Raven Saint by MaryLu Tyndall Read Free Book Online Page A

lips.
    Her chest tightened. “Why am I in your bed? What day is it? How long have I been here? And why are you feeding me instead of Father Alers?” She glanced down at the loosened ties of her bodice, and a flush of horror heated her face. “How dare you?” She cowered away from him.
    Captain Dubois raised his brows. “Which question would you like me to answer first, mademoiselle?”
    â€œNone.” Grace swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I wish to leave this instant.” But her body would not cooperate. Her breath caught in her throat. Her head spun like a waterspout upon the sea, and her legs quivered like pudding. She lifted a hand to her forehead.
    A warm hand gripped her arm. “I suggest you lie back down, mademoiselle, and eat something. It has now been seven days since you have partaken of a full meal.”
    Grace shifted from beneath his touch and gazed out the windows where the rays of the morning sun angled across the captain’s desk, setting the brass lantern aglitter. The glow lit the quadrant, backstaff, charts, and quill pen and beamed off a rapier, setting aglow the amber liquid in a half-empty bottle.
    â€œMercy me, I slept here all night?” She snapped her gaze to Captain Dubois. The possibility sped through her mind, seeking an alternative, any alternative besides the one that her purity could never consider.
    He grinned, yet a spark of playfulness flitted across his dark eyes. Remembering the loose bindings of her bodice, Grace threw a hand to her chest. “What have you done?” Terror crowded in her throat.
    He gave a derisive snort then shook his head and gripped the baldric strung over his white shirt. “Never fear, mademoiselle. I prefer mes conquêtes to be awake.” He sauntered to his desk.
    Conquests. Grace swallowed, praying he told the truth, praying she had not become one of his conquests during her unconscious stupor.
    He picked up a chart, examined it, then tossed it back to the desk, sending dust particles floating within a ray of sunshine into a frenzy that reflected on his face. Danger hung on his broad shoulders like a well-fitted cloak, but there was a depth to this man that went beyond the baseness of a common brigand, a depth that lurked behind those dark, smoky eyes. He spoke of a greater cause—what had he meant by that?
    â€œYou should not treat women as property to be conquered or sold to the highest bidder,” she finally said. Grace clasped her moist hands in her lap, trying to stop them from trembling. “Intimacies”—her voice squeaked and she cleared her throat—“between a man and a woman should remain within the sanctity of marriage.”
    He turned, crossed his arms over his chest, and chuckled as if she’d told a joke. “Do spare me your proverbs, mon petit chou pieuse.” “Did you just call me a shoe?”
    A smile broke across his lips and widened. He chuckled. “Non. A little pious cabbage.”
    â€œA cabbage? Of all the...”
    â€œIt is a term of endearment.” He waved a hand through the air, then settled his gaze upon her.
    Endearment, indeed. More likely an insult to her intelligence. Fidgeting, she looked away beneath the warmth in his eyes. She’d never been alone in a room with a man other than her father. And Father Alers. What would Reverend Anthony say? Her reputation would be besmirched beyond repair. But what did it matter? Where she was going, she would not require a reputation.
    He approached her. “You slept here because I feared your fever would return, and I loosened your bindings to allow you to breathe.”
    Graced fiddled with the ties. “Though I am appreciative of the clothes, Captain, the bodice is far too tight.”
    â€œPerhaps you are too fat.” He grinned.
    â€œFat?” She jumped to her feet. The cabin spun around her. “You are no gentleman.”
    â€œAnd it took you only