Free Captured by Beverly Jenkins

was normal to be so affected by a man. Did he really expect her to fulfill his request? After his heartfelt words last night, she no longer feared he’d do her harm, so she was certain he wouldn’t force a kiss on her. He was just trying to needle her, she supposed, and he did like to tease. In the middle of those logical thoughts the remembrance of last night and his warm touch against her cheek came back unbidden, and she relived the moment all over again; the way her eyes lidded closed, the way she’d trembled. What might it be like to give herself to him fully and without inhibition? she wondered. The thought was scandalous, true, but once she returned to Savannah her captivity would resume. Should she give in to him and see where this small respite might lead? But she had no answer.

Chapter 4
     
    H

e was gone for such a long time, Clare thought maybe he’d decided to seek his rest elsewhere, but moments later the door opened and he strode in. He’d washed up while away. The damp, jet black hair hung loose behind his ear, brushing his collar. He’d changed his shirt, breeches, and stockings as well. None of the replacements appeared newly laundered, but they were far cleaner than the ones he’d worn previously. He’d shaved, too. The fresh-clipped beard rode his jaw with a shadowy rakishness that only added to his dangerous countenance.
    “James sent some plaster, and I’m still wanting that kiss,” he pronounced, eyes holding hers.
    Ignoring his declaration, she took the battered tin cup from his hand and stirred the dab of sticky plaster with the small tarnished spoon resting inside. “You’ll have to sit, please.”
    He took a seat in the chair at his desk and his manner was easy as he watched her intently.
    Only then did she realize that she’d set herself up. In order to get close enough to apply the plaster she’d have to do just that, get close; close enough to touch his skin, close enough for the heat of his body to brush her own.
    “Something wrong?” he asked.
    She shook her head quickly. “No.” Taking in a deep breath to buttress her resolve, she moved to the side of the chair so she could begin.
    “Might be easier if you stand in front of me, petite.”
    She paused. The gaze she met fairly sparkled with amusement.
    He tipped his head back so that the cut was exposed. “I’m ready when you are.”
    He had her over a barrel and they both knew it, but she refused to tuck tail and run. Determined not to look into his face, she leaned in and spread a thin line of the plaster down both sides of the open wound. Although she tried to remain unmoved by his nearness, warmth, and clean fresh smell, it was impossible. A quick look up showed him watching her, so she just as quickly refocused on her task. “Did the doctor send something to bind this with?”
    “Yes.” He handed her a thin short strip of black silk.
    She gently placed one edge of the silk against the outer edge of the wound, then just as gently pinched the skin closed, and pressed the unattached edge of the silk over it. The plaster and silk would hold the wound together and keep out any dirt while it healed. “There,” she said approvingly. “Now you won’t have to worry about poison or decapitation.”
    “And my kiss?”
    She viewed him silently at first, taking in the chiseled features, the shape of his mouth, and the gold hoop gleaming in his ear. To her surprise and to his, she tossed back the same question he’d posed to her earlier. “If I say yes, will you stop bedeviling me?”
    He grinned and confessed, “Probably not.”
    She looked away hoping to hide her smile, but he gently turned her chin back and gazed at her long enough for time to stand still, and for all her defenses to crumble and melt away. Warm lips brushed hers as he whispered, “Probably not, because one kiss will lead to another, and another, and another…”
    It was the most arousing moment of Clare’s life. His mouth was firm yet fleeting,