A Lady at Last Read Free Page A

obeyed, he strode grimly into the salon.
    La Sauvage was about to follow, but Cliff had seen her hide a smile and he seized her arm. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
    Very softly, so Woods could not hear, he murmured, “You are unarmed, are you not?”
    She stared into his eyes. “Am I a fool? Of course I’m not armed.”
    She did not blink, not once. Her cheeks did not color. Her gaze did not waver. Yet he knew, without a doubt, that she was lying.
    His grip tightened. She began to protest, trying to pull back, but he restrained her. “I beg your pardon,” he said grimly, aware that he was flushing. With his free hand, over her shirt, he touched her waist, expecting to find another pistol strapped inside her shirt there. Instead, he was stunned at how narrow her waist was, with no flesh to spare. He could probably close both of his hands around her, if he tried.
    â€œGet your paws off me,” she gasped, outraged.
    He ignored her, sliding his hand to the small of her back and trying not to think about drifting it lower. She started to struggle. “Lecher!”
    â€œBe still,” he growled, feeling the other side of her waist.
    â€œAre you happy now?” she demanded, remaining scarlet but wriggling impossibly.
    â€œYou are making this difficult,” he said, and then he stopped. Something was strapped beneath her shirt on the left side of her waist.
    She started to pull against him.
    He gave her a look, slid his hand under her shirt and over the sharp edge of the dagger taped to her ribs.
    â€œDamn you!” she hissed, attempting to twist away.
    To his shock, the heavy underside of a full and bare breast bumped into his hand as he seized the knife.
    She went still and so did he.
    â€œBastard!” She pulled free.
    He tried to breathe, but he was aroused. Beneath that loose, oversize shirt was an intriguing body, one that belonged to a mature woman. He slid her dagger into his belt. It was a moment before he could speak. “You lied.”
    She gave him a furious look and marched after Woods into the salon.
    He hoped she did not have another dagger taped somewhere else, perhaps on her hip or her thigh. He could not understand his response to her body, so slim in some places and far too soft in others. He’d had hundreds of beautiful, alluring women. He allowed himself desire when the moment was appropriate or when it suited him. He was not a green boy and he could control his lust. He did not want to feel any stirrings, now or ever, for La Sauvage. But his body had betrayed him.
    He was very displeased.
    He strode into the salon, leaving the door open. The governor had chosen to sit in a huge armchair, so that he appeared more royalty than royally appointed. He indicated that she might speak, the gesture abrupt and somehow disrespectful.
    Cliff didn’t care for his manner. Clearly, Woods had made up his mind and nothing La Sauvage could say or do would change it.
    But she began to cry, tears running down her breathtaking face. He knew the tears were contrived, born of her fear and desperation.
    â€œGive her a genuine opportunity to speak,” he said to Woods.
    â€œI do not need this,” Woods groused. He was angry.
    â€œPlease,” she whispered, the sound soft and feminine, a plea, and she clasped her hands as if in prayer before her chest. The gesture drew her shirt tight, revealing the shape of her surprisingly lush bosom. Cliff stared, instantly distracted, and so did Woods, apparently not oblivious to her allure, either.
    â€œMy lord, my father is all I’ve got. He is a good man, sir, a good father. He’s not really a pirate, you know. He’s a planter, and you can go to Belle Mer to see for yourself. We have one of our best crops in years!”
    â€œI think we both know he has committed numerous acts of piracy,” Woods said sternly.
    Tears streaked her lovely face and she sank to her