His answer only succeeded in reinflaming her temper. “You bloody hypocrite!”
Eros sighed. “She’s my little sister. I’d do anything for her. Anything. She loves Silverlake, and you were in the way. Nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal? It’s personal to me, you bastard! It’s my life, my honor, my dream you ripped to shreds. So don’t you dare tell me it isn’t personal! It’s as personal as it gets.”
He turned around and trapped her in his brilliant blue gaze. “So is kissing me one moment and becoming nauseated the next. I imagine we both had our illusions shattered tonight.”
He threw her aback. Did he really take offense when she refused to go with him? She could easily explain what made her change her mind on the beach, but in a spirit of feminine revenge she chose not to. She whirled around and began pacing the room. She had to deal with her new predicament. Her grandfather would wring her neck, justifiably. And Lucas, he was her friend and she had treated him as an enemy, believing Eros to be her rescuer. She decided one last time to appeal to his sense of decency, although she sincerely doubted he possessed any. “Please take me back,” she said, sounding exasperated to death. “I pose no threat to your sister’s happiness. Believe it or not, I did wish them Godspeed when I left. I hope they marry. All I want is to enjoy a month of sunshine in Jamaica. Surely you have better things to do than to see me home.”
“If I take you back, your fiancé won’t have the backbone to marry my sister. He loves her, but he considers her beneath him. As you do me. Believing we eloped will induce him to wed her. He’ll feel betrayed, rejected, dishonored. He’ll consider marriage to her as proper payback.” His tone softened. “She’s in love with him, you’re not. Why spoil it for her?”
He was right, and knowing her response to his kisses brought him to the conclusion made her feel even worse. She recalled the superlatives used by the Jamaican gentlemen to depict the Vipers of Milan: a fierce lot who put a chill in the hearts of their peers and cunning to the last degree. “How it must please you I played my part of ingénue perfectly in your clever game.”
“It wasn’t a game.”
“Then why did your sister warn me you were not what you seemed? She implored with me to remain in Kingston.”
His jaw muscle pounded. “Gelsomina knows me well. You should’ve heeded her advice.”
“So you’re not only a thief and a pirate, you’re vain as well, which ranks next in turpitude with your other inspiring qualities.” She resumed prowling his cabin. She halted at the door.
“You know the door is locked,” Eros reminded her while examining the new dressing he had applied to his wound. It failed to stop the bleeding, so he dispensed with it altogether and fed his dagger to the candle flame. “And even if it weren’t, what grand routes of escape did you have in mind? Swimming with the sharks or practicing your charms on my men? Believe me, Alanis, running on deck in this gown will get you the opposite attention of what you hope.”
“There must be one decent fellow onboard your raft, Charon.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. My men haven’t had a woman in months. They’d be overjoyed to keep you onboard for a spell.”
Cursing herself for being all sorts of fool, her eyes fell on his leather belt, casually draped over an armchair. It carried his brace of pistols. Daringly she drew one of the pistols and aimed it at the sinewy back standing at the mirror. “Turn—this—craft—around. Now!”
Eros dropped his dagger and turned around to confront her. Before her eyes he transformed from a tired, injured, slightly inebriated man to a night prowler. His expression personified cold restraint. He began stalking her, his brilliant eyes quietly assessing their prey. “Put the pistol down, Alanis. You don’t know how to use it and you might hurt yourself trying to shoot me.”
“I don’t want to shoot you, but you brought this situation on your own head,” she blurted, backing away. “You cannot shape my life to suit your needs. Whatever I do or wherever I go should be my decision and my decision alone.” She glanced at the silver piece in her hands and moved a shaky thumb to cock it. She was not an experienced shot, but she knew how men used the blasted thing. Whether she’d have the nerve to pull the trigger was a wholly different matter.
He slowly advanced toward her. “You don’t hate me enough to shoot me, so I suggest you put it down before you hurt yourself or force me to do something I sincerely don’t want to do.”
“You are absolutely correct. I don’t hate you. I loath you,” she hissed, but what she really loathed was her wretched reaction to him. Even now, she still felt the rush his proximity always managed to stir. “Why did you have to be so low and deceitful? You used me. You manipulated my feelings. Are you truly heartless? You only pretend to be human?” Tears swam in her eyes.
Eros halted. His razor-sharp gaze shifted between her teary face and the pistol, trying to contrive a way to get it away from her without inflicting damage on either of them. He must have realized even nonviolent females were capable of making madcap decisions when they felt cornered. “If you put the pistol down, I’ll reconsider returning you to Kingston.”
“You’re lying!” Her knuckles whitened around the silver handle. “You have no intention of returning me there.”
“And you have no intention of killing me,” he pointed out gently. “We both know that.”
“We know nothing!” Hurt and disappointed, she recalled the incredible kiss they shared on the beach an hour ago. Labeling herself a fool was an understatement; her idiocy was beneath contempt. She raised her free hand to wipe her tears. Eros bolted forward. She panicked. Unable to shoot him, she turned around and, acting on impulse, shot the lock on his cabin door. An awful blast exploded in her ears; steely arms wrapped her from behind. Startled shouts sounded above deck. Wild-eyed, she stared at the smoky door. A hole the size of her fist appeared next to the lock. She had absolutely not a bloody drop of luck tonight.
“You wild, willful tigress! What the devil were you thinking?” Eros growled in her ear. He clutched her wrist and forced the pistol out of her hand. He shoved its barrel down the back of his breeches and spun her around to face him. He was furious; gripping her shoulders, he shook her so forcefully her head fell back, and she was looking straight into his blazing blue eyes. “You could have hurt yourself, Alanis, are you aware of that? What if the bullet had hit metal instead of wood and bounced off? You would have been killed, you silly, temperamental baggage!” He clutched her chin and skimmed her pale complexion down to her toes, making sure everything was in one piece. Alanis gaped at him, surprised to find genuine concern in his eyes. How could one be despicable and considerate at the same time? “Al diavolo! I’ve a strong mind to tie you up to a bedpost and keep you here until the end of the voyage.”
Heavy boots scurried down the companionway. Somebody banged on the door. “Capitano, what happened?” Giovanni bellowed outside. His mates voiced their own concerns.
“Nothing!” Eros barked over her shoulder. He released her, and she turned around to look at the closed door. An eye appeared in the hole, and someone outside gave a bark of laughter. She noticed that the peeping eye kept changing. The curious gang of the Alastor was taking turns spying into the cabin. Eros walked to the door, yanked the silk cloth off his queue, and stuffed it inside the gap, blocking someone’s eye. “Va bene, monkeys, the joke is over. Buonanotte.”
“Good night to you, too, Capitano. If you need us, shoot!” The snickering and backslapping diminished as boot heels retreated down the corridor, returning to minding their own business.
Alanis was not so fortunate. Meeting Eros’s angry eyes and grim determination, her pulse quickened. Tonight she learned how it felt to be a panther’s quarry. With hair-raising resolve he bounded in her direction. She shrieked and dashed away, taking shelter behind a bedpost. Warily, she watched him through the purple silk bed shades as he slowly closed the gap between them.