It had been two days since he tossed me out of the wardroom, and I hadn’t seen him since. He spent most of his time in that damnable cabin with his lieutenants. Evidently, my access to it had only been a one-time event. Every time I approached the door, Sergeant Smithley turned me away.
At night, Ashley slipped into his private quarters after I retired. He was quiet enough to not wake me. If he was pleasuring himself on the balcony, I’d slept through it.
If he was trying to evade me—and that kiss he owed me—he was doing a fine job of it.
Be it as it may, he wasn’t ignoring me now. I felt him somewhere behind me on the upper deck, his gaze boring a hole between my shoulder blades. The impulse to look gripped my neck, but I didn’t turn, didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment.
Straight ahead, thunderclouds heaped together on the horizon. Their dark undersides scudded along the chopping waves, freshening the wind and injecting enough friction in the atmosphere to prickle the hairs on my arms.
We were headed into the teeth of it. I should take cover since I only had one gown. Though, I’d started working half-heartedly on a second one, needing something to do to pass the time.
Nevertheless, I didn’t dare move out of the cage of Ashley’s gaze. With any luck, he would approach and personally escort me below.
The wind rose, warm and damp and thick with brine. Below, white foam broke upon the crests of turbulent waves, flinging the spray high over the warship’s bows. Since it had been overcast all day, I’d foregone a hat. My loose curls whipped in the gale, tangling around my arms and slapping my face.
Lightning flashed. Thunder grumbled, and a moment later, great sheets of rain fell from the sky and blew sideways with the gusts. The deck slanted, and I braced against the sudden sway, gripping the rail for support.
So much for Ashley’s courtly manners.
I glanced around and couldn’t see a tarnal thing through the violent shower. To hell with him.
Hurrying to the gangway ladder, my legs absorbed the roll of the deck. I descended quickly and leaped off the last step.
And landed in pure agony.
The pain shot through the sole of my foot and drove me to my knees. I cried out and fell onto my hip, digging through the skirts to locate the source of my anguish.
A small metal spike protruded from the planks. A boot would have absorbed the sharp tapered end. But since I didn’t have shoes, the puncture had gone right through my soft fleshy arch.
I yanked the hem of the skirt away from the river of blood and pushed myself up onto one leg. My eyes closed against the deluge of rain, and my foot slipped, flying out from beneath me.
Strong hands caught my waist from behind. I was lifted, cradled, and carried against a warm chest. That single embrace released all the tension in my body.
I didn’t have to open my eyes to know I’d find the brightest, deepest gulfs of blue fringed in black rain-soaked lashes. But I looked anyway, sighing in appreciation of his masculine beauty.
Ashley didn’t meet my gaze as he strode toward the main hatch. But he pulled me tighter against his chest and tucked my wet head beneath his jaw. “Send Lieutenant Flemming to my quarters.” His command vaulted over the crash of thunder, scattering men like chain-shot. “And find me the
smallest pair of boots on the ship. Make haste!”
My feet were the size of a child’s, so best of luck with that. But the thought warmed me.
Down the companionway and into drier depths, he stopped the first soldier he encountered. “Remove the spike on the upper deck.”
“The spike, my lord? I don’t—”
“Find it!” He spun away, carrying me toward his quarters. “How’s the foot, Goldilocks?”
His endearment replaced my needling pain with unexpected contentment.
“I could’ve limped back to the cabin on my own.” With my arms around his broad shoulders, I pressed my face to his neck, relishing his fresh, earthly scent. “But this way is much more enjoyable.”
“You’re shameless.”
“You’re delicious. Why have you been avoiding me?” “I don’t meddle with prisoners.”
I touched my lips to the dark hollow between his jaw and cravat. “You like meddling with this one.”
“You’re bleeding.” He arrived at his cabin. “Sergeant.”
“My lord.” Sergeant Smithley opened the door and shut it behind us. “I’m not bleeding on purpose.” I wriggled my toes, igniting stitches of
pain. “I didn’t see the spike and—”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He set me on the dining table. “Lie back.”
Outside the open window, the rain came down hard, flickering with lightning and flooding the planks inside the cabin.
He lifted my legs to the table and wedged a cushion beneath my knees. I lowered to my back, astonished by how he could be so attentive and aloof at the same time.
“Have you been thinking about me?” I brushed wet hair from my face and neck, shivering in the soaked gown.
His gaze narrowed on my prickling flesh. “Shift to your side.”
He rolled me where he wanted, and his fingers tackled the laces on my spine. Moments later, the gown loosened. He dragged it down and off my body.
I bit my lip, captivated. What was motivating him to do this? Was he concerned the wet clothing would ruin the furniture? Or make me ill? Or was something else going on?
His hands returned to my torso. Quick caresses of his fingers here and there straightened Priest’s shirt beneath the stays and down my legs. Once
he confirmed the undergarments were dry and in order, he positioned me to lie face-up.
His wet frock, waistcoat, and cravat came off next. Everything went on hooks to dry. Then he strode toward the windows to shut out the rain.
“Have you imagined my lips wrapped around your cock?” I asked softly.
The glass rattled beneath his hand, slamming harder than necessary. He disappeared through the day cabin. The balcony door closed with a whoosh, followed by the sound of his returning footfalls. He didn’t show it in his features, but his steps landed harder, more agitated than usual.
I stifled a smile. “I’m crawling underneath that steel mask of yours and
—”
“Stow it, Bennett.” “I scare you.”
“You pester me.” His stern, sculpted face appeared upside down above
mine, his hands braced on either side of my head. “Always talking and making trouble and…” His gaze slid down my body. “Bleeding all over my table. Where the devil is that surgeon?”
“Here, my lord.” Lieutenant Flemming swept in, adjusting his cravat as if it had been haphazardly thrown on.
“She stepped on a spike.” Ashley shifted to stand beside me, resting a proprietary hand on my knee.
Flemming sank into a chair near my feet and opened his medicine chest. As he went to work on my wound, Ashley kept the linen shirt tucked around my legs, protecting my modesty as if I possessed such a quality.
“How’s the pain?” He focused on the doctor wearing a strange expression. Like he was troubled by my injury.
“I’m not going to bleed to death, my lord.” He didn’t glance at me.
“I don’t understand.” I folded my hands on my midsection, watching him watch Flemming. “You punched my face, tossed me off your balcony, shredded my wrists, bruised my arse and other unmentionables. Yet you’re concerned about a gash on my foot?”
That brought his gaze to mine.
“I control the pain I inflict. I know where and how hard to strike to avoid permanent damage. But this…” He motioned toward my feet. “I can’t control infection should it decide to attack and contaminate your body.”
Flemming kept his gaze on his work, pretending to ignore us.
“I should have located boots for you.” Ashley ran a hand through his wet hair. “I should have ensured the deck was safe.”
“I don’t see how any of that matters,” I muttered. “You intend to see me hang.”
“I intend to see you stand trial.”
Same thing. But arguing the particulars wouldn’t change the outcome.
“The wound is clean, my lord.” Flemming shifted. “But it requires stitches.”
“Do what is needed, Lieutenant.”
With a needle and thread, the doctor began the painful task of closing up the bottom of my foot. The skin was so tender along the arch that every stab made my teeth clamp together. Muscles contracted without my permission, and I couldn’t stop my body from jerking and bowing off the table.
Ashley bent over me, blocking my view of the attacking needle. Blue eyes pinned mine, and his hand sank into my hair, smoothing out the damp coils.
“Lieutenant Flemming revived you the day we pulled you from the sea.” He ran a finger along my temple and down my cheek. “You weren’t breathing.”
I was barely breathing now with his insufferably gorgeous face so close to mine.
“We debated the method of resuscitation.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I decided the best way to stimulate you was by inserting a pair of bellows into your rectum and thereby fumigating your insides with tobacco smoke.”
“Oh, for the love of God.” My entire body cringed.
Blowing smoke up the arse of the suddenly apparently dead was a treatment I’d seen too many times. It never worked as far as I could tell. So how was I alive?
Ashley drew his bottom lip between his teeth, and that unholy gesture made my stomach dip. Did my eyes deceive me, or was he fighting a smile?
A muffled chuckle drifted from Flemming.
I craned my neck and glimpsed the doctor barely containing his grin.
“You’re jesting?” My mouth dropped open as I looked back at Ashley. “You made an actual joke? To excite laughter?”
“You’re not laughing.”
“I’m too shocked to do anything at the moment.”
“That’s good.”
“Why?”
“All done, my lord.” Flemming stood and gathered his tools. “Keep the foot elevated for a time.”
He finished? I couldn’t believe it. Ashley had deliberately distracted me from the stabbing needle. Why would he do that for someone he was condemning to the gallows? Why engage with me at all?
There was so much more to this man than he allowed to be known.
As Flemming stepped out, Sergeant Smithley set a pair of black boots inside the cabin. They looked small. Perhaps small enough.
The door shut, and it was just Ashley and me, staring at each other.
