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myself.”
    “So you steal from others?”
    The censure in her voice made him smile. “Only those who can afford it, or deserve it.”
    “’Tis wrong.”
    He shrugged and said softly, “That depends, petite Clare.”
    The vibrant timbre of his voice made her feel caressed by someone who thought her precious. She’d never experienced such a feeling. He appeared to be a man who knew his way around women, so she cautioned herself to remember that, less she be lulled into believing herself anything other than his prey. “Surely there are legitimate avenues available to you?”
    He shrugged again. “None that I wanted.”
    “Stealing is easier, you mean?”
    “Is the world always so black and white for you?”
    “Answering my question with a question is not an answer.”
    “You’re proving to be a hard taskmaster.”
    “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    Merriment shone in his eyes. “I can see that this is going to be an interesting voyage home.”
    “Does your family approve of your way of life?”
    “In truth, no. But then I don’t approve of his life either, so we are even, he and I.”
    “This is your father?”
    “My brother. My father died four years ago.”
    “You said you were a second son, so he inherited?”
    “Everything, or so he claims.”
    “You doubt his claims.”
    “I do, but the will reads exactly as my brother’s solicitors say it does. Mon pere left everything to mon fair frere.”
    “You sound bitter?”
    He shrugged as if no words were necessary, then poured himself more wine.
    Clare had to admit he was far more complex than she’d first imagined, but it didn’t change her position. She had to find a way back to Savannah. Too much was at stake.

Chapter 2
     
    W

ith the meal now finished, Clare steeled herself for what might follow. Although he seemed at ease, leisurely sipping his wine, she fought to keep her anxiety under control. “And now?” she asked.
    He set the goblet aside. “’ ’Twill be dark soon. Would you like some air above deck before turning in?”
    She shook her head.
    “Bed then?”
    She looked around the small room warily. “Where?”
    “Here.”
    “Is there no other place?”
    “With so large a crew, no.”
    “And where will you sleep?”
    He studied her for a moment, touching her with his intense gaze. “Here.”
    “Can you not sleep elsewhere?”
    “And miss the chance that you might debauch me in the middle of the night? No, and it is my bed, after all.”
    She rolled her eyes and got up from the table, mostly in an effort to distance herself from his unnerving pull on her senses. “A pallet on the floor will suffice. It’s where I am accustomed to sleeping.”
    “Your mistress has no bed for you?”
    “Violet has never had a bed for me.”
    “You’ve never slept in a bed?”
    “No,” she replied simply. “I’ve slept on a pallet on her bedroom floor since the day I was purchased.”
    Admittedly, Dominic had no idea what to say to such a surprising response. Of course he knew that captives were given few luxuries, but when had a bed become so dear? Her response also made him wonder what else this beautiful, intelligent woman had been denied besides her liberty. “A pallet it will be then, if that is what you prefer.”
    “I do. Thank you.”
    He silently evaluated what he could see of her lovely form peeking out from within the confines of her heavy wool cloak. “’Tis a waste though, sweet Clare.”
    “The pallet?” she reminded him, refusing to let his teasing penetrate her resolve although it was difficult. A woman with less fortitude might have jumped at the chance to share his bed, but the hardships forced upon her by captivity had made her strong enough to know her own mind. That was not to say she was made of stone. Although she was still leery of him and unconvinced he’d remain so gallant, Captain Dominic LeVeq was a handsome man; too handsome for his own good maybe, yet there were far more important things in life