Within A Captain's Treasure. Lisa A. Olech

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СКАЧАТЬ nothing. A scratch.”

      “From a flying piece of debris, by the look of the wound. It needs to be well cleaned and dressed.” He moved to open the cabin door and called down the galley way, “Neo, bring some fresh water.”

      Alice heard the answering “Aye, Capt’n.”

      Quinn hung up his coat, stopped to roll his sleeves, and began gathering things: clean linen strips, needle, thread. He poured a single glass of brandy and handed it to her.

      “You needn’t fuss, Captain. I can tend to it myself.”

      “If it’s not done properly, I’ll end up tending a feverish woman.”

      His distain was palpable. Condescending. She didn’t care how striking a figure he made with his dusky-gray eyes and chiseled jaw. Alice’s quick dislike for the “great” Captain Quinn heated her cheeks. “I’m betting it’s been quite a while since you tended any woman.” She spoke into her glass before swallowing the brandy in a single gulp. It burned through her like her growing anger.

      “Certainly never on my ship.” He snatched a clean shirt from another cabinet and added it to the growing stack of items. “Women are two things I can ill afford. Nuisance and distraction.”

      Alice planted her hands on her hips. “Really? Shall I toss my womanly self over the rails, or would you rather I throw myself onto your sword? I suppose I should thank you for saving me from the Delmar, but I’ll not stand here and put up with your…your… arrogance.”

      The captain stood to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ll ‘put up’ with whatever I say. You’re not at some garden party. You may have a champion or two aboard my ship, but most of my crew will help you over that rail. And the others—well, they’d more want to throw you onto your back.”

      Her jaw dropped. “And what you have failed to understand, Captain, is I am more than capable of handling myself. I neither require your protection nor your champions. Give me a pistol and a cutlass and find the closest port. I’ll happily be gone from you and your ship.”

      “And clothing?” He swept a hand the length of her. “Let us not forget clothing to cover your obvious charms.”

      Alice clamped her mouth shut to keep from telling him her charms had already gotten two men killed today.

      “It will have to be breeches,” he continued. “We rarely see the need for skirts.” He was close enough for Alice to see the frost of his stormy-gray eyes.”

      “How uncanny, I was debating the very thing earlier. Skirts are quite cumbersome when you’re trying to escape being raped.” Her glare locked with his.

      A quick knock on the door broke the ice dam forming between them. Alice pulled the rags of her top to cover as much as she could and crossed her arms over her chest. A huge man carried in a hogshead of water with a brass tap in its end. He set it next to the pitcher and bowl. The man’s skin was the color of polished mahogany. His scalp was shaved. Wide gold earrings ran through both ears. The play of muscles in his thick arms and across a battle-scarred chest made him an intimidating character. Eyes black as jet pierced her with a stare.

      “Thank you, Neo.”

      “Capt’n.” He lifted a wide hand and tapped a quick salute before leaving.

      Quinn pulled the stock from his neck and pushed his sleeves past his elbows. “Where were we?”

      Alice marveled at the precise efficiency of the man. Every action deliberate and organized. Cool. Restrained. She almost preferred his angry glares. At least there was heat to them. “We were discussing the uselessness of skirts.”

      He added a drying cloth to the small pile of items he’d gathered. “And what remains of your bodice, as well. Take it off, and I’ll see to your wound.” She opened her mouth to protests, but he raised a hand to stop her. “It is not something you can do one-handed. If it is your modesty, cover your breasts. I assure you the last thing on my mind is to ogle you. I have more pressing business on deck, so if you could please schedule your scathing remarks for another time, I would be grateful.” He poured fresh water into the bowl and carried it to his desk.

      Alice narrowed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut. Snatching the shirt he offered, she then turned away and stripped out of what remained of her bodice.

      When she’d covered herself with the drape of his shirt, she turned back to him. His eyes held a fury in them. What had she done now?

      “Who marked you?” His voice was low.

      Alice shook her head. “What?”

      He gestured toward her. “You’ve taken a beating. Fresh bruising about your neck, across your back and shoulders. Who did this?”

      She turned to give him access to her wound. “Pirates.”

      “Which pirates?”

      She lifted her shoulder and hissed at the pain. “It doesn’t matter.” She lied between clenched teeth. The adrenaline of the day had given way to the ache of her battered body. She couldn’t see the bruises he was talking about, but she was aware of every one.

      “It does matter. If it was one of my crew, I’ll see the bastard flogged.”

      Alice shot a glance over her shoulder. Quinn was close. She swore she could smell the sun and salt air on him. She held his gaze. “I saw the bastard killed.”

      All at once, the horror of the day’s events tumbled down upon her. The protective look in his gaze shocked her. He wanted to avenge her attacker? Fight for her honor? When had anyone fought for her? A silent scream echoed in her mind. Never. She was always the one doing the fighting. It made her sick to think of it. More men had died at her hand today. More bloodstains on her soul never to be erased. Tears pinched the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let him see her cry. Alice swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her and turned her face away from him. A hardened resolve straightened her spine. She didn’t wince when he stitched her shoulder.

      Chapter 3

      Quinn studied Alice Tupper’s profile. The life of a pirate was a heartless and brutal one. However, his men knew if he ever learned of any offenses toward a woman, he would be the first one to keelhaul the cowardly son of a cur. He might have little use for women—especially aboard his ship—but he wouldn’t tolerate any violence toward them.

      Even this one. She had a rapier tongue that cut in a blink of those gem-colored eyes. Never had a woman raised his ire as quick. But then, he had seen her bruises, and an anger of another sort flared hot in him. The swift call to defend this woman surprised him.

      He took care of her wound taking heed to make his stitches small and neat. She would still bear the mark, but she’d be left with the thinnest of silver lines across the creamy, smooth skin of her arm.

      The entire time he poked, prodded for stray splinters, and sutured the wound closed, she didn’t flinch. Never shed a tear. Didn’t cry out once. A small tremor was the only indication of the shock she must be experiencing. He expected her to crumble into a heap at any moment, but she stood mast straight.

      Taking СКАЧАТЬ