skirts from the table. As they swung free, he leaned back and grinned up at her.

  Something happened then…Later on, she’d wonder if it was a memory of their previous kiss or a flare from the rum punch, but the earl looked so very…dear, sitting there before her, his green eyes sparkling. Somehow, her fingers found their way to his thick, black hair. It was amazingly soft, springing beneath her fingers and clinging as if it had a life of its own.

  His smile faded, his eyes darkening ever so slightly.

  From somewhere deep inside her, Prudence knew she should stop. Knew she was breaking every bond of polite behavior, the very thing she’d come to teach him.

  But there was something about this man, some untamed wildness that drew her to the line of propriety and over.

  She knew she’d regret every action she was about to commit. But somehow that didn’t matter. What did matter was that she was here, with him, now. That her fingers were threaded through his wonderful hair, that he was looking up at her as if she was the only woman in the world.

  It was a madly impossible moment. Prudence felt herself slipping over the side of desire, sinking into a wildly improbable sea of passion, and it was then that she knew she was lost.

  Chapter 10

  In your estimation of your fellow man, be sure to allow for the foibles of basic human nature. No matter the circumstances, the effects of passion, greed, and gluttony cannot be denied.

  A Compleat Guide for

  Being a Most Proper Butler

  by Richard Robert Reeves

  She wanted him. The thought trembled on her lips, never quite escaping. It left her with a taste of longing so strong that her heart thundered in her ears and quickened her breath.

  The moment lengthened, tantalized. The captain’s eyes darkened even more. “Prudence…” He captured her wrist in his large, warm hand and pulled her fingers to his lips.

  A deep shiver raced through Prudence at the touch of his lips to her bare skin. There was something achingly intimate about this moment; him kneeling at her feet, her fingers in his hair, his lips touching her. Fire licked between them, drawing her closer, closer.

  She fought the swell of feelings. Fought the ache of emptiness that struggled for release. She had loved Phillip. But it was so long ago. Oddly, the memories of the warmth of their relationship, of the passion they’d shared, seemed to push her forward. Her fingers slipped from his hair, to his collar. And then she was pulling him up, to his feet…and into her arms.

  He was so tall she had to bend her head back to lift her face to his. It was unique, this disparity of heights, but she liked it, especially when he gently held her in his massive arms and captured her to his chest, the scent of soap and sandalwood engulfing her.

  Prudence wanted this kiss so badly. The last kiss seemed to have ignited the desire for even more. And it had been so long since a man had truly held her. So long since a man had touched her in this way. With Phillip, she’d tasted quiet passion, but this was something more…hotter, more desperate.

  The captain’s lips touched hers. Prudence gave
herself completely to the moment, lost in the daze of pleasure and rum that soaked through her. She clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, the linen crisp under her fingers. His skin warmed the cloth until she was certain he burned as much as she. It was with a faint sense of despair that she finally gave in to the nameless pull that emanated from him and released her grip on all coherent thought. Within seconds she had slipped into the heated waters of desire and submerged fully into his embrace.

  The kiss deepened and lengthened. The captain moaned against her mouth, plundering her deeper, more fully, as his hands ran up and down her sides, his thumbs brushing the fullness of her breasts and causing her to arch against him.

  The front door slammed. Reason returned, a slash of icy water after a warm, deep slumber. Prudence broke free from the earl’s embrace and quickly whisked herself around the settee. She didn’t worry that he might follow her; the furniture boundary was to keep her from reaching back out to him.

  “Well,” the earl said, raking a hand through his hair, “That was…interesting.”

  Despite the wry smile he attached to the words, his breathing was as rapid as Prudence’s own.

  He found his cane and moved beside the settee, one hand resting on the back. “I am afraid I have had too much punch to kiss you without wanting more. I should not have attempted it.”

  She nodded, touching trembling fingers to her mouth where his kiss still seared a heated imprint. “Nor I. I don’t know what I was thinking—”

  “It wasn’t you. And it wasn’t me. It was the rum punch.” He took a deep breath, and shook his head as if to clear it. “You came today to discuss the lessons, I believe.”

  “Yes. Of course.” Prudence bit her lip, aware of the awkwardness of the moment. “Well!” She smoothed her gown and struggled to collect her thoughts. “I have some idea, but we need a solid plan if we’re to meet the expectations of the trustees within a mere month.”

  His mouth twisted in a self-deriding smile. “I am so lacking in polish?”

  Her cheeks heated. “No! I didn’t mean—”