Free His Wicked Kiss by Gaelen Foley

her head to assess his splinter, her sewing needle poised between her fingers.
    Lord Jack frowned when she used it to poke the heel of his hand. “I do hope you know what you’re doing.”
    “Of course I do. I’m a physician’s daughter. And do you know what you are?” she murmured with a cautious smile, brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.
    “Do tell,” he purred, watching her.
    “Just a big, grumpy lion with a thorn in his paw.”
    A rueful smile spread across his face. “Yes, Miss Farraday, I’m afraid you’ve summed me up rather neatly.”
    They exchanged a smile that lasted just a moment too long, then she turned her attention back to her task, trying to ignore the girlish flutter of her heart.
    The little sliver of wood had worked its way in deep. It looked like it hurt. As Eden ran her thumb across his palm, marveling privately at how big and full of strength his callused hands were, again she sensed him staring at her. The potent male interest in his gaze was a bit unsettling; she did her best to ignore it and willed her hands not to shake. With a murmured warning, she pricked his skin gently, and widened the incision a bit to go after the splinter.
    “So, Lord Jack—” She cleared her throat. Papa always said it was best to distract the patient during such proceedings. “You don’t plan to cross the ocean in that steamer?”
    “In the steamer? No, Miss Farraday—”
    “ Eden ,” she interrupted softly, glancing up to meet his gaze.
    A speculative look filled his aquamarine eyes. “ Eden ,” he corrected himself barely audibly. He paused before continuing in a more casual tone: “My ship is waiting for me off Trinidad . We’re to rendezvous at the coast.”
    “Is it a big ship?” she asked, wondering if there might be room for her.
    “Very big,” he replied in silken innuendo, and gave her a wicked smile.
    She felt her face heat. “What’s it called?”
    “The Winds of Fortune.”
    “That’s—a nice name,” she said a bit breathlessly.
    “T hank you.”
    Exchanging the needle for the tweezers, she sent another wary glance his way and this time caught him staring point-blank at her mouth, the drift of his thoughts perfectly plain on his handsome face.
    Her heart pounded. “I thought most ships were named for ladies.”
    “Not my ships.”
    “Why is that?”
    “My ships are reliable.”
    “I see. And your ladies are not?”
    His only answer was a world-weary flick of one eyebrow, along with a dry half smile.
    Eden laughed quietly and lowered her head again. “I fear, Lord Jack, that you are a cynic.”
    “Born that way.”
    Spurred on by an almost scientific curiosity, she leaned closer and asked the supposedly forbidden question of Jack Knight. “You know,” she confided in a daring murmur, “they say you used to be a pirate.”
    “Do they?” he whispered.
    Her naughty smile widened. “Is it true?”
    His eyes danced as he considered for a moment. “It is, my dear, shall we say, a matter of perspective.”
    “Ah.” She nodded sagely, only realizing after a moment that he hadn’t told her anything. His evasive answer only whetted her interest.
    Meanwhile, his dark, longish hair was already drying from the rain; gazing at him, she was filled with the impulse to run her fingers through its soft, tousled waves. She fought the urge to touch his face, as well, his skin so deeply tanned from an adventuring life lived outdoors, on the deck of a ship.
    No, she conceded, still studying him at close range, he was no elegant Town dandy like the ones who went strolling through her daydreams, but there was something positively thrilling about this man.
    She remembered the ball in Jamaica where she had first seen him; he had been the most riveting man in the room, drawing the stares of every woman present, while most of the men simply stepped out of his way.
    Gazing openly at him a moment longer, Eden decided that what she liked best were the faint, smiley crinkles at