The servant took the hint, suppressing a smile. "Aye-aye, Capt'n."

Dane snapped a look at the old man, yet saw nothing in his expression that spoke of the humor in his voice. Duncan, with his head bowed in an uncharacteristic show of obedience, closed the door as Dane turned back to the woman, gently bathing her face and arms. His gaze traveled across her shrouded form, and he suddenly throbbed to know what sweet treasures lay beneath the cloth. Dane remembered all too well how the damp sheet clung to her when he'd removed her from the bath in the days before, yet the tantalizing memory only served to stir his mind into a l.u.s.tful frenzy.

She was long and sleek like a cat, tall for a woman, he a.s.sumed, not having the opportunity to come face-to-face with her on sure-footed ground. Her arm, shoulders, and calves were unusually sculp-

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tured, hard muscles well-defined, yet she was light of form, less than nine stone, he deduced, resoaking the cloth and continuing with his task. Nay, 'twas not a task, but a pleasure. This la.s.s would not allow him such liberties were she capable of speech, Dane considered, longing to hear the sound of her voice, to see any expression on her face but the still blankness he'd witnessed for the past days.

"What name goes with your beauty, little mermaid?" he asked in hardly a whisper. She began to shake violently, and when his fingers grazed her skin, it was as if a blaze raged within her.

Duncan spun away from the cabin door and strode jauntily toward the companionway, his bearings set on the galley. He wasn't fooled. For over a week now, the captain had come into his cabin thrice during the day, claiming he wished to dine in private. The food was always left untouched, and the woman seemed to be constantly between the bath and his bed, the stone-faced captain soothing her skin with creams. Hungry, my a.r.s.e! Tis not food you be wanting, sir!

Duncan was still grinning when he stuck his head into the galley and addressed the cook. Higa-san's head bobbed, the only indication that he'd heard, as he continued to wield a ma.s.sive knife over a carrot, shredding it into slices as thin as hair. Duncan shook his head and waited for the little man to gesture that he could enter. No one ventured into the galley without Higa-san's permission. One crew member had disobeyed the order, and his index finger had been the price.

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"Captain's hungry." Higa-san spared him a questioning glance. "Aye, fever's got her."

The small man stopped chopping, laid down the knife, and, with an -efficiency of movement that amazed Duncan, prepared a tray, then added a han-dleless cup to the meal. He gestured once to the delicate cup filled with brewed herbs, then picked up the knife and went back to work. Duncan lifted the tray and cautiously backed out of the galley, then headed toward the cabin.

Shouldering his way inside, Duncan saw the captain lift the woman and stride toward the bath.

"Never mind that. Cold water, Duncan! Now!"

Duncan didn't remark that the captain was using up his personal rations on the woman and did as bade.

For three days Dane labored continuously over the lady, bathing her, forcing a clear broth or a smelly tea down her throat.

"You must eat, sir." Duncan stood off to the side, indicating the meal gone cold.

"Take it away." Dane waved, his attention riveted to the woman.

Duncan sighed resolutely, shaking his head. "You need rest also, sir. May I take over while you - ?"

"Nay! No one touches her!" he roared, jumping to his feet and glowering down at the servant. "Is that clear?"

"Aye-aye, Capt'n!"

The old man's offended expression quickly brought Dane to his senses. His broad shoulders drooped be-

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fore he said, "I ask your indulgence, my friend. That was uncalled for." He laid a hand on Duncan's shoulder and squeezed, not understanding his own outburst. "But I can manage." Wearily Dane sank into the stuffed chair.

"My services are here if you should feel the need, Capt'n." Duncan spoke softly as the captain fought the heaviness of his lids and unwillingly closed his eyes. Duncan wasn't offended by the chastising; the crew's harsh talk was enough to warrant a bit of caution. But somehow the lady had struck a tender chord in the sleeping man, and with Duncan's knowledge of Dane Blackwell, he knew it to be an extremely rare occurrence. Only Desiree had been able to bring out this degree of tenderness. G.o.d's bones, but the captain had scarcely left the cabin at all, deeming his first mate capable of sailing the new courses. The servant hadn't finished setting the lavish cabin to rights and replacing the water when Captain Blackwell woke with a start, bolting upright, looking childishly panicked before his gaze fell on the woman. He checked her breathing, her temperature, then with a disheartened sigh, continued his vigil.

The tray of untouched food in his hand, Duncan was just closing the door when he heard him softly beg her to live.

"You must try, little one. You've come too far."

It was late one Thursday evening when the raging fever broke, and she fell into a safe, exhausted sleep. Duncan knew that only two people aboard the Sea Witch cared whether she lived, for most of the crew

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were cursing her, wishing she'd perished in the storm.

He quickly amended the count, for though he never voiced it, Higa-san had expressed to her more kindness than he'd bestowed on anyone, except the captain.

The stirring of life melted down her body like warm honey as Tess began to waken. She was safe. Sighing deeply with the pleasure of being alive, she nudged away the heaviness of a drug-induced sleep and cautiously tested her limbs, stretching slowly like a gently roused cat.

This mattress is as soft as goose down, she thought sleepily, surprised to find her skin so supple. She expected her arms and shoulders to feel like a freeze-dried apple. It took a considerable amount of time for her to open her eyes and even longer to adjust to her shadowed surroundings. She glanced around, startled fully awake. She'd expected a hospital.

My G.o.d, what is this place? Suspended on a hook from the ceiling was a thin, white netting draping seductively to the four posts of the huge bed, the portion beside her drawn back with a silk cord. Very s.e.xy, she thought, attempting to sit up. The effort cost her what little strength she had, and with a tired sigh, Tess fell back onto the billowy linens. Her gaze drifted around the room, the view hazy through the webbing. Off to her left, a worn oxblood leather chair rested behind a desk cluttered with papers, and beyond that a ma.s.sive pane window stretched the width of the room, heavily draped with burgundy velvet.

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Beneath the thick gla.s.s was a cushioned bench of matching fabric, dusky light spilling over its faded richness. A polished Chippendale dresser was built into the opposite wall, tucked in a corner; next to that stood an old-fashioned wardrobe. A door, ornately carved and hinged in bra.s.s, was closed, a small potbellied stove a few feet to its right. She counted eight chairs surrounding a long glossy table adjacent to her and against the same polished wall as the bed was a tall, broad cabinet with beautifully etched gla.s.s doors in the top of the hutch. She frowned. She could spot an antique when she saw one, but these, they were in excellent condition. And why was everything bolted to the floor and walls? There were other things that made her uneasy, besides the spicy scent of cologne clinging to the pillows or the boots neatly placed beside a trunk.

The room was moving. Not moving, but rocking?

Incredible. How can this be? she wondered, propping herself up on one elbow, then stuffing the mountain of pillows comfortably around her. She adjusted the sheet and suddenly realized she was completely naked beneath it.

It was this alluring picture that greeted the captain of the Sea Witch when he entered his cabin. He stood frozen, his hand on the latch, half in, half out, his gaze drifting over her sculptured body draped in white linen. The image of a feline came to mind again, seeing her reclining on her side, ribbons of black silk streaming over bare shoulders and pooling on the bed. She had a confused look about her, the sheet grasped tightly to her chest with one hand.

Dane stepped inside and sealed them in.

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Her head jerked up at the soft sound, and Tess absorbed the sight of a man coming toward the bed. Broad-shouldered and tall, he moved across the room with a grace and sensuality Tess had never witnessed in a man. Lord, what a piratical getup! Long legs encased in tight-fitting black pants covered the s.p.a.ce that separated them in seconds, cuffed boots that reached his knees clicked twice before they touched on the carpet. Sharply he brushed back the drape.

Tess stared. He wasn't just a dream, she thought, reacquainting herself with that face. He's beautiful; black hair, shiny and curling beyond his collar, a square jaw, great nose, and all the skin she could see was bronzed like a rich wood. He was looking her over as well, and her gaze met the most dangerous pair of eyes she'd ever seen. They made her heart stop, then beat like a drum roll. He said a hundred things with those mint-frost eyes, yet revealed nothing.

"You are well?" Dane demanded impatiently, securing the drape without looking away.

She blinked, startled by his harsh tone. "Ah, yes. Thank you." She paused to swallow dryly. "Where am I?"

"You are aboard my ship, the Sea Witch.'

"Ship?" He nodded sharply.

So, that's why we're moving, she thought, examining the richly appointed room once more. The Na.s.sau Queen was a very stable floating four-star hotel, each cabin complete with small refrigerator and a wet bar, but this place, though filled with expensive antiques, was spared any convenience. It didn't even have a T.V. or intercom system that she could see. In

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fact, it lacked outlets or switches of any kind, not to mention electric lamps, only sconces and small oil lamps anch.o.r.ed to the wall. Dangerous. Certainly doesn't look like any ship I've ever seen before, she added thoughtfully, returning her gaze to him.

"What happened?"

His eyes gazed over her bare shoulders. "I had hoped you could enlighten me to your circ.u.mstances."

Tess pulled the sheet up to her throat, but it didn't seem to do much good. He was looking at her as though he could see beneath it. "Do you have a robe or a shirt I can borrow?"

Rebuked for his gawking, Dane nodded once, then went to the wardrobe. After sliding back three evenly s.p.a.ced bolts, he withdrew a black velvet robe. He hoped it cloaked her to her throat. Recovering in his bed was one matter, awake and tempting him to madness was quite another. He breathed deeply, excitement spinning through him. How long had he waited for this moment?

He has a ponytail, she thought with a bit of shock as he tossed the garment over his arm and returned to her side of the bed.

"Do you need a.s.sistance?"

"Ah, no, I can manage. Thank you." Tess accepted the robe, frowning at his manner, stiff and aloof like some highcla.s.s maitre d', and hadn't expected him to turn his back while she shrugged into the robe. A soft groan escaped her lips as she tried to tug it beneath her.

He turned sharply at the sound, treated with the sight of a pale, bare thigh.

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"I guess that'll have to do," she muttered, annoyed at her lack of strength and falling back onto the pillows.

He cleared his throat uneasily. "May I?" Jess's brow wrinkled, not knowing what he wanted. "By all means."

Dane bent over her, slipping an arm behind her back and lifting, while the other arm swiped the robe beneath her legs before he set her down. Solicitously he plumped pillows, then eased her back onto the mound.

"Th-thank you." She'd never been treated like this before and found she enjoyed it, especially from a babe like him.

"Are you feeling well enough for a little conversation?" Please say aye, he hoped, pouring her a gla.s.s of water from the pitcher perched on the commode beside the bed.

"Sure. Fire away," she said, accepting the gla.s.s, eager to know about where she was and with whom.

His brows shot up; then he shook his head, lifting a chair and positioning it beside the bed. "I believe introductions are the first order."

"Tess. Tess Renfrew," she said, holding out her hand before he could speak.

The name befitted her, he thought, grasping her hand and bending slightly as he drew it to his lips.

"A pleasure, Mistress Renfrew," he murmured huskily, his gaze never wavering as he placed a soft kiss to the back. "I am Captain Dane Alexander Blackwell, at your service." His heels clicked once before he straightened and gestured to the chair, asking permission to join her.

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Tess nodded mutely, clamping her gaping mouth shut and slowly drawing her hand back. Good gravy, what an oddball, she thought, feeling like a queen granting an audience as he took his seat.

"Now, how did you come to be floating in the sea?"

Those eyes demanded the truth. "I jumped off the Na.s.sau Queen."

He relaxed back into the chair, frowning, stroking the stubble on his chin. "I've never heard of such a vessel, but-no matter." He shrugged, and Tess couldn't help but notice the play of muscle beneath the billowy white shirt opened at the throat. And laced? "Might I ask what possessed you to do such a thing?"