Free Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] by A Pirates Pleasure

caress and strain to his form.” He came back behind her, bending over her. “And she learns so much more quickly when he still has all of his teeth!”
    “Your conceit is extraordinary.”
    He faced her and lifted her chin. “That you can doubt my words, mam’selle, lends credence to the very truth of them. There is a grave difference. Had you spent your night in Jack’s cabin, you’d not have awakened thinking there could be no difference in men.”
    She wanted to wrench from him. He held his grip. “I did not say men, sir. I spoke of refuse—pirates.”
    “Such harsh words, milady! When I carry still in the boundaries of my heart your sweet promise to please me in any way, to offer any diversion I might desire.”
    “Diversion!”
    His lip began to curl with humor. She did twist her chin from his grip. She raised her hand with a vengeance, halfway rising, determined to strike him. She just barely caught his cheek before his fingers wound around her wrist. He twisted his jaw and she was pleased that she had hurt him, then she was suddenly frightened, for a pulse ticked against his throat and she did not care to be hurt in return, and she had definitely angered him as well. She sank slowly back into the chair, her eyes locked with his. She already knew that when the soft silver darkened to a cobalt blue, his temper was flaring. But he did not strike out at her in return. He swallowed, as if he clamped down on his temper. His smile returned. “Were you aware, milady, that you’ve splendid breasts?”
    “What?” she gasped. Her eyes fell downward where the coverlet had fallen from her and where her flesh now lay bareto him. She must have been cold, for her nipples protruded like hardened rosebuds against the mounds.
    “Oh!” she swore, and she sought, clumsily, to strike him again and retrieve her covering at the same time. He was not about to be struck again and caught her wrist quickly and easily. “Madame, I am patient, but I do have my limits. So far you’ve tried to slice my throat and dislodge my jaw. Do take care!” His husky laughter irritated her to no end, but she lowered her head, seeking desperately to free her hand, to recover herself. She glanced up at him quickly and went still, for the color of his eyes had changed again. They had gone to a warm, smoke color, and they remained upon her person, then slowly met hers. She did not quite understand the message in his eyes, but her breath caught in her throat and her blood surged throughout her limbs with a sizzling force. Something in her abdomen coiled tightly and she desperately moistened her lips. “Please!” she gasped out, unaware of just what it was that she requested.
    He freed her wrist. She lowered her eyes, drawing the coverlet about her. She sought desperately for something to say.
    “I, er, I did not promise—diversion!”
    “Ah, but you did promise me … what was it …? Anything! I do believe that is what you said,” he reminded her, laughing. He turned from her and picked up his hat and set it upon his head. “I shall be waiting, mam’selle. Thank God that I am a patient man!” He paused just a moment longer, belting his scabbard and cutlass to his side, and taking the broadsword beneath his arm. He took a dirk from the bookcase and cast her a wry glance. “I wonder if it is safe to leave you with the serving tray. Ah, yes, bless Cookie, he is a man of rare good sense. He has sent a spoon and not a knife for the jam. Take care, my dear, until we meet again.”
    With a sweeping flourish of his hat, he left her. She sat still until she heard the bolts slide into place at the doors. Then she leaped up, led by instinct, slamming against them.
    She was locked in once again.
    She swore violently and was overcome with a sense of panic and desolation. Shrieking aloud, she stormed about and sent the tray with the coffee and rolls flying. The porcelain cupsshattered and the jam jar cracked in two, spilling out blood red