Free The Elusive Bride by Stephanie Laurens Page B

judged him a womanizer, undoubtedly with a woman in every port on the Red Sea.
    When the door had closed behind them, Gareth smiled at her. “Excellent.” He waved her to the companionway.
    She preceded him up the stairs. He fell in beside her as they strolled down the deck.
    “That went well.” Gareth glanced at her face. “I wanted to avoid mentioning my mission, and you were a great help in that.” He looked ahead, matching her step for step as they neared the stern. “You behaved in just the right way to evoke Ayabad’s chivalrous streak. I felt sure he had one. He’s an honorable man, which is why I hired him in Mocha.”
    She halted by the stern railings, gripping them and staring out over their wake.
    Halting beside her, he glanced back along the length of the schooner. The decks had been scoured first thing that morning; there was no sign remaining of the night’s battle. His lips twisted. “I should upbraid you for strolling the deck alone last night, but everyone in our party is feeling rather better for having weathered the attack we all knew would come. We took a few cuts and bruises, but no one sustained any serious injury.”
    He paused, recalling—vividly—that moment when, looking down from the roof, he’d seen the cultists closing in on her, seen her helplessness, understood her peril…but he’dbeen there, and had rescued her, for which she’d been duly appreciative.
    And in the midst of the melee, she’d rescued him. He glanced at her, but she was still looking out over the waves. “I haven’t yet thanked you for your assistance last night. Indeed, to commend you on your quick thinking and levelheadedness. If it hadn’t been for you, I might have been seriously wounded.”
    Or killed, Emily thought, as she swung to face him.
    She caught his gaze. Expectantly waited. If he wanted to thank her, she’d shown him the way.
    Her jaw had dropped, mentally if not physically, when he’d revealed his reasons for requesting her presence that morning. Every word he’d uttered since had only succeeded in prodding her temper to greater heights, but if he was going to redeem himself by thanking her appropriately, she was willing to overlook his arrogance.
    So she waited.
    His gaze traveled her face, returned to her eyes. “I…have to admit that when I suggested we join forces, I imagined myself taking responsibility for you much as a nursemaid with her charge, but you’ve already contributed in a positive way—many positive ways—to our joint party’s well-being, and deserve our, certainly my, thanks and gratitude.”
    She waited. Waited.
    He seemed to sense her expectation, but all he did was shift uneasily, then say, “I’m sure the others—”
    Others ? She gave up—threw up her hands on a sound of frustration, stepped closer and slapped her palms to his cheeks, hauled his face down, and pressed her lips to his.
    Again. Harder this time.
    More definitely, more confidently.
    More evocatively.
    Provocatively.
    She felt the light scrape of his beard beneath her palms, felt again the hardness, the sculpted lines of his cheeks andthe bones above them, traced the latter lightly with the tips of her fingers even while she registered, absorbed, and explored again the fascinating hardness of his lips with hers.
    Again he didn’t return the kiss, but he did respond—she could sense it. She could all but feel the battle he waged to hold back, to keep the inch of separation between their bodies, to keep his arms from her, to keep his lips from seeking hers.
    It was a battle he won—damn him!
    Head starting to spin from lack of air, she was forced to draw back.
    Gareth hauled in a breath the instant her lips left his, shackled his instincts in iron, nearly swayed with the effort it took.
    He frowned down at her as her eyes searched his. “What was that for?”
    Her eyes narrowed, golden flints sparking in the mossy green. “That was to shut you up. And to thank me for last night!”
    With that,