Once a Pirate Read Free Page A

protecting his future father-in-law’s interests. Sighing contentedly, Andrew nursed the pleasant thought.
    The smell of wet wool reached his nostrils as he settled onto a chair and propped his rugged boots on the bed. “Now,
I
will ask the questions, milady.”
    In response, she folded her arms over her chest and thrust her chin in the air. He chuckled. It would not take long to whittle the chit down to size. Indeed, in a scant two minutes he’d have her bawling like a babe.
    “Carly Ann Callahan, Lieutenant, 242-54-1879,” she repeated calmly.
    Andrew shot to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but his hand was steady as he poured another brandy. He’d expected a spoiled but submissive young girl, not this stubborn woman who willfully stood up to him. No woman had ever dared defy him, not even the spoiled bitches of the
ton.
    They had been at this for over an hour, and she hadn’t given him a snippet of useful information about her father’s ship. When he informed her that she’d been kidnapped, she’d prattled on and on about strange laws, Warsaw conventions, and prisoners of war. By God, she’d insisted that she’d fallen into the sea from a flying machine!
    “Just let me use the radio.” She watched him expectantly. “And maybe I can help you find your friend’s ship, okay?”
    “Who the bloody hell is ‘O.K.’?” She’d mentioned the initials a dozen times. For the life of him, Andrew could not recall an acquaintance of Richard’s with those initials. “Oliver . . . Oscar . . .”
    “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Her long lashes framed eyes that were wide and without guile.
    Her innocent look. He detested it.
    “Quiet!” This was maddening. Perhaps her head wound wasn’t the cause. Perhaps she was daft—a family weakness. He recalled the gossip he’d heard years ago about her now-deceased mother’s antics. After a sip of brandy, he resumed his inquiries with a tenuous grip on his composure. “Shall we try again? When did the other ship depart India for England? What is the name of the vessel? What goods do they have onboard?”
    “Carly Ann Callahan—”
    “Blast you, woman!” He slammed down his glass. He’d been too easy on the wench. It was time to switch tactics.
    Strolling to her side, he lowered himself to his knees. He touched his fingertip to her temple, then traced the line of her jaw. She shuddered, but the two clenched fists in her lap indicated her resolve.
    “As I’ve said, I’m holding you for ransom.” His voice dropped lower. “Your intended, Richard, Duke of Westridge, will hunt you down. Oh, but we’ll lead him a merry chase first.”
    “Look, you have the wrong woman. Let me go.”
    Undeterred, he lifted a lock of her damp hair, rubbed it between his fingers. “Oh, no, sweeting. Not when I am so close. So close . . .” He leaned closer, until he was certain she felt his breath against her chin. “You will bring Richard to me. He needs you to breed his heir. Are you looking forward to that, Lady Amanda?”
    She stiffened, and a part of him wondered why. Until now, she had held up magnificently under his barrage. Perhaps there was something in her past, something she wished to hide. Delighted, he reloaded and fired the next salvo: “Spineless Richard. A littleboy masquerading as a man. Ah, my lady, do you long to see your belly swell with his child?”
    She swallowed hard. Her gold-flecked eyes misted over as she pressed her palm to her stomach. For a long moment there was silence between them. Then, for the first time, she glanced away.
    Andrew reared back. Bloody hell. What had he said? His chest ached with the vulnerability, the grief in her eyes. What had caused her such misery? And what made him want to take her into his arms and comfort her?
    No! She was no different from the duke’s well-bred companions who had ruined him, the flighty aristocrats who had turned their backs while Richard had