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

“You weren’t ruined.”


“But I was.” Perhaps she had been a virgin until today, but her reputation was surely in tatters.

“Don’t lie to me.” He shot her a hard look, his eyes awash with anger.

“You were a virgin.”

Sophia didn’t understand his ire. Yes, she’d deceived him, but shouldn’t he be happy, that he’d been her first lover? Her only lover, if she had her wish? “Yes, but—”

“Then you weren’t ruined. Though you are now, thanks to me.” He swore again. “You lied to me. You knew I didn’t want to take your innocence, so you tricked me into it. God, what a conniving little thing you are.”

His words chilled her to the core. Sophia smoothed the fabric of her dress back down, covering her shivering legs. “Gray, it was not like that. You have to give me a chance to expl—”

“You’re not even a governess, are you?”

She chewed her lip. “No.”

“Of course not. No woman with those assets”—he gestured brusquely toward her br**sts and the money strapped beneath them—“need seek employment. How much is there? Two hundred pounds? Three?”

“Nearly six.”

“Bloody hell.” He ran his hands through his hair, then curled them around the edge of the bed. “No one comes by that kind of coin honestly. Who are you then? A thief? A fugitive? Some sort of swindler?”

All of the above. Sophia clutched the blankets around her, as if they could protect her from his angry words. She knew this was a tangle of her own making, but she’d never dreamed it would be so difficult to make straight. Once he embraced her, she’d imagined, he would happily embrace the truth as well. She’d even expected he’d be amused, to hear the full story at last. But now … his obvious displeasure suggested otherwise. Fear built within her, swift and treacherous.

“Does it really matter?” she asked, her voice weaker than she’d like.

“After all that we’ve shared?” She slid one leg toward him, until her thigh grazed his fingertips.

“What we’ve shared?” He pulled his hand away. “What have you shared with me, but lies?”

How could he say such a thing? She’d shared everything with him. Her artistry, her most secret fantasies. Heavens, she’d touched herself in front of him. Now she’d given him her virtue, in a moment of passion and tenderness surpassing anything she’d ever known. And he was rejecting that gift, as though it were nothing. Rejecting her.

“Christ.” Hiking his trousers to his waist, he stood and turned to face her. The look in his eyes was not quite revulsion, but rather an expression of utter disbelief. “I told you things. About myself, about my family. I told you things I’ve never told another soul. Now I learn you’re no more than a stranger to me.” He swore again.

“Must you persist in swearing?”

“Yes, I think I must. Damn it, I thought I was done bedding nameless women.”

Now Sophia was growing angry, too. “I see. And now I suppose you intend to continue?”

He froze, arm extended to retrieve his shirt. For a long moment, Sophia stared at him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. Finally, he pulled the shirt over his arms and head, tucking it into his trousers with motions that bespoke controlled fury. “You’re right,” he said coolly, buttoning his falls. “After what we just did … it doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t matter?” Sophia swallowed around the lump in her throat.

“The truth? Or me?”

He pierced her with an icy look, one boot poised on the ladder leading up  to the hatch. “How can you even ask me that?”

How can you be so cruel? A sob smothered the question. She hugged her arms across her chest, blinking away tears.

“Sweet.” The slight rasp in his voice tugged her eyes back up. His gaze deepened, made room to hold hers. “Right now, there are dead and dying men up there, and a disabled ship in need of repair. At the moment, they are what matters. Stay here. I will come back.” He mounted the ladder. “We

’ll deal with this later.”

Then he was gone.

Sophia fell back onto the bed, curling into herself like the head of a fern. We’ll deal with this later? How hateful that sounded. How final. She didn’t want to be dealt with. She wanted to be comforted. She wanted to be held. She wanted something she hadn’t felt in so long, she scarcely remembered how to name it—but she dared to imagine she deserved it, just the same. She wanted to be loved.