A Taste of Paradise by Connie Mason Read Free Book Online Page A

insisted.
    Sophia wondered how many duels Chris had fought over other women while she had been shunned by Society and forced to hide in shame in the countryside. He was a splendid man, impossibly handsome, strong and powerful. He could have any woman he wanted. Why did he still blame her for something that had happened years ago?
    â€œWell, I’m waiting for an answer.”
    Smarting over his heavy-handedness, Sophia snapped, “You wouldn’t be interested in my problems.”
    â€œYou’re right, women are nothing but trouble. Keep your secrets,” he snorted as he stormed out of the cabin.

Chapter Three
    Casper brought Sophia a needle, thread and scissors when he returned a few hours later with her lunch. He lingered near the door, staring at her as if he wanted to say something but was afraid.
    Sophia smiled at him. “Is there something you wish to say to me?”
    â€œThe crew says you’re a . . . Are you really one of . . . those women?” He shifted nervously from foot to foot, refusing to look at her.
    â€œI am a lady, Casper. Does that answer your question?”
    â€œAye, I knew it!” Casper crowed. “That’s what I told the crew. They believe you were brought aboard for the captain’s pleasure. I told them you were a stowaway. That’s right, isn’t it?”
    â€œIndeed it is,” Sophia replied. “I stowed away without your captain’s knowledge, although I’ve known Captain Radcliff for many years. You can tell that to anyone who asks.”
    Apparently satisfied, Casper took his leave. Later that afternoon, Sophia found a pair of trousers in Chris’s sea chest that looked too worn to be of much use to him and began altering them to fit her. Though she wasn’t an expert with a needle, she had learned to do simple tasks since her family had fallen upon hard times.
    As daylight faded, she had to light a lantern in order to put in the final stitches. She was just pulling the trousers on when Chris returned to the cabin. He took one look at her and burst out laughing.
    â€œYou look ridiculous.”
    â€œGo ahead and laugh,” Sophia retorted, “but at least I’m decent.”
    His gaze, hot and avid, lingered on her breasts. “Are you?”
    Aware that the transparency of Chris’s fine lawn shirt offered scant protection, Sophia crossed her arms over her chest. That simple act caused her newly fashioned breeches to slip over her trim hips and fall around her ankles.
    Chris shook his head. “Your sewing skills leave much to be desired. I’d lend you a belt, but I’m sure it would wrap twice around your waist.”
    He tapped his chin, grinned, and then picked up the scissors.
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” Sophia asked.
    â€œCut a strip from the hem of the shirt. You can use it as a belt.”
    â€œI can do it myself,” Sophia said when he knelt before her and raised the hem a bit.
    â€œWould you deprive me of the pleasure of looking at your legs?”
    He began cutting. Sophia squeaked in dismay when he grasped her thigh beneath the shirttail to hold her steady.
    â€œDon’t move,” he warned.
    His hand slid higher.
    â€œStop that! I didn’t give you permission to take liberties.”
    â€œYou’re lucky I haven’t done more than take liberties,” Chris muttered. “This is my ship. You’re at my mercy.”
    He stood, handing her the narrow strip of cloth he had snipped from the hem of the shirt. Immediately Sophia pulled up the breeches and threaded the material through the belt loops. Then she stuffed the shirt into the breeches and tied the makeshift belt at her waist. Chris stood back and gazed at her, an amused smile curving his lips.
    â€œDo you feel better now?”
    â€œMuch better, except . . .” She glanced down at her breasts, aware that they were outlined beneath the shirt. This time when she crossed her arms, her