“That feels nice,” I said encouragingly. I reached out to cup her cheek. “You’re even lovelier by lamplight.
”
“I can’t get used to you being so sweet with me,” she whispered.
I nodded. “You’re used to men being rough and demanding, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Any men besides your father?”
“Yes.”
My jaw clenched, and couldn’t help the wave of jealousy that flashed through me. “Who?”
“Thomas Glazenby. He was a shopkeeper in my village that my father had talked into marrying me.”
“What happened?” My hand slid from her cheek to cradle the back of her head gently.
“He was a dreadful, nasty old man who spat when he spoke. He called me a trollop, and said he’d keep me...” She stopped.
“Go ahead.”
She frowned before finally whispering, “On my knees, sir.”
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered under his breath. “Sorry, lass.” I took a moment and a breath to compose himself. “Did he ever touch you?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No, sir. When my father insisted he court me, I tried to allow him to hold my hand, but couldn’t continue.”
“Good girl.” I was surprised at the wave of relief I felt. Flora was so sweet that I wanted to think of her as pure. At the very least, not having been taken unless she desired it.
“My father said that by refusing to wed him, I disgraced us all. That’s when he started rationing my food even more, and saying that I was eating him out of house and home. When I didn’t change my mind after a month, that’s when he tried to beat the evil out of me.”
I tucked my arm under her shoulders, drawing her to me so that she was snuggled against my chest as she had been this morning. She smiled up at me and resumed wandering her hand across my skin. She stroked upward to my shoulder, then along the length of my arm.
“Where did you get all of these tattoos?” she asked.
“In many ports, across many countries,” I said with a touch of pride.
“Some of these are lovely drawings.” She pointed to a scene of a dragon over a mountain on my right bicep. “I’ve seen the woodcut this is taken from in a book.”
“You have a sharp recollection, lass. You must have done well with your schooling.”
“Of course, sir. My mother was a teacher before she married.”
“I like a clever lass. Sometime soon, we’ll have some ale and you can read us a real story instead of our own tales we’ve heard a hundred times before.” She was finally relaxed against me, tucked right into my side. “I knew that you’d find ways to improve this ship,” I joked.
Her eyes sparkled as she grinned. “I promise not to start decorating, and adding floral fabrics in every corner.”
I leaned down to kiss her forehead lightly. “You decorate the world just by being in it.”
The blush on her fair cheeks was so fetching I could barely control myself. I shifted, holding her so that she could either cuddle against me, or roll away. I was delighted that she used me for warmth, her tender body so soft against my hard frame.
I kissed her forehead again, and murmured, “Goodnight, lass.”
Examining her eyes, I wondered if a chaste kiss would leave her wanting. It certainly left me needing more. As I leaned down toward those soft lips, it warmed my heart that she stretched up to meet me.
This time, my arm held her closer. Her little hand gripped me tightly as she pulled in. The blissful heat overtook us for a moment, her mouth opening slightly as she made the sweetest faint sigh.