Never Trust a Pirate by Anne Stuart

going on?” he roared, his heart beginning to fall back to normal.
    She opened her mouth to say something, but only a tiny whimper came out. She cleared her throat, stammering something he couldn’t understand.
    He shoved the knife back into the narrow sheath, glowering down at her. “What?”
    “B-b-bats,” she stammered.
    “Oh, sweet Neptune’s briny pants,” he swore. “Is that all? I thought you were being murdered.”
    Belatedly she seemed to realize her compromising position. She leapt out of her narrow, sagging little bed and quickly took the threadbare cover off it, wrapping it around her. A shame, too, as the moonlight coming in the window had outlined her silhouette quite nicely, and spending time with Gwendolyn always made him randy as a goat.
    “Beg pardon, sir,” she said, and her voice had changed subtly, sounding a little more like the rough North and less cultured than her original tones. Granted, one stammered word wasn’t enough to be sure, but she’d done the same thing that afternoon when the sailors had been pestering her. Moved between Mayfair and Lancastershire with suspicious ease. “I’m mortal feared of bats.”
    No, it wasn’t quite right. He could see her eyes, and while he had no doubt she was honestly frightened, he could see a tiny hint of calculation in their depths, as if she wanted to be certain to say the right thing.
Too late for that, my girl,
he thought grimly.
    “I’m afraid, Miss…”
    “Greaves, sir,” she said, going for a little more North-country in her voice. “M-M-Mary Greaves.”
    And his name was William Kidd. Then again, his name certainly wasn’t Thomas Morgan, though he’d taken the last name in honor of one of England’s most famous pirates. But what reason would the girl have for giving the wrong name?
    “Is your stammer permanent, or simply as a result of flying rodents?” He saw her inadvertent shiver, and knew that at least her fear of bats was very real.
    “I’m that sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to disturb you. They surprised me, is all. The moon came out from behind a cloud and one flew across the room…”
    “You’ll have to get used to them until I can get someone in. I can hardly have you sleeping on the second floor.”
    “Of course not, sir.” She sounded even more panicked at the thought. Jesus, the girl was afraid of her own shadow. Except she hadn’t been afraid this afternoon, when she ought to have been. She’d been defiant and outraged. “It just startled me. I’m all right now.”
    “I’m delighted to hear it,” he said dryly. “Is this your first day here?” He knew perfectly well it was—he never would have kissed her if she’d been in his house previously.
    She blinked, obviously disconcerted. So she’d expected him to recognize her? Far be it from him to fulfill expectations. “Y-yes, sir.” The stammer again, he thought. She hadn’t stammered earlier in the day.
    “Well, Mary Greaves, I hope you don’t make a habit of screaming in the middle of the night and waking me from sleep. I’m a lenient employer but there are limits.”
    “Were you asleep, sir?”
    He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that any particular business of yours?”
    She was gaining back some of that steel he’d detected beneath her cool exterior earlier today. Now she was more like the young virago who’d kneed a man in his privates without hesitation. Perhaps it was a good thing he didn’t poach the staff for his bed—he valued his privates too much. But who the hell was she?
    “No, sir. Beg pardon, sir.”
    He knew his expression showed nothing of his thoughts—another talent earned young. “I presume Mrs. Crozier has already filled you in on my particular preferences. I drink coffee, not tea, in the morning, and I like it strong and sweet. Do not wake me up unless I request it, never think to enter my library or touch my papers. In all, do what Mrs. Crozier tells you and stay out of my way and we’ll get along fine.”
    “Is