Raven tightened his grip on the bundle of clothes he’d gathered and frowned.
Heloise stood on the quarterdeck like a queen holding court. A group of besotted sailors surrounded her and from their enthusiastic gestures he surmised they were pointing out places of interest along the French coast and identifying the various seabirds for “Her Majesty.”
An accommodating breeze plastered her dress to her body, outlining her curves. No wonder the men were practically salivating. She drew them like bees to honey. It wasn’t even deliberate; the infuriating girl had no notion of her own appeal.
Raven stepped up behind her and shot his crew an intimidating look to remind them of their pressing duties. One by one they dropped their heads and sloped back to work.
Heloise turned, puzzled by the loss of her rapt audience. “Oh, it’s you, Ravenwood. You startled me, skulking around like that.”
He lowered his brows. “This is my own bloody ship. Who else were you expecting? Fat Prince George?”
She ignored that little piece of sarcasm and peered up at the mast. “So. This is your boat.”
“It’s not a boat. It’s a ship.”
“There’s a difference?”
He ground his teeth. “Yes, there’s a difference. A boat is small. For waterways like rivers and staying close to shore. A ship is large. It has a captain and a crew, and sails on the ocean.” He tapped the wooden railing with his knuckle.
She gave an unladylike snort. “Ah, so it’s a size thing. I should have known. You men are obsessed with the relative proportions of everything.”
A smile tugged the corner of his mouth and he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I can’t. It’s just too easy.”
“How come ships are always female?”
He slanted her a cynical look from under his brows. “Because men can’t resist them, they need constant attention, and they’re bloody expensive to keep.”
She rolled her eyes. “What’s the name of this particular mistress, then?”
“We change the name plates all the time, just to confuse the customs and excise boys. Today she’s Hope.”
“Very appropriate.” Heloise glanced over at him and for a moment he forgot everything, lost in her lavender eyes. Clouds that color meant a storm on the way.
“You haven’t told me where we’re going, you know.”
Raven shook himself out of his reverie. “Santander, in northern Spain. We’ll be there in a couple of hours. Provided you leave my men alone to do their jobs.”
Heloise pursed her lips. “I did nothing to encourage them. Besides, what are you going to do? Throw me overboard?”
“I wouldn’t want to poison the sharks.”
She frowned. “There aren’t any sharks in the English Channel.”
He pointed to the land mass off to their left and shot her an evil grin. “That’s Guernsey. This is the Bay of Biscay.” Raven smothered a laugh as she glanced down at the water as if expecting to see ominous gray fins circling the ship.
“Surely this is the Mediterranean?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug and shoved the bundle of clothing at her. “Here, you need to put these on.”
“I’ve only just got dressed.” She inspected the shirt and breeches with a dubious expression. “Whose are these?”
“The cabin boy’s. Don’t worry, they’re clean. Mostly.”
“I’m not wearing them.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, Hellcat, I don’t think you’re taking this whole captor-captive thing very seriously. We need to set out a few ground rules. Namely, you have to do everything I say.”
“Ha! If I ever consider obeying you, Ravenwood, I’ll certainly let you know.”
“Try it, if only for the novelty.”
She sniffed. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Raven manfully resisted looking any lower than her neck. “You’ll attract less notice as a boy. People will assume you’re my servant.”
“Another dream come true.”
He ignored the sarcasm and pinned her with a challenging glare. “There are plenty of historical precedents, you know. The French general Masséna had his mistress dress as one of his staff officers so she could accompany him on campaign.” He went in for the kill. “You always wanted to be treated like one of the boys. Now’s your chance.”
“All right,” she growled. She turned and navigated her way unsteadily toward the hatch.
Raven’s weathered deckhand Hardy, who’d accompanied him on countless hair-raising adventures, sidled up and shot him a gap-toothed grin. “Problems wi’ the lady, Cap’n?”
Raven watched Heloise’s shapely derriere disappear down the ladder and exhaled loudly through his teeth. “I swear, that woman could make a bishop put his fist through a stained glass window.”
Hardy chuckled and gave him a commiserating slap on the back.
Raven scowled. The next few days were going to be absolute hell.