Page 32 of The Heart of an Earl

Her finger drew away from his skin and she set the edge of the wet cloth onto the top lash cutting between his shoulder blades. She smoothed the blood away and his shoulders tensed, but he didn’t jerk away, didn’t flinch.

She cleared her throat as she moved onto the next bloody line. “Do they hurt? These aren’t as deep as the lashes I’ve seen before. Shallow even.”

His head dipped forward, the back of his bare neck going long. Control. He needed to find his control again.

“Des?”

Des heaved an exasperated breath, his words vibrating in rage, control nowhere within his grasp just yet. “Folback’s a master with the whip.”

“A master of idiocy. You said Folback was a fair captain.” She dabbed at the next line across his back. “But this wasn’t fair. This was a travesty of justice. What he did to you. And let that weasel get away—”

“He was backed into a damn corner, Jules.” His words seethed into the room. “By all rights you should be floating in the bloody sea already.”

“But—”

“You are the only exception he’s ever made to that one rule, Jules. The only one. In all the years I’ve been on his ship, you’re the only one that hasn’t been tossed overboard—no matter the situation.” He twisted his head to look back at her. “That you escaped with your damn life was proof enough he believed you.”

Her lips drew inward and she gnawed on them as she leaned past him to rinse the rag in the bowl of water.

“Move the damn bowl.” His finger flicked forward. “The last thing I want to see is my own blasted blood at the moment.”

He leaned to the side and she awkwardly shifted over him, her hands wrapping under the copper bowl and lifting the basin, attempting to not let the bloody water slosh onto him as she moved it past him. She set it behind her on the top of the chest and finished rinsing the cloth, then returned to his back.

Five more lines she cleared in silence. All the cuts shallow like the first. He could feel them, how shallow Folback had made them. Enough for blood. Not enough to do more than itch like mad in a few days.

Yet he couldn’t control his breathing—anger rushing into him with every inhale that expanded his ribcage, his shoulders lifting up toward her.

She exhaled a sigh. “You didn’t have to do this—you didn’t have to offer to take the lashes. And I understand—your anger at me is justifiable.”

His palms slapped onto the top of the desk in front of him and he twisted to look at her. “I’m not bloody well angry at you, Jules. I’m furious at myself.”

“At yourself? But I did it—I raised the dagger to that idiot.”

“It was all about a blasted rule I never told you about.” He spun fully around and grabbed both of her wrists, lifting them, shaking them in the air. Shaking them so hard the cloth flew from her fingertips. “And that you even had to bloody well draw a blade to protect yourself makes me all the more furious.”

“I shouldn’t have helped him—I shouldn’t have gone below deck with him.” Her head shook. “I should have known—should have seen it. I thought I was helping when I’m a bloody fool—I should have recognized his intentions—I just…I just have become too complacent. Let my guard down when I shouldn’t have. I thought I was safe on this ship and I’m not. I’m smarter than this. Smarter than the trap I fell into today.”

A growl shook though his chest, exploding, filling the cabin. “This—this makes me livid. That you think you were in the wrong. That you protecting yourself ended in punishment. Unjust—wrong to its core and I could do nothing to stop it.”

He leaned forward, his look intent on her, fire alive in his veins. “You did exactly what you should have. You wanted to help, so you did—and that bastard, Bart, used that in you—your benevolence.” Raw vehemence rumbled through his words, vicious. “You had to raise a blade to his neck to stop him—you did exactly what you should have—I’m just sorry that you didn’t get a chance to stick it through his throat.”

Her jaw dropped, her blue-green eyes riveted on him. “You understand?”

“Of course I understand, Jules. I’m not an idiot.” His head flew back, his look on the ceiling for a long moment. “But no. No, I’m glad you didn’t stick him through—Folback would have surely tossed you overboard for that one. I don’t think I could have saved you had that happened.”

“He would have? Truly?”

“Aye. He would have.” Des stopped, seething a breath inward as he dropped her wrists from his grip. “Even though he knows the bastard Bart cannot be trusted—that he’s the lowest snake.”

She shrugged. “All of the men on the ship have been courteous, if not kind. My guard was down when it shouldn’t have been and I didn’t expect it of him.”

Des’s look lifted back to the ceiling. “And I cannot even blame the bastard for it. Not when I want you in exactly the same way.”

{ Chapter 10 }

Her eyes snapped wide open, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “You what?”

Des’s gaze dropped to her, his hazel eyes searing into her. “I want you in the exact same way.”

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