Page 7 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

As he struggled to focus on Miller’s incessant talking, his gaze drifted, settling on a curvaceous dark-haired woman in red surrounded by men. How had he not noticed her before? She smiled at him, and a bolt of lust sent his brain to his cock, as he relived the moment he’d seen the beautiful vision a few nights ago.

Normally he did not gawk at females, but the libations, and the mission itself, had him a bit out of sorts. That, and her low-cut bodice showcasing cream-colored mounds, was the most enticing thing he’d ever seen.

Wait! Was it her, the woman from the alley? By Jove, it might just be. He should wipe the grin from his face since it was filled with lecherous intent.

Disgusted with his ungentlemanly behavior, he huffed at the same time she tilted her head and beckoned him with curling fingers.

Perchance his week was looking up. He would tear her away from her drooling audience and introduce himself. He sent her his most charming grin and her cheeks blushed a lovely crimson.

So much for temporarily swearing off women. His body rebelled, insisting he had used his allotment of discipline. Heaven knows he’d used a lot, mostly, nay, entirely because he found the feminine form so fascinating. He took no pride in his wanton inclinations, but the curvier, the more he had to fight his attraction. And never one for awkward girls, he found mature women quite appealing. Dare he relax for an hour and enjoy the company of this well-proportioned beauty, even if it was to converse in an alcove or share a laugh or two?

“Captain Eaton, someday buildings will reach into the sky,” Ian Miller said.

On any other night, Stephen would relish a conversation about structures that stretched to the stars, but the woman and the expensive Port made intelligent conversation impossible.

“And carriages with wings will carry us to the tops of these buildings. Mark my words, the day is coming.” Miller stared at the ceiling.

Stephen also lifted his gaze. No bird-like carriages. Only that ostentatious chandelier with its blinding little flames. He returned his attention to Miller and blinked a few times as his pupils adjusted. “Please excuse me, Ian. ’Twas a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” said Miller. “I have been on the edge of my seat waiting to converse with a bona fide war hero. Shall we talk again later this evening? I know an intelligent man like yourself will want to be a part of my vision. And I am of the opinion that you will find my proposal beneficial to us both.”

He’d contemplate all of the talk of profits, opportunities, and influence later since there was a stunning goddess casting sidelong glances in his direction.

Unfortunately, Sir Saxton thwarted his trek to the woman when he grasped Stephen’s elbow and exchanged his empty glass for a full one.

“Captain Eaton, I should like to introduce you to some of my guests.”

What abominable timing.

“Please forgive me, Elias. I have something else I need to attend to.”

Specifically, the enticing siren. Good thing he was not steering a vessel, for if he were, he might accidentally smash it into the shore—or the white walls of the ballroom—while chasing after her.

The baronet’s gaze was uncomfortably intense. “Nonsense. My guests are all anxious to meet the highly esteemed Captain Eaton.”

As his host led him in the opposite direction from where he wished to travel, Stephen peered over his shoulder, caught the beauty’s gaze, and shrugged.

She smirked as she rolled her eyes in the most delicious taunting flirtation. Then she focused her attention on one of the younger men monopolizing her.

Sir Saxton guided him to a large group. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Captain Stephen Eaton.”

There was a lot of handshaking with unattractive paunchy men who were not in the least bit as interesting as the woman in red. He should cease drinking and lusting immediately. He was on a mission. Just one more drink and one more peek, and he would again embrace Captain Discipline.

He sipped, glanced, then groaned because she was gone. Scanning the room to no avail, he snorted, then guzzled.

For the next hour, Sir Saxton led him around, plying him full of drink as he introduced him to guests. Really, Elias was entirely too attentive. And where in the blazes had Major Blythe and Second Lieutenant Calhoun disappeared to?

Almost as if they read his mind, Reginald and Benjamin sauntered across the room toward him.

“Captain Eaton, a word?” the major asked.

“’Tis about bloody time you two made an appearance.” Stephen winced. What the deuces was wrong with him? He never said the wordbloodyout loud when he was in uniform.

“Excuse me, Elias,” Stephen said, finding his manners. Once he was alone with his men, he asked, “Where have you two been?”

“Lady Saxton trapped us in the hothouse,” Major Blythe said.

“Edifying us on roses.” The young Calhoun held a palm to his mouth and feigned a yawn.