Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #2)

“I do deny it. It isn’t true.” Gray took another swig from his flask and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damn it, Joss. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to trust me. I gave you my word. I’ve kept it.”


And it was the truth, Gray told himself. Yes, he’d touched her tonight, but he’d never pledged not to touch her. He had kept his word. He hadn’t bedded her. He hadn’t kissed her.

God, what he wouldn’t give just to kiss her …

He rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest. That same ache lingered there—the same sharp tug he’d felt when she’d brought her foot down on his and pursed her lips into a silent plea. Please, she’d said. Don’t

. As if she appealed to his conscience.

His conscience. Where would the girl have gathered such a notion, that he possessed a conscience? Certainly not from his treatment of her. A bitter laugh rumbled through his chest, and Joss shot him a skeptical look.

“Believe me, I’ve scarcely spoken to the girl in weeks. You can’t know the lengths I’ve gone to, avoiding her. And it isn’t easy, because she won’t stay put in her cabin, now will she? No, she has to go all over the ship, flirting with the crew, tacking her little pictures in every corner of the boat, taking tea in the galley with Gabriel. I can’t help but see her. And I can see she’s too damn thin. She needs to eat; I put food on her plate. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

Joss said nothing, just stared at him as though he’d grown a second head.

“Damn it, what now? Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe what you’re saying,” his brother said slowly. “I just can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

Gray folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “And what are you hearing?”

“I wondered why you’d done all this … the dinner. Now I know.”

“You know what?” Gray was growing exasperated. Most of all, because he didn’t know.

“You care for this girl.” Joss cocked his head. “You care for her. Don’t you?”

“Care for her.”

Joss’s expression was smug. “Don’t you?”

The idea was too preposterous to entertain, but Gray perked with inspiration. “Say I did care for her. Would you release me from that promise? If my answer is yes, can I pursue her?”

Joss shook his head. “If the answer is yes, you can—and should—wait one more week. It’s not as though she’ll vanish the moment we make harbor. If the answer is yes, you’ll agree she deserves that much.”

Wrong, Gray thought, sinking back into a chair. Regardless of the answer, he knew she deserved far better. Damn it, he couldn’t even enjoy the fantasy of destroying that striped frock. Because he knew she’d only one other to wear, and he’d be too concerned over whether she possessed the needle and thread to mend it. Because the pattern might never match up right again; the stripes would be off, and the effect would be a bit less lovely than before. Because he would have taken something from her, destroyed something beautiful and perfect … and never again would she look at him with those clear, trusting eyes and tug on his heart. Please. Don’t.

Gray punched his thigh. This was why when he took a fancy to a woman, he pursued her, sampled her, and moved on. Becoming acquainted first ruined everything.

Agitated, he hooked a finger under his neck cloth and pulled it loose.

“Care for her,” he muttered. “How could that be possible? I’ve scarcely gone near the woman in weeks.”

“I don’t know how it’s possible, but it seems to be true. In fact, I think you’re half in love with her. More than half, perhaps.”

Rising from his chair, Gray straightened to his full height. “Now wait. I’m half out of my mind with lust, I’ll grant you that. More than half, perhaps. But I

’m certainly not in love with that girl. Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Joss. I keep my conscience in my bank account, remember? I don’t even know what love looks like.”

Joss paused over his desk. “I know what love looks like. Using up all those Portuguese goods on one meal, killing a valuable goat, bringing out porcelain from the cargo hold … Crack one plate, and you’d lose half the set’s price. Serving meat onto a lady’s plate.” He shrugged. “Love looks something like that.”

Gray ran his hands through his hair, shaking off the lunatic notion before it could take root in his brain. “I’m telling you, I’m not in love. I’m just too damned bored. I’ve nothing to do on this voyage but plan dinner parties. And it’s about to get worse. No chance of cracking a plate tonight.” He jerked his chin at the lamp dangling from a hook, which on any normal night would have been swaying in time with the waves. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re becalmed.”

“I’d noticed.” Joss grimaced and motioned for the flask. Gray tossed it to him. “Good thing we’ve given the men a fine meal and grog tonight. Becalming’s never good for the crew’s morale.”

“Not good for the investor’s morale, either.” Gray rubbed his temples.