Wicked at Heart by Danelle Harmon Read Free Book Online Page B

door, his face tight with suppressed anger. 
"May God have mercy on you, Damon —"
    "Wait."
    The chaplain
paused, his hand on the door latch.
    "I just
don't want that meddling witch interfering on my ship," Damon muttered,
keeping his sullen gaze on the contents of his glass.
    Peter turned and
leaned back against the door, silently watching Damon as the latter agitatedly
rubbed his thumb around the rim of the glass, his mouth growing harder by the
second.  "I see."
    Damon glanced at
him, eyes mutinous.  "Is that all you have to say?"
    "Actually,
it isn't.  But what I do have to say is something you'll have no wish to
hear."
    "That's
never stopped you in the past."
    "Indeed." 
Peter's mouth turned up in the barest of smiles.  "You tell me that you
have no desire for that 'meddling witch' to interfere on your ship.  Well, I
think the only interference that Lady Simms will provide will be on your
heart."
    "I know
that, what do you think nearly did me in a damned minute ago?"
    "No." 
The chaplain smiled, a teasing light in his eye.  "I'm talking,
romantically."
    The marquess
looked up.  Peter Milford had met many men in his life, but he had yet to
encounter one who could convey such emotion as Morninghall just by altering the
shadows and expressions in his eyes.  Now he saw irritation move across the
slate-blue irises, before the studied, terminally bored look swept in to mask
everything.
    "I would
never fancy a woman like that.  I prefer demure, sweet, mild-mannered —"
    "Tarts."
    "Really,
Peter, if you weren't a man of the cloth, I'd tell you right where to go."
    "And if you
weren't a stubborn marquess, I'd tell you where to go.  Never mind, I'll
tell you anyhow."
    "I don't
want to hear it.  Besides, it is not that Welshwoman's quest that I disapprove
of, but her high-handedness.  A meager command I may have, but it is my command and I quite object to anyone coming in and telling me what to do."
    "Damon." 
The chaplain fixed him with a sad smile.  "When are you ever going to
realize that God did not make you for the service?  You would be far happier, I
think, if you left the navy, found yourself a wife, and took up your duties at
Morninghall."
    "I'm not
leaving the navy.  I have a score to settle with these bastards.  Besides, I'm
hardly marriage material, and Morninghall is the last place on earth I wish to
go."
    "I stand by
my feelings," Peter said, as though Damon had never even spoken. 
"Admiral Bolton hates you for killing his son in that duel, and will not
let up until he has broken you.  Furthermore, you have never been able to take
an order with humility and obedience, were never meant to submit to anyone's
authority but your own, and thus, you can never hope to get anywhere in the navy. 
For mercy's sake, Damon, you are the Marquess of Morninghall.  Go home.  You
don't belong in this environment."
    Damon turned to
look out the window, his hands clenched tightly behind his back.   "Why do
I think I've heard all of this before?" he soliloquized.
    "Forgive me
if it bores you."
    "If I go
home I'll be even more bored.  Out of my bloody skull, I daresay."
    "If you go
home, you can put that intelligence of yours to better use than what you're
doing with it here."
    "I've just
heard a similar load of bollocks from Lady Simms.  I don't need to hear it from
you."
    "Ah, so
you're back to the Lady Simms again.  On your mind quite a bit now, isn't
she?"
    "I'm
warning you, Peter, my mood is black enough.  Don't push me."
    "Very well,
then, I'll leave you to it."  Hiding a grin, the chaplain turned to
leave.  "Now, if your demise is no longer immediate, I have other duties
to attend to."
    "Yes, go. 
I'll summon you next time I see death coming for me with a collection basket. 
Though I suspect its angel won't be garbed in white."
    "You're too
hard on yourself, my friend.  You may hate yourself, but I can assure you that
God does not."
    The marquess'
expression went bleak, and silently, he turned