Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Now he grinned with abandon, damn near laughing out his response. Jobah.
“Jobah?” I couldn’t have read that right. “That goddamned traitor had it the entire time? I’m going to kill him.”
You won’t. He shook his head, trying to rein in his smile.
He was right, of course. I had a terrible weakness where my helmsman was concerned. I let him get away with all manner of insolence, only because he had the purest heart of any man on my crew. But I would still give him my mind on the matter.
Priest returned to my side and twined his fingers around mine. As I stared at our hands, dizziness threatened, my energy already draining.
“Put the map in a safe place,” I said. “Don’t let me see it or know its secret until I’m out of this bed, walking without assistance, feeding and bathing myself.”
I didn’t need the motivation, but I liked goals with scintillating rewards. I was a pirate, after all. I seized and savored the riches.
I love bathing you, he mouthed.
“I can’t imagine why. I’m repulsive.” I sagged against the pillows, struggling to hold my head up. “I think I need a short sleep now.”
He scowled threateningly and yanked off the sheet that covered me. I jerked my head away, but he grasped my jaw and forced my eyes downward, showing me my body.
As expected, the bruises were long gone. But my muscles had wasted away, leaving a gaunt, rawboned ghost of the strong, battle-honed woman I’d once been. Even so, it wasn’t as wretched as I’d imagined. Priest and Ashley had kept me nourished. I remembered the forced feedings, the constant flavor of broth on my tongue. They’d kept me alive.
Priest skidded his hand down my throat to my breasts. I’d lost weight there, too, but he didn’t seem to mind. His fingers lingered, molding around the nipples, and his breaths increased the lift and fall of his chest.
He licked his lips and continued lower, resting his palm on my ribs. I tensed, bracing for the agony that I’d lived with for weeks. The pain had anchored itself there, but the weight of his touch didn’t make me flinch. The ache seemed to only flare with muscle movement.
“All right.” I sighed. “You made your point.”
But he kept going. Prodding here, caressing there, he slowly, masterfully, turned me into a languid mixture of drowsy content. After five weeks of taking care of me, he was more acquainted with my body than I was, and he proved it with every touch.
He saved the juncture of my legs until the end. His fingers skimmed the tuft of curls and traced the slit beneath, cupping me possessively.
You. Are. Stunning.
I read his lips clearly as he lifted his gaze to mine, his thick dark lashes drifting upward. Perhaps there was lust in those silver eyes, but it wasn’t the chief emotion. His intimacy with my body ran deeper, his hand between my legs more profound than carnal intent.
It was an act of love. Of acknowledgment and acceptance.
Ashley had pleasured me there. The admiral had abused me there. Priest knew this.
He knew that not all my wounds were visible.
“We need to talk about Ashley,” I said.
Not today. A firm response as he rose from the bed and covered me with the sheet. Sleep.
“How did you get your burn scars?”
Later.
I hated those soundless words. “I want my hearing back. I miss your voice.”
He kissed my brow then my lips. Soft, warm, whispering kisses that gradually lulled me into the sweet surrender of slumber.
The next few days passed in a flurry of activity—meals, medicine, exercise, and a parade of liveried servants. Ashley’s manor was fully staffed, and every seamstress, housekeeper, cook, and maid seemed to know my husband on a smiling, tittering, intimate level.
While I slept often and needfully, Priest must have made himself well acquainted with the resident females. I daresay most of the women were twice my age, but that wasn’t the reason for my indifference about it.
He’d proved his loyalty to me so many times over the past few months, I knew in my heart he wouldn’t betray me again.
My rigorous exercise began in bed with his hands supporting my limbs as I repeatedly sat up, lifted small objects, flexed joints, and stretched muscles. I put myself on a strict tiresome routine that lasted hours several times a day. When I wasn’t sleeping and eating, I was sweating, shaking, grunting, and oftentimes screaming at the rafters in agony and frustration. But I was growing stronger.
Servants came and went. Meals were delivered. Fabrics were hauled in, cut, and sewn to fit my measurements. The ship’s surgeon, Lieutenant Flemming, had returned to London with Ashley. But Ipswich was here. Lucky me.
I sat on the edge of the bed as he waddled around me, probing tools in my ears, thumping at the bones in my arm, poking, prodding, and running his mouth with a sour look on his wrinkled face.