Read Online A Pirate's Heart (St. John Series) by Lora Thomas - Free Book Online
Authors: Lora Thomas
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proceeded to the quay to take the crate into the hull.
“Put dat crate ova dare,” the tall black man barked at Kristina as he motioned to a corner by the stairs. Kristina nodded her understanding and walked to the location indicated. She carefully set the crate down, looked nervously around and quickly darted up the stairs, unnoticed.
As she crept through the ship, a thought occurred to Kristina—what if this is a pirate ship? Nonsense. Pirates aren’t as handsome as the two men at that tavern last night. Besides, he didn’t have an earring and pirates wear earrings . . . right? Right! she smugly assured herself. She cautiously made her way to a corridor by the galley. There were several doors; thinking that one might be for storage, she tried to open them.
“Locked,” she whispered. She attempted to open three more doors. She was about to give up when she heard footsteps coming from behind her. Panic set in. She quickly raced to the fourth door, expecting to find it locked. Elation ran through her as she found it wasn’t. She quickly darted in and closed the door.
Pressing her back against the door, she held her breath. She listened for several minutes for approaching footsteps. When she realized no one was coming, she closed her eyes and let out a relieved sigh. Kristina glanced around her hiding spot. There was an unmade bed against the far wall, a small chest of drawers with a mirror mounted to the wall over it and a small washbasin sitting on top. To the left of her was a round table with an oil lamp still burning. Beside the table was a large chair along with a half empty bottle of spirits.
She looked at the bed again. Its alluring softness called to her like a siren’s song. Her restless night’s sleep hadn’t refreshed her. With the supplies being loaded and the ship preparing to sail, it would be hours before anyone returned to their chambers. A nap would be nice. It had been weeks since she had lain down in a bed. The debate over whether or not to enjoy the comfort of the bed battled in her mind. For several minutes she worried on her lower lip. She quickly talked herself into the nap.
As she started towards the bed, her body moved, but her head was jerked back towards the door. She sucked in her breath with fear before she realized that her long braid had fallen out of her hat and had become snared by a hook on the back of the door. It took her several minutes, but she eventually released her hair by unbraiding it, her long raven locks now hanging down to the center of her back. Once free, she proceeded towards the unmade bed, with quilts piled high in the center. She lay down on her left side and snuggled down into the bed. She lay there for a few seconds and tossed to her right side. Then turned onto her back. It was no use, the oversized jacket and too tight clothing made her uncomfortable. She tossed the jacket on the floor, which still didn’t help. She stood up and looked down at her clothing. Should she dare? No, she could not remove her clothing, but her body was desperately craving sleep.
She walked to the dresser and opened one of the wide drawers. The top drawer was filled with small knick-knacks and trinkets of different sizes and metals: a pair of dice, a couple of small daggers, several small tin soldiers as well as an old toy boat. She closed that drawer and opened the second. Upon examination of its contents, she found a clean red linen shirt. She took out the article of clothing, closed the drawer back and laid the shirt on the arm of the chair. She sat down in the same chair and removed her boots and tight pants. She stood and attempted to pull the overly tight shirt off but to no avail. Facing the mirror, she looked at her reflection. Her breasts weren’t large by any standards; however, the overly tight shirt made her look well endowed.
She walked over to the dresser and pulled out one of the daggers and cut the hem of the dingy shirt. Once the material was damaged, it
“Put dat crate ova dare,” the tall black man barked at Kristina as he motioned to a corner by the stairs. Kristina nodded her understanding and walked to the location indicated. She carefully set the crate down, looked nervously around and quickly darted up the stairs, unnoticed.
As she crept through the ship, a thought occurred to Kristina—what if this is a pirate ship? Nonsense. Pirates aren’t as handsome as the two men at that tavern last night. Besides, he didn’t have an earring and pirates wear earrings . . . right? Right! she smugly assured herself. She cautiously made her way to a corridor by the galley. There were several doors; thinking that one might be for storage, she tried to open them.
“Locked,” she whispered. She attempted to open three more doors. She was about to give up when she heard footsteps coming from behind her. Panic set in. She quickly raced to the fourth door, expecting to find it locked. Elation ran through her as she found it wasn’t. She quickly darted in and closed the door.
Pressing her back against the door, she held her breath. She listened for several minutes for approaching footsteps. When she realized no one was coming, she closed her eyes and let out a relieved sigh. Kristina glanced around her hiding spot. There was an unmade bed against the far wall, a small chest of drawers with a mirror mounted to the wall over it and a small washbasin sitting on top. To the left of her was a round table with an oil lamp still burning. Beside the table was a large chair along with a half empty bottle of spirits.
She looked at the bed again. Its alluring softness called to her like a siren’s song. Her restless night’s sleep hadn’t refreshed her. With the supplies being loaded and the ship preparing to sail, it would be hours before anyone returned to their chambers. A nap would be nice. It had been weeks since she had lain down in a bed. The debate over whether or not to enjoy the comfort of the bed battled in her mind. For several minutes she worried on her lower lip. She quickly talked herself into the nap.
As she started towards the bed, her body moved, but her head was jerked back towards the door. She sucked in her breath with fear before she realized that her long braid had fallen out of her hat and had become snared by a hook on the back of the door. It took her several minutes, but she eventually released her hair by unbraiding it, her long raven locks now hanging down to the center of her back. Once free, she proceeded towards the unmade bed, with quilts piled high in the center. She lay down on her left side and snuggled down into the bed. She lay there for a few seconds and tossed to her right side. Then turned onto her back. It was no use, the oversized jacket and too tight clothing made her uncomfortable. She tossed the jacket on the floor, which still didn’t help. She stood up and looked down at her clothing. Should she dare? No, she could not remove her clothing, but her body was desperately craving sleep.
She walked to the dresser and opened one of the wide drawers. The top drawer was filled with small knick-knacks and trinkets of different sizes and metals: a pair of dice, a couple of small daggers, several small tin soldiers as well as an old toy boat. She closed that drawer and opened the second. Upon examination of its contents, she found a clean red linen shirt. She took out the article of clothing, closed the drawer back and laid the shirt on the arm of the chair. She sat down in the same chair and removed her boots and tight pants. She stood and attempted to pull the overly tight shirt off but to no avail. Facing the mirror, she looked at her reflection. Her breasts weren’t large by any standards; however, the overly tight shirt made her look well endowed.
She walked over to the dresser and pulled out one of the daggers and cut the hem of the dingy shirt. Once the material was damaged, it
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