Chapter 38

G AbrIELLE WOKE TO SUNSHINE POOLING ACROSS THE FLOOR. The storm was over. If Drew had returned to the cabin, it wasn't to wake her. She had the room to herself and dressed quickly, then immediately checked the door. Still locked.

She sighed and moved back to sit on her blankets, but changed her mind and moved to his bed instead. She made it up neatly first, then sat in the middle of it. Much more comfortable, and why not? Obviously, if he'd thought she was shackled to begin with, he knew better now and wasn't going to try to restrain her in some other way, well, other than the damned locked door.

Her plan for revenge wasn't working. How the deuce was Drew Anderson going to go mad with desire for her if she kept letting him make love to her? She was going to have to change her strategy. Never mind making him just want her so much it would drive him crazy, she was going to have to make him love her instead.

It was a daunting thought. It would be much harder to accomplish, she was sure. Lust had been easy. She'd already managed that, just not with the intended results. But was it even possible for a man to fall in love and not consider marriage? Well, yes, a Lothario like Drew, he was probably the only man who could love a woman and not give a single thought to marrying her. And once she was gone, he'd go on to his other women, and with each one of them he'd be thinking of her instead. Perfect! She'd bloody well haunt him for the rest of his life!

But how was she going to get him to love her? She'd wanted it to happen in London, but it hadn't. Of course, he hadn't been around often enough to get to know her there. Here, keeping her in his cabin, he'd set himself up so he couldn't avoid her. So let him get to know the real her? Including giving up her ruse and confiding that she wasn't really a pirate?

No, maybe she shouldn't go that far. The ruse still allowed her to be more bold than she would be otherwise. And how much sweeter her revenge would be if he fell in love with her while still thinking she was a pirate.

She hadn't made a firm decision by the time he returned to the cabin that morning. This time he looked exhausted. Well, he'd been up for over twenty-four hours and then some, and had probably spent most of that time fighting to keep his ship afloat.

The chap who usually delivered their meals followed Drew in and set a large tray on the table. Gabrielle bolted out of the bed and went straight to the tray, which contained two plates filled to the brim with breakfast fixings. She sat down immediately and started eating.

Glancing up, she found him grinning at her. "What?" she said. "You think those few sausages you fed me yesterday satisfied my hunger?"

"That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"What does?"

"That I fed you."

She knew instantly that his thoughts had taken a sensual turn, though she couldn't imagine why. She pointed to the tray and asked, "Aren't you hungry?"

"I'm starving," he replied.

But he was still just standing there staring at her, and this time she blushed. He was talking about lovemaking again. How could he even think of that, as tired, and hungry as he must be?

She decided to pretend she didn't understand his double entendre and turn the screw a little at the same time. "I enjoyed sleeping in your bed last night," she said around a mouthful of fresh, warm bread dripping with sweet jam. "That was quite possibly the best sleep I've had in weeks. It was certainly the most comfortable. Thank you for thinking of it."

His face actually flushed. She was, of course, just talking about the bed and he knew that, but, apparently, it didn't stop him from thinking about what they'd done there.

···

After a few moments in a mere conversational tone, he mentioned, "It's long been my habit to celebrate after surviving a storm like that, so I'm having some guests to dinner tonight. Since you're sharing my cabin, I suppose you'll have to join us. I'll have a dress delivered to you later today, after I get some sleep."

She sighed. They were having a perfectly normal conversation and he had to throw in that "I suppose" remark to remind her that she was a prisoner, not a guest.

"Why?" she asked, her tone a little stiff now. "I have no one to impress."

He shrugged. "Most of the women I know enjoy dressing up, I merely thought you might like to."

He said no more, and after his exhausting night, he climbed into bed and was almost instantly asleep. Gabrielle spent most of the remainder of the day pacing about the room, mulling over her new plan to make Drew love her, and trying to ignore his presence.

She finally gave some attention to him again when she found herself inadvertently stopped next to his bed. He was snoring, not loudly and not steadily, just off and on. He really was exhausted. She could probably make all sorts of noise and he wouldn't hear it. She could even touch him and he wouldn't wake, so he wouldn't know. Damned trusting of him, to leave himself locked in with her when she wasn't restrained.

She could very easily leave the room right then. A little bash on the head with the chamber pot and she'd have the key out of Drew's pocket within seconds. She'd seen him shove it there after his man dropped off the tray of food and left, and he'd relocked the door.

So simple. But the middle of the day wasn't a good time for her to try to sneak down to the hold. Besides, every muscle in her body was resisting hitting Drew over the head. She just couldn't bring herself to do that again. Which didn't mean she was giving up on escaping. He could well sleep until dark. If she had the key…

She stared at the pocket where her freedom resided. Drew was lying on his side. He was twisted a bit, his bottom leg stretched out straight, the top one bent. The pocket with the key in it was the top one. If his pants weren't so snug, she'd have no trouble slipping a couple fingers in there to extract the key. But the pants were snug. Very. They clung tightly to his derriere in that position, defining his back cheeks. A very nice arse Drew Anderson had.

She rolled her eyes over the thought and got back to her pacing.