Mistress of the Stone Read Online Free PDF Page B

breeding offends thy gentle nature?”
    “If the English knew anything about breeding they would’ve put a proper queen on the throne instead of that bastard one.”
    “Are you Spaniards still upset about Elizabeth? You can hardly hold me responsible for who sits on the throne. Or is having English blood enough to be held prisoner?”
    “That depends, Inglés .” She waltzed around him. Maybe it was a mistake to take him aboard, but it was too late now. She’d get what answers she could. “It seems we have a common enemy and we could be of use to one another. Tell me what you know about the pirate-hunter, Saint-Sauveur.”
    Daltry’s expression darkened. “Do you know where he is?”
    “No.” She shook her head. “I hoped you might.”
    Daltry stood up, wrapping the blanket around his midsection, then steadied himself against the back of the chair. He took a ragged breath, but she could already sense he was getting stronger. The pirate-hunter raised his chin with the disdain of an aristocrat. “Does your father approve of his daughter keeping a naked man in her cabin?” The man pulled the blanket above his navel.
    Luísa slapped her hands to her hips. “That shouldn’t concern you, Captain.”
    “And yet it does. I like to know what kind of people I’m dealing with.” He stumbled toward her dressing table, keeping the blanket clutched tight. “If you’re nothing more than a comfort-woman—”
    “I am not!” Luísa kicked the chair straight at his shins.
    Daltry was surprisingly quick, dodging her volley. He lifted the chair upright and pushed it out of her reach. “My clothes then, Miss. I dare not insult your delicate womanly constitution with my nakedness.”
    Luísa was arguing with a man who lay kissing Death’s hand only hours ago. He still looked weak as a newborn, wobbling with the roll of the ship, but his wits were sharp and his gaze darted everywhere. She gritted her teeth and marched toward a clothes chest. It never occurred to her that he’d be awake any time soon, if at all.
    This had been her father’s quarters before it was hers and his clothes were still here. She hated the idea of giving this heretic Papa’s things, but she couldn’t just let him stroll around naked.
    How was this man even alive, much less standing? With every moment, he grew stronger, his color returning, and his eyes never resting, searching for answers.
    She handed him a shirt, some skivvies and a pair of short breeches then turned her back. It was one thing to see him naked when he was unconscious, but now that he was awake, it was…awkward.
    Luísa heard him dressing. The skivvies barely made a rustle, but the thought of muslin skimming against his bare loins seared a trail of heat down hers as she imagined the white drawers rising up over those long muscular thighs. The slide of breeches were heard next and then the shirt as it slipped over his head.
    That was all. He was decent enough to be seen in her company. She was just about to turn around when he trapped her, his grip like a vise, wrapping a strong arm above her waist and a hand against her mouth.
    “Don’t scream, little one, or I’ll break your neck with one snap.”
    Luísa’s hands dropped to her sides, and she felt for the pistol at her waist. She nearly drew it out when he released her mouth then smacked her knuckles with a sharp rap, forcing her to drop the weapon.
    “Ow!”
    He snatched the gun in midair and pointed it at her. “You’re a naughty one, Luísa Tavares. What kind of woman lives on a pirate ship, wears men’s breeches and plays with matchlocks?”
    Annoyed but still collected, she stayed her tongue. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a pistol drawn on her, but it was the first time she’d seen her pistol drawn on her. “Don’t be stupid, Daltry. You’re all alone here. If anything happens to me, you’ll be dead before you reach the top deck.”
    “I doubt that. Besides, I don’t plan to kill you, kitten,” he