Free The Game by Brenda Joyce

Suddenly the dagger flew from his hand. It landed in the wall beside her head, inches from her cheek. Katherine stared at the quivering blade, fear running down her body in rivulets of sweat. Then she blinked and their gazes clashed hard. His eyes glittered savagely.
    He whirled. With long booted strides he crossed the room and yanked open the door. A moment later it was kicked closed from outside. She heard the bolt being thrown, locking her inside.
    Katherine turned her head and stared at the dagger, imbedded in the wall. She covered her face with her hands, beginning to shake. His promise was crystal clear.

4
    K atherine knew that she must not antagonize him.
    It was late. She had no idea of the exact time, but she guessed that it was close to midnight. She was not asleep. There had been no way, despite her exhaustion, that she could sleep while waiting for the pirate to return, while preparing to engage in yet another battle. Instead, she had sat on the bed, in the far corner, her spine pressed to the wall, exactly as he had left her.
    A few moments ago he had returned to the cabin. Katherine watched him silently now, wide-eyed and wary, but he did not look at her as he crossed the chamber, his graceful stride a bit looser than usual. Katherine thought that she detected a whiff of brandy. Was he drunk? Katherine did not care for that thought. She recalled from her childhood at Askeaton what liquor did to men, and she tensed even more.
    Still he did not look at her. The pirate opened the armoire, abruptly shrugged off his shirt. Katherine managed to smother a gasp, faced with the nakedness of his broad, bronzed, rippling back. She could not help but notice how his breeches clung to his high, hard buttocks. “What are you doing?” she cried in alarm.
    He turned to her, his gaze direct, but strangely soft. “I am changing my shirt.”
    Katherine refused to look at the hard slab of his chest, lightly furred with golden brown hair, or at his flat, hard stomach. To her great relief, he shrugged on a snowywhite tunic. She realized that the odor of brandy came from the shirt he tossed carelessly aside.
    Her eyes were riveted to him now. He paused in the center of the cabin, his legs braced in a seaman’s stance. “We must reach an understanding, you and I,” he said.
    He did not slur his words. She was further relieved. He was sober, or close to it. Carefully she regarded him, not yet responding. She knew now that she must not incite either his temper or his lust.
    His gaze flickered over her face. “You are very, very beautiful, Katherine. Do you know that I dream of you at night?”
    She sat up straighter, realizing that he was drunk after all, for he had but met her that morning. “There are many beautiful women in the world.”
    “True,” he said, and somehow that agreement disappointed her. He rested his hands on his narrow hips, betraying some lingering tension in him. “There are many beauties in the world, but are they willful and intelligent?”
    Her gaze darted to his eyes. “Do you mock me?”
    He chuckled then, the sound rich and warm. “No, darling, I do not.”
    She froze. Katherine did not like the sound of his laughter or his endearment, and she stiffened against the wall.
    “You are still afraid of me.” His jaw flexed. His gaze was no longer as soft. “I must apologize for my behavior.”
    Her eyes widened. The pirate was apologizing for his bestial actions?
    “You are far too enticing, but still I should have controlled myself. The only defense I can make is that I did not expect such spirit from you.” His stare penetrated hers.
    “That is no defense. A gentleman would never have assaulted me as you did.”
    The corners of his mouth lifted, but the expression somehow seemed ripe with self-derision. “But as you have said, I am a savage.”
    “Can you deny it?”
    “I would not bother even to try.” His gaze had grown darker now. “You are very adept at provoking my temper. Never have I