Page 26 of Scourge of the Shores
Lucas handed it to him, but he pulled on Robert’s collar so his face came near. “If she dies from a botched stitch job, I’ll have yer head.”
“Aye, Captain,” he said. “I could’ve already killed her in this state, and much more humanely than botching a stitch job.”
“And ye could still kill her,” he said. He placed his hand on Danna’s hand, holding the pistol. A loud scream bolted through the village. Lucas jolted in place. The desire to stay and the duty to go fought in his grimace.
Danna licked her dry lip before nodding to him to go.
Lucas’s frown deepened as he pressed the pistol into her belly—his hand over hers. “Use it if ye need to, and if ye can’t, yell as loudly as ye can. Scotty’s comin’ soon.”
Lucas left after taking one more pointed glare at Robert with a pointed finger in the pirate’s face. No more words were needed.
Danna’s eyes slid over to Robert, who was lifting the torn leg of her trousers.
“That’s a nasty gash,” Robert muttered.
All the horrible things Robert could do to her flashed in her mind.
“Don’t shoot me now, Danna.” He moved the gun to her other side and began stitching up her leg. Pricks of pain shot through her. Robert pulled out a small bottle of whiskey from his undershirt and poured it on the wound. Some splashed onto his thumb, and he rubbed against her unbroken skin, lingering too long.
“If you’re tryin’ to make me trust ye, stoppin’ that might help.” The statement grated on her throat.
A slow grin pulled at his lips. “Just workin’, Danna.”
His fingers grazed her thigh, steadying her leg as he worked. She hissed—not from pain.
“Don’t flinch. Or I’ll have to start over.”
She expected him to treat her carelessly, but his brow furrowed as if he were focusing on his task with purpose.
“Ye enjoy this—me needin’ yer help?” she rasped.
“Not as much as you hate it.”
His gaze slid to her, locking their eyes.
“If you wanted me dead, ye could do it now.”
He didn’t pause stitching as he returned to his task. “But I’m here, ain’t I? Stitchin’ you up instead.”
“Why?”
His gaze flicked to hers, dark and questioning. “Ask yourself why you’re lettin’ me.”
Sweat beaded at her brow as she forced herself to focus on his profile to keep the world from spinning out of focus. Her gaze flicked to his hands—steady, precise. If it weren’t for him, she’d be bleeding out already. She hated that fact, but she hated more the part of her that wasn’t afraid of him.
“I don’t trust ye,” she reassured herself.
“I know.” His voice was quiet. But her ears felt full, like they didn’t quite work the way they were supposed to.
“You ain’t the first I’ve stitched up,” he said after a while. She didn’t realize her eyelids drooped and her hands and feet were numb. “But you’re the only one I cared might not pull through,” he whispered.
It took a moment for her to process what he was saying, but she spurted, “Ye just like what savin’ me gets ye.”
His eyebrows popped up in surprise. “I thought you’d passed out,” he muttered. A blush came to his cheeks as if she wasn’t supposed to hear his muttering. His gaze returned to his task.
“Maybe I just like saving you, too,” he murmured with a grin. “Both can be true, lass.”
The agony seared its mark down her leg. Danna’s face contorted, but she focused on breathing. No screams. It seemed Robert was talking, but his murmurs ran together, and her attention focused on suppressing the returning nausea.
