Read Online The Oilman's Daughter by Allison M. Dickson, Ian Thomas Healy - Free Book Online
Authors: Allison M. Dickson, Ian Thomas Healy
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king-sized, with brass posts and a real feather mattress. Some Turkish nobleman had spent a fortune to have it brought up the Well into orbit, and Phinneas had been only too happy to liberate it from the ungrateful bastard. He stripped the girl out of the quilted vacuum suit and tossed it into a corner. Sweat soaked her clothes, but unlike the reek of his crewmen, she still smelled of the rosy perfume she’d been wearing.
Phinneas bent down, keeping alert in case she was faking her unconsciousness, and inhaled her sweet, pungent aroma. As much beauty as he could cram into his grotto, it still stank of sweaty men. A woman’s scent was a welcome addition. He tied her arms to the posts, knowing she’d be infuriated to find herself in such a submissive position. Satisfied the the girl’s restraints were secure, he leaned down and pinched one of her earlobes. Her eyes flew open and she gasped at the sudden pain. She tried to jerk upright, but her bound wrists kept her from rising more than a few inches. She examined her suggestive bonds and gave Phinneas a withering glare that would have been right at home on the faces of his own scallywags. “You think this is very clever, don’t you?”
Phinneas stood up and went over to his wash basin in the corner of the room where he splashed some water on his face and washed as much of the grease and dirt from his hands and face as he could. There was no such thing as getting completely clean in his line of work. “I thought ye might appreciate the bed. It’s a wee bit more comfy for yer soft arse.”
“ Mangez de la merde. ”
The Captain laughed as he dried his face with a towel. “As it so happens, Miss Renault, I have eaten shit, and expect I probably will tonight with Duncan at mess. But I never figured yer mouth would be as dirty as mine.”
Cecilie looked frightened, but Phinneas saw something else underneath that fear: pure steel. “What is it you want? Is it money? That is what you pirates all want, is it not? Well, I have none, Monsieur .”
“What I’d like right now, in fact, is a glass of brandy. Would ye like some?” Phinneas opened the cabinet that contained casks and bottles of the finest liquors he’d lifted from various space and seafaring vessels over the course of his long career. One unopened bottle of Scotch he kept in the very back was worth three times this woman’s bounty. He still awaited the right occasion to open it, but thought it would be wasted on the lips of his men. The Captain was never known for his generosity, and this was the first time he’d ever offered a drink to one of his prisoners, but he felt a certain kinship with her. Under all her soft feminine finery, he suspected she was more like him than the men on his crew. Brutal but educated.
“You would likely poison me.” Cecilie’s glare could have cut through a mile of moon rock.
Phinneas held up two crystal glasses that each had a spot of the fine reddish-amber liquid. “Ye think I’d go to all this trouble just so I could slip ye a mickey? Use that lump of overcooked oatmeal ye Frenchies call a brain. There’s no percentage in killin’ a hostage.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do with me, then?” Her gaze flicked over to her bonds and then back to Phinneas. A look of horror came across her face. “You wouldn’t.”
Phinneas knocked back his brandy. “Rape ye? Rest easy, lass. That sort of business leaves a bad taste in me mouth.” He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Although it’s no secret I’ve got plenty of men on the other side of that door who’d slip ye the trouser snake without battin’ an eye. It would do ye good to remember that if ye’re thinkin’ about bein’ uncooperative.”
“ Je ne comprends pas . You don’t want money. You don’t want my . . . my body. What do you want?”
Phinneas poured himself another splash of brandy. “It’s not me, Miss. A man in Houston has his eyes on your father’s refinin’ formula
Phinneas bent down, keeping alert in case she was faking her unconsciousness, and inhaled her sweet, pungent aroma. As much beauty as he could cram into his grotto, it still stank of sweaty men. A woman’s scent was a welcome addition. He tied her arms to the posts, knowing she’d be infuriated to find herself in such a submissive position. Satisfied the the girl’s restraints were secure, he leaned down and pinched one of her earlobes. Her eyes flew open and she gasped at the sudden pain. She tried to jerk upright, but her bound wrists kept her from rising more than a few inches. She examined her suggestive bonds and gave Phinneas a withering glare that would have been right at home on the faces of his own scallywags. “You think this is very clever, don’t you?”
Phinneas stood up and went over to his wash basin in the corner of the room where he splashed some water on his face and washed as much of the grease and dirt from his hands and face as he could. There was no such thing as getting completely clean in his line of work. “I thought ye might appreciate the bed. It’s a wee bit more comfy for yer soft arse.”
“ Mangez de la merde. ”
The Captain laughed as he dried his face with a towel. “As it so happens, Miss Renault, I have eaten shit, and expect I probably will tonight with Duncan at mess. But I never figured yer mouth would be as dirty as mine.”
Cecilie looked frightened, but Phinneas saw something else underneath that fear: pure steel. “What is it you want? Is it money? That is what you pirates all want, is it not? Well, I have none, Monsieur .”
“What I’d like right now, in fact, is a glass of brandy. Would ye like some?” Phinneas opened the cabinet that contained casks and bottles of the finest liquors he’d lifted from various space and seafaring vessels over the course of his long career. One unopened bottle of Scotch he kept in the very back was worth three times this woman’s bounty. He still awaited the right occasion to open it, but thought it would be wasted on the lips of his men. The Captain was never known for his generosity, and this was the first time he’d ever offered a drink to one of his prisoners, but he felt a certain kinship with her. Under all her soft feminine finery, he suspected she was more like him than the men on his crew. Brutal but educated.
“You would likely poison me.” Cecilie’s glare could have cut through a mile of moon rock.
Phinneas held up two crystal glasses that each had a spot of the fine reddish-amber liquid. “Ye think I’d go to all this trouble just so I could slip ye a mickey? Use that lump of overcooked oatmeal ye Frenchies call a brain. There’s no percentage in killin’ a hostage.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do with me, then?” Her gaze flicked over to her bonds and then back to Phinneas. A look of horror came across her face. “You wouldn’t.”
Phinneas knocked back his brandy. “Rape ye? Rest easy, lass. That sort of business leaves a bad taste in me mouth.” He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Although it’s no secret I’ve got plenty of men on the other side of that door who’d slip ye the trouser snake without battin’ an eye. It would do ye good to remember that if ye’re thinkin’ about bein’ uncooperative.”
“ Je ne comprends pas . You don’t want money. You don’t want my . . . my body. What do you want?”
Phinneas poured himself another splash of brandy. “It’s not me, Miss. A man in Houston has his eyes on your father’s refinin’ formula
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