Read Online Steamed by Katie MacAlister - Free Book Online Page B

your person!” Octavia stormed down off the ship and helped Piper to his feet. “Mr. Fletcher, are you injured?”
    “A visit to the chiropractor might be in order later, but right now I have to get my sister.” I got to my feet and rubbed at a spot on my back where it felt like an anvil had hit me.
    “I shall accompany you,” she said, turning to glare at her crew. “You will remain here, all of you. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Aye, Captain, but—”
    “All of you!” she said firmly, then, picking up her skirts, ran past me down the hill. I didn’t wait to add my two cents; I just took off, my eyes on the rapidly shrinking figure of Hallie as she entered the town proper.
    “Please, Mr. Fletcher, I can’t run as fast as you,” Octavia said from behind me a few minutes later.
    I slowed up and waited for her, scanning the outer fringes of the town. There was no sign of Hallie at all. “Great. We’ve lost her.”
    “She shouldn’t be too hard to find in that ensemble,” Octavia murmured, breathing heavily.
    “You should take up jogging,” I told her, turning to scan the opposite direction. “Does wonders for your cardio.”
    “I have no idea what that is, but if you are referring to the fact that I can’t breathe, I would remind you that I’m wearing a corset you found so intriguing a short while ago. There—people are staring after something. It is probably your sister garnering undue attention. Thank God the emperor doesn’t have men in this region of France.”
    We took off at a fast walk in the direction she pointed. “Sorry. I forgot about the corset.” I couldn’t help but slip a little look over to her chest, where her lacy white top framed the tops of her boobs so nicely. They heaved now as she tried to catch her breath, plump little mounds that had my mouth watering.
    “I would appreciate it if you could refrain from ogling my chest in public,” she murmured, pointing to a side street. “There’s nothing extraordinary there, and I’m sure your attention would be better spent watching for signs of Miss Norris.”
    “A man would have to be dead six months to not want to ogle your breasts, but I am sorry if I’ve embarrassed you. Over here. She went this way.”
    She paused as I stopped in front of a dark alley that seemed to lead into a less bustling area of town. “I highly doubt if she’s gone into the refugees’ quarter. She must be north of us, toward the market.”
    I looked again at the alley. In its entrance, a man was bent over, picking up a basket of apples that had been dumped out onto the ground, his glare over his shoulder down the darkened alley very telling.
    “You don’t know my sister. Causes are like magnets to her. If there are refugees to champion, she’ll find them.” I plunged into the darkness of the narrow alley, its coolness and stale smell hitting me at the same time. The air itself was close and dank, earthy with an overtone of too many unwashed bodies packed into too small a space. But it was the despair that seemed to hang heavy overhead and seep downward, like rain on crumbled stone ruins.
    “Mr. Fletcher, I’m quite sure she’s not—oh, bloody hell!” Octavia muttered a few things to herself, but followed after me. I emerged from the alley to what probably once was a courtyard, but now appeared to be a tent city.
    “What the . . .” I stared at the small dwellings crammed together in the courtyard. The smell and sense of despair was even greater here than it was in the dark alley. “What is this?”
    “Refugees,” Octavia said, her voice emotionless.
    I was startled by her callousness, but one look at her face told me she was struggling to keep her voice neutral. A deep sadness filled her eyes, her face reflecting the suffering shown by the people crouching over a small fire, a ratty cook pot hanging from a makeshift spit.
    “Refugees from what?” I asked.
    “War. You were quite correct—there is Miss Norris.”
    A flash of blue told