“Can I come closer to you?” she asked.

He jumped a little at her question. “Do you think that’s a good idea, love?”

“I think it’s a very good idea,” Eleanor said.

She moved closer, and Robin sat up. “Neptune’s balls, you’re a young lady and I’m—“

“Warm,” she finished as she moved so close she was touching him. “And I’m a cold young lady.”

“What makes you think I won’t take advantage of you?”

She made a wry face. “For the same reason I know you won’t kill me. If you were going to have me seven ways to Sunday, as you put it, you’d have done it already.”

“I don’t like being predictable.” Robin stared up at the stars, hard. The wench was provoking him, but damned if he knew why.

He could have sworn her heard her purr as she sidled even closer. “So, does that mean you are you going to take advantage of me?”

“Bloody hell!” he cried and sat up so fast she rolled away from him in the sand. “What sort of talk is that?”

Eleanor sat up, too, onto her knees. She toyed with the thick braids and tucked them into a disheveled mess on top of her head. She glared at him.

“You’re a man, and I’m a woman.”

“Obviously.” Robin narrowed his eyes. “You are supposed to be a gentlewoman.”

“But you are a pirate. You’re not supposed to have morals, or manners.”

“So you’re saying you’d want me to rape you?” Robin had been propositioned plenty of times, but this wench had him gape-mouthed aghast.

“It’s not rape if it’s consensual!” Eleanor put her hands on her hips. Even in the dimming light from the fire, he couldn’t ignore her glare.

“Neptune’s balls!” he cried again, only because he couldn't think of what else to say.