On a cold autumn night, her stepfather had destroyed her world and her future. She thought she'd buried her past and would never have to deal with it again. But a French privateer with seductive blue eyes and a magic touch had entered her life and effortlessly shaken the foundations of her carefully guarded world, more than he could ever know.

Chapter Nine.

"Good morning, mademoiselle, I'm sorry this is so late. You must be famished," Suzette apologized cheerfully as she carried in the morning meal. Pretty, blonde, and nineteen, she was friendly and broke the monotony of Angelica's solitude each time she brought her food.

Angelica shook her head. "It's all right. I'm not that hungry."

Suzette set her tray down on the table in front of Angelica. "Are you all right, mademoiselle?"

No, she was not all right. Thoughts of Simon had kept her up most of the night. She'd spent hours trying to vanquish the memory of their amorous encounter.

Before she could offer a polite response, there was a knock at the door. Suzette opened it. Two large men entered, carrying a wooden trunk.

"Place it near her bed," Suzette told them.

They mutely obeyed and left.

Angelica stood. A trunk overflowing with dresses, shoes, and undergarments had been delivered to her cabin yesterday. The last thing she needed was more of the same. "What is this?"

Suzette smiled. "This trunk was supposed to be brought to your cabin with the trunk of dresses." She pulled back the lid, revealing the incredible contents. "They are from the captain. They're books, mademoiselle."

Angelica approached, stunned. There were so many books. The trunk was completely full. "They're all for...me?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes. All the books are yours."

Her heart danced.

She moved closer. On the top, she noticed a familiar brown leather volume, realizing that it was the very book she'd pulled from the shelf in the library the night she and Simon had dined together. The book of sonnets.

He'd remembered?

She couldn't stop herself from picking it up, enjoying the feel of it in her hands, yearning to read it.

"They're a gift, mademoiselle. The captain hopes they will help combat the tedium."

She was speechless.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been offered a gift as wonderful as this. He had thought of her. He'd given her books. The book of love sonnets.

He is also a man who is forcing you to go with him on a voyage to the West Indies and remain there for an indefinite amount of time, she forced herself to remember, needing to steel her resolve and to settle the fluttering inside her stomach. It was dangerous to entertain soft feelings where he was concerned.

Her past limited what she could have in the future. Her secrets were dark and layered and best kept confined to the hole they'd made in her heart. She had to resist the strength of his appeal, and return to the convent where the events of years ago did not penetrate its stone walls.

Realizing Suzette was watching her, Angelica reluctantly placed the book back in the trunk.

"Please offer my thanks to...the captain." Coward. You haven't the courage to face him and thank him in person. After what had happened yesterday, she'd no idea how she would face him again.

"Of course, mademoiselle. Come, eat. Marta asked me to bring you plenty of the cheese she says you're fond of." Angelica returned to the table and sat down. "She likes you." Suzette placed the bread before her. "I think the captain likes you too."

Angelica's face warmed. "I'm sure you're mistaken," she quickly denied, not in the least bit comfortable with this subject.

"It's not a bad thing. The captain is quite handsome."

She'd have to be completely blind not to have noticed that.

Suzette cut her a piece of cheese. "On our island, Marguerite, everyone has great affection for him and holds the captain in high esteem. He's brought many families to Marguerite, at first only the crewmen's families, then later, anyone who was in dire straits. He gave them employ in the fields. He gave us an opportunity to survive rather than to die in France."

She had no idea he'd impacted so many lives.

"I think you will like the island very much. It has all the comforts of France without the starvation or any terrible Aristos. In the village where I grew up, we never even had a schoolmaster. Yet on the island, we have a school, thanks to the captain."

"A school?" she marveled. He'd never said a word.

"Yes. The captain was taught to read and write when he was young, and he wishes it for others."

A knot formed in her throat. She was discovering a side of him she'd never known, and yet somehow this same man had earned himself the name the Black Demon. He was up to something. Something that required extreme precautions. Just how sinister, she didn't know. Nor seemingly did Suzette and Marta, for she'd asked for the details of Simon's plans. Yet, he was also a man whose touch could inflame her senses. He was perplexing.

He is exciting, whispered her heart.

Pouring a goblet of wine for Angelica, Suzette added, "I only wish I had learned to read."

Angelica leaped at the opportunity. "If you wish to learn, I could teach you." The voyage was long, and spending time teaching Suzette would be a pleasant way to fill the hours and feel useful.

"Really, mademoiselle?"

"Yes, of course; but you must call me Angelica."

"Oh, how wonderful, Angelica! In turn, perhaps I can make you some more dresses. There are some fine fabrics...o...b..ard. The captain has given his permission to use them. I'm quite good with a needle. I can make a dress fit for an Aristo!"

The last thing Angelica wanted was more dresses suitable for the upper cla.s.s. However, Suzette's face shone with the prospect of sewing them for her, and she didn't have the heart to deny her.

"That sounds lovely." She smiled.

Sweet Suzette looked ecstatic. "Perhaps I can return later this afternoon for my first lesson?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

Still smiling, Suzette walked to the door. "Oh, I almost forgot. The rule is that women are not permitted on deck unless permission is granted. In fact, we're to restrict ourselves to our sleeping quarters and the galley."

That suited her just fine. She preferred to avoid Simon for the time being.

The moment Suzette left her cabin, Angelica moved to the trunk of books and pulled out the book of love sonnets.

Walking back to the table with it, she was still amazed by his unexpected gesture and the things she'd learned about this complex man.

The urge to devour the contents of the volume was oh so compelling. Perhaps she shouldn't. What was the point of reading romantic poetry? She placed the book on the table.

It stared back at her, beckoning her.

She glanced around the cabin. There was nothing else to do. Perhaps she could read another book. But this one was out of the trunk already. What harm if she, say, thumbed through it a little?

s.n.a.t.c.hing it up off the table, she sat down and opened it to the first page.

A knock at the door startled her. Quickly, she rose and placed the book behind her back. "Yes?"

Simon entered the cabin and closed the door. Her heart missed a beat.

He gave her one of his knee-weakening smiles. "Good morning."

He wore tanned breeches, a loose white shirt, and black boots. Tall, darkly handsome, with strength, intelligence, and devilish charm. Heaven help her. Did the man have to be utterly irresistible? You need to respond. He's waiting for a reply.

"Good morning," she managed to force out.

Simon took in the sight of her in the rich green gown. It was a perfect match for her sensual eyes. Green was his favorite color, and on her, it was breathtaking. She made a perfect vision. A sweet torture. Already he was hard.

He exhaled slowly, certain that she would derive some measure of satisfaction if she only knew the amount of physical discomfort and mental anguish she caused him. When he wasn't punishing himself with guilt over his role with Fouquet, he was in the throes of s.e.xual fantasy with visions of her naked in his bed. Yesterday's heated incident had only stoked the fire hotter. It had only made him more enthralled by her. Dieu, it was a terrible idea to come to her cabin, yet here he was.

"Is there something you wanted?" she asked.

That wasn't the question to ask him this morning. Not after a wretched night alone in his cabin. His entire body roared, I want you!

"I came to see how you fared after your first night onboard." He stopped short of mentioning what happened between them yesterday. She looked as though it was the last subject she wanted to discuss.

He'd considered apologizing, but it felt hypocritical. He didn't think he could say he was sorry he'd touched or kissed her and mean it.

"I'm fine. Thank you." Her manner was stiff, and she had that look in her eyes that challenged him every time. The look that told him she was fortifying the wall she'd built around herself. Steeling her determination to maintain her secrets. Didn't she know he'd spent years weakening others' defenses? The more she tried to arm herself against him, the more he wanted to bring down the barrier she'd erected. How he wished he could simply let go of his obsession with her and to know more about her.

Though her distance was indeed the wisest thing to keep, he disliked it as much as the present tension and awkwardness between them.

Noticing the open trunk of books, he remarked pleasantly, "I see you've received the books."

"Yes, it was kind of you to provide them. Thank you, Simon."

"You're welcome. All I request in return is that you keep this to yourself."

Her delicate brows drew together. "Oh?"

"It is an act that is completely out of my 'overbearing, insufferable, and cold-hearted' character. I'll surely be tossed out of the pirates' league if this gets out."

She looked down and fought back a smile. He was pleased that he'd amused her. Perhaps this meant she didn't see him as a cutthroat. How he saw himself, however, was an entirely different matter.

He approached her. She gazed up at him, still trying to maintain a straight face. "Then I shall have to report you and win myself freedom from your hold."

The look of mischief in her eyes delighted him. The wall was crumbling a little.

He sat down on the edge of the table. "Why, Angelica, you wound me. You would have another take my place? Someone who would not be known for his book-giving ways?" His jesting wasn't without a personal price. He didn't let on just how sensitive this subject was for him, especially when he was no better than a pirate-for-hire rather than a naval officer. It led to thoughts of his dealings with Fouquet and of his many personal failings there.

Her shoulders relaxed. She shook her head. "You are incorrigible." More of the wall crumbled away-though she still refused him the pleasure of seeing a full smile.

"I am. It's entirely in keeping with the pirate code." Unable to stop himself, he brushed back an errant curl from her cheek.

She took a small step back, away from his touch. He fought the urge to reach out and pull her to him. Now that he knew how delicious her soft skin tasted, he couldn't seem to remove the memory from his mind. What he wouldn't give to have her just once.

"I wanted to apologize for my actions yesterday," she said in a more serious tone. "The things I said...the broken furniture...and...uhm...well, I don't normally behave that way."

Simon knew she was talking about more than just her words and some broken furniture. "Chere, there were things that happened yesterday that could be discussed or forgotten. Which do you prefer?"

"Forgotten."

"Done." The disappointment he felt from her answer surprised him. It was then he realized she'd had her hands behind her back the entire time. His curiosity was piqued. "Angelica, do you have something behind your back?"

"Hmm?"

He stood and reached around her, forcing himself not to look down at the neckline of her gown. She stiffened. His mouth was so close to her bare shoulder. At her proximity, his greedy c.o.c.k gave a hungry throb.

His fingers touched upon a book. Reluctantly, she let it go.

He straightened and looked at the book of love sonnets in his hand. It was his turn to hold back a smile. "Do you have a fondness for this particular book?"

"No. I mean..." She gave him one of her pretty blushes. "I haven't read it. I couldn't say."

"But you wish to read it, don't you?"

"I...don't know. It was on top of the pile. I simply picked it up..." She looked adorably fl.u.s.tered, and he knew she was lying.

He shook his head, feigning dismay. "Perhaps it was a mistake to add this book to the lot," he said. "No doubt, you prefer religious literature-as you're used to at the convent-over these romantic verses. No?"

She looked longingly at the book in his hand before she returned his gaze. "I...suppose."

"Then I won't offend you by leaving this book here." He turned as if to leave with it in hand.

"Wait!"

He smiled to himself and turned to face her, the smile purposefully removed, his brow c.o.c.ked inquisitively.

"It doesn't offend me," she said.

"Oh?"

"What I mean to say is, perhaps I'll read it and let you know if it offends me or not."

He made his way back to her. "Angelica, why don't you just admit you like this book and very much want to read it?" He held it up before her.