Page 29 of The Heart of an Earl

Des took a step closer to Captain Folback, his gaze steel. “She didn’t know the rule and she was being attacked, Captain Folback. What was she to do?”

“She shouldn’t have been down in the storage room by herself, Des,” Captain Folback said. “Yer responsibility.”

“Down in the storage room?” Her finger flung out, pointing at Bart. “But he asked—he asked for my help.”

“I did no such thing, Cap’n,” Bart said. “Why would I ask wee bones like that for help? She was down there, waiting fer me amongst the crates.”

“Was she?” Captain Folback asked.

“No.” Jules spit out.

“Aye, she was.” Bart hooked his thumbs into the top band of his trousers and rocked back on his heels, a smarmy grin on his face.

Captain Folback’s palm rubbed against the beard off the tip of his chin, his fingers scratching deep into the red and grey whiskers alongside his jaw.

His look shifted to Des and he stared at him for a long breath. “Overboard appears that it may be misplaced in this situation.”

“Aye, thank you, captain.” Des inclined his head.

Captain Folback’s hand flew up, stopping Des before he could say anything else. He stared at Des, his hand falling to his side, his voice hard. “But the action cannot go unpunished. It’ll be five lashes.”

“I’ll take them in her stead.” Des’s words cut off the gasp in Jules’s throat.

Captain Folback’s left wiry eyebrow lifted. “Ye sure on that, Des?”

“Aye.”

Captain Folback gave a slight nod. His look shifted to Jules. “And the second part of the punishment—Bart will have his boots shined by the lass.” His look flickered to Des. “And there’ll be no doing it in her stead, Des.”

An exhale left her lungs.

She wasn’t about to be tossed overboard, sink, the horror of water filling her chest, drowning her to the depths of the sea.

“On yer knees, lass.” Captain Folback yanked a long red handkerchief from his coat pocket and held it out to her.

Des removed his hand from her wrist and Jules glanced around. A crowd of the men had gathered. Almost everyone on the ship in a half circle about them, silent.

What did the captain say she had to do? She’d barely heard his words she was so concerned about not being tossed overboard and Des taking her lashes for her.

Bart stepped forward, a sneer on his lips as he slammed his boot onto the wood boards in front of her. “On yer knees, wench.”

Shine his boots? Was that what the captain had said? A pit expanded in the bottom of her stomach.

Her eyes closed, heat running up her neck, crawling onto her cheeks. Burning. Searing humiliation across her face.

It wasn’t the drink.

Wasn’t death.

Anything to survive.

She’d thought she was long past having to hold tight to that mantra.

She’d gotten comfortable.

Too damn comfortable on this blasted ship. Too damn secure under Des’s blasted wing.

Her eyelids cracked open. Red in front of her face. Waving.

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