The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

“I have given you my body, nothing more.”

Unaccountably, her glib comment made him feel even more irritated. “As your captain, I have your life in my hands. You should trust in me.”

“I trust no man.” Her stare was bright and determined, and Roderick felt her strength of will. She wanted him to feel it, he knew, for it was a warning.

He frowned. One moment they were at ease with one another, then this disagreement had arisen. “I don’t claim to understand the fair sex,” he stated. “I never have. But you, madam, only serve to show me that I never will.”

Affronted, she responded by rising to her feet. “You cannot hold all women to account on the actions of one. That is unfair and unreasonable.”

“Why not? It is the way you treat men. You said so yourself, moments ago.”

Color rose to the skin on her cheekbones. In her anger, she was even more beautiful. Despite the tension between them, Roderick found himself roused by her, and if they had been in his cabin he would have had her on her back in a flash.

Mercifully, the door opened and a serving wench bustled in with a cauldron of stew set upon a wooden board. Steam rose from it.

Roderick nodded across at Maisie. “Sit yourself down.”

She pursed her lips and stood her ground, as if unwilling to obey.

He held up his hands. “I will pry no more.” Once she took her seat again, he could not resist adding, “Although you are willful and you are wrong to mistrust me.”

She folded her arms over her chest and glared across the table at him.

The stew was set down between them, and a second serving woman brought bread, bowls and spoons. Even after the wenches had gone, Maisie held her position most deliberately.

Roderick’s belly grumbled. He reached over and dished up the hearty stew into each of their bowls. “Come now, eat. You won’t get a meal this good aboard the ship.”

“You didn’t have to point that out. I have already gleaned that much knowledge myself,” she retorted.

Roderick gave a dry laugh.

When she looked his way, she snatched up her spoon.

The food was good and they were both hungry. They ate in silence, but still Roderick studied her, wondering.

“You will not force me to tell you my story,” she commented, when she caught his eye.

“No, I won’t force you....”

When he smiled at her, she echoed it, albeit slightly.

“And you,” she asked. “Why were you leaving Billingsgate docks so hastily?”

So, she can ask me and expect a response, despite her own stand. Roderick had to fight back a sarcastic retort. “The excise men do not take kindly to merchant shipmen such as us, because we don’t abide by their rules.”

That seemed to amuse her. “You don’t pay excise on goods you carry?”

“We are a crew made up of Scots and Dutch. There is little love amongst any of us for the English soldiers, despite the supposed union with Scotland. We find ways to avoid the excise men.”

Maisie nodded thoughtfully. “You remind me of Scotland.”

“Because I hate the English?”

She gave a low laugh. “Not only that.” Eyeing him curiously, she explained. “You are barely tamed, and you answer to no one. Scotland runs in your veins. You carry it everywhere with you.”

Roderick had been about to deny her comment, but when he thought about it he realized she’d seen something deep in his character that he hadn’t even been aware of himself. It was uncanny. Yet he could not fathom her, except when she was on her back. He seemed to have a knack for handling her then.

A small mercy, he thought, with irony.