Teresa Medeiros Read Online Free Page A

that he was only biding his time, seeking her most vulnerable spot before he pounced for the kill.
    Fear made her reckless. “I’ve heard enough aboutyour cowardly tactics, Captain Doom, to know your favored opponents are innocent children afraid of ghosts and helpless women.”
    A loose plank creaked behind her, startling her. If he had touched her then, she feared she would have burst into tears.
    But it was only the mocking whisper of his breath that stirred her hair. “And which are you, Miss Snow? Innocent? Helpless? Or both?” When his provocative question met with stony silence, he resumed his pacing. “Tis customary to scream and weep when one is abducted by brigands, yet you’ve done neither. Why is that?”
    Lucy didn’t care to admit that she was afraid he’d embroider a skull and crossbones on her lips. “If I might have gained anything by screaming, you’d have left me gagged, wouldn’t you? It’s obvious by the motion of the deck that the ship is at full sail, precluding immediate rescue. And I’ve never found tears to be of any practical use.”
    “How rare.” The note in his voice might have been one of mockery or genuine admiration. “Logic and intelligence wrapped up in such a pretty package. Tell me, is your father in the habit of allowing you to journey alone on a navy frigate? Young ladies of quality do not travel such a distance unchaperoned. Does he care so little for your reputation?”
    Lucy almost blurted out that her father cared for nothing
but
her reputation, but to reveal such a painful truth to this probing stranger would have been like laying an old wound bare.
    “The Captain’s mother was traveling with us.” Fat lot of good that had done her, Lucy thought. The senile old woman had probably slept through the attack. “The Captain of the
Tiberius
is a dear friend of my father’s. He’s known me since I was a child. I canpromise you that should any of the men under his command so much as smile at me in what might be deemed an improper manner, he’d have them flogged.”
    “Purely for your entertainment, I’m sure.”
    Lucy winced at the unfair cut. “I fear my tastes in amusement don’t run to torture as yours are rumored to,” she replied sweetly.
    “Touché, Miss Snow. Perhaps you’re not so helpless after all. If we could only ascertain your innocence with such flair …”
    He let the unspoken threat dangle and Lucy swallowed a retort. She couldn’t seem to stop her tart tongue from running rampant. She’d do well to remember that this man held both her life and her virtue captive in his fickle hands.
    His brisk footsteps circled her, weaving a dizzying spell as she struggled to follow his voice. “Perhaps you’d care to explain why your noble papa deprived himself of your charming wit for the duration of your voyage.”
    “Father took ill before we could leave Cornwall. A stomach grippe. He saw no logic in my forfeiting my passage, but feared travel by sea would only worsen his condition.”
    “How perceptive of him. It might have even proved fatal.” He circled her again. “What provoked this timely bout of indigestion? Too much tea? A bad bit of kipper?”
    Lucy shook her head. “I couldn’t say. He was reading the
Times
over breakfast as he always does when he suddenly went white and excused himself. He told me later that he’d decided to travel by carriage.”
    Doom’s clipped tones softened. His footsteps ceased just behind her. “So he sent you in his stead. Poor, sweet Lucy.”
    Lucy wasn’t sure what jarred her most—the rueful note of empathy in his voice or hearing her Christian name caressed by his devilish tongue. “If you’re going to murder me, do get on with it,” she snapped. “You can eulogize me
after
I’m gone.”
    The chair vibrated as he closed his hands over its back. Lucy started as if he’d curled them around her bare throat. “Is that what they say about me, Miss Snow? That I’m a murderer?”
    She pressed her