Free Rescued by the Buccaneer by Normandie Alleman Page B

shake her by the shoulders, but since his arms were bound behind him, that wasn’t an option. “Frederica! Take hold of yourself!” he barked.
    She glared at him, floundering amidst the waves, the heights of which were significant.
    “Come closer and help me take off my boot.”
    “What? Which one?” she asked.
    “The left one. Here, I’ll float my leg next to your hands. I’ll push against my other leg. You pull.”
    With an exasperated sigh, she complied with his request. Tugging on his footwear, she asked, “Why are we doing this?”
    “There’s a knife in there.”
    “A knife? So we can cut these ropes loose?”
    He nodded, giving her a now-you’re-catching-on look.
    The boot gave way and Frederica maneuvered herself to where their bound hands touched. Her soft fingers clutched his rough ones, and he tilted the boot, retrieving the knife in the process.
    “Hold onto my boot and I’ll cut your hands loose. Then you can do mine.” He’d be able to cut hers while bound, but she’d need both hands and a good set of eyes when she used the knife on his bindings. He didn’t like the idea of her accidentally nicking one of his arteries, not to mention that blood would bring the sharks. No, he would go first.
    She nodded in agreement, for once not giving him her usual sass.
    Sawing through her ropes in a matter of minutes, he freed her hands. She shook her limbs and rolled onto her back, waving her arms and legs in the shape of an angel. “It feels so good to be free! And the ocean’s not as horrid as I thought it would be.”
    “My turn. Please use caution.” Gaston handed her the knife and rolled into the dead man’s float on his belly, giving her prime access to his wrists. He felt the sawing of the knife, but never its blade. She did a fine job, he had to admit.
    Once his hands were free, he came up for air. “Now take your clothes off,” he ordered her and began to remove his breeches.
    She sputtered. “I beg your pardon? You think now that you are free of Humphrey, you may have your way with me?”
    He chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself. Don’t you feel the weight of your clothes? Remove those wet clothes, or your modesty will drown you before the ocean has the chance.”
    Through puckered lips and a creased brow, he could see her face absorb his words. She reminded him of a child who had been recently chastised for exhibiting dangerous behavior. She acquiesced, but she didn’t like it, a thundercloud settling on her face as she stripped off her dress and undergarments.
    “I’ll need help with my corset, if you don’t mind,” she said, turning her back to him.
    “Certainly,” he said formally, though his thoughts were anything but as he unlaced the sexy undergarment, releasing her from her all physical barriers between them.
    They each had a bundle of clothes in front of them which they held onto. Only their heads bobbed in the water. While the water was clear, the bobbing of the waves distorted any view he would have had of her nudity in calmer seas.
    “Happy?” she snipped.
    He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Frederica, if we are going to survive this, my dear, you are going to have to adopt a more positive attitude. Do you really think I had you undress so that I might spend the last of my energy taking you in this rollicking sea? Amidst these waves?”
    “Most likely not,” she admitted reluctantly.
    “Good. Then stretch out and float. You must save your strength.”
    Gaston tied their garments together, making a chain rope of cloth. He tied one end to his right leg and the other end to her left leg. He clutched his boots, which now held his knife, his navigational instrument, and the precious flask.
    “You swim well for a girl. Hell, most pirates don’t know how to swim. How did you learn?” he asked.
    “There was a creek behind my grandmother’s house that I played near. So much so that it scared my parents. My father made certain I acquired a certain proficiency in the