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)
“Explain this.” He paused beside me and pressed a finger against the plundered fabric of my sewing project.
“Have you forgotten who I am?” I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. “I raid and thieve wealthy arseholes for personal gain.”
“Wretched pirate.” His hand twisted into a fist, and he yanked it behind him, his posture as straight as his face. “You were given more than enough fabric to complete the task.”
“I was given coarse, unflattering worsted.” I grabbed a handful of the itchy wool he wanted me to use and tossed it at him. “I don’t see a stitch of this nonsense scratching your precious behind.”
“You deliberately defied me.”
“I did what you asked. Do you know how difficult that is for me?”
“No.” He bit out the syllable, pulsing his chiseled nostrils. “Tell me.”
I drew my head back, surprised by the command, and recovered quickly. “When I was a child, my mother wanted me to be a harpist. She thought the skill would invite an agreeable betrothal.” I slumped in the chair as ancient guilt crept into my shoulders. “During my first harp lesson, I demolished the elegant instrument and used the strings as fishing line.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to fish in the pond with the stable boy. That was what nourished my child’s heart. Not blindly following orders.” I lowered my eyes to the unfinished gown. “Conforming to the standards of others goes against everything that I am.”
“I shall presume your mother never received an offer for your hand.”
“Unfortunately, she did. Unfortunate for him. I broke the betrothal when I opened his bowels with my knife.”
He regarded me, unblinking. Following an eternal moment, a small crease formed between his eyes. “You’re not jesting, are you?”
“No.” I shrugged. “When we arrive in England, you can add the murder of the Marquess of Grisdale to my list of crimes.”
“This was the lord with the unwelcome prick?”
“The same.”
He drifted closer, leaning over me. His hand lifted slowly, stuttering my breath. Fingertips rested against my neck, so soft, so barely there I strained to feel the ghostly touch.
“Where did you get this?” His hand curled around the stone at my throat.
“I stole it.”
“And this?” He pinched the linen of Priest’s shirt, where it lay against my clavicle. “Who did this belong to?”
“The man I stole it from. I didn’t catch his name.”
I’d come aboard this ship wearing only two things. Something that belonged to my father and something that belonged to my husband. Sometimes I was so accidentally sentimental it was a wonder I’d survived this long.
His gaze swept over the desk, finding the drawings I’d destroyed to make the boning of the stays.
“Should I possess a harp,” he said, “I now know to lock it up.”
“And the bristle brush you use on your teeth.” I gave him a toothy smile, flashing my sparkling white enamel. “Unless you don’t mind me borrowing it again.”
“You have no shame.”
“None at all.”
He had no anger. No emotion. But he must have felt something. He was a thinking, calculating man of intellect. It concerned me that I couldn’t read him.
“Now you should allow me to ask you some questions.” I raised my chin.
“Come with me.” He turned on his heel and strode into the dining cabin.
Curious, I padded after him.
At the table, he pulled out a chair for me. I moved to sit, but he blocked my path, his eyes fixed on the loose ties of my stays.
I didn’t have to follow his gaze to feel my chest spilling from the low-cut neckline. The exposure had been by design.
As I opened my mouth to ask for his assistance, his fingers beat me to it, latching onto the laces between my breasts. Then he yanked. Hard. The stays constricted, cutting my air. He pulled harder until I thought my ribs would crack.
I sucked in my torso and adjusted to the girding pressure, watching his expression, searching for a flush, a heated look, a bobbing throat.
Nothing.
He secured a knot between my breasts, making the stays impossibly close and tight. Strait-laced. Then he patted the surface of the table, willfully mute.
I stared at the gesture, confused.
“Bend over. Face down.” He tapped the surface again. “Just here.”
“My lord?” My heart rate quickened. “Surely, you don’t mean to—”
“You ransacked my personal effects, ruined my clothing, and destroyed my drawings.” He folded his hands behind him, shoulders squared. “Despite your childish games, I should hope you have arrived at an accurate conclusion.”
“Which is?”
“Your romantic plans to instigate my ire will not come to fruition.”
“Yes, you’ve fallen short of expectations. But honestly, Ashley, you must learn to share your feelings for this relationship to work.”
“What…” He breathed in, out. “What relationship?”
“Our captor-captive relationship.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Indeed. I was just getting to that.” He pointed his chin at the table. “Bend over, if you please. We can do this with your arms free or bound behind you.”