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)
Under Priest’s orders, the carpenter, Murphy, spent weeks constructing and engraving a bed large enough to sleep a pirate captain and her lover.
The ubiquitous structure stood like a separate chamber in the wall, with its fanciful wood carvings, lavish trim, and rich, heavy curtains that fell over the opening, enclosing the massive bed on all sides. Woven straps supported a mattress that was generously stuffed with down and topped by linen sheets and wool blankets.
I would’ve never commissioned such a haughty luxury for myself. Murphy had better things to do than chisel decorative frippery. But it had been a gift from Priest, one he’d worked on right alongside the carpenter.
It had been our first night in the new bed. We had thoroughly broken in the mattress and fallen into a happy, sated embrace when I voiced the promise I’d made to my father.
The man who had held me so sweetly that night—the notoriously mercurial, hot-tempered Feral Priest—now watched me through a cloud of stormy thoughts. I knew an accusation was coming before his eyes narrowed into a condemning stare, causing my heart to catch.
“How many men have you taken to that bed?” The promise of brutality roughened his voice and altered his breathing.
I debated the best response, and my silence made it worse, further enraging him. Reddening his face. Whitening his knuckles. Visibly shaking him.
He was scared, if such a thing were possible.
As much as I wanted to crush him with claims of orgies and passionate affairs, I couldn’t lie to him. It wouldn’t get my compass back, and I refused to sink to that level of vindictiveness.
But the truth made me feel small and beaten.
My loneliness was only part of it. I’d been holding onto the residue of hope that he hadn’t cheated, that it had all been a misunderstanding, which nursed my twisted need to remain faithful to him. Not to mention this sickening depth of love that hadn’t faded after two years without him.
It all rose up in a wall of self-loathing, putting pressure on my chest and closing my throat. I could do nothing but gulp back the lump that tried to escape as a sob.
He didn’t need to hear my answer. Comprehension softened his mean mouth. His shoulders fell with a shuddering exhale, and his gaze moved over me, not with its usual predatory gleam but in the assessing way of a concerned husband.
“If my heart was half as cold as yours,” I said, holding his unblinking stare, “I would’ve sought comfort in the arms of another man.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.” He stepped toward me, his gait graceful and deadly. “Make no mistake. I would’ve hunted down every bastard who touched you and torn him limb from limb. But I’m…” His gaze warmed, and his fingers twitched at his sides. “I’m overwhelmingly, undeservedly relieved. You humble me.”
There was nothing humble about him. His intimidating shadow fell over me, dwarfing everything in the room. Then his body closed in. Shirtless. Sculpted. Devastatingly handsome. Devastatingly dangerous. Just…devastating.
He was a feared man, a ruthless criminal, his very stance pulsing with power. But it wasn’t his physical strength that made me want to run.
I forced myself to hold still, pinned between him and the desk and the thickly charged air around us.
He took forever to make his next move, and when he did, it was with his hands on my face, cupping my jaw, tilting my head back. He regarded me with long-lashed, languid, molten-metal eyes that glowed in the shadows.
“I’m sorry.” His Welsh cadence was gloriously uneven as if the apology affected him more than me.
He wasn’t one to hide his emotions. He wore them like a badge. Even now guilt furrowed his forehead. Regret sank into the down-turned corners of his lips. And there was something else. Something that made him look at me like he never had before.
“Don’t you dare pity me.” I turned my head, pulling away. “I’m not your victim.”
“Pity? By God, Bennett, I admire you. I respect you, without reservation or design. I hold you on a damn gilded pedestal.”
Words.
Lies.
Everything out of his mouth was a blasphemous ululation.
“If I wanted to fill my ears with shit, I’d dunk my head in the chamber pot.” Clapping my gaze to his, I gave him my stoniest glare.
He glared back.
Unbending. Deadlocked. He wanted to entangle our future. I wanted to undo our past.
We stood at an impasse, a strait with no outlet that stretched heart beats. Fathoms. Leagues.
Timbers creaked around us. Footsteps groaned overhead. The rumbling of male laughter muffled the soft skittering of a nearby rat. And amid it all, the deep notes of Reynold’s voice commanded the crew to set sail.
A moment later, the thunder of the anchor’s great cable clanked through the hawseholes, and Jade heaved into motion.
Priest’s shapely mouth curved up at one edge.