Chapter 30

G AbrIELLE DREAMED ABOUT D REW THAT NIGHT, that he was kissing her. The dream seemed to go on endlessly, too, and brought back every one of the sensations his real kisses had made her feel. She even remembered the dream, too clearly, when she woke the next morning. She blamed it on that blasted kiss in his cabin. And she woke feeling nearly as flustered from the dream as she had been from his attempt to seduce her. Well, it wasn't quite that bad. She didn't think anything could be that bad, as hot and bothered as he'd made her feel the other night.

She joined her "officers" for the morning meal. Drew was looking a bit glum now after her desertion. He seemed to be ignoring them, just staring off into space. He'd been unable to hide a brief moment of surprise, though, when she showed up. After yesterday, he'd probably thought he wouldn't be seeing her again.

He couldn't help but hear the camaraderie between her and her friends, the laughter, Richard's usual teasing that could get risqué occasionally, and today was no exception. All harmless, but Drew wouldn't know that. The men certainly weren't treating her with the respect Drew might figure a "captain" was due, but she'd already decided it would be impossible to try to enforce that for an entire voyage just for his benefit, when the easy bantering was normal for pirates and this was how they were with Nathan, too.

And she'd gotten comfortable, too, donning the britches Margery had insisted she wear. Maybe that had accounted for Drew's brief look of surprise. He may not have ever seen a woman wearing britches before.

Gabrielle didn't leave the cabin when her friends did. She continued to lounge at the table where they'd eaten. She stretched out her feet and crossed them under the table. Leaning back in her chair, she even locked her hands behind her head. In no way did it look like she might still be there to finish the meal.

Drew made no pretense about watching her now. As soon as the others left and they were alone in the room, his dark eyes latched onto her and stayed there. He might have been trying to disturb her with his perusal, but she didn't allow it to work. The conversation she was going to start was going to be entirely in her favor today. She wasn't going to give him a chance to start in on his campaign again.

She stretched a little so that her breasts were molded more firmly against the thick cotton of her shirt. Just a little. She didn't want to be obvious that she was showing off her attributes to him. That she wasn't tightly bound beneath the black shirt wasn't for his benefit, though. She wasn't pretending to be a boy, after all, and never had tried to conceal her breasts when she dressed in her ship's togs, as she called them. The shirts she wore were thick enough to keep her modest, with a thin camisole beneath them.

She gave Drew a curiously innocent look now and asked, "Do you really think I'm a coward, just because I decided that I prefer to sleep naked, as I usually do, and I went off to find a cabin where I could do that?"

His incredulous expression made her want to crow with laughter, but she kept her features schooled. It was a legitimate question, after what he'd taught her parrot to say. Of course, she hadn't needed to elaborate.

After a moment or two he said, "You could have slept naked here."

She gave him a thoughtful nod. "Yes, I know. And it probably wouldn't have bothered me to do so. But I was afraid it might disturb you, and it's not my intention to deprive you of sleep. I'm sure you'll have no trouble sleeping with your new roommates."

He snorted, but it was telling, how quickly he changed the subject when he asked, "Who's this Carla person that the parrot calls a witch? That wouldn't be your real name, would it?"

Gabrielle laughed. She couldn't help it. He was still trying to annoy her with insults. It didn't work at all this time.

"Miss Carla is the parrot's name," she said with a grin. "But just so you don't go thinking she was taught to insult herself, you might as well know that Carla is also my mother's name."

"Ah, I see. How nice," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "You call your mother a witch. I'm not the least bit surprised a pirate would disrespect her parent that way."

She gritted her teeth for only a moment. She was not going to let him annoy her. "That's a natural conclusion," she allowed, "even if it is wrong. I loved my mother. It was my father who didn't like her very much after the bloom wore off their marriage. And the parrot belonged to my father long before he gave her to me, so Miss Carla acquired most of her vocabulary from him, not me."

"How did such a mismatch even occur? A pirate marrying an English aristocrat? Or was that just a lie you made up so you could snag a lordly husband? Are you even legitimate, or just a pirate's bastard?"

"I don't care how derogatory you get about me," she said stiffly. "But you'll bloody well keep your derision off my parents."

Since it must have sounded like the threat she intended, he asked, "Or what?"

"You might want to keep in mind that there is still a plank here with your name etched on it."

He chuckled, confident now that she wasn't serious, despite her sharp tone. "So why did he marry her?"

Gabrielle had to take a moment to regain her composure. Damned man had done it to her again, aggravated her enough to lose control.

"He was treasure hunting at the time. He considered her a shortcut to what he was after."

"You have to be joking."

"No, he takes his treasure hunting quite seriously," she replied.

"I suppose the better question would have been, why did she marry him?"

Was he really interested in her family, or just trying to distract himself? Part of getting her own composure back was to discompose him again, and she'd done that with subtle enticements she'd witnessed other women practicing more blatantly, a slow sweep of her long lashes, a look she hoped was sensual, a lazy stretching of muscles that weren't cramped—but he didn't know that.

She shrugged. "She married for one of the more common reasons."

"Love?"

"No, because she wanted children."

"Ah, that reason." He chuckled. "So how many siblings did you end up with?"

"None. That may have been part of why the bloom wore off so quickly. My mother never actually said so, but I gathered that she thought she could get my father to settle down and give up the sea. She didn't become dissatisfied with her marriage until it became clear that he would never do that. I do know that she despised the fact that he was always away at sea and never around when she needed him."

She was touching closer to home, apparently, since his reply was rather defensive. "Comes with the territory, sweetheart. She shouldn't have married a pirate if she wanted a man in her bed every night."

Blasted with double barrels! It amazed her how he uttered sensual, provocative remarks so easily and naturally, while she had to work so hard at it. He said things to her that he would never say to a lady. Ironically, she'd heard much worse in recent years and had become immune, or at least there was very little that could make her blush anymore—until she'd met Drew Anderson. He could make her blush without even half trying.

She fought to keep the pink out of her cheeks now by answering him without inflection. "I see you're under a mistaken assumption. My mother thought she was marrying the captain of a merchantman. She didn't know what his real occupation was. She died a few years ago without ever finding out. Now it's your turn. Since marriage has been the subject of your curiosity, care to tell me why you're so dead set against it?"

He grinned. "Can't you guess, sweetheart? You're a pirate. You know what it's like, sailing from port to port. Most sailors have to come home to a single port for marital bliss, the one they've made their home in, where their wife is waiting. And yet how many ports do they sail to where they either drown their sorrows, missing their wives, or are unfaithful, then miserable afterward in their guilt. I'm never falling into that trap. I love the fact that no matter which port I sail into, there's a woman waiting for me with open arms."

"Ah, I see. I had thought perhaps you had loved and lost, and that's why you abhor marriage, but I forgot that you're merely a true Lothario at heart."

"I don't abhor marriage. For some men it's the perfect state to be in. I just realized long ago that it wasn't for me. I'm happy in my life. Why would I want to change that?"

She shrugged and said offhandedly, "I don't know, things happen."

"Yes, they do. But take my mother, for example. She knew exactly what she was getting when she married my father. She knew he'd rarely be at home. And while she seemed happy enough, raising so many children, I used to catch her in moments when it was obvious how lonely she was, even miserable, missing my father. I was pretty young when I decided I'd never do that to a woman."

It made her sad to know that he was serious. He believed every word he'd just said. But that left no room for love. Did he really want to go through his entire life without experiencing true love?

"There were two ways you could have abided by that decision. You could have just decided not to go to sea instead," she pointed out.

"You're joking, right?"

She gritted her teeth. "Yes, of course I am."

"The sea is in my blood, sweetheart," he added, just in case she missed that point, then gave her a knowing look. "You changed the subject too soon. Were you serious before? Your mother really never knew your father was a pirate?"

"Why does that surprise you? When my father visited us, he didn't bring his crew along, which might have given her a clue. They are a ribald, rowdy bunch, after all. Besides, he was on his best behavior whenever he was in England."

"What about you? How long have you known?"

"Not until my mother died and I left home to find him," she replied.

"So only a few years? My, you adapted very quickly, didn't you?"

His sarcastic tone was back. She'd told him things she shouldn't have, she realized too late. "Fortunately, I'm a quick learner," she replied offhandedly, trying to correct his impression of her.

She stood up, stretched sensually, then walked over to stop near him but just out of his reach. His long legs were stretched out across the floor and crossed at the ankles. His arms were crossed over his wide chest. His expression was actually wary for a moment, with her stopping so close to him, but it quickly turned sensual.

"Ready to ravish me?" he asked.

It was fortunate that his expression had warned her he was going to say something like that. She was able to reply calmly, even with a little feigned regret, "Sorry, but you're not my type."

His short bark of laughter said he didn't believe her. "Then who is? Richard?"

She managed a grin. "Good grief, no. I was just playing around with him the other day and merely took him by surprise. He's a good friend. We actually joke around like that a lot."

"Then that pallid English snob?"

"Who? Oh, you mean Wilbur? No, I found him rather boring, if you must know. Besides, even though you're an American, you seemed a little too at home in the London ballrooms for my taste. I want a man who will go horseback riding on the beach with me, who will dive with me into crystal-clear coves and explore coral reefs, a man who will get as excited as I do about chasing after lost treasure. I want a man who will swim naked with me in the sea on a moonlit night and make love to me on a sandy beach."

Gabrielle realized dreamily that she really did want all that. But she'd managed to stun Drew. He'd been hanging on every word of her romantic fantasy.

Seeing that she'd turned the tables on him, she said abruptly, "Now, can I get you anything before I leave you to your lonely confinement?"

He replied abruptly, "Don't leave yet."

"Sorry, but I have a nice hot bath waiting for me."

"Actually, I'll take one of those myself."

"Very well, I'll have some buckets of water brought in to you. If you're a good prisoner, I'll even have them set down for your use, rather than tossed on you."

Her tone implied she was dealing with a child, even the words did. It was deliberate on her part and it was obvious by the sour twist of his lips that he didn't like it.

She left him then, but not before she stuffed her hands in her pants pockets in a casual manner. She knew very well that would lift the back of her shirt so he could see just how snugly the pants molded to her derriere. Innocently done, or so it would seem to him, and she had to fight back a laugh when she heard his groan as he watched her saunter out of the cabin.