Page 53 of The Heart of an Earl

Jules froze.

Des looked to the foyer. Older. Wrinkled. But the same as he’d been on thePrimrose. A wide belly that slid from his chest. Dark hair, now peppered grey. Jowls that took up half his face.

Jules’s father. Lord Gatlong.

Staring him down like he was a speck of dirt. No, dung. Excrement straight from the stables.

Next to Des’s legs, Jules pushed herself to her feet. Her limbs crawling ever so slowly, she spun to her father.

Lord Gatlong’s stare shifted off of Des as she turned to him.

“Good Lord.” Her father exhaled the words, all brimstone taken from him.

Des watched Jules. Watched her flinch at his words, watched her face pale as she saw him.

Fear. Fear from deep within her.

Fear that her father would think the worst of her. That he would know what she’d done to survive.

“Good Lord.” The words slipped from his mouth again and then his feet started forward. Faster. Faster until he was barreling at Jules.

Her father hit her with a force that swept her off her feet, his arms clamping about her, suffocating her to his body.

Des had to jump to the side to avoid Jules’s swinging legs.

Her father heaved breaths and he clamped her tighter, tighter to him.

Just when Des was going to touch his shoulder to make sure he didn’t crack any of Jules’s bones, Lord Gatlong dropped her to her feet, his hands on her shoulders, shaking her. “Tell me it’s you, child. Tell me.”

“It’s me, Father.” Tears streamed down her face and she nodded. “It’s me.”

Des exhaled a silent breath of relief.

Gatlong’s head swung back and forth, his jowls swinging. “Good Lord, child, how—how—how can this be?”

“I escaped theRed Dragon, Papa. I know it has been so very long.”

“Escaped? The ship—the pirates that took you? How? How can this be? How could you have survived?” His gaze swung to Des.

There wasn’t the slightest speck of recognition in his eyes. Des had interacted with Lord Gatlong on thePrimroseas they had limped it back to port, but the man’s eyes had been glazed over the entire time. Shock. Grief. An inconsolable wife to manage. And Des had been several stones thinner then—skin and bones.

“This bastard? He had you? He kept you from me? From your mother? Who is he?” Lord Gatlong turned fully to Des, his look sweeping him up and down. The side of his mouth curled into a snarl and he stepped in on Des. “He’s one of them, this filthy bastard. He’s a filthy pirate like the rest of them and now he thinks to come into my home with my daughter. What—”

“No.” Jules jumped in front of her father, squeezing between him and Des. “No, Father. No. Des isn’t a pirate.”

Des stared at Gatlong over Jules’s head. He didn’t need Jules to defend him. Not against a bigoted prig like this.

He’d run into men like Lord Gatlong far too many times. The worst of the peerage—judging all those around him by looks alone.

Des leveled the ire in his voice. “My lord, it seems you are mistaken.”

Jules set her hand on her father’s chest. “He’s not a pirate, Father.”

“I know what I see and I’m not mistaken.” Lord Gatlong shoved Jules to the side and moved forward, his belly running into the front of Des. “Don’t tell me what this bastard is or isn’t, Jules. I can see he’s a pirate. I can see he’s a bloody cutthroat.”

Jules grabbed his arm. “Father, no—you’re wrong. I’m more of a pirate than he is.”

Gatlong shrugged her hold off his arm, his glare eating into Des. So vicious, it spasmed into madness creeping across his pale blue eyes. Eyes like he was dead, no life in them.

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