Free Mistress of the Stone by Maria Zannini Page B

foul-smelling stew. The lad fed him by the spoonful, under orders not to release him. Daltry swallowed each mouthful and thought it best not to ask what was in the watery mash. It was enough that it stayed in his stomach.
    The boy came and left, forbidden to stay any longer than necessary. Breakfast was long over, but unlike past days, no one had returned to ask if he needed to relieve himself. Was he to soil himself where he stood? Barbarians!
    He twisted his head from side to side. His addiction sated, his only real protest was captivity. His sore arms stretched taut to either side of an overhead beam and his ankles were shackled to the floorboards, restricting his movements to a few inches in any direction.
    He heard the click of boot heels in the distance. Light, yet distinct. Luísa . His kitten was granting him a midmorning audience.
    He watched as she climbed down. The shirt that had concealed so much of her bounty yesterday was unbuttoned to her collarbone today. A bright red scarf adorned the top of her head, making her fit for fighting—or bedding. He preferred the latter. She smelled of sex and the subtle scent of roses. It made it hard to concentrate on anything else. Blasted girl. She tested his limits.
    She said nothing at first, letting her eyes do all the talking as she studied him from his bare feet to his midsection.
    Was it his imagination, or did that little imp linger at his groin? The mere thought raised an erection that bloomed and pushed out against his constricting breeches.
    He followed her gaze. By the time it reached his chest, she was licking her lips. Naughty girl. Daltry smiled.
    “Back for more, kitten?”
    She crossed her arms and glared at him. “You’ll find this kitten won’t hesitate to throw you overboard if my father is not where you say he is.”
    “Be a smart girl and send your men to the island. Don’t go there yourself.”
    “Why?”
    “Because there are demons on that island, luv. Demons that devour brash little pirates.”
    Luísa came closer, no doubt emboldened by the fact that he was stretched out like a main sail. She ran a hand at the back of her head, and pulled off her scarf. Careless fingers fluffed her hair, then snagged a silver chain around her neck and fished it out.
    Daltry thought he had stopped breathing. The moonstone. That cursed stone.
    “Are there werewolves on the island?” Luísa asked.
    Daltry stiffened for a moment before regaining his confidence. “What know you of werewolves, little girl?”
    She laughed, seemingly delighted with the conversation.
    “Paqua raised me on shapeshifter stories. He told me werewolves can’t control their change. That’s why they have to live apart from humans. And—and,” she said excitedly. “They like to eat virgins!”
    Daltry busted into laughter, unable to contain himself. “Virgins! My, my. Well, I suppose there might be truth in that, though I think you might have misunderstood the context of the word, eating .”
    She frowned at him. “What else can eating mean?”
    He smiled at her kindly. “You really are a virgin, aren’t you, kitten?”
    She drew back, insulted. “You’re in no position to mock me, sir.”
    Daltry pulled at the shackles on each wrist. “It does appear that way, Miss. I seem to be at your every whim.”
    Luísa blew out a breath, and her expression stiffened before sneaking a look behind her. Her eyes lit with mischief and Daltry could sense she plotted something new.
    “You are at my service, aren’t you, Capitán ?”
    “So it seems.” He tugged again on the chains holding his arms hostage.
    “And I would be doing you a favor if I offered you some relief from these chains.”
    “You would.”
    “Then perhaps you could do me a favor too.”
    One brow lifted. What was she up to?
    “What favor do you ask of an imprisoned wretch?”
    “Your silence, Capitán .”
    Daltry tilted his head with amusement. “I would be the soul of discretion, Miss. What am I to be silent