"It's nothing," he said dismissively, absently rubbing the spot where she'd hit him.

Maggie leaned over. "I can make my grandmother's healing tea. It'll take a bit to cook up, but it works miracles."

"Yes, do that." Olivia returned her gaze to Phoenix as the abigail moved away. "I have some salve to put on this. Return to the cabin and allow me to tend it."

The blue of his eyes darkened. "I suppose you'll insist, and threaten me with some weapon or another."

"If I have to."

He offered a mocking half-bow. "After you."

Clutching her bodice, Olivia hurried down to the cabin, willing her heartbeat to slow. Her entire face was marked with his scent. Salty and spicy, it was a richly masculine smell of hardworking male and pure Phoenix. Every breath she took was redolent of the faint traces of his cologne and his unique fragrance.

She threw open the door and rushed to the smallest of her trunks, all the while agonizingly aware of his presence behind her. Delving around, Olivia found the small jar of medicinal salve and straightened, turning to face her pirate captor. He stood just inside the closed doorway, watching her intently, his hands fisted at his sides. The room drew in, shrinking, until there was nothing but Phoenix and her and the powerful attraction between them.

"Come closer," she urged.

His brows drew together as his gaze dropped. Olivia followed it, catching sight of her gaping bodice offering him an unhindered view of her breasts. She hastily covered herself, embarrassment heating her cheeks. His face was hard, his body as still as stone, a statue of a god rendered in flesh and bone.

Turning her back to him, she set the salve jar atop her trunk and retrieved the shirt he had given her earlier. "If you rub that into your-"