Of course, that reasoning gave him a sensitivity she wouldn’t have thought him capable of. His reaction was directly related to hers. If she hadn’t behaved like such a ninny, missish he’d called her, then he would have thought nothing of it. But he knew he’d embarrassed her worse than any of his taunts could ever do, and so he was ashamed to have done it.
The door opened hesitantly a few minutes later, and Georgina almost laughed when the captain of theMaiden Anneactually stuck his head around the door to see if it was safe to come in this time. “Well, are you ready to cut my throat with my own razors, youngun?”
“I hope I’m not that unskilled.”
“I sincerely share that hope.”
He shed his uncertainty, which had been comical, it was so unsuited to the man, and sauntered toward the table where she had set the basin of water. His razors were spread out on a towel, next to which more towels were stacked, and she had already whipped up a lather in the cup she found for that use. He had been gone much longer than ten minutes, so she had also set the room to rights, making his bed, stowing her own, picking up his discarded clothes to wash later. The only thing she hadn’t done was fetch his breakfast, but Shawn O’Shawn was cooking that now.
Looking over the setup, he remarked, “So you have done this before?”
“No, I’ve watched my brothers do it.”
“Better than total ignorance, I suppose. Well, have at it then.”
He peeled his shirt off and tossed it farther down the table, then turned his chair sideways and sat down facing her. Georgina just stared. She hadn’t expected to work on him while he was half dressed. It wasn’t necessary. She had extra towels, big ones, to wrap around his shoulders to protect his shirt. Devil take him, she’d use them anyway.
But when she tried to, he pushed them away. “If I want you to smother me, George, I’ll let you know.”
The idea of cutting his throat appealed to her more and more. If it wouldn’t be so messy, and if she wouldn’t have to clean up the blood, she’d give in to the impulse. With all that skin to distract her, it just might happen anyway—accidentally, of course.
She could shave him. She had to do it. And best do it quickly, before that wretched nausea flared up to make it an even more difficult task.Just don’t look down, Georgie, or up, or anywhere but at his very ordinary whiskers. How disturbing can whiskers be?
At arm’s length, she spread the lather on thickly, but she had to get closer to do the actual scraping. She was looking at his cheeks, concentrating on her task, or trying to. He was staring up at her eyes. When her gaze happened to collide with his, her pulse picked up its beat. And he didn’t look away. She did, but she could still feel his eyes on her, and the sudden heat they were causing.
“Stop those blushes, now,” he chided. “What’s a little bare arse between men?”
She hadn’t even been thinking ofthat, curse and rot him. But now her face was twice as hot, and got hotter, for he wasn’t going to let the subject pass.
“I don’t know why I should, since it’s my cabin,” he said testily, “but I’m going to apologize, George, for what happened earlier. You’d think I walked in on a bloody girl, the way you carried on.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Never mind that. Just put a damned sign on the door next time if your privacy means so much to you. I’ll honor the bloody thing, and no one else comes in here without permission.”
A lock on the door would be even better, but she didn’t suggest it. She hadn’t expected this much, was amazed that the man could be so considerate, generous even, when he didn’t have to be. She might even be able to take a real bath now, instead of a quick sponge-off down in the hold.
“Blister it, George, I’m rather fond of this face. Leave me some skin on it, will you?”
He startled her so, she thoughtlessly snapped, “Then do it yourself!” and threw the razor down on the table.
She was stalking away from him when his dry tone hit her in the back. “Oh, my. The brat has a temper, does he?”
She stopped, her eyes widening with the realization of what she’d just done. Her groan was quite loud, and when she turned about, she looked as apprehensive as she felt.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I don’t know what came over me. A bit of everything, maybe, but honestly, I don’t have a temper. You can ask Mac.”
“But I asked you. Now, you aren’t afraid to be truthful with me, are you, George?”
Thatwas worth another groan, though she kept this one to herself. “Not at all. Should I be?”
“I don’t see why. Your size gives you an advantage, you know. You’re too small to cuff or flog, and I wouldn’t inconvenience myself by assigning you extra duty as punishment, now would I? So youcanfeel free to speak your mind to me, George. Ours is a close relationship, after all.”
“And if I should cross the line into being disrespectful?” she couldn’t resist asking.
“Why, I’d blister your backside, of course. That is about the only recourse I have for a lad your age. But that isn’t going to be necessary, is it, George?”
“No, sir, it most certainly isn’t,” she gritted out, horrified and enraged at once.
