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)
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?