Free In the Arms of a Pirate (A Sam Steele Romance Book 2) by Michelle Beattie Page B

never given more attention than that of a nattering mosquito buzzing about one’s ears. She’d taken such treatment for years but, hostage or not, she wasn’t going to tolerate being ignored or placated any longer.
    She grabbed his arm. “Simmons, you will answer me.”
    He looked down his pointy nose at her. “I have, miss.”
    “No, you have not, as well you know. I realize for years I’ve let you, the entire staff, and my father treat me as though I was nothing more than a fragile flower needing careful tending but I assure you those days are gone. I will not be silent and I will not be ignored.”
    “And I have my orders,” he answered stiffly.
    Sarah’s mouth gaped open. “He’s ordered you not to tell me the truth?” Knowing she’d learn no more from Simmons she turned to the gardener; he’d always been kinder to her. “Henry?”
    Henry twisted his hat between his large, working-man hands. “I’m not at liberty to say, miss. It’s a condition of my employment.”
    A cold, uneasy feeling crept up Sarah’s spine. “Is your position the only thing you stand to lose if you disobey my father?”
    Henry’s eyes darted to Simmons’. The butler didn’t blink as he met Henry’s worried gaze but he didn’t have to. The fear was rolling off Henry in waves. And, in a moment of clarity, Sarah remembered seeing a similar expression on Sophia’s face when she’d worried Roche would learn of their wine drinking and conversation, of her tryst with Jacob. In fact, now that she looked back upon it, she remembered her father’s visits were always accompanied by nervousness from the staff. Sarah had attributed it to simply having their overseer in their midst. Of course they’d be more careful around their employer. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if the real reason wasn’t more sinister.
    “You haven’t broken any vows, Henry,” Sarah hastened to reassure. “When I speak with my father I’ll be sure to tell him the truth did not come from you.” Not that he would listen or care, apparently, as even the help had more of his trust than she did.
    Cutting her gaze from Henry to Simmons, she jeered, “You’ve both been very well trained. Your master would be proud.” Then, with anger simmering in her veins, she spun for the doorway.
    The big man lunged to his feet and his sheer bulk blocked most of the frame. “You’re not going anywhere.”
    “I need to speak with your captain.”
    He was easily twice her size and humor filled his eyes as he looked to his fellow crewman before looking down upon her. He raised a brow as if to ask how she planned to get past him. And, oh, that look only fueled her temper more. She’d had more than enough of being looked down upon to last a lifetime.
    She fisted her hands on her hips, jutted her chin and commanded, “Get out of my way, you lumbering brute.”
    His barrel of a chest shook with laughter. “And if I don’t?”
    “I’d like the answer to that as well,” Aidan said from behind Chunk’s back.
    Grinning, Chunk moved aside and resumed his seat on the sofa next to a man named Jacques.
    “I’m curious to know how you planned on getting around Chunk.” Aidan wasn’t grinning, but humor danced in his eyes and again she caught herself affected by his handsomeness. However, it wasn’t his good looks she was after.
    She ignored the twitch of his lips and her body’s response to it. In defense, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I would have found a way but seeing as you’re here I won’t have to. I need to speak with you. Privately.”
    “Do you now?”
    “Yes and I think it’s the least you owe me.”
    “I owe you?” He guffawed. “How’s that?”
    “You’re holding me prisoner in my own home.”
    He leaned against the doorframe, crossed his booted feet. “Your highness, from everything I’ve seen, you were already a prisoner. Only difference is I’m being honest about it.”
    The truth stung but it wasn’t a shock. If he wanted to