But he planned to fight for her love with every weapon in his arsenal.
As he strummed the last notes of the song, their gazes met, and the wordless longing he saw in her eyes shook him to the core. He didn’t move, terrified to break the moment. But she ended it with a blink. Immediately, her defenses were back up, and she refused to meet his gaze. “I should get back to my sister.”
He bit back his disappointment. He could happily have played for her all night long.
“Of course, my lady,” he said, setting his citole aside. “Let me escort you back to your cabin.”
They traversed the short distance in silence, and he stopped at the door with a bow. “I bid you good night.” Raising her hand to his lips, he brushed them softly with his lips.
He was delighted to hear a little gasp escape her. He’d made progress tonight, however miniscule. As far as he was concerned the evening had been a success.
“Good night, my lord.” She turned and entered the cabin swiftly without looking at him.
As he stared at the closed door after it closed, he couldn’t help worrying that his heart might be in very grave danger indeed.
Chapter Nine
Isabella was readyfor battle as she strode out of the cabin and onto the deck the next morning. She’d let him weaken her defenses during dinner the previous night, and it wouldn’t do to start getting sentimental over a baron who was manipulating her on behalf of Lady Eleanor. Everything depended on her keeping her head and remembering with whom she was dealing.
After breaking her fast with Adelaide, who was still looking decidedly green, she put on a red dress that displayed her figure to perfection. Most of the time, she tried to deflect attention so that she could listen unhindered and gather information, but this morning, she wanted to stand out.
Sailors were notoriously superstitious, and it was well-known that women were considered bad luck on a ship. It was time to stir up a bit of trouble—not enough to actually endanger the running of the ship, but enough to put Lord Martin on the defensive. If he was distracted placating his crew, he wouldn’t have time to ply her with food and wine in the evening, lulling her into complacency with his citole. And maybe she could create enough of a stir to make him want to be rid of her entirely.
Her gaze snagged on Martin, standing on the forecastle, deep in conversation with two of his men. An unwanted burst of pleasure shot through her at the recollection of the previous night’s dinner. A mental image of Martin’s smoldering look as he plucked his citole with mesmerizing skill and dexterity madeher bite her lip before she schooled her face back into a mask of haughtiness. She could not afford to speculate about what it might be like to have those skillful hands touching her, making good on his promise to worship every inch of her body.
Remember Lady Eleanor. You’ll be her marionette forever if you give in.
Walking to the rail, she took deep, calming breaths, grateful for the brisk breeze that cooled her unwanted ardor. She had a job to do and a husband to lose. It was time to set to work.
Casting her gaze about and listening carefully, she looked for the man who had spoken about women being bad luck on a ship. The day before, she’d purposefully directed her gaze out to sea, so she wasn’t sure what the man looked like, but she was certain she would recognize his voice.
Snippets of conversations wafted by as she cast a wide net.
“We’re making good speed. Eight knots…”
“…and there’s this place in Calais where the ladies all…”
“Swab that deck like you mean it, you wart on the arse of a…”
“Where did you want this barrel of ale?”
“Your left elbow is dipping when you thrust…”
Ah,therewas the one she wanted. She turned her gaze toward a small group of half a dozen men on the starboard side near the aftercastle that appeared to be going through swordsmanship drill. Their leader was a great slab of a man demonstrating each move with his wooden practice sword, each stroke swift and sure. Clearly, he needed no steel to disembowel a man. His nose had been broken several times over, and his grizzled brown beard was flecked with white.
She sauntered over to the group, drawing every eye, one by one, until they were all gaping at her as she leaned against the rail beside them. “Good morning, boys,” she said with a little wave. “Don’t mind me. I just want to watch. Carry on.”
The leader turned his thunderous gaze on her. “My lady, you should be resting belowdecks.” He hitched his head sideways in a none-too-subtle command.
“But I was bored,” she pouted. “Can’t I watch, even for a little bit? It’s like being at a tournament. It’s ever so much more interesting than my sewing. Please?”
She batted her eyelashes, then glanced at the other sailors. “I’m sure the men don’t mind. Do you?”
Casting coy glances around, she smiled inwardly as they started to preen and posture before her.
“C’mon Osric. It can’t do any harm to let the lady watch,” a youth with a few scraggly chin hairs wheedled.
“You heard the lady. She’s bored,” said a tall, skinny man missing his two front teeth.
