Devil and the Deep Sea by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online

over, and I've decided I'd prefer to
    forego this cruise, after all.' She picked up her bundle. 'I'd like to go
    ashore, please.'
    'You are just hungry,' he said calmly. 'Jerome is waiting to take you
    to the saloon for some ham and eggs.'
    The words alone made her stomach swoon, but Samma didn't relax
    her stance for an instant. 'I refuse to eat a mouthful of food on this
    boat!'
    'You are such a poor sailor?' He sounded almost solicitous, but the
    gleam in the dark eyes told a different story. 'But we have not yet
    left harbour.'
    'I'm a perfectly good sailor,' she said between her teeth. 'What I'm
    trying to convey is that I'd rather choke than eat any food of yours.'
    He shrugged. 'As you please, but you will be very hungry by the
    time we reach our destination. Besides, I thought you would prefer
    to occupy yourself with breakfast while I dressed,' he added,
    loosening the belt of his robe. 'However, if you would rather watch
    me . . .'
    Samma fled. Jerome was waiting outside, so there was no chance to
    make a dash for it, as he escorted her to the saloon.
    'I'll be just within call, ma'mselle, if you need anything.' The words
    were polite, but she was being warned that he was keeping an eye
    on her, she thought miserably as she sank down on to the long,
    padded seat, and looked at the table which had been set up. There
    was a tantalising aroma emanating from a covered dish on a
    hot-plate.
    She groaned silently, feeling her mouth fill with saliva. Oh, God,
    but she was ravenous! She'd meant every word she'd said, but
    surely no one would notice if she took just one—tiny piece of ham?
    Using her fingers, she pulled off a crisp brown morsel. It was done
    to a turn, of course, succulent and flavoursome, and Samma was
    lost.
    Ten minutes later, every scrap on the platter had gone, and she was
    on her second cup of coffee.
    'I am glad you decided to relent. I have a very sensitive chef,' a
    sardonic voice said from the doorway, and Roche Delacroix joined
    her.
    The thick, black hair was slightly damp, and the sharp scent of
    some expensive cologne hung in the air as he came to sit beside her.
    He'd dressed, if that was the word, in the most disreputable pair of
    jeans in the history of the world. Not only were they torn, and
    stained with oil, but they also fitted him like a second skin, drawing
    attention Samma would rather not have spared to his lean hips and
    long legs.
    She. said breathlessly, 'I haven't relented at all, really. I still want to
    go ashore.'
    He shook his head. 'That is impossible. The bargain between us is
    made. The next year of your life belongs to me, and it starts here on
    Allegra. You knew that when you came to me—offered yourself.'
    'I—I wasn't thinking clearly,' she said huskily. She took a deep
    breath. 'Monsieur Delacroix, it was terribly wrong of me to rush on
    board—and throw myself at you like this, and I'm deeply ashamed,
    believe me. But I have to tell you—it—it wouldn't work out
    between us—really.' She was beginning to flounder. 'I'd just be
    a—terrible disappointment to you—in every way.'
    'Don't you mean—in bed?' She heard the grin in his voice. 'You
    know this from bitter experience, perhaps?'
    'No.' That ridiculous blush was burning her up again!
    'As I thought.' He studied her for a moment, his expression
    unreadable. 'So—Samantha, ma belle, have you made some resolve
    to stay a virgin all your life?'
    'No—I—I mean I don't know . . .' She was stammering, and it was
    no wonder when his hands were on her shoulders, impelling her
    towards him, and every cell in her body seemed to have taken on
    quivering, independent life.
    His eyes were darkness itself, deep obsidian wells in which she
    could be lost for ever. Then he kissed her, and her innocence ended.
    As simply as that.
    It would have been easier if he'd behaved like the brute she'd
    feared, because she could have fought that. But he was terrifyingly
    gentle, awesomely persuasive, just brushing his lips