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)
I closed my eyes, released a slow breath, and glared at him. “You found the sunken slave ship.”
“I received word of it when dead seamen and burned timber washed ashore west St. Christopher. The attack had your stamp of ownership all over it. ‘Twas easy to track you from there.”
My hands clenched, but I couldn’t regret that raid. We’d saved two young African men that day. Besides, with Ashley on my trail since Jamaica, he would’ve caught me eventually. Just like Priest had.
He straightened from the wall and breezed past me, headed to the armoire. From a drawer within, he removed a blue three-cornered hat trimmed in feathers and jammed it on his head. From another drawer, he pulled out a long swath of linsey-woolsey and splayed it on the mattress.
A gentleman’s loose nightgown.
Priest had never worn a stitch of clothing to bed. I preferred nudity, as well. But not here.
“Is that for me?” I lifted the hem, rubbing the coarse cloth between my fingers, relieved it wasn’t transparent.
“Yes.” He flicked a finger toward the privacy screen. “Wash yourself before retiring.”
He pivoted and strode toward the dining cabin, dressed in full uniform as if he were going somewhere.
“Ashley?” I waited until I had his eyes. “Where do I sleep?”
“There.” He thrust his steely chin at the bed behind me and resumed walking.
“Where are you sleeping?” At his silence, I hurried after him. “Where are you going?”
The click of the exterior door sounded his exit.
A growl of frustration vibrated in my chest. I raced past the desk in the day cabin, around the table in the dining cabin, and swung open the door.
Ashley stood on the other side, boots spread apart, hands clasped behind him, and blue eyes narrowed on mine. Expecting me.
My breath came up short. “You said I could wander freely.”
“Not dressed like that.” He shifted to the side and motioned at the two lieutenants behind him.
The men bustled in, carrying piles of mismatched fabric. They dumped the tattered garments on the table, along with a platter of sewing supplies, and swept out of the cabin.
“There’s enough cloth there,” he said. “You will fashion a proper wardrobe for yourself before you leave these quarters.”
“I don’t know how to sew.” I folded my arms over my chest.
He bent toward me and put his nose inches from mine. “Your upbringing says otherwise.”
I blinked, searching for the best retort. It was true that Lady Abigail Leighton had taught me how to work with a needle and thread. But the only sewing I’d done in the past seven years involved open wounds and bleeding flesh.
Another man stepped into the room, carrying a small medicine chest that rattled with glass vials.
“Madam.” The blond man glanced at my raw wrists, bloody shirt, and throbbing jaw. “I’m Lieutenant Flemming, the ship’s surgeon. Let’s look at your injuries, shall we?”
Shocked, I watched the wardroom warrant officer stride toward the day cabin. Behind him trailed a younger uniformed man holding a tray of fruit, meats, and biscuits.
After everything Ashley had unleashed on me today, never in a thousand lifetimes would I have expected this level of decency. There must be a catch.
When I turned back to the doorway, Ashley was gone.
I knew I was tired but hadn’t comprehended the extent of my exhaustion until I fell asleep at the dining table while Lieutenant Flemming treated the abrasions on my wrists.
He woke me with a hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently. “Madam? You should lie down.”
His soft English accent matched his demeanor. White strands streaked the roots of his blond hair, making him appear older than his forty years. That was my guess, anyway. He didn’t talk much.
Ointments and bandages gathered, he stepped out without another word, leaving me alone in the dimly lit cabin.
I ate some roasted meat and biscuits to appease my grumbling stomach. Then I padded into Ashley’s sleeping quarters.
Behind the privacy screen, I removed Priest’s shirt and held it to my nose. It no longer smelled like him, but I couldn’t bring myself to discard it.
Using the soap and water in the basin, I scrubbed the blood from the linen and hung it to dry.
Various supplies filled the cabinet, such as fragrant oils for hair, ambrosial salve for skin, an oxbone brush with horsetail hairs for cleaning teeth, and cutting instruments for whiskers. Did Ashley actually use the latter? After a full day, he still had naught a bristle on his unshaven face.
I washed my hair and body with his cleansers, taking care with the jade stone at my throat. Then I donned the gentleman’s nightgown, swimming in the linsey-woolsey as I crawled beneath the counterpane on his bed.
The stuffing was soft enough, the distance between sides wide enough for two. But I felt more secure tucking myself against the wall of the alcove and pulling the blankets up around me.