Her Favoured Captain Read Online Free Page A

buccaneer my life not worth a jot hereafter.” She indeed feared her
brother’s wrath, and resistance to his wishes were now dashed outright. “I am
resigned to my fate, but today and the whole of this week is special because it
is to be my last time of freedom here at Penhavean Hall. Next week I am to
attend dinner at the Earl of Moorby’s London residence. And, according to Ned
at breakfast this morning, my entertainment has been planned weeks in advance.”
       Resigned to her fate sounded, well, rather
weak. She was not, for she had agreed to marry Moorby to save her brother and
the family name from shame and the house from ruin. In the meantime air of
rebellion was her intention and the manner in which she kicked off heeled
slippers was surely a good sign of carefree spirit?
       “Ah, Ned’s chosen suitor, and her ladyship
not best pleased by his choice,” he said, gathering his things.
       She scooped up her slippers, the flowers
sadly wilted in hand. “Shall we sit in the shade?” As they strolled to the
woodland verge, she glanced toward the seaward edge of the creek shrouded by
wide sweep of inlet. “How long do you intend to stay moored here?”
       “A day, a week, who can say?”
       What madness, a ship, a captain and he with
no plan of action. “Does a captain not know why his ship is at anchor in a
private creek, nor when he is to set sail?”
       He chuckled. “Private land either side, but
methinks the tidal waterway is crown property.”
       Beneath shady boughs she plopped her rump
down, peach-coloured silk skirt billowed about her. “You evade my question,
captain, why so?”
       He cast his sword to one side, threw his
boots and belongings beyond and settled his rump to sand beside her. “I recall
you had no interest in my name, a day past. Now today you wish to know my sail
date, and no doubt your next question in wont to know where I might be going.”
She could not help but laugh, a hand to his shoulder in friendship, though
snatched away as fast as settled upon bare flesh. “That was nice,” his remark,
a sideways glance and big grin.
       It was nice for her, too, if momentary
frisson of physical pleasure. “It was I who found you , and I
would like to know how long I am to have my buccaneer to talk with, for I would
hate to rush down here one fine day and find your ship gone and you with it.”
       “ Your buccaneer?” He dropped
backwards head pillowed in hands, one knee raised and rather smug expression as
he wiggled bare toes of out-stretched foot. “It may happen that way, your
ladyship. On balance all things buccaneer, I can hardly come to the house to
express my chagrin at having to leave such a lady as yourself wandering the
creek all alone and without good company at hand.”
       “And shall you be disappointed . . . come
time of your parting these waters?”
       She could not avert her gaze from his face,
for his tongue might lie but his eyes would reveal truth as they had a day
past.
       He suddenly dropped his knee, closed his
eyes, his expression unreadable. “Indeed, but we have today so let us make the
most of it.” He chuckled, reopened one eye, as though her thoughts read and
deliberately acted upon. He stretched his arm out flat upon the ground. “Come,
lie with me, put your head to my shoulder, and tell me why this suitor of yours
curls up your toes, so.”
       She laughed, fell back against his
shoulder, and snuggled to his chest. Her heart somersaulted, pulse quickened,
and sense of haven, safe haven enveloped. She trusted him, implicitly. “Moorby
is fat, ugly, old enough to be my father, and . . .”
       “Moorby, eh? Admiral of the fleet and Earl
of Moorby, the honourable thief, if one cares to grant that kindly title to a
thoroughly unscrupulous rogue.” He nuzzled her hair, gentle kiss to her head
sensual. “A rich man by all accounts. His wealth accumulated from acquisition
of unpaid debts.”
       “Exactly,” she