That handled, Aaron turned to look down at the unkempt young woman who was still shouting at him.
“How could you do that?” she demanded. Her face was flushed, likely due to a combination of the cold and being half upside-down during the walk back. Anger could also have been a factor, Aaron supposed.
“I’ve carried men much larger and heavier than you,” he said. “Most of them fought less since they were generally unconscious and bleeding heavily, but even so, it wasn’t hard.”
She gave him a very long, very flat look. He assumed that he was meant to gather something from that look, but she would need fiercer weapons to pierce his armor.
“Surely you realize that isn’t what I meant,” she said after a long pause.
He shrugged.
She made a sound in the back of her throat that reminded Aaron of that time, while in port, when a feral cat had gotten aboard the ship. The cat had not been pleased when it had woken from its nap to realize that they had set sail once more and that there was nothing but great gray wetness in all directions.
“My staff is far better suited to finding your sister—ifshe is even out of doors in the first place—than you are. All you were likely to accomplish was freezing yourself in turn. And then we would have two crises to deal with.”
Recalling the feral cat, Aaron kept his voice steady and calm. That had been the only thing to soothe the rangy scamp when it inevitably turned to wreaking havoc on the ship.
Much like the cat, Miss Turner wore an expression that said she did not like giving in, but she would do it. With great, great irritability.
“Fine,” she said when he waited her out.
Just like the cat.
Victory made him magnanimous—or at least this is what he told himself. More to the point, he now felt sufficiently reassured that she wasn’t about to make another mad dash for the doors to notice other things.
“Now,” he said briskly, because this really was just business. Matrimony itself was just business—and he wasn’t even marrying Miss Turner. He only hoped that Miss Hannah was more biddable, though this whole episode of running off did not give him a great deal of hope.
“Your clothing is wet,” he said, nodding to her skirts, which were practically soaked for the first six inches off the ground. Hecould only imagine the state of her shoes. “You need to change posthaste before you catch your death.”
This took her by surprise. “I—what?”
Maybe the cold was already affecting her, though he’d never heard of a mild chill preventing someone from thinking clearly. That tended to happen when death was much, much closer.
Then again, what did he know of delicate ladies and their delicate constitutions?
“Your clothing,” he said, forcing himself to keep his tone soothing though he longed to turn to the snapping inflection that made soldiers hop to their feet. “It’s wet. You need to change it.”
And, lo and behold, it worked. Miss Turner’s lips twitched in something that was very nearly a smile.
“Do you speak so gently to your soldiers when ordering them about?” she asked wryly.
“My soldiers never would have dared disobey me,” he said darkly. “I ensured that they did what needed to be done—immediately.”
Every time he’d failed to do so flashed as one behind his eyes. Men ripped apart by cannon fire. Good sailors, who had dreamed about going home, marrying their sweethearts, ending up with shock and horror etched permanently into their faces.Hell, even the lousy soldiers, the ones who were never suited for the life… he saw their deaths, too.
“Change your clothes,” he ordered Miss Turner, no longer able to hold on to his cool head. “Immediately.”
She blinked, and for some reason, this made Aaron’s temper flare. He didn’t understand why she insisted on this foolish stubbornness. He wasn’t trying to harm her, and here she was, treating him like some sort of villain.
He knew his reputation was… less than savory. It was the whole reason for this stupid arrangement in the first place. But there was a great deal of difference between acurmudgeonly ex-soldierand anevil lord from a novel.
For all that she was resisting his every order like it was some kind of malevolent plot, however, she didn’t actafraidof him. And that made him feel…
Something.
Probably annoyed.
He didn’t like having all these feelings, and he didn’t like remembering all the things that he had seen, and he didn’t like that Miss Turner was making all those things happen.
