Page 89 of Dangerous

Bouchard shot back down the narrow corridor like an arrow from a bow.

Adam didn’t speak until they were inside the cabin.

“Remove your clothes; they are soaked.” His voice was colder than the water that had drenched her.

Mia fumbled with her cloak, her hands shaking so badly she could not manipulate the simple closure.

He stepped closer. “I will do it.”

She dropped her hands to her sides as his strong, dexterous fingers opened and removed first her cloak and then her gown, not stopping until she was stripped to her chemise, which was still dry. He pulled one of the blankets from the bed and wrapped it around her before tucking her into the remaining bedding.

He turned at the sound of a light knock on the door. “Enter,” he called out.

Bouchard himself stood in the doorway, holding a small tray with a brown Betty and two cups.

Adam took the tray. “Thank you, Captain.”

Bouchard met Mia’s eyes over Adam’s shoulder, as if to make sure she was unharmed.

“Good night, Captain Bouchard.” The chill in Adam’s voice served to cut the temperature in the small cabin by half. He hooked his foot around the door and pushed it shut without waiting for an answer. He lowered the tray to the small dining table with a clatter and spun around.

“He thinks I will beat you.” He shoved one hand ruthlessly through his hair, as if that might serve to hold his emotions in check. His eyes blazed. He flung a hand toward the corridor, his lips thinned to fine, pale lines on his taut face. “You believed I would strike you out there.”

Mia swallowed.

“When have I ever given you cause to expect such a thing?” He dropped into a chair and let his head fall back against the polished wood wall.

Mia struggled to emerge from the veritable cocoon he’d built around her, holding the bedding in one hand as she went toward him. He looked up at the touch of her hand, his beautiful eyes agonized.

“You should be in bed,” he muttered.

She pulled the bedding around her and sat in his lap. He remained rigid for a moment before his arms came up to cradle her. She sighed and leaned against his chest, almost weeping when his chin came to rest on top of her head.

“Adam?”

“Yes?” His hand moved to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think you would ever hurt me. It was just . . .”

“You’ve been struck before?”

She nodded, burrowing closer as his arms tightened. “The sultan would often become irritable and strike the first thing—or person—at hand.” She felt him shake his head and looked up. “It’s all right, Adam. He never hurt me badly.”

He took her chin in his hand, his eyes unusually bright. “How could any man ever hit you? It would be like striking a flower or a . . . kitten.”

She smiled at the comparison. “A flower. That is one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received.”

His lips twisted, but it wasn’t a smile. “I would never hurt you, Mia.”

“I know that. You were scared and that made you angry. I’ve often felt the same way with Jibril. You saved my life out there, Adam.”

He turned away. “Bouchard has brought us a feast.” His lips curved. “I’m not happy for the reason, but I can’t say I didn’t enjoy having him wait on us like a housemaid.”

Mia grinned and shifted over to the bench to prepare their tea. “I’m sure he will regret it tomorrow.”

He snorted. “I’m sure he’s regretting it already.”

They sipped their tea and ate thick slabs of bread, butter, and jam. Mia was exhausted from both her experience on deck and below. She was also suddenly curious.