As the door closed softly behind her Nathan lay still, eyes closed on reality, and let himself drift into fantasy, just for once, just for that night.
‘You going to get up, Mr Stanier, sir?’ There was a thump and the sounds of clothes being shaken out. ‘Only it’s eight bells and the Bahama Keys are fine on the port bow.’
Nathan blinked and saw the bulk of Street, moving around the cabin like a pantomime housemaid. There was a tray on the fold-down table with what looked like bread and coffee. ‘Your back looks better,’ he added, picking up the oil jug and heading for the door. He sounded not one whit surprised.
‘Street!’ Nathan twisted round and sat up. Damn it, it was better.
‘Yessir?’ The ex-pirate was not cut out for looking innocent.
‘What do you know about that?’ He pointed at the jug.
‘If a certain party were to have asked me for some oil for your back, sir, I’m sure I’d have forgotten about it this morning. Amazing how stuff gets left lying around, isn’t it?’
He went out, hands full, leaving the door to swing behind him.
Nathan turned the chair to face the table and began to eat, his mind spinning. It seemed he was forgiven and Clemence would tolerate his company once more, a dangerous indulgence, but an irresistible one. The click of claws was all the warning he got before a wet nose nudged sharply into his ribs, effectively focusing everything on the fact that one large dog was after his breakfast.
‘Miss Eliza!’
‘Yes, Mr Stanier, sir?’ The lilting island accent came from right behind him.
‘Get this hound out of here.’ He did not turn round, realising his shirt had vanished along with Street.
‘Yes, sir. My,’ she remarked to an accompaniment of claws being dragged across the deck, ‘you’ve a fine set of muscles, sir, that you have. Enough to dazzle a lady. Pity to waste that, I’d say.’
When he swung round she was gone, the door latch falling.
‘Oh, there he is! Bad dog, running off!’ Clemence looked up from her book as Eliza dragged a reluctant One-Eye on deck. ‘Where was he?’
The maid tied the leash to a ring on the rail and flopped down in the shade. ‘Phew, I thought it would be nice and breezy on a ship.’ She waved an embroidery pattern to and fro in front of her face. ‘He was in Mr Stanier’s cabin trying to steal some breakfast. Sitting there with no shirt on, Mr Stanier was; he’s a fine figure of a man, I’ll say that. I’ll wager he strips well.’
‘Eliza!’ Clemence hissed, blushing all over at the thought of just how well. ‘Someone will hear you.’
‘And what if they do? There’s nothing wrong with my eyes, or yours, either, Miss Clemence. Why aren’t you marrying the man?’
‘Because he says he’s not good enough for me,’ Clemence confessed. ‘Apparently my having a duke for a cousin and owning a small fleet of merchantmen would make him a fortune hunter.’ She sighed. ‘And he’s still in love with his late wife.’
‘Man’s a fool, then.’
‘Eliza, that isn’t fair. I think his scruples are honourable, if infuriating, and as for his wife, I think it is very romantic—or, at least, I would do if it wasn’t for the fact it affects me.’
‘So you want him, then?’ Eliza picked up some of the endless hemming, but left it lying on her lap. Her brown eyes were wide with curiosity and concern.
‘Being a normal female in full possession of my faculties,’ Clemence said tartly, ‘yes, I do.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Short of alienating all my relatives and giving away all my money, there isn’t a lot I can do,’ Clemence said, staring out to sea.
‘You in love with him, Miss Clemence?’
‘Yes,’ she confessed. Eliza opened her mouth to speak. ‘And, no, don’t ask why I don’t tell him. Even if could bring myself to be so brassy, all it would achieve would be to make him feel sorry for me.’
They relapsed into thoughtful silence, Clemence pretending to read a very dull book of sermons the Third Lieutenant had offered her, Eliza idly basting the hem of a shift. One-Eye barked a greeting and a long shadow fell over them.
‘Ladies.’
‘Mr Stanier.’ Clemence schooled her expression into one of polite greeting and tried not to remember the feel of Nathan’s body gripped between her thighs, the heat of his skin under her palms, the strange feeling of power when he had lain quiescent under her.