Rexanne Becnel by Heart of the Storm Page A

poisonous fury.
    “The child means nothing to me,” he vowed. “’Tis the father. The father.”
    Eliza swallowed hard. “You would hurt the boy to get back at the father? Oh, what kind of monster are you?”
    He leaped from his chair with an abruptness that sent her backing away in terror. Like an overflowing cauldron, his emotions erupted, threatening to scald anyone in their path.
    “I am the monster Haberton made of me! The same sort of monster I shall make of his one male heir. Tell him that. And tell him also that it will be a very long time before he sees his precious son again!”
    He stood tall and utterly forbidding, his fists knotted at his side, and every muscle in his lean frame tensed and angry. “Now go, Eliza Thoroughgood. Run back to your mother and father and the safety of your little family. But don’t forget to give Haberton my message.”
    He stepped away from the door and with a sharp gesture dismissed her. But Eliza could not move. Nothing about this made any sense. “You can’t send me back to him with no more message than that. What could he
possibly have done to provoke such … such evil from you? I don’t even know who you are.”
    She caught a glimpse of stark pain in his eyes. Or she thought she did. But before she could be certain, he bent low and gave her a sweeping bow that would have done any nobleman proud, had it but been sincere.
    “My, but I do forget the manners my mother drilled into me. Cyprian Dare at your service, madmoiselle.” He straightened and stared boldly at her. “Now, if you would please get the hell off my ship.”
    It was positively the last straw. With a cry of pure outrage Eliza snatched up the nearest object she could find—a heavy navigational tool of some sort—and threw it straight at his head. How dare he order her off his ship so vulgarly when it was he who’d had her dragged here in the first place! She grabbed a book from the desk and threw it at him as well.
    Cyprian avoided the bit of brass by ducking, and deflected the book with one arm. Then before the chit could send a heavy glass tumbler sailing at him, he launched himself at her.
    All things considered, he thought he’d handled things in a fairly civilized fashion. Any other man, knowing what lay beneath that frumpy gown, would have tossed the cheeky wench on her back straightaway and taught her just who was in charge. Any other man who’d spent the last ten days frustrated just because he’d kissed some faceless woman who’d possessed a rather luscious body, would have made quick and satisfying use of that body. But rape was not his way. He’d only wanted to see her, to see if her appearance was as stimulating to his senses as the feel of her had been.
    When she’d sidled into his cabin alongside Xavier and Oliver, he’d been disappointed. At least at first. But as he’d threatened her, her trembling fear had squeezed a reckless sort of bravery out of her. The prudish gown had begun to whet his appetite for the delights that lay
beneath it. Her wealth of dark brown hair had begun to beckon him to reach out and touch it. Then she’d thrown the sextant at him and his initial opinion of her had given way entirely. Eliza Thoroughgood was quite a piece of work with her huge eyes glittering in fury and her pale complexion flush with emotion.
    Now, as he caught her around the waist and fell onto the chair with her on his lap, he hoped the sextant hadn’t broken. But it was not to prevent any further carnage that he’d trapped her in his arms. No, it was to have his hands on her once more. She was smaller, weaker, and scared to death of him. Yet he felt as if in her he’d met an adversary unlike any he’d ever faced before, and he felt the urge to take their battle to a new and more stimulating level.
    Not to hurt her, though. Hardly. What he’d discovered, to his dismay, was that he wanted to seduce the very proper Miss Eliza Thoroughgood. To enjoy her sweet young body. And in the