Free Virgin Star by Jennifer Horsman Page B

white shirt and black cotton trousers rolled up over her ankles to expose her bare feet. He laughed as if it was a bad joke. "Well, don't we look ridiculous!"
    Wide eyes considered him, as if he spoke in an incomprehensible language. He might have been, for all his comment mattered to her. She might look ridiculous, but she hardly cared. She could never defend herself wearing a woman's gown. She felt certain she would be defending herself.
    He watched her glance swiftly down the stairs, and with hands on hips he demanded, "What the devil are you sneaking around for now?"
    "I have to get out of here before—"
    "On no, you don't. I have plans for you."
    She looked at him with mistrust and loathing both. "Am I your prisoner?"
    "I haven't decided yet," he replied. "I'm going down to meet with the sorry fools who dropped you off on my doorstep." He saw her take this in with surprise, then fear. "Perhaps the wretches will trigger your missing memory, hmm? And Tilly has sent for another doctor to examine you."
    She hesitated still, and he felt at last a moment a pity. The image of a normal young lady's life rose unbidden in his mind: morning French and music lessons followed by a pleasant stroll, luncheons and afternoon teas, perhaps a visit to the dressmaker, the park, or the botanical gardens, the whole uneventful day ending with a fireside Bible reading. This "normal life" contrasted so sharply with the poor child's circumstances; how she awoke in a strange man's house with no memory whatsoever, past the terrifying certainty that someone was trying to harm her, while her "education" consisted of how most expediently to kill a man. He watched the fear tremble ever so slightly on the soft curve of her upper lip, and as the silence of his scrutiny stretched a moment too long, the palm of her hand went to the furrow of her brow.
    He abruptly wanted to ease her terror, if only for a moment. "I suppose I should first give you a name. You need one, you know."
    "A name?" The lovely eyes registered surprise.
    "Until you remember your real name. You need something more than 'hey you' for addresses put to you, do you not? Well now, let’s see. How about..." He appeared to be considering names. A smile lifted on the handsome face as he suggested, "Cordelia?"
    She gasped with obvious horror.
    Seanessy discovered she was quite unused to being teased. "Agnes?"
    She shook her head slightly, worried he might start calling her that.
    A dark brow rose with the inquiry, "Bertha? No? Matilda?"
    Why, he was teasing her! As if she were a silly schoolgirl with nothing more on her mind than a ridiculous flirtation. The idea fueled her growing frustration. "Captain Seanessy," she said through pressed lips and narrowed eyes, "I don't care what you call me. It's of no importance whatsoever." The only thing that mattered was getting out of here and on her way to Malacca before it was too late. If this arrogant, overbearing man would not let her go by way of the front doors, then she would simply use the bed sheets and slip down the window.
    She dismissed him by presenting her back as she stepped into the bedroom. But Seanessy was never so easily dismissed. Strong hands gently touched her shoulders, turning her around. Surprised, she instinctively raised her arms to fling the hands off but caught herself just in time. She had learned that much about him at least. She looked up from the large and callused hands holding her shoulders to the bright hazel eyes, eyes that seemed to dare her with their humor.
    Somehow her consciousness riveted to his light touch and how close he stood to her now, the maddening idea of how she had to look up and up to meet the laughing gaze. Her heart started a slow hard thud again. Heat rose in her cheeks, part anger and part something else, as she remembered the feel of his hard body pressed against hers.
    Seanessy pretended not to notice these emotions. "I've got it," he said with a knowing smile that completely ignored the fury