Chapter 26

O HR AND R ICHARD JOINED G AbrIELLE in her cabin for dinner. Ohr glanced at the captain a few times and finally voiced his concern.

"You're going to leave him in here like this?"

"You mean chained? For now, yes. It will keep him from getting hurt again."

"When did he get hurt?"

She shouldn't have mentioned that, but since she did, Gabrielle decided the truth might be better than any trite assurances she could give. It would also explain why she wanted him to stay chained.

"He managed to escape," she said, then quickly added, "I managed to tie him up again. No real harm was done."

"I could just chain him to the deck instead," Ohr offered.

"Swab those decks!" Miss Carla squawked.

They laughed at the parrot. It was typical of her to say one of her many phrases if she heard a word from them. But Gabrielle should have covered the bird, as late as it was. She did that now, then returned to the table. She noticed Drew staring at the parrot's cage. He probably hadn't heard her talk before then.

As for Ohr's suggestion, it happened to be raining that night, but even if it hadn't been, Gabrielle couldn't bring herself to confine Drew topside.

She told her friends, "I'd rather he not be moved."

"You can have our cabin, then," Richard pointed out. "We can sleep in here."

She thought about it for a moment. For propriety's sake, she should do that, though it was a bit late to worry about propriety when she'd branded herself a pirate. Besides, this room, the captain's domain, and her occupying it, was about the only thing that really supported her ruse. The men were calling her captain, yes, but Drew needed to see that they were coming to her for their orders, and their frequent stops in this room today showed that they were. And how could she enact her revenge against the captain if she didn't have constant access to him?

So she shook her head. "I'll be fine here." Fortunately, they didn't argue with her, though she was sure they would have if Drew weren't within hearing distance.

They stayed with her a while after dinner, with Richard going above and beyond in an effort to make her laugh. He was still feeling guilty for ruining what she'd tried to pull off that afternoon, and she hadn't had a chance yet to talk to him about it, or assure him that it had been a silly idea on her part anyway.

The captain remained quietly in his corner all night, just watching them, and probably listening to their every word. The only restraint on him now was the shackle about his ankle. She'd removed the ropes from him herself earlier. That had been tricky, and quite nerve-wracking. She'd had to just loosen them enough so he could work them off himself while she shot out of his reach before he did.

He hadn't sat in that chair again since he'd left it. He'd stood up and stretched his long limbs for a while, which had caught her eye and nearly had her ogling him again, much to her own annoyance.

He'd sat on the floor after that, his back leaning against the bulkhead, his knees bent in front of him, feet planted far apart. He'd eaten his meal there, too, after Bixley slid a plate across the floor to him. No one wanted to get within his reach, which was wise. He wasn't nearly as intimidating as that big bear first mate of his, Timothy Sawyer, but Drew was still a really tall, muscular man, so a person would just be asking for trouble if he got within access of his long arms.

He'd taken off his boots, probably to see if he could slip the shackle over his ankle to remove it completely. It would have been too tight with the boot on under it. She'd been watching him and he was aware of it, so he hadn't tried it yet, but that just worried her enough to insist he lift his pant leg to show her.

He'd actually just stared at her. He wasn't going to comply. She'd gritted her teeth. He made the most annoying captive. Belligerent, uncooperative, insulting. She decided not to press it. It was a damned leg shackle, after all, designed not to come off once it was put on, and his legs were probably thicker than most, as tall and nicely filled out as his body was.

She realized rather late, after her friends had left, that she'd have to do without the normal necessities while she shared the room with her captive. Well, it wouldn't be the first time she'd slept in her clothes without removing them. She hadn't once removed her clothes on that pirate island, when she'd been a captive herself. She didn't mind sleeping in them now…

She went very still when the question entered her mind. Why make exceptions for him? Good grief, it was actually a perfect opportunity to start tempting him beyond what he could stand, by showing him a little bare skin. She just needed to garner the nerve to do it, and the easiest way would be to pretend. She didn't want him to think she was doing it deliberately.

So very quickly, before she could change her mind, she let her skirt fall to her feet and she yanked her blouse off over her head. She couldn't help but feel satisfied when she heard his sharply indrawn breath.

"Damn, woman, what the hell are you doing?" he nearly shouted.

As she stood before him in her chemise and pantalets, which showed off her derriere to perfection, she glanced over her shoulder at him and said coquettishly, "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you were there."

Then she turned toward him so he could appreciate the full upper curves of her breasts, which were revealed by the low-cut chemise. She heard him groan as his gaze fixed on her chest, and she had to bite back a laugh as she jumped into his bed in her skimpy underclothes. A double attack, one against his senses and another against his pride, that she could forget his presence in the room.

But if she thought that she'd managed a telling blow for her revenge for the day, she was sadly mistaken. He made sure of that.

No sooner did she extinguish the lamp by his bed and lie back on the pillow than he said, "You know this shackle is rusted?"

She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, not that she could see it in the dark, but it was in that direction that she stared. He's quiet all night, but when the lamp goes out he starts to talk? she thought in irritation. She probably should have said something to him before she retired, at least let him know that his position on the floor wasn't her idea, that she would have supplied him with a hammock if he'd asked for one.

Then again, did she really want him to think she had a soft side? Before, when he'd been at the top of her list for matrimonial choices, she'd wanted him to know the real her and stop erroneously assuming things about her. But it was too late for that. Now she wanted just the opposite.

"Determined to see me get blood poisoning, aren't you?" he said next.

She gritted her teeth. She debated whether to just ignore him. Maybe he'd get the hint, or maybe he'd think she was asleep already.

"Ah, I see," his voice drifted across to her. "The plan was to toss me over the side and kill me all along?"

She sat up, but it was too dark to see him in his corner. "You should have left your boots on, you know," she pointed out reasonably.

"You think it would have made a difference, when this shackle is so rusty it would have eaten right through that leather?"

She lay back down, slamming her head against the pillow twice. "This was a really bad idea," she gritted out. "If we were in warmer waters, you can be sure I'd go sleep on the deck myself."

He didn't reply. He was actually quiet for a while, which encouraged her to try to fall asleep.

And then out of the dark she heard him say, "I'm going to need a chamber pot, wench, or did you want me to relieve myself on the floor?"

Her eyes flew open even as her cheeks bloomed with color. She shot off the bed, quickly found a match to light the hanging lantern she'd extinguished earlier. He was sitting exactly where he'd been when she took over his bed. That was probably sticking in his craw, that she was going to sleep in his bed while he was on the floor wearing a chain. She located the chamber pot, set it down, and used her foot to shove it toward his end of the room. She then moved to one of his trunks to rummage through it.

"What are you doing?"

She ignored his offended tone. No doubt he was bothered because she was going through his trunks. "I'm looking for something for you to stick under that shackle," she said pertly. "I'm pretty sure I have nothing suitable, well, not without ripping up any of my clothes, which I'm not inclined to do."

"So you did hear me?"

"Certainly."

"I suppose that means you didn't intend for me to get blood poisoning?"

She snorted and tossed him two stockings she'd found. "I'd double those up and stuff them under the metal, rather than put them on. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like some quiet so I can get to sleep."

"If you wanted quiet, you should have moved to a different room."

"Putting you up on deck is still an option," she warned.

He didn't say another word.