“I understand now why people do this sort of thing.”
James sighed in relief. That was just what he needed to hear, some silly bit of nonsense to put things in their proper perspective. She was just a wench, albeit a prime piece. But she was no different from any other woman he’d set out to seduce. With the challenge gone, there was nothing left to hold his interest. So why didn’t he get off her and send her back to her own bed? Because he bloody well didn’t want to yet.
He rose up to his elbows to gaze down at her. Her skin was still flushed, her lips appeared well-ravaged. With his finger he gently tried to sooth them. And there was a soft look in her velvety-brown eyes that for some reason delighted him. It certainly wasn’t a look he was accustomed to from her. Usually her eyes expressed her nervousness, or frustration, or outright irritation, so amusing in her lad’s disguise…By God, he’d forgotten about that, her masquerade, her reasons for it. There was still the mystery of her to hold his interest, wasn’t there?
“This sort of thing, George?”
The fact that his brow went up told her more plainly than words that she’d amused him. Well, so what? The mannerism wasn’t quite so annoying just now, either. “That wasn’t very romantic sounding, was it?” she inquired softly, feeling incredibly shy all of a sudden.
“Not very loverlike, either, but I didn’t miss the point, dear girl. You enjoyed yourself, did you?”
She couldn’t quite manage to say the word, so she nodded, then felt a delicious thrill at the smile he bestowed on her. “Did you?” Georgie! Are you mad to ask him that? “I mean—”
He threw back his head in laughter, rolled to the side, but brought her with him. She was now looking down at him, a bit more in control in this new position, until he opened his legs and she slid between them.
“What am I going to do with you, George?”
He was still laughing, and hugging her to him. She didn’t really mind his amusement, except, as usual, she’d missed the joke.
“You could stop calling me George, to begin with.”
As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. She went very still, hoping she hadn’t brought her deception to mind with that remark. But he became just as still. The smile was still there, but the change in him was almost palpable. The sardonic autocrat was back.
“And what, pray tell, should I call you? By your true name perhaps?”
“Georgie is my true name.”
“Try again, sweet, and this time make me believe you.” No answer. In fact, her expression became quite mulish. “Ah, so I’m going to have to drag it out of you, am I? Shall I bring on the instruments of the Inquisition, whips and racks and all that?”
“That isn’t funny,” she retorted.
“I daresay you wouldn’t think so, but I might find it entertaining…No, don’t squirm, love. It feels delightful, but I’m in the mood for explanations just now. And why don’t we begin with the reason for your charade.”
She sighed and laid her head on his chest. “I had to leave England.”
“Were you in trouble?”
“No, I just couldn’t stand it there another day.”
“Then why didn’t you leave in the customary fashion, by purchasing passage?”
“Because the only ships crossing the Atlantic were English.”
“I imagine that’s supposed to make sense. Give me a moment and I might figure it out…then again, I might not. What the deuce is wrong with English ships?”
She leaned up to frown at him. “You wouldn’t find anything wrong with them, but I happen to despise all things English.”
“Do you indeed? And am I included in that package?”
When his brow went up this time, she had the greatest urge to yank it back down. “You were. I haven’t made up my mind whether you still are.”
He grinned, then chuckled. “I’m beginning to see the light, George. You wouldn’t happen to be one of those hotheaded Americans, would you? That would certainly account for the accent I haven’t been able to place.”
“And what if I am?” she demanded defensively.
“Why, I’d consider locking you up, of course. Safest place for people who like to start wars so much.”
“We didn’t start—”
He kissed her silent. Then, holding her head in both hands, he kissed her thoroughly, until she was breathless enough for him to announce, “I’m not going to argue dead issues with you, dear girl. So you’re an American. I can forgive you for that.”
“Why you—”
What works is worth repeating, James had always found, so he silenced her with another kiss, and kept this one up until she was quite dazed. By then he was aroused himself, and sorry he’d teased her.
“I don’t give a bloody damn what nationality you are,” he said against her lips. “I wasn’t involved in that ridiculous war, didn’t support it or the policies that led to it. I was, in fact, living in the West indies at the time.”
“You’re still English,” she said, but with very little heat now.
“Quite true. But we’re not going to let that matter, are we, love?”
Because he asked while he was nibbling on her lips, she couldn’t think of a single reason that it should matter. She gave him a whispered no, and began some nibbling of her own. She’d felt the change in his body when it occurred, and had an idea now what it meant. And in the back of her mind came the thought that the questioning might end if they made love again. Of course, the fact that those marvelous feelings were stirring inside her again had nothing to do with it.
But a while later, after the bedsheets were a bit more rumpled and she was once again rolled on top of him, though only partially this time, he said, “Now, shall we discuss how I felt upon discovering that you’re a wench rather than the lad I took under my wing? My mortification in recalling the times you’d assisted me at my bath, the times that I…disrobed in your presence?”
With it put that way, Georgina felt absolutely terrible. Her deception alone was bad enough, but much worse was allowing the captain to put himself unknowingly into positions that he now found embarrassing. She should have confessed the truth that very first day when he called her into the area of his bath. Instead, she had foolishly thought she could make it through the whole voyage without being found out.
He had every right to be furious with her, and so it was with a good deal of hesitancy that she asked, “Are you very angry?”
“Not very, not anymore. I’d say I’ve been adequately compensated for all embarrassments. In fact, you’ve just paid for your passage and anything else you’d like.”
Georgina drew in her breath sharply in disbelief. How could he say something like that after the intimacy they’d just shared? Easily, you ninny. He’s an Englishman, isn’t he; an arrogant, blasted lord? And what did he call you? A wench, which says plain enough how lowly he thinks you.
She sat up slowly. By the time she looked down at him, her features set in lines of fury, there wasn’t a single doubt in James’s mind that she felt insulted.
“You could have waited until morning before you got nasty again, you son of a bitch.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“As well you should!”
James reached for her, but she bounded off the bed. He tried to explain, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, George.”
She whirled around to glare down at him. “Don’t call me that!”
He was beginning to see the absurdity in what was happening, which kept his voice calm as he pointed out. “Well, you haven’t given me your name yet, you know.”
“It’s Georgina.”
“Good Lord, you’ve my utter sympathy. I’ll stick with George, thank you.”
Was that supposed to coax a smile from her? With the expression of feigned horror that accompanied it, it almost did. But not quite. That crack about having paid for her passage hurt.
“I’m going to bed, Captain. My bed,” she said with stiff hauteur, and she pulled it off superbly, even standing there naked. “I would appreciate it if you would arrange other quarters for me in the morning.”
“So we’re seeing the true George at last, are we, complete with a formidable temper?”
“Go to the devil,” she mumbled as she came around the bed, swiping up her clothes as she went.
“All this huffiness, and all I did was pay you a compliment…in my fashion.”
“Well, your fashion stinks,” she said, then added as an afterthought that was laced with contempt, “sir.”
James sighed, but after a moment, as he watched her march across the room, her dark brown hair swishing about that cute little backside of hers, he was grinning, almost laughing. What a delightful surprise she was turning out to be.
“However did you manage a full week of meekness, George?”
“By biting holes in my tongue, how else!” she called back at him.
He did laugh this time, but softly, so she wouldn’t hear. He turned on his side to watch her antics as she threw her clothes down in her corner in a demonstration of feminine pique. But almost immediately she realized what she’d done and retrieved her shirt to put on. That done, she started to get into her hammock, but hesitated, and after a moment, retrieved her breeches and yanked them on, too. Apparently satisfied that she was properly covered for the moment, she rolled into her hammock. Her ease with which she did so, however, recalled to James’s mind that she’d never really had any difficulty with that precarious bed.
“You’ve sailed before, haven’t you, George, in addition to your jaunt to England?”
“I think I have proven, quite adequately, as you put it, that I’m not a George.”
“So humor me, dear girl. I rather like you as a George. And you have sailed—”
“Certainly,” she cut in, then turned over to face the wall, hoping he’d take the hint. But she couldn’t resist adding, “I own my own ship, after all.”
“Of course you do, dear girl,” he humored her.
“I really do, Captain.”
“Oh, I believe you, indeed I do. So what took you to England, hating it as you do?”
She was still gritting her teeth over being humored. “That is none of your business.”
“I’ll get it out of you eventually, George, so you might as well tell me now.”
“Good night, Captain. On second thought, I hope your headache returns…if you even had one, which I’m beginning to doubt.”
She heard his laughter this time. He simply couldn’t prevent it when it occurred to him that her display of temper tonight would be as nothing in comparison to how she would feel if she ever learned that he’d known she was a female from the start. The next time he got bored, he might just tell her, merely to see what would happen.