Read Online Fortune Trilogy 1 - Fortune's Mistress by Judith E. French - Free Book Online
Authors: Judith E. French
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is there?”
“Nay,” she snapped, “nor any milk cow either.”
“Too bad. I’ve a fancy for a mug of fresh milk.”
Seething, she held the course while James rattled around in the cuddy. When he came back, he tossed her another chunk of cheese and the remainder of a bottle of wine. He’d stripped to breeches and bare feet, and she could see terrible black and purple bruises on his chest and ribs. He turned around and she stared aghast; his back was a web of old crisscrossed scars. “A reminder of Newgate, lest I forget,” he said, when he saw her reaction. “It’s healed though. That was months ago.”
“Ye need a bath,” she answered.
“My feelings exactly.” He’d brought a wooden bucket on deck. He tied the tiller rope to the handle and proceeded to haul up bucket after bucket of seawater and dump it over his head. Using his shirt for a cloth, he scrubbed every inch of exposed skin, washing away layers of dirt and sweat. He rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth with a peeled green willow twig he took from a pouch in his breeches. Undoing his hair, he ran his fingers through it to take out the worst of the snarls, then rinsed with another bucket of salt water.
“If ye mean to strip completely, give me warning,” Lacy said, “so that I can look away.”
“How refreshing. A lady of your occupation who is modest. Who would have thought it?”
Remembering that she was supposed to win his trust, she suppressed the sailor’s oath that came to mind and answered as mildly as she could manage. “Because I’m a whore doesn’t mean I’m without morals.”
“Then, by all means, shut your eyes. For I intend to get as much Newgate off me as possible.” He reached for the ties at the back of his breeches, and Lacy whirled away and stared out at the whitecaps.
In a few minutes, he came to stand inches in front of her. “What is it now?” she demanded.
“There’s no mirror.”
“Of course there’s no mirror. This is a smuggling pink, not a lady’s drawing room.”
“I’d have you shave me.”
She glared at him, noting that he was clad not only in his breeches, but also in the wet shirt. “I may shave you closer than you want.”
“Let’s hope not.” He handed her the knife he’d taken from the cabin. “I’ve no intention of letting you cut my throat, and if you try, it’s a long swim to shore.” They changed places. He sat on the wooden bench and took the tiller; she stood in front of him.
“I should, ye know,” she said. “I should cut your throat. You’re naught but vermin. My brothers and I save your worthless life, and ye repay us by stealing our boat and trying to drown them.”
“Ah, but I didn’t kill them, did I? And I had the knife. I could have, you know. I could have done away with the three of you and left no witnesses.” He laid a hand on her arm. “If the shoe was on the other foot, what then? Would Ben and Alfred have tried to take my boat?”
Her skin tingled where he touched her and she jerked away. Her insides turned over, and she felt as though she’d been running up a steep hill.
“Well, woman? You know damned well they would have cut my throat without a second thought.”
Her cheeks grew hot. She knew the truth of what he was saying, but was unwilling to admit it. “It’s not the same thing,” she argued. “I’m sayin’ what happened, and you’re supposin’ what might have happened.”
“Stop talking and get on with it,” he said.
Her hand trembled as she brought the knife blade close to his face. Fear or something akin to it made her knees weak. Damn but this pirate infuriated her! He was like a flame that drew her near, then threatened to burn her if she came too close.
His face was suddenly enigmatic. Pinpoints of light danced behind his eyes ... devil eyes so seal-brown that they appeared black. She forced herself to stand firm and took hold of his beard with her left hand. Her heart was thudding so wildly that she was afraid
“Nay,” she snapped, “nor any milk cow either.”
“Too bad. I’ve a fancy for a mug of fresh milk.”
Seething, she held the course while James rattled around in the cuddy. When he came back, he tossed her another chunk of cheese and the remainder of a bottle of wine. He’d stripped to breeches and bare feet, and she could see terrible black and purple bruises on his chest and ribs. He turned around and she stared aghast; his back was a web of old crisscrossed scars. “A reminder of Newgate, lest I forget,” he said, when he saw her reaction. “It’s healed though. That was months ago.”
“Ye need a bath,” she answered.
“My feelings exactly.” He’d brought a wooden bucket on deck. He tied the tiller rope to the handle and proceeded to haul up bucket after bucket of seawater and dump it over his head. Using his shirt for a cloth, he scrubbed every inch of exposed skin, washing away layers of dirt and sweat. He rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth with a peeled green willow twig he took from a pouch in his breeches. Undoing his hair, he ran his fingers through it to take out the worst of the snarls, then rinsed with another bucket of salt water.
“If ye mean to strip completely, give me warning,” Lacy said, “so that I can look away.”
“How refreshing. A lady of your occupation who is modest. Who would have thought it?”
Remembering that she was supposed to win his trust, she suppressed the sailor’s oath that came to mind and answered as mildly as she could manage. “Because I’m a whore doesn’t mean I’m without morals.”
“Then, by all means, shut your eyes. For I intend to get as much Newgate off me as possible.” He reached for the ties at the back of his breeches, and Lacy whirled away and stared out at the whitecaps.
In a few minutes, he came to stand inches in front of her. “What is it now?” she demanded.
“There’s no mirror.”
“Of course there’s no mirror. This is a smuggling pink, not a lady’s drawing room.”
“I’d have you shave me.”
She glared at him, noting that he was clad not only in his breeches, but also in the wet shirt. “I may shave you closer than you want.”
“Let’s hope not.” He handed her the knife he’d taken from the cabin. “I’ve no intention of letting you cut my throat, and if you try, it’s a long swim to shore.” They changed places. He sat on the wooden bench and took the tiller; she stood in front of him.
“I should, ye know,” she said. “I should cut your throat. You’re naught but vermin. My brothers and I save your worthless life, and ye repay us by stealing our boat and trying to drown them.”
“Ah, but I didn’t kill them, did I? And I had the knife. I could have, you know. I could have done away with the three of you and left no witnesses.” He laid a hand on her arm. “If the shoe was on the other foot, what then? Would Ben and Alfred have tried to take my boat?”
Her skin tingled where he touched her and she jerked away. Her insides turned over, and she felt as though she’d been running up a steep hill.
“Well, woman? You know damned well they would have cut my throat without a second thought.”
Her cheeks grew hot. She knew the truth of what he was saying, but was unwilling to admit it. “It’s not the same thing,” she argued. “I’m sayin’ what happened, and you’re supposin’ what might have happened.”
“Stop talking and get on with it,” he said.
Her hand trembled as she brought the knife blade close to his face. Fear or something akin to it made her knees weak. Damn but this pirate infuriated her! He was like a flame that drew her near, then threatened to burn her if she came too close.
His face was suddenly enigmatic. Pinpoints of light danced behind his eyes ... devil eyes so seal-brown that they appeared black. She forced herself to stand firm and took hold of his beard with her left hand. Her heart was thudding so wildly that she was afraid
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