Page 36 of A Prince Among Pirates
“By all means, make yourself comfortable,” he says with a smirk.
“If I’m to get drunk, I won’t be doing it in a fine silk jacket,” I point out as I pick up my glass and sip from it once more.
Two hours later I am warm and drunk as I lounge on thesettee. The platter of meat, cheese, and stale bread Trevor brought up has been reduced to mostly crumbs. I have stripped off my shoes and stockings, and my waistcoat hangs open as I cradle a fresh glass of port, swirling it to admire the legs of the liquor (even if I can barely see them in the dim candlelight).
This is our second bottle. We promised each other that the first bottle would be all—and then Captain Sharpe popped the cork on yet another and refilled my glass. He, too, is tipsy. He’s still in shoes and stockings, but his jacket is on the floor, and his shirt is no longer tucked into the waist of his trousers. He sits in the armchair across from his settee, where I am comfortably lounging.
He’s also been making eyes at me for the last hour. Or perhaps it is I who has been making eyes at him. I’m not sure, but I’m enjoying it all the same.
“Tell me more about your betrothed.”
“Why?” I ask, knowing the whine in my voice makes me sound like a petulant child.
Captain Sharpe chuckles and brings his glass to his lips. “Because you’re making eyes at me, so either you’re thinking about her or you’re too drunk to think straight… or you’re thinking aboutme, which would mean youaretoo drunk to think straight.”
I laugh, and we both drink. “Yes,” I agree, before bringing my glass to my lips again and finishing off the last sip. I lick my lips and set the glass down, then move to lie across the settee once more. “There isn’t much to say about her.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true.”
“Well… I don’t know much about her.”
“Ah. That’s more honest,” Captain Sharpe says.
I squint, beginning to suspect he is far less drunk than I, but I am too drunk to be sure. I wrinkle my nose and shrug. “She’s pretty—a few years my junior. Honestly, I think I’d rather talk about how you think I’m making eyes at you.”
“I’m sure you would.”
“I believe it’syoumaking eyes atme, Captain Sharpe.”
His eyes glimmer, and the smile on his face changes somehow. “I’m sure you do.”
“Aren’t you?” I ask, grinning. “I wouldn’t blame you. I’ve been told I’m very nice to look at.”
He laughs again, but it’s a quiet sort of laugh, deep in his chest. “That you are, Kitten…”
“Good. Let’s talk more about that. I love hearing about how pretty I am.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m very drunk,” I agree.
“You’re too drunk. Tell me about your betrothed.”
I groan a little, draping a theatrical arm across my forehead. “You’re no fun.”
“I may be a pirate, but I’m a gentleman,” he insists.
“How dull.”
He scoffs under his breath and leans against the arm of his chair in a way that is lazy, controlled, and beautiful. God, how I wish he weren’t a gentleman in this moment. I wish he wouldtake advantage of my drunkenness and just kiss me. I bet his lips are softer than they appear.
“Stop.”
“Stop what?” I whine.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, Kitten.”
I shiver a little but pout as I lower my arm from my forehead. “I can’t look at you?”
