Page 14 of The Heart of an Earl

“What about me?” Suspicion laced her words.

“I need to own you.”

Her jaw dropped. “No—no, you said you wouldn’t hurt me.” Lightning quick, she set the plate of food onto the bed, her knee jutted upward, and she yanked a dagger from the side of her boot. She whipped the point of the blade directly at him. “I beg ye to keep yer promise, or yer blood’ll be spillin’ right off.”

Des didn’t move, didn’t react, even though the blade was within striking distance. A show of force at this juncture would do him no good. “You misunderstand.”

“Do I?” The blade went higher as she came to her feet, closer to his throat.

“You do. I’m not going to touch you. But to the crew you must be my property. My property alone. Not something to share. I sleep outside these quarters and that turns you into fair game for the lot of them.” His voice dipped deep, though he attempted to keep his words at an even keel. “You chose me for a reason, Jules. Don’t be stupid now.”

The blade pulled slightly back. “You’re not going to touch me?”

“No.”

“Swear it.”

“I’ll not touch you, Jules. I swear it. But I do need to sleep with you.”

{ Chapter 5 }

Leaving his boots outside the door, Des stepped into his cabin on his toes, his breath held in the still of night as he clasped the door quietly closed behind him.

The sliver of moonlight through the window gave him just enough light to see the lump of Jules on the bed. She was slight—so slight she almost disappeared under the sheet.

He’d stayed up late, taking a turn at the helm, mostly so that he could delay coming into his cabin. He’d been dead tired when he was relieved at the wheel, his body starting to sway even as his feet were rooted onto the deck.

Sleep.

But where?

The floor of the cabin left much to be desired. The open stretch of space shorter than him by at least two feet, he could maybe thread his head between the legs of the chair at the desk and then fold his knees up high.

That was what heshoulddo. He’d sworn to Jules he wouldn’t touch her, and he wasn’t about to break that promise just hours after he made it. Des pulled off his waistcoat and dragged his lawn shirt up over his head.

A quivered breath lifted into the air.

He looked at Jules, at her shoulder and left arm above the fold of the sheet she had draped over her body. Her shoulder shook.

A sob—stifled, but still a sob—racked down her whole body. Another trembling breath.

She was sobbing. Sobbing as silently as she could.

He doubted she even knew he was in the room.

Des stood, watching her form, watching every ragged breath she took, waiting for the sobs to cease.

They didn’t.

Minutes crept by and the sobs continued to come, rolling over each other.

How long had she been like this?

For everything that he could piece together of her, he didn’t think she’d care for him to hear the sobs, but now that he was in the room, he couldn’t leave.

Couldn’t leave her.

For the sobs cut through his chest, twisting something deep in the cold hollow of where his heart once beat.

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