“My first fire,” he said, touching the burnt skin. “I learnt to be more careful when handling a burning log rather quickly. In that instance, the seawater was sheer torture.”
“You were so brave.”
His smile disappeared. “No. I was desperate. Desperate people have nothing to lose. Brave people do.”
Even his stare, so intense and piercing, wouldn’t be considered proper in polite society, but Lord, if it didn’t make her shiver.
The horn signalling the lunch would be served hooted, breaking the moment.
She straightened her bodice. “You should dress. People will think you’re rude if they see you half-undressed.”
“I don’t care about what people do or don’t think about me.” His tone wasn’t reproachful, merely honest.
She cleaned the razor. “My reputation would be damaged. I shouldn’t be here alone with an undressed gentleman.”
That caught his attention. “That’s another matter.” He slid the shirt on, alas, failing to look less enticing. “The fabric chafes my skin. I’m not used to wearing clothes and the sun wasn’t gentle on me when I was on the raft.”
“Oh, right.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “So silly of me not to think about that.”
“Not silly at all.” He fell silent. The spark of vitality was gone, replaced by a scowl as if she had offended him.
She put away the razor and admired her work. A light stubble darkened a few spots on his face, but overall, he looked clean. Who was she fooling? He was devastatingly charming, with the right balance of ruthlessness and decency.
“Would you like something to eat? Come with me to the dining hall?” she asked because she had one too many inappropriate thoughts on a man who needed to recover from a dreadful ordeal.
He shook his head. “I’m not hungry and I’m not ready yet to leave the cabin. Too many people.”
She could relate. “Would you like me to bring you something to read?”
“Read?” His whole face brightened, almost in a childish manner. “Yes. Anything. Everything. All you can find.”
She laughed. His enthusiasm was contagious. “I’ll be back with a newspaper and some books.”
“Thank you.” He took her fingers in a surprisingly gentle grip. “For everything.”
A tingle started from her fingers, ran up her arm, went down, and stopped with a throb in her lower abdomen. Good gracious.
“You’re welcome.”
When he released her hand, a sense of loss weighed her down, which was ridiculous.
As she walked towards her cabin, she rubbed her forehead. Every conversation with Hector was unpredictable. She ought to remember his past before commenting on his manners. In a way, he behaved like a child, who was unaware of the rules of propriety, but at the same time, he definitely was no child. Not at all. He was all manly man. Oh, bother.
When she entered her cabin, Verity was sprawled on the narrow bed, reading Ernest’s letters. The man had sent Verity letters every day during their stay at The Bahamas. Her brow furrowed as she focused on the pages as if trying to solve a riddle.
Maddie read from over Verity’s shoulder. “Reading Ernest’s letters again?”
“Bah!” Verity jolted, clenching the letters to her rising chest. She exhaled and sagged back into her pillow. “It’s you.”
“You didn’t hear me.” She searched the room for her books. Which one would Hector be interested in reading? “You should know those letters by heart now.”
“It’s their inner meanings I’m trying to decipher,” she whispered. “It’s harder than it seems.”
Maddie picked upThe Scandalous Life of Lady Barlow. Would he like a romantic story? Or rather, would she combust at the thought of him reading some of the most improper passages? Yes, she would. But she’d brought only romantic novels. There should be that mystery book somewhere.
“What inner meanings?” she asked, rummaging through her trunk. She’d take her sketchbook and a piece of charcoal just in case she needed them.
Verity waved her closer, glancing at the door. “You know Mother reads our letters.”
