Welcome to Jennifer Bray-Weber, one of the finest writers to sail the seven...I mean, to put pen to...grrr...to put fingertips to keyboard!
The Siren’s Song
Blurb:
Pirate captain Thayer Drake lures ships onto reefs for plunder, and business
is lucrative. Yet, saving a lass from drowning after her ship wrecks becomes
more than he bargained for when the crazy wench dives back into the raging sea
for her blasted purse.
Tavern songstress Gilly McCoy, penniless and fleeing from the man who
murdered her lover, stowed away on the doomed ship. Now at Drake's mercy, Gilly
must earn her passage by performing for the captain. And that is not all: she must
also kiss the captain at every ring of the ship's bell. But she discovers
kissing the handsome rogue is not entirely a bad bargain...
Drake is intrigued by the beauty, but there is no room in his black heart
for a woman. He has demons that he drinks nightly to forget. Meanwhile, Gilly
has her own secrets to keep--including why her purse is more valuable to her
than her life...
The Kissing Scene:
The ship’s bell struck and Gilly
counted the rings. It was time to pay her debt to the captain. She’d been
tallying the bells as they struck every half hour all throughout the watch. Two bells. Her chest tightened. Mixed
emotions churned in her stomach. Four
bells. She wanted to kiss him, didn’t she? Of course she did. Six bells. Was she supposed to go to
him? Where would he be waiting? In his cabin? She glanced at Willie and Henri.
They didn’t seem to know of her quandary. She couldn’t ask them for an opinion.
How mortifying to think of it. Seven
bells. Would she be good at it, good enough for him? How would she compare
to others he had kissed? Eight bells.
Lord help her, she surely was going to faint.
Before the final peal of the bell
faded into the winds, Captain Drake appeared at the top of the ladder. Time
slowed as he glided toward her. She slid off her perch and met him halfway.
“Eight bells, milady.”
“I’m ready,” she said. Closing her
eyes, she puckered, waiting for his lips to descend upon her. Waiting to inhale
his delicious musk. Waiting for his hands to roam across her back and his
fingers to thread through her hair. Waiting. Why hadn’t he kissed her yet?
“What’s the lass doin’?” Henri
asked. “Is she alright?”
“Maybe the heat’s done gotten to
her,” Willie answered.
She popped open one eye. Gone was
the captain’s mask of steely austerity. His amusement beamed brighter than the
unforgiving sun. The heat couldn’t compare to her swill of embarrassment. Sweat
beaded on her brow and she wished with all her heart she could disappear. Why
didn’t he kiss her? How idiotic she must look. She huffed, angry now. Mustering
up a scrap of dignity, she confronted the cur.
“What’s wrong? Why won’t you kiss
me?” She propped her hands on her hips. “Have you gone back on our accord?”
His smug laugh indicated he had
not. “I never renege on a deal, Miss McCoy.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You have misinterpreted the terms.
Our agreement stated that you kiss me. Not the other way around.”
“Oh.” Won’t death spare me this humiliation?
She was helpless. She had never
kissed a man, only been kissed. This changed everything. It simply was not
proper. Come now, Gilly. You haven’t been
proper since the day Hyde laid eyes upon you. And besides, you want to kiss
him.
“All right, Captain Drake. I shall
play by your rules.”
She rose to her tiptoes and, quick
as a rabbit dashing into a briar patch, she pecked him on his mouth.
“There,” she said. “It’s done. I
kissed you.” She grinned a self-satisfied smile. “Come back at the next eight
bells. I shall be ready.”
“Uh-uh. Not quite, lass. That’s not
at all how I want you to kiss me.”
“A kiss is a kiss.”
“Nay, lass. That is how you kiss a
codfish.”
She gasped and her hand flew to her
bosom at the insult. “And just how am I supposed to kiss you, Captain? There
were no stipulations on the manner of kiss.”
“Kiss me as you did last night.”
She poked him in his chest. “You
kissed me.”
“At first, yes. But then you lost
your chaste modesty and your voracious appetite took over.”
If she could get her hands on his
cutlass, she would end her suffering. Gilly glanced over her shoulder. Both
Henri and Willie quickly, but not quickly enough, became occupied, pretending
miserably not to have been listening in on their exchange. Henri fiddled with
his vest pocket and Willie tapped at the compass he kept fixed to his wheel.
“You need not let shamefulness get
the better of you, Miss McCoy. You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about,” Captain
Drake said.
She frowned. He did not make things
any easier by calling her on her discomfiture.
“Well? I’m waiting.”
What a wicked, wicked man. The only
way to wipe that smirk from his face was to give him the best kiss he ever had
in his wretched life.
Gilly grabbed the back of his neck
with both hands and smothered his lips. Long and hard, she pressed against him.
He tensed under her grip. His arms reached out, as if to hold her. But he
didn’t. Nevertheless, she felt his smile. And that pleased her.
She broke free of him. Excitement
coursed through her veins. Liberation was hers. She could do that again. Eight
more times, in fact.
“’Twas a very nice start,” he said.
“Now don’t look so troubled. I am happy with your kiss. It is my hope that you
will work yourself up to last night’s performance.”
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