Chapter Two
814 Words
Sansa did not intend to board Captain Blackwood’s ship.
Yet by dawn, she stood at the edge of the docks,her skirts gathered in trembling hands, staring up at the dark, formidable vessel that waited like a challenge she could neither refuse nor ignore.
The Stormcrow loomed above the water, powerful and unmistakably dangerous. Just like its captain.
“You’re certain this is necessary?” she asked for the third time.
The governor’s aide avoided her gaze. “Captain Blackwood insists it’s the only way to ensure your safety until the situation ashore settles.”
Insists.
The word alone told her everything.
Sansa lifted her chin. She would not give Rowan Blackwood the satisfaction of fear.
The moment her foot touched the gangplank, she felt the shift. The land no longer felt solid beneath her, as though she had crossed not merely onto a ship, but into his domain.
And he was waiting.
Rowan stood on the quarterdeck, coat discarded, sleeves rolled to his forearms, commanding the crew with effortless authority. He turned the instant he sensed her presence, gray eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that stole the air from her lungs.
“So,” he said calmly, dismissing his men with a gesture. “You came.”
“I had no choice,” Sansa replied.
His mouth curved faintly. “You always have a choice.”
“Do not pretend this was not your doing.”
Rowan descended the steps toward her, his movements unhurried, rather predatory. “I promised I would claim what I want,” he reminded her quietly. “I do not break my word.”
Heat flared in her cheeks. “I am not something to be claimed.”
“No,” he agreed softly. “You are something to be won.”
Her heart hammered treacherously as he stopped before her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, smell the salt and leather clinging to him.
“You’ll have your own cabin,” he continued, businesslike now, though his eyes never left her face. “No one will disturb you.”
“And you?” she asked before she could stop herself.
His gaze darkened. “I will do my utmost to remember you are my guest.”
The way he said it made her pulse race.
Her cabin was far smaller than the elegant rooms she was accustomed to, but it was private and unmistakably his. The bed was neatly made, the wood polished, the air carrying his scent. Being surrounded by it felt indecently intimate.
“You planned this,” she accused when he followed her inside.
“I anticipated it,” he corrected, closing the door behind them. The sound echoed too loudly in the confined space.
Sansa turned to face him. “You enjoy forcing my hand.”
Rowan studied her, something unreadable flickering across his expression. “I enjoy your fire,” he said honestly. “And I admire your courage.”
“That does not excuse your arrogance.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it may explain my restraint.”
Before she could ask what he meant, the ship lurched suddenly, the tide shifted beneath them. Sansa stumbled and Rowan caught her.
His hands settled firmly at her waist, steadying her far too easily. For a heartbeat, neither moved.
The world narrowed to the feel of his fingers pressing into her skirts, the heat of his body against hers, the sharp awareness of how easily he could pull her closer.
“Let go,” she whispered.
“I will,” he said hoarsely. “If you ask me to look away.”
She could not.
Rowan exhaled slowly and released her, stepping back with visible effort. “This,” he said quietly, “is why I keep my distance.”
Sansa’s voice trembled despite her resolve. “You do not frighten me, Captain.”
“No,” he said. “I frighten myself where you’re concerned.”
The admission startled her.
“You should rest,” he added, turning toward the door. “We sail within the hour.”
As he reached for the latch, Sansa spoke without thinking. “Why me?”
Rowan paused. His shoulders tensed.
“Because,” he said at last, without turning, “you look at me as though you see the man beneath the captain.”
And then he was gone.
Sansa sank onto the edge of the bed, heart racing, her world tilting dangerously. She had boarded his ship seeking safety.
Instead, she had placed herself squarely in the path of a man who stirred something deep and reckless within her
something that threatened far more than her reputation.
As the Stormcrow pulled away from shore, Sansa realized with aching clarity that there would be no turning back.
Not from the sea.
And not from Captain Rowan Blackwood
- Writer
