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“Better?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle.
Her lips pressed into a thin line that morphed into a grimace when the skiff knocked noisily against the hull of the Jolly Roger. She jerked up, but I held out a hand to still her, not quite touching her when she pulled back.
A glance up showed me William standing at the railing flanked by two more of my crew. With a quick nod, he dropped the rope ladder, letting it unfurl along the curve of the hull until it landed on the bench beside me.
I didn’t even want to ask the question, given her state, but I suspected reaching out and touching her right then wouldn’t win me any points. “Are you well enough to climb?”
She was leaned back with her eyes closed, the faint rise and fall of her chest offering me the only sign of life. A cold strand of worry wormed through me. “Never?”
Her eyes popped open and, though it was muted by exhaustion, the fury was still there. Whatever I’d done to earn her ire, I didn’t care. I was just relieved to see she still had some fight in her, even if it was a shadow of the pluck I knew she possessed.
“If you’re not feeling up to it, I can carry you.”
She narrowed her eyes to determined slits and pushed away from the edge, lumbering uneasily to her knees as the boat tilted and swayed. “I’m fine.” Her voice had a gravelly edge to it that begged to differ.
She grabbed the ladder and gingerly hauled herself up to standing. When the skiff bounced off the ship she stumbled awkwardly, biting back a wince as she steadied herself. The woman was clearly injured, though I couldn’t tell exactly where. The second I opened my mouth again she pinned me with another furious glare.
“I said I’m fine.”
Stubborn wasn’t a strong enough word for her particular level of bullheadedness. She was lying, any fool could see it, but if she insisted on refusing my help, what was the harm in testing just how far she’d push it?
“Very well.” I leaned down to tie off the skiff then motioned to the ladder. “It’s all yours, miss.”
Did she just flinch?
I knew she wasn’t fond of the ‘miss’ moniker, but she didn’t seem particularly fond of anything to do with me, so it was anybody’s guess.
Her fingers wrapped so tightly around the wooden rung of the ladder her knuckles were nearly white in the moonlight. When she tilted her head back and looked up, her whole body deflated a tiny bit. She clearly didn’t want to make the climb, but there was clearly no way in hell she was going to say the words out loud.
Instead of shifting her weight to step up onto the ladder, she reached a little higher with her hands and kind of hopped while pulling herself up, until she found the lowest rung with her left foot. She let out a shaky breath and waited for several beats. When she repeated the process, keeping her weight almost entirely off her right foot, I understood at least part of the problem.
I was tempted to toss her over my shoulder and haul her up the ladder myself. It certainly would have sped things along, but I let the temptation go. The woman seemed entirely too young to already have such an overdeveloped need to do everything on her own.
That kind of rigid independence usually only came with experience, and not just a few instances of being let down by others. That kind of independence took years. And for some infuriating reason, she thought I was one of those people.
30
HOOK
Rather than waiting and letting her continue that torturous climb, I stepped up behind her and took hold of the ladder. Her body stiffened against mine, but she didn’t try to pull away or fight me off. Just more proof that she wasn’t feeling tip top.
“Hold on tight,” I said quietly.
She clutched the rung in a death grip as I gave William the signal to pull. After a second, the rope ladder began a slow, steady slide up the side of the ship.
“I could have made it.” She somehow managed to sound both irritated and relieved at the same time.
“I have no doubt, but it’s only a matter of time before more sirens catch your scent in the water. So, it was this or me throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you up.”
She barked out a jagged laugh, then coughed painfully into her arm. Her whole body shuddered with the force of it, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arm around her waist and tuck her safely into me, letting my heat and my power heal what injuries it could.
When she found her breath, there was no shortage of snark in her response. “I’ve had enough of being lugged around like a sack of flour for one day, thank you very much.”
My mood shifted swiftly, starting with a shock of anger so damning I had to consciously lock every joint in place just so I didn’t jostle her. The thought of another man touching her in such a way set something dangerous alight in me. When the urge to put words to those thoughts hit, all I could do was clench my jaw and will myself to keep my reckless mouth shut.
The anger, however, was quickly replaced by pure, unadulterated lust when my mind finally processed the hint of longing in her statement. Breathtaking images seared my mind like an unstoppable flow of lava down the side of a sputtering volcano; her taut body draped over my shoulder as I carried her to my bed, my hand gripping her bottom and giving it a firm smack, her little cry of pleasure and all the things that would follow.
My brain had truly horrible timing.
