Free Lords of the Sea by Kaitlyn O'Connor

like a long, flowing robe. He produced another, smaller version, for her that she also hadn’t noticed he was holding—because both robes were white.

    She took it, staring at the robe, though her mind wasn’t on the robe at all, trying to decide if she actually had the nerve to even attempt to be the sexual aggressor. And if she could command herself to do something what sort of something should she try? She was still trying to get up the nerve when he pushed away from the doorframe and moved into the room beyond.

    The moment he did both relief and disappointment filled her.

    More than a little irritated with herself, she unfolded the robe and examined it, discovering that it was made to simply slip over her head. There were no fastenings at all. Shoving her arms into the loose sleeves, she dragged it over her head and allowed the hem to drop to her ankles.

    She felt almost as naked after she’d put it on as she had before because she was naked underneath and acutely conscious of it. She stared at her swimsuit, debating, and finally simply grabbed up the bottom and shimmied into it.

    37

    She was halving it—unable to make up her mind whether she actually wanted to make overtures or not. She didn’t feel quite as naked with the swimsuit bottom on, and still didn’t feel entirely comfortable without the top.

    Coward, she chided herself, examining the robe more because she was in no great hurry to leave the bathroom than because she had that much interest in it. The material was strange, she discovered, more paper-like, or maybe like plastic, than fabric, but soft for all that.

    It was too long. Holding it up to keep from tripping, she went into the bedroom.

    Raen gestured to a chair against the wall near the bed that she had barely noticed before.

    She moved to it, settling cautiously until she discovered it wasn’t, as she’d expected, wet. When she’d settled, she looked up at him questioningly. It disconcerted her to discover she had his full attention, that he was standing, his feet braced slightly apart, his hands clasped behind his back, barely three feet away. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

    “Where are you from?”

    Surprise flickered through her at the question. She wondered why he’d want to know that—what it had to do with the situation. “Georgia,” she responded finally.

    He studied her for a long moment and finally moved away, pacing a few steps before he turned to glance at her again. “And this is where?”

    She stared at him blankly. “Uh … just north of Florida.”
    “Which
    is
    …?”

    “East of where we are now.”
    His
    lips
    tightened.

    “Why are you here?”

    “Because you grabbed me before I could leave.”

    He paused in front of her again. Leaning down until they were almost nose to nose, he fixed her with a hard look. “Are you laboring under the misapprehension that this is some sort of game?”

    Right up until she’d seen that expression on his face Cassie had only admired it with the sort of detachment one reserved for inanimate objects that were aesthetically pleasing, clinging, she supposed, to her first impression of ‘the sculpture’ she’d admired.
    This , however, was a living, breathing—dangerous looking man and the tone of voice he’d used only emphasized that fact. She gulped and shook her head slowly.

    “Are you having difficulty understanding the translator?”

    She felt her face heat. “No.”

    “Then why don’t you tell me why you came here?”

    “I was just looking for the others.”

    “The others? Your partners?”

    Cassie’s heart fluttered uncomfortably. That sounded like a leading question to her. “My … uh … companions,” she corrected. “The people who were with me in the other room.”

    “You were looking for them? If they were your companions that would imply that you were with them, would it not?”

    “They left me alone on the boat and I didn’t know when they’d come back, and I was