Katharine Ashe - How to Be a Proper Lady

The song came to an end, she lifted her hands to clap, and the sweetest, richest laughter came to him upon the wind. Beautiful laughter, full of fresh delight and incautious pleasure. Sailors stomped their approval on the boards. But Jin could hear only her.

Then her gaze shifted aft and came to him, and all sign of her enjoyment died.

Jin’s lungs tightened, his breaths thin. Even scowling, she enticed. She allured as she threw out spikes and he wanted to take her down beneath him and strip the displeasure from her eyes and replace it with eager compliance.

Which he could not do. Not in the manner he wished.

She broke the gaze. He strode forward, the dispersing sailors making way for him. The singers clouted each other on the backs, offering congratulations and looking smug. With sweet smiles and dulcet tones she doled out praise and thanks, rousing blushes on swarthy cheeks. As they passed Jin, he set them to tasks they should have already been doing, and continued toward their captain.

“Jonah, do you recall that little problem I mentioned last night that requires tending?” she said as he neared. The sailor before her pulled off his cap like a lackey addressing a lord and nodded eagerly.

“Sure do, Cap’n mum. The head’s needin’ unstopperin’.”

“Yes.” She offered a sympathetic tilt of her lips. “Things are bound to get uncomfortable if we leave it plugged up for long, aren’t they?”

“Yes, mum! I’ll set right to it in a jiffy.” His head bobbed on his skinny neck and he scampered away.

Jin stared at his back for a moment, then turned to the woman who sent a man off to clean the refuse hole with a happy grin. He gestured toward the forecastle.

“What was that about?”

Her brow lowered and she pushed her hat lower on it. “Good day to you too,” she muttered. “What’s got your goat? Or perhaps you’re always this ill-tempered.”

“Ill-tempered? This from a woman who insults me every occasion she can manage, then avoids me on all others?”

“I am not ill-tempered.” Her gaze flickered. “At least I wasn’t before you stepped on deck.”

“What were those men doing? The wind is full in the sails. They ought to have been at the sheets holding her to a steady course, not singing like fools for your pleasure.”

“The ship is running perfectly well,” she snapped. “As you can see.”

“And if the wind had changed abruptly, we would be capsized by now.”

“But it didn’t change and we are afloat,” Viola snapped. He was correct. But for a moment enjoying the simple company of her men and a relief from her too constant thoughts of this man, she’d been perfectly happy. And thoroughly irresponsible. “Are you questioning my knowledge of my ship?”

“Only your handling of its crew. What sort of captain countenances a concert at full sail on a following sea?”

“A captain who knows much more about her sailors than apparently you do. No surprise.” She moved to go around him and he stepped into her path. “Get out of my way, Seton, or I’ll take the butt of my pistol to your head.”

His voice lowered. “Do not threaten a man with beating who knows well how to give as good as he has gotten, Miss Carlyle.”

Something had changed, and for the first time since this man with a reputation for unbridled violence had come aboard her ship, she was frightened. Not by threat of violence to her. She didn’t believe he would harm her, not when he was calling her Miss Carlyle and intending to carry her back to her brother-in-law the earl in England. But the acute clarity had disappeared from his eyes, replaced by something quite different. Something heated and unsteady. On any other man she would think it uncertainty. Perhaps even confusion. On Jinan Seton-arrogant as the day was bright-it alarmed her.

Her hands went damp and cold, her belly contrarily hot.

She tried to shake it off. “If you call me that aboard my ship one more time, I will have you thrown over.”

“If you continue to sail this ship as you are doing, we are all likely to take a swim together.”

She eyed him narrowly, but it only increased the heat in her twisted belly. She crossed her arms.

“If you must know, it is my birthday. The singing was a gift.”

He appeared nonplussed. “Your birthday.”

“Yes. I am five-and-twenty. As of today I have achieved my majority. Even in England, no man has authority over me now.”

“Is that what this is about?” He gestured toward the sailors. “Asserting your authority over men?”

“This is about sailing my vessel in the manner I see fit. Do you have a problem with that, sailor?”

“I do when you put all aboard in danger.” He scanned her face, his enigmatic gaze by far the most dangerous thing aboard to Viola’s unsettled senses. “You treat them like suitors.”

“I treat them like family. For that they are to me.” Her only family after her father stole her away from the one she had known.

“You flirt with them.”

“I make difficult work seem appealing.”

“And Jonah’s fawning when you assigned him to clean the head just now? What was that, his sheer idiocy?”

“He is very loyal. He gladly does what his captain wishes, unlike some sailors who shall remain nameless although we both know exactly who I’m talking about.”

He shook his head, his look incredulous. “And I suppose if you told Jonah to jump into the belly of a whale he would do it without hesitation.”

“Very clever. I am really astoundingly impressed.”

“What? Would you prefer classical references from the stories you read to them at bedtime like a nursemaid reads to her infant charges? No wonder they all make dog’s eyes at you.”

She was getting to him. She could see it in the tight sinews of his neck, the taut line of his jaw. She was making the cool, confident Pharaoh agitated, and the success swirled inside her like a dram of gin. Beneath his crystal gaze she did feel a bit drunk. A bit reckless. Like the girl she had once been.

“Jealous of their devotion, Seton? Perhaps if you read to them they would make dog eyes at you too.” She waggled her brows.

“This is no way to captain a ship. These men are all half in love with you.”

Her heart did an odd little jump, but she forced a shrug.

“If it works, who’s to complain?” She allowed herself a taunting smile. “Is that why you’re distressed that I’ve been avoiding you? Are you half in love with me too, then?”

“Good God.” He scowled. “What do you take me for, a complete fool?”

“A man must be foolish to fall in love with me?”

“That, and nearsighted and bereft of the capacity for rational thought, not to mention in possession of a death wish.”

That stung, and she didn’t like that it stung. She struggled for a retort and words tumbled through her lips.

“I’ll wager I can make you fall in love with me.” Oh, God.

He cracked a hard laugh. “I dare you to try.”

“Do you?” Her cursed tongue! “All right. What shall we wager?” The unbidden words just kept popping out. But there was something exciting about the idea, something dangerous and tempting that she should not feel.

His mouth actually hung open. But holy Magdalene, what a mouth. She could nearly taste him with her imagination, male heat and smooth command. Pity he was looking at her like an escapee from McLean Hospital. And of course, pity she couldn’t stand him.

“You are mad,” he said in wondering tones. “Aren’t you?”

“I never back down from a dare. How do you think I got here? A mere woman?” She gestured aft to the quarterdeck.

“You are serious.” His eyes narrowed. “You cannot be serious.”

“Afraid I’ll win?”

“Patently, no.”

“Then let’s agree to terms. If I win, I get your new ship.”

“No.”

“And if you win, I will return to England with you.”

He went perfectly still. Viola struggled to breathe evenly. She didn’t know where her words had come from. She did not wish to return to England.

On the other hand, it might be worth it to watch him squirm while she hung all over him in an effort to seduce him. She would not meet with success. He had a heart of stone and a will of iron and he would win. But she could always turn right around and come home afterward. After seeing Serena. Her half sister. The countess.

Oh, good God, what had she done?

“The duration of the wager?” he finally asked.

“A fortnight.”

“A fortnight?”

She lifted a brow. “Men have fallen in love with me in minutes before.” Aidan always claimed he had.

He looked at her with clear disbelief. “I have no doubt that some men are equally as mad as you.”

That was rather lowering. And more than a sting. It actually hurt.

Her ire flared. “Perhaps you are as well, pirate scum.”

“Again with the insults. You are losing your moral high ground.”

“My high ground is well enough. Will you take the wager?”

He studied her for a silent moment, his ice eyes enigmatic now. “Yes.”

She found it a bit difficult to breathe. But she’d gotten herself into this. And she now would have to touch him, and feel the heat simmering beneath his skin again, as she had in the corridor. A touch that had left her sleeping fitfully every night since.

His eyes glimmered. “Regretting your impetuosity already, Miss Carlyle?”

Her pulse stumbled. “I said do not call me that aboard my ship.”

His perfect mouth slid up at one edge, and this time the grin was purely confident. “Name your terms.”

Terms? He must speak to her with deference and allow her all sorts of liberties with his person.

Her cheeks flamed. His gaze shifted across them and the slightest crease appeared in his cheek.

“You must remain aboard at all times,” she said in a rush, “even when we come into port, until the end of the fortnight, unless I disembark as well, and then you go with me where I go.” Goddamn him for doing this to her, for making her tongue say things it should not and for being so arrogantly gorgeous she was quivering with anticipation.

“All right.”

Beneath his steady gaze, her thoughts tangled. But she must see this through. Her pride was at stake. “If you disembark for any other reason, you forfeit the wager and I win automatically.”

“And the corollary terms? If you throw me off, you forfeit the wager and I win?”

“Exactly.” She would not. She had borne his unnerving presence for a fortnight already. But in his light eyes now was calculation. This was a foolish mistake. Her gaze dropped to his lips. A colossally foolish mistake.

“And at the end of the fortnight you must tell the truth,” she added. “No lying about it just so you will win.”

“Of course.”

She thrust out her hand. “Agreed?”

He encompassed it, and her entire body got hot. His grip was strong and she wanted to feel that strength elsewhere. To feel his hands on her. She was a disloyal tart, daring a man to touch her while her heart belonged to another.

“At the end of the fortnight, Viola Carlyle, you will board my ship and sail to England with me.” He spoke quietly and steadily, entirely unlike her shaking insides.

“At the end of the fortnight, Seton, you will regret that you ever came within a league of Violet Daly.”

He released her and walked away, completely at ease, unaware of the shimmering air about him. She stood immobile, staring at his back until he descended belowdecks, cursing herself and him. She would make his life unendurable. With her attentions she would force him off her ship and he would leave her alone. Then she would take up with Aidan exactly where they’d left off last when he held her and told her she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

But the notion of embracing Aidan again didn’t speed her heartbeat now. Not Aidan at all.

My lady,

My father, brother, and I are delighted with your latest pamphlet on the Despicable Conditions that Manchester textile workers are forced to endure. Your prose exhortations continue to inspire the people of Britain to seek justice.

With the most sincere apologies, however, I must beg you to remove The Mermaid from the office. Her size and State of Undress have caused discomfort to our clients and not an insubstantial Lack of Focus among the press operators. If you prefer, I will be most happy to arrange for her disposal.

Josiah Brittle

Brittle & Sons, Printers

Dear Mr. Brittle,

I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience the statue has caused. Pray arrange for her Return to Sender to the following address: Mr. Peregrine, The Falcon Club, 14½ Dover Street, London.