Free Savannah Heat by Kat Martin

one who is helping him improve his speech?”
    Morgan nodded. “About a year ago he came to see me—wanted to talk ‘man to man,’ he said. He told me he wanted to command his own ship one day. Asked me what he would have to do, and I told him. He’s been studying hard, working on his reading and ciphering. He’s got a long way to go, but I think he just might make it.”
    “I hope so.”
    Morgan looked at her with eyes that missed nothing. Was it so hard to believe she might care about a young boy’s future? Morgan cared, for Jordy and the rest of the people around him. Silver envied that caring, she realized, then worked to force the notion away.
    Morgan’s eyes held hers, and beneath that penetrating gaze, Silver’s heart began to pound. “I’m beginning to feel a little tired,” she lied. “I’d better go back down to the cabin.”
    Morgan followed her across the deck and helped her descend the ladder to the salon. “Supper’s at seven,” he said. “We’ll dine with Lieutenant Riley and Wilson Demming, my acting first mate.”
    “Acting? That means temporary, doesn’t it?”
    He nodded. “Once we reach Barbados, a big, burly Frenchman named Hypolyte Jacques Bouillard will take over. He’s sailed with me for years.”
    Silver thought of the detour from Katonga she hoped Trask would make and tried to look disappointed. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to meet him.”
    Morgan caught Silver’s expression, and his easy manner fled, replaced by a shot of anger he welcomed. He hadn’t missed her less than subtle attempt at manipulation. If arguing didn’t work, she was set to try sweetness and honey. He thought of her soft, alluring curves, those velvet brown eyes. Sweetness from Silver was the last thing he wanted.
    “Maybe I should change course,” he said sarcastically, “head for Barbados instead. Then you could meet Jacques, maybe convince him to help you. How would that suit you?”
    Silver stiffened, but her smile remained in place. “I was only being polite.”
    “Polite is not in your vocabulary, Miss Jones.”
    Go to hell
, she thought. “You might be surprised, Major Trask.”
    “Nothing you could do would surprise me.”
    Damn him! Could he read her so easily? “Thank you for the tour; Major. I look forward to this evening.”
    Trask left her alone, and Silver headed for his cabin. Once she closed the door, she slammed her fist against the bulkhead and silently seethed. Damn him to hell! The man was an arrogant, insolent bastard! Handsome, yes, masculine, yes, at times he could even be charming, but he was also dominating and utterly infuriating. She thought of his earlier words, and her temper burned brighter. He hoped she wasn’t a bad influence. A bad influence! She had wanted to choke him. Still, she had guarded her temper well, and she hoped Morgan hadn’t noticed how close she had come to losing control.
    At least now she wouldn’t feel guilty. Tonight her plan would go forward, though she couldn’t move too fast. Morgan was far too smart to believe she had changed overnight, and she didn’t want to rouse his suspicions. Yet there was no time to lose either.
    She wished she knew just exactly how to proceed in this game of seduction. Though she’d had the best tutors money could buy, been schooled on everything a proper lady should know, she had rarely had a chance to test her feminine wiles. Her father invited few visitors to Heritage and only occasionally traveled himself.
    Once he had taken her to a ball at a friend’s plantation on nearby St. Vincent. The young men had seemed interested, and she had actually gotten to dance. She discovered she liked it and was enjoying herself immensely, until she and Michael Browning walked out onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air.
    “You are more lovely than all the stars in the heavens, Lady Salena,” Michael had said. It was trite, and no doubt well used, but still, they were the first courtly words from a handsome young