"I am not your wife!" she snapped, flustered by his charm and her response to it.

"If what you say is true, then you are indeed my countess. And despite-," he shot a pointed glance at his blade, "-your charming introduction, you are not displeased with me as a spouse."

"How can you say that?"

"I didn't. Your nipples did. They are hard and aching for my touch, pressing so delightfully against the bodice of your gown."

With a horrified gasp, Olivia covered her breasts, and he easily plucked the wicked knife from her fingers. He handed her his shirt. "Here. Cover yourself until I can locate your trunks. I have no wish to display your bountiful charms to my men. We've been at sea for months, and their control is stretched." He eyed her appraisingly for a long moment and then chuckled. "Bold as you please," he murmured.

She stiffened, wondering if Phoenix found her deportment unappealing, and was disturbed to realize that she cared if he did. All of her life, she had accompanied her father on his frequent trips to London. With a child's awareness, she'd quickly discerned that Polite Society disparaged them because of their common background and her father's work in trade. To protect her feelings, Olivia had learned to disregard the opinions of others. But the pirate's opinion mattered. More than it should.

"I've learned to care for myself," she said defensively.

His dimple flashed again, momentarily stunning her wits. "I'm not complaining," he assured her. "Your father is well-known to me, sweet. I am aware that he is a busy man. I'm pleased you acquired some independent thought and intrepidness." He moved toward the door, apparently unaffected by the attraction that seared her senses.

"Wait!" she cried. Unreasonably, she didn't want to be left alone. His crew was a coarse lot. They'd pinched and groped her, tugged at her hair, and ruined her gown. Intrepid she might be, but a glutton for punishment she was not. "You cannot leave me here alone!"