Raven Saint by MaryLu Tyndall Read Free Book Online

what all men want with beautiful women.”
    A noticeable shiver passed through her, and Rafe forced down another wave of regret. Sacre mer, what was wrong with him? She was merely a woman, a spoiled, wealthy woman encased in a pretense of saintly propriety and feminine beauty that would suck the life out of a man’s soul if given the chance.
    She splayed her fingers across the bare skin above her bodice as if she knew where his gaze wandered. “Men and their wars. What care have they for their innocent pawns?” she said to no one in particular as she gazed across the sea.
    Disgust and hatred stole the sparkle from her eyes and left him cold. The ship pitched over a wave, and she staggered but quickly righted herself.
    Another urge to place a hand on her back to steady her overcame Rafe, and he fisted his hands and folded them across his chest. The blood of a certain British admiral flowed in her veins. That alone had been enough to persuade him to accept the don’s proposal. That and fulfilling a promise to Abbé Villion that would save hundreds of lives.
    â€œHow can you do something so cruel?” The look in her eyes cut into his heart.
    Rafe stiffened his back. “For a greater cause, mademoiselle.”
    â€œEveryone has a choice, Captain.”
    â€œNot everyone, mademoiselle. Choices are often stolen from us. As, unfortunately, yours has been.”
    â€œI have no choice in my current situation, ’tis true, but I can choose the direction my heart takes, and I choose to continue to pray for God to deliver me. And I will pray for you, Captain. That you will repent of your evil ways and seek life in the arms of the Almighty.”
    Rafe ground his teeth together. Did these religious zealots follow him everywhere? “You have been praying for six days, mademoiselle. Perhaps God is too busy.” Sarcasm filled his tone.
    She glared at him below heavy lids. “Be on your guard, Captain Dubois. God is on my side.”
    Rafe opened his mouth to tell the exasperating woman that God was on no one’s side, but her eyes fluttered shut, and she collapsed.

CHAPTER 5
    Hot fluid seeped into her mouth. Spicy, bitter. It slid down her throat, stealing her breath. Grace jerked her head away. Her cheek brushed against something soft. The pungent scent of meat intermingled with the sting of brandy that bit her nose. Vague, nightmarish memories lurked like shadows in her mind, taunting her. Memories of her capture and a tall Frenchman with a heart of stone.
    A hand gripped her chin and forced her face forward. Fingers that felt like rough rope and tasted of salt pried her lips apart. More hot liquid burned her tongue, poured down her throat, and she gagged. Raising a hand to her mouth, she sprang up, coughing. Dark eyes peered down at her, the spark of concern in them instantly hardening.
    â€œDrink this, mademoiselle.” Captain Dubois inched the bowl toward her mouth.
    She pushed it away, shaking the fog from her head. “Can you not wait until I am conscious?”
    â€œWhen you are conscious, you do not eat.” A shadow of a smile played around his mouth. He rose from the bed and set the bowl atop a table.
    Only then did Grace realize she lay upon a real bed. She scanned her surroundings. Two massive wooden chests ornamented in gold and bolted shut with iron locks guarded the wall opposite her. Upon the plush Persian rug at the room’s center sat three colorfully upholstered armchairs. Beyond them, a cabinet housed a haphazard assortment of books, swords, pistols, and bottles. A large carved mahogany desk perched before a span of windows that stretched across the stern of the ship. Two guns, perched in their wheeled carriages, flanked either side, ready to be shoved through portholes should an enemy dare to approach from behind.
    She was in the captain’s cabin.
    In the captain’s bed.
    With the captain looming over her, wearing that sardonic smirk upon his