That reminder doused his ardour nigh instantly, and he released her. “Be good. Keep your dirk always at the ready, and I shall see you later.”
The cabin doorclosed behind Donovan with a heavy thunk, and despite wanting to venture into the gun deck to learn more about the animals she’d noticed in an enclosure, Heather turnedto observe the spacious accommodations. She blinked. It was obscenely decorated, with nude paintings and statues sporting enormous erections or impossibly hefty breasts.
She snorted a laugh. “Blimey, Butcher.”
At a glance, she took in the rest of the room. The furniture was a mixture of styles and themes and screamed confusion—or, perhapspirate, for it seemed obvious that the items had been purloined from different locales.
Atop the shining, checked floor was an enormous burgundy brocade rug and a long dining table surrounded by chairs that filled the centre of the room. On one side of the space stood an aged, white-painted desk and chair, and on the other stood a gilt-flaked chest of drawers topped with a marble washbasin and pitcher.
Against the bay of windows at the rear of the ship was a large bed hung suspended by chains from the ceiling, gently swaying with the movement of the water. Draped above it were red velvet privacy curtains. She made an internal note to ensure the bedclothes were laundered, even while her abdomen quivered with nerves.
Putting a hand to her chest, she leaned back against the cabin’s door. She’d just kissed Percy.Twice. And she’d had soddingsexwith the man! A frisson of desire shot through her, and heat gathered low in her belly at the memory of his intimate touches, the snarl on his lips, and the flush of his skin as he came undone. She resisted the urge to clench her thighs together.Blimey.
And now she was to share a cabin with him! What would their sleeping arrangement be? Her gaze swung toward the hanging bed, and a flush raced across her chest.
Diversion. Indeed. Diversion was required.
She forced her attention to the ten potted plants placed in a slapdash manner on the floor near the door, their leaves and petals in varying states of wilt or decay.
“Oh, my darlings,” she croaked. “I’m so sorry for what has befallen you.”
A sob escaped her throat as she reached for her mother’sTrifolium pratense, now brown and shrivelled. The dear little red clover grew in many places in England and was easy enough to replace, but this had been her mother’s. She picked up the pot, brought it to the window and, ensuring she did not obstruct the path to the bed, set it down.
Doing the same with the other pots, she organized them by size so that the tallest plants did not block the sun’s rays from the shortest.
“There you go,” she cooed. “Now you all shall have some sunlight.”
The ship tilted in a swell, rain splattering the window beside her, and a thought occurred to her. Would her plants not require fastening somehow?
She glanced around the room for inspiration and grinned when she spotted a long length of coiled rope hanging on the wall beside the painting of a nude woman caressing her own breasts.Thank you, Butcher.
Using hooks already anchored into the wall beneath the window and along the side wall, Heather secured the plants. Lord, but they needed to be watered. She would need to test the soil as well. How much water would the cask that Percy had set out have collected by now?
Percy…
She sighed as she gave one last tug of the knot and sat back on her heels. There was more to Percy and his life at sea than she’d initially assumed. Of course, she’d known the man had seafaring experience—it was precisely why he’d joined her onassignment—but the reaction of the crew, both pirate and naval alike, was…shocking.
Percy.
Her tryst—heranonymoustryst—had been with the very man who’d been training her and her friends in combat for months. How had she not recognized Percy that night? Only half of his face had been obscured, for pity’s sake. Even in the darkness, she ought to have recognized him. And his voice…
Now that she thought on it, though, she recalled that they’d spoken only in whispers. Additionally, she’d been distracted by the man’s impressive musculature. And his cock.
She snorted at herself, mirth and another healthy wave of arousal sweeping through her.
Percy couldn’t be faulted for withholding the secret. Hell, mayhap he’d recognized her from the first. They’d both been eager for the encounter, regardless of their reasons and pretences.
Her fingers toyed absently with the torn hem of her frock, and she grimaced down at it. Browning blood stained the bodice and skirts in both arched and sprayed patterns. Gripping the material in both hands, she tore a length of the material, folded it, then used the clean inside to gently dust the flagging leaves of her plants.
“I wish I had something cleaner with which to dust you,” she muttered. “But this dress is ruined, and I haven’t my things.”
Nor had she anything to wear.
She glanced over her shoulder at Butcher’s chest of drawers. “Do you suppose he has anything in my size? Would a ‘deadly runner from London’ wear the attire of a pirate?”
Her heart gave a little flutter once more at the reminder of Percy’s words. They were meant as a warning to the crew, but they’d felt like praise, nonetheless.
Turning from her beloved plants, she made her way to the washbasin and poured a draught of water from the pitcher. She removed her ruined frock and made quick her wash with what appeared to be a clean cloth and some unscented soap situated nearby. She then slid open the bottom drawer in the chest and searched in earnest for something to wear.
