Read Online Swept Away By a Kiss by Katharine Ashe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katharine Ashe
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stiffly beneath, but she could not lay her head upon the pillow.
In raw relief, she heard Etienne speak again, his voice now an easy rumble.
“Tell me about your mother, Valerie. No doubt you inherited your beauty from her.”
A peculiar tightness gripped her throat. Men had often complimented her on her looks. None ever did it so meaningfully. It did not matter that Etienne asked hoping to shift her thoughts from the events that had just passed and the horrifying hours she remained bound and gagged, alone and helpless. She wanted the distraction, the reassurance of old memories to soothe her and to calm the confused desire racing through her.
“I am like her in appearance, if only that.” She tucked her hands beneath her cheek and turned onto her side to look at the priest. He lay upon his back, still as burnished bronze in the nearly faded light. “She died when I was a girl.”
A long silence reached through the cool night air as the ship rocked upon the ocean’s mild surface. Valerie sensed it for the first time since returning below deck. How, during all those hours trapped, hadn’t she felt the sea’s lulling rhythm?
“I see,” he finally replied.
Her throat thickened.
“What do you see with your lion’s eyes, Etienne La Marque?”
He turned to her, his gaze unreadable in the shadows. But he did not speak. Valerie longed to reach out and touch his face, to put her hands on him deliberately and ease the frustrated ache of his accidental caresses on her body. To connect with another human, another body and heart and soul bound into one.
To touch him.
“You have the eyes of a lion,” she whispered. “It is a formidable animal. Powerful.” She didn’t know where the words came from, but she could not bring herself to stop them.
“Yet within a pride,” he said, his voice low, “the lioness is the predator to be most feared.”
Valerie’s throat closed. “I am not fearsome.”
“You are strong, Valerie. It is the very meaning of your name. Fortitude.”
She clamped down upon a rising sob. Tears pressed behind her eyes. She blinked them back.
“I am angry. At what he did to me. To you,” she said. “And I want to go home.”
“You will.” In the darkness, his voice curled around her like an embrace.
The midnight street blazed livid with fire. Black clouds billowed from the barricade fashioned of wagons and chairs, shop marquees and bales of straw. Her nostrils clogged with the smoke of burning flesh. She choked, gagging, and collapsed upon her knees. Her hair tumbled about her, obscuring her vision. She lifted a hand to brush it away, and her palm came up from the ground painted thick with blood.
A strong grip seized hers, slipped, clamped around her sticky fingers, and jerked her up. Reflected in his tawny eyes, the flames of a thousand bonfires caressed the silver stars with wild unconcern .
Chapter 9
A n unfamiliar sailor brought Valerie breakfast. Fevre stood behind him at the door, his stance edgy as he took in the discarded ropes. Then he instructed the other man to gather the ruined bindings and follow him out.
She paced the cabin until Zeus appeared to take her above deck. The midday sun shone bright again, startling after the dim lower deck. Valerie filled her lungs with salty, fresh air and threw back her shoulders. Sailors cast her glances as she crossed the deck. She returned them, but each snatched his gaze away. Bebain held his crew with a tight rein of fear. She would not find any allies atop, that seemed certain.
Reclining at a table spread with a lavish lunch upon the quarterdeck, the pirate captain inspected her. He stood, brushed flakes of biscuit from his pristine pantaloons, and set down his goblet of wine.
“How did you enjoy your adventure yesterday, little one? More importantly perhaps, how did our fine holy man enjoy it?” He trailed a sharp fingernail along her jaw to her bodice.
She turned her face away.
“It is to be like that, then, is it? He
In raw relief, she heard Etienne speak again, his voice now an easy rumble.
“Tell me about your mother, Valerie. No doubt you inherited your beauty from her.”
A peculiar tightness gripped her throat. Men had often complimented her on her looks. None ever did it so meaningfully. It did not matter that Etienne asked hoping to shift her thoughts from the events that had just passed and the horrifying hours she remained bound and gagged, alone and helpless. She wanted the distraction, the reassurance of old memories to soothe her and to calm the confused desire racing through her.
“I am like her in appearance, if only that.” She tucked her hands beneath her cheek and turned onto her side to look at the priest. He lay upon his back, still as burnished bronze in the nearly faded light. “She died when I was a girl.”
A long silence reached through the cool night air as the ship rocked upon the ocean’s mild surface. Valerie sensed it for the first time since returning below deck. How, during all those hours trapped, hadn’t she felt the sea’s lulling rhythm?
“I see,” he finally replied.
Her throat thickened.
“What do you see with your lion’s eyes, Etienne La Marque?”
He turned to her, his gaze unreadable in the shadows. But he did not speak. Valerie longed to reach out and touch his face, to put her hands on him deliberately and ease the frustrated ache of his accidental caresses on her body. To connect with another human, another body and heart and soul bound into one.
To touch him.
“You have the eyes of a lion,” she whispered. “It is a formidable animal. Powerful.” She didn’t know where the words came from, but she could not bring herself to stop them.
“Yet within a pride,” he said, his voice low, “the lioness is the predator to be most feared.”
Valerie’s throat closed. “I am not fearsome.”
“You are strong, Valerie. It is the very meaning of your name. Fortitude.”
She clamped down upon a rising sob. Tears pressed behind her eyes. She blinked them back.
“I am angry. At what he did to me. To you,” she said. “And I want to go home.”
“You will.” In the darkness, his voice curled around her like an embrace.
The midnight street blazed livid with fire. Black clouds billowed from the barricade fashioned of wagons and chairs, shop marquees and bales of straw. Her nostrils clogged with the smoke of burning flesh. She choked, gagging, and collapsed upon her knees. Her hair tumbled about her, obscuring her vision. She lifted a hand to brush it away, and her palm came up from the ground painted thick with blood.
A strong grip seized hers, slipped, clamped around her sticky fingers, and jerked her up. Reflected in his tawny eyes, the flames of a thousand bonfires caressed the silver stars with wild unconcern .
Chapter 9
A n unfamiliar sailor brought Valerie breakfast. Fevre stood behind him at the door, his stance edgy as he took in the discarded ropes. Then he instructed the other man to gather the ruined bindings and follow him out.
She paced the cabin until Zeus appeared to take her above deck. The midday sun shone bright again, startling after the dim lower deck. Valerie filled her lungs with salty, fresh air and threw back her shoulders. Sailors cast her glances as she crossed the deck. She returned them, but each snatched his gaze away. Bebain held his crew with a tight rein of fear. She would not find any allies atop, that seemed certain.
Reclining at a table spread with a lavish lunch upon the quarterdeck, the pirate captain inspected her. He stood, brushed flakes of biscuit from his pristine pantaloons, and set down his goblet of wine.
“How did you enjoy your adventure yesterday, little one? More importantly perhaps, how did our fine holy man enjoy it?” He trailed a sharp fingernail along her jaw to her bodice.
She turned her face away.
“It is to be like that, then, is it? He
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