Page 73 of Hush Darling
“Goddamn it, Smee, can’t you see I’m thinking?”
“Yes, Cap’n. Apologies for disturbing you,” he sputtered, backing away.
She claimed Peter meant nothing to her, but it would have only been a matter of time before his slimy brother took her virginity and tossed her away like yesterday’s rubbish. Now, that couldn’t happen.
James shut his eyes, blocking out the regret that tried to seep in. “Wait,” he called to Smee.
“Yes, sir.”
“Go check on her. See if she needs anything—a fresh bath or perhaps some tea.” Women liked tea, didn’t they? “And knock before you enter.”
“Of course, sir.”
Once again, alone with his thoughts, he stalked the length of the deck.
The plan was simple. He intended to defile her and send her back to Peter ruined.
Mission one accomplished. Now, he only needed to wait for his brother to arrive. There was no need for him to do more.
But if he wanted more, the option was there, waiting on his bed. A dangerous temptation if there ever was one.
Nowhere in the plan was he supposed to covet what he never meant to keep. Yet, he wanted her with ruthless entitlement, the way he desired various treasures stolen throughout the years. But keeping her was not the plan and he needed to stick to his strategy.
Capture. Debauch. Confront. Crow.
Getting emotionally attached was never wise.
What was it about her that made her so special anyway? Women never occupied his thoughts longer than a quick fuck.
Perhaps it truly was her innocence. The more he broke down her barriers, the more she looked to him for guidance. So trusting. So pure. No one had looked at him like that in years.
It softened him.
Thank God he regained his senses and left her there. He knew better than to trust a woman.
His mother was a whore.
Sister Nagina was a monster.
He would be a fool to think Wendy might be any different. They were all cold and calculating, and he needed to remember that as much as she needed to remember her place.
She was a means to an end, nothing more. And he was taking his fucking coat back.
He rarely thought about the orphanage, but he forced himself to face those horrific memories now, needing them to ground him in his resolute purpose so he would not waver when he returned to his chambers.
He pictured Sister Nagina’s scaly skin. Could still feel the weight of her leather sap baton slapping down on his flesh as his youthful screams cried out for mercy.
The heavy leather pouch was her favorite toy. It concealed a twelve-inch steel rod that was dense enough to break bones. She called it Blackjack. Ironically, that was the name strangers also often used for him.
She was a vicious dictator. For a larger woman, she carried herself silently like a true predator, a sharp-toothed crocodile who devoured little boys. They often heard the snap of the metal clicker she kept in her hand long before they saw her coming.
Click…Click…Click…
The echo of that subtle click still haunted him.
Once was a warning.
Twice was a penalty.
