Free Surrender by Heather Graham Page B

that being
your
men, their minds are as pure as the driven snow. Of course, they aresurely superior to any Yank deserters. I’d gladly cost the Confederacy any victory, but I’d be damned before I’d cost you a red penny!” And so saying, she shed the torn skirt and peeled the soaked bodice over her head.
    Lunacy—and too much brandy.
    Her fingers were shaking by the time she came to the tiny buttons on the pantalets. Her anger was fading beneath his cobalt scrutiny, yet she had gone this far. She was now literally half naked. No lady, from either North or South, would be so rashly indecent, and yet, as he kept reminding her, this was war.
    And she was gratified to see that the glitter of mocking arrogance was leaving his eyes. He stared at her as if she had taken total leave of her senses.
    Which she had.
    She slipped from the pantalets, and started toward the door, straight, dignified, smooth.
    “Excuse me. I think I’ll step outside into the sun and breeze to dry,” she told him, starting past him.
    Yet as she did so, her bravado was turning to panic. What had she done? What on earth would her father say? What of all those officers, politicians, and distinguished men and women she had met as her father’s hostess in Washington? She was General Magee’s daughter, admired near and far for her intelligence and composure.
    And she was about to walk naked before a crew of sailors. She had already stripped in front of the enemy. She suddenly wanted to crawl beneath the floorboards of the captain’s cabin—and die. Was it possible to die from humiliation? If so, she would do so now. Should she continue this decadent charade? What choice did she have?
    He would stop her. Surely, he would stop her. She had seen the look in his eyes change as she had shed her clothing.
    But he didn’t stop her. His tone was composed and cool as he said, “My men will be quite thrilled, Miss Magee. We’re in a foreign port where almost anything is for sale, and they have the run of the island tonight. You’ll surely whet their imaginations. Although, I must say, I’m quite certain that what they can afford on theirseamen’s pay won’t compare to the view they’re about to enjoy.”
    She set her hand on the door. Were they both bluffing?
    “Go to hell, McKenzie,” she said, her back to him.
    “Want a blanket?” he offered dryly at long last.
    She replied with what dignity she could. “Yes, actually.”
    She heard him pull the blanket from the bunk. A moment later it was draped over her shoulders. She pulled it tightly around her, painfully aware that he stood just inches away.
    “You are trouble, you know, Miss Magee, pure trouble,” he informed her softly.
    She kept her back to him. “I believe that the enemy is supposed to cause trouble, Captain,” she said, and turned around at last. “And I am your enemy.”
    He nodded, but there was a strange smile curved into his lips.
    “You find my words amusing?”
    “I find everything about you to be … stimulating, shall we say.” He laughed lightly. “At the moment I am gratified. You’ve just addressed me by something other than ‘McKenzie’ for the first time. Who knows? We may be heading for a better relationship.”
    “A better relationship? We have
no
relationship.”
    “Ah, but we do. This is war. You became involved, and you were caught. That means you’re now a prisoner of war, and this ship is your jail. I own the ship, so I am your jailer. Therein lies your relationship, Miss Magee. You’d do well to respect it. Now, if you’ll excuse me …”
    She nearly jumped as he set his hands on her shoulders. Yet all he did was move her out of the way of the cabin’s door. His eyes met hers. “By the way, Miss Magee. I’d have been damned before letting you take one step outside this cabin naked,” he assured her. He stepped by her, and exited the cabin. The door closed tightly behind him.
    She’d had far too much brandy, and she’d played at war far too