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Read Online Between A Rake And A Hard Place [Pirates of London Book 2] by Emma Wildes writing as Annabel Wolfe - Free Book Online
Authors: Emma Wildes writing as Annabel Wolfe
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puzzled.
“Of the sort where a man might find a variety of ladies in all shapes and sizes.”
She really wasn’t much more enlightened. “I don’t—”
“Nor should you,” he interrupted smoothly. “Let us just hope I am a decent judge of what might suit you.”
It wasn’t as if she had other options. Wearing just a dressing gown all day long was in truth fairly comfortable, but in the rare times she was allowed on deck in his company she had to clutch it tightly over her breasts against the breeze which usually meant her legs were exposed by the next capricious gust and maintaining any sense of modesty nearly impossible.
Curious, Cassandra opened the paper and saw shimmering silk in a cross between blue and violet, a chemise that upon closer examination was more lace than fabric by far, sheer, delicate stockings, and a pair of slippers. The second gown was a deep rose shade and a hint of violet perfume drifted from the fabric.
“They are quite lovely,” she murmured, touched he’d gone through so much trouble, but then again, the man had risked his life for her already, so purchasing a gown or two was a paltry gesture in comparison.
But it still moved her.
“I hope they fit, but we will be home soon enough. As you noted, we just weighed anchor and are on our way.” He sounded noncommittal, and he often did, but she always had the feeling that his distance was calculated and maybe not all that genuine.
“You will have to help me.” She picked up the undergarments and the violet gown and turned toward the screen, glancing over her shoulder. “Somehow, Mr. Ives, I am going to venture to guess you have some experience with the current fashions in female clothing and know it would be impossible for me to do the buttons on the back of this by myself.”
The dismayed expression on his face was fleeting, a merest tightening of his mouth, but to her a triumph of sorts. God knew the man rattled her composure.
She ducked behind the screen and shed her robe, and then donned the chemise, finding it to be scandalously transparent. The gown was somewhat better, but cut far lower in the bodice than anything she’d ever worn as an unwed debutante, but then again, she could not afford to be too critical at this point in time. It was lovely and well-made, and when she emerged from behind the screen, she found that the glimmer of pure masculine appreciation in the eyes of the man standing across the room, now sipping a glass of brandy, made her stomach do an interesting flutter.
Walking over, she turned her back and lifted up the heavy fall of her hair. “If you wouldn’t mind, sir.”
His touch was deft and sure as he swiftly complied. “I would rather be undoing these, of course, but I am an obliging man.”
Considering she was half-spilling from the bodice, she felt more than a little self-conscious, but then again, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen already. “Thank you. Both for the clothes and the assistance.”
“Oh, my pleasure.”
The hint of huskiness in his voice was matched by the searing look in his eyes when she turned back around.
Pleasure. No doubt he could offer it. Cassandra was certain of it, and it disturbed her that her response to his blatant masculinity was so profound. Despite her suitors this season, she’d never experienced anything quite like it with any other man, even the undeniably attractive Marcus.
It wasn’t the rake, it was… him .
“Now that I am properly dressed, am I allowed to go on deck unescorted?” she asked, for whatever reason a little breathless.
“No.”
“Why?”
Christopher took a deliberate drink, delaying his answer, swallowed, and then informed her. “If I do not trust myself around you, my fine lady, how could I possibly trust the crew? So, no, I’m afraid not.”
She looked into his remarkable eyes and asked softly, “You do not trust yourself in what way?”
His tone was silken and dismissive. “I’d love to toss you on that bed,
“Of the sort where a man might find a variety of ladies in all shapes and sizes.”
She really wasn’t much more enlightened. “I don’t—”
“Nor should you,” he interrupted smoothly. “Let us just hope I am a decent judge of what might suit you.”
It wasn’t as if she had other options. Wearing just a dressing gown all day long was in truth fairly comfortable, but in the rare times she was allowed on deck in his company she had to clutch it tightly over her breasts against the breeze which usually meant her legs were exposed by the next capricious gust and maintaining any sense of modesty nearly impossible.
Curious, Cassandra opened the paper and saw shimmering silk in a cross between blue and violet, a chemise that upon closer examination was more lace than fabric by far, sheer, delicate stockings, and a pair of slippers. The second gown was a deep rose shade and a hint of violet perfume drifted from the fabric.
“They are quite lovely,” she murmured, touched he’d gone through so much trouble, but then again, the man had risked his life for her already, so purchasing a gown or two was a paltry gesture in comparison.
But it still moved her.
“I hope they fit, but we will be home soon enough. As you noted, we just weighed anchor and are on our way.” He sounded noncommittal, and he often did, but she always had the feeling that his distance was calculated and maybe not all that genuine.
“You will have to help me.” She picked up the undergarments and the violet gown and turned toward the screen, glancing over her shoulder. “Somehow, Mr. Ives, I am going to venture to guess you have some experience with the current fashions in female clothing and know it would be impossible for me to do the buttons on the back of this by myself.”
The dismayed expression on his face was fleeting, a merest tightening of his mouth, but to her a triumph of sorts. God knew the man rattled her composure.
She ducked behind the screen and shed her robe, and then donned the chemise, finding it to be scandalously transparent. The gown was somewhat better, but cut far lower in the bodice than anything she’d ever worn as an unwed debutante, but then again, she could not afford to be too critical at this point in time. It was lovely and well-made, and when she emerged from behind the screen, she found that the glimmer of pure masculine appreciation in the eyes of the man standing across the room, now sipping a glass of brandy, made her stomach do an interesting flutter.
Walking over, she turned her back and lifted up the heavy fall of her hair. “If you wouldn’t mind, sir.”
His touch was deft and sure as he swiftly complied. “I would rather be undoing these, of course, but I am an obliging man.”
Considering she was half-spilling from the bodice, she felt more than a little self-conscious, but then again, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen already. “Thank you. Both for the clothes and the assistance.”
“Oh, my pleasure.”
The hint of huskiness in his voice was matched by the searing look in his eyes when she turned back around.
Pleasure. No doubt he could offer it. Cassandra was certain of it, and it disturbed her that her response to his blatant masculinity was so profound. Despite her suitors this season, she’d never experienced anything quite like it with any other man, even the undeniably attractive Marcus.
It wasn’t the rake, it was… him .
“Now that I am properly dressed, am I allowed to go on deck unescorted?” she asked, for whatever reason a little breathless.
“No.”
“Why?”
Christopher took a deliberate drink, delaying his answer, swallowed, and then informed her. “If I do not trust myself around you, my fine lady, how could I possibly trust the crew? So, no, I’m afraid not.”
She looked into his remarkable eyes and asked softly, “You do not trust yourself in what way?”
His tone was silken and dismissive. “I’d love to toss you on that bed,
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