Free A Lady at Last by Brenda Joyce

ship, not a boat, my fine lady—a frigate, in fact. Fifth rate, with thirty-eight guns, not counting any cannonade.”
    The lady’s jaw dropped, unattractively.
    De Warenne’s eyes widened, their gazes meeting. Amanda wriggled her hips and thrust out her bosom. “ Ohh, do take me on your boat, Captain, sir!”
    His face broke into a smile and he choked on a laugh. Then he scowled very fiercely at her. “Miss Carre. You are in your nightgown.”
    Amanda blinked. He had been amused by her . She softened, smiling back. “It’s not my nightgown. I don’t know whose it is. In fact, I can’t even remember how it got on me.” Her gaze narrowed and she looked right at him. “Did you undress me?”
    He turned red.
    The woman gasped. “I can see I have made a terrible mistake! You and…the pirate’s daughter?” She was incredulous.
    De Warenne gave Amanda an odd, private look. It was filled with warning, but amusement tinged his features, too. Amanda could not comprehend what he was thinking. Then his expression became stern and he faced the woman. “I was just about to introduce you to Miss Carre, Miss Delington. She is my houseguest.”
    The woman had turned beet-red. She was no longer very pretty. “I see. I see very well.” She glanced at de Warenne, nodded. “Good day, then.” She left the salon in great haste.
    Amanda watched her go, feeling very satisfied.
    He said from behind, softly, “Pleased with yourself, are you?”
    She whirled and almost jumped into his arms. Instead, she leaped back, strangely nervous now that they were alone. “She’s a fat, pasty sow looking to fuck you,” she defended herself.
    He blanched.
    Amanda knew she had made a terrible mistake, but she didn’t know just what that mistake was. “I mean, you didn’t really want her, did you? She was a fool! She called the Fair Lady a boat.”
    He inhaled, long and deep. Looking shaken, he walked away from her, sliding his large hands into the flat pockets at his narrow hips.
    Amanda was very worried. “Are you angry with me?”
    It was another moment before he turned to face her. He smiled a little at her. “No, I’m not. I am glad to see you up and about, and apparently feeling better.”
    Now she felt even better, she realized, because she had been afraid he was angry with her and that he would boot her from his house. “If you want her,” she said, very reluctantly, “I could go and drag her back here. I’m not stupid. I know she thinks I’m your lover or some such nonsense. I could tell her the truth.”
    He stared.
    Amanda tensed. Suddenly she was aware of being alone with a huge, powerful and undoubtedly virile man, while clad in a nightgown. She was aware of being absolutely naked behind the single fine layer of cotton.
    â€œI am not interested in Miss Delington.”
    Amanda smiled in relief.
    â€œMiss Carre,” he said carefully.
    Amanda hurried toward him, interrupting. “No, wait. We both know I’m not a lady. My name is Amanda. Or girl. Papa used to call me girl. Or Amanda Girl.” She stopped, unbearably sad.
    Briefly, she had forgotten that he was dead. It all came rushing back to her now.
    â€œHe called you ‘girl.’”
    She sat down in a huge, lush chair with all kinds of odd tufts. “Yes.”
    He pulled a green-and-gold-striped ottoman forward and sat down next to her. “How are you feeling?”
    â€œI’m not dizzy anymore.”
    He smiled slightly. “We made sure you ate before every dose of laudanum.”
    She tried to remember. “Have I been sleeping for long?”
    â€œOn and off for three days. I had been wondering when you would wake up.” He smiled again, encouragingly.
    She found herself smiling back. His eyes met hers and somehow, their gazes locked.
    In that moment, something changed. Amanda stared,