Only time will tell.
He didn’t wakeup fully for a few days. Each time he did, though, I’d try to feed him and tend to him. I helped him to the washroom where he could relieve himself. I’d wait for him, but he was so weak from the short walk, he’d collapse on the settee afterward and sleep for hours on end. He was terribly dirty and needed a proper bath, but we’d have to figure that out later.
The main thing was that the biggest wound on his side was clean, neatly stitched up, and healing.
One night, as I knelt by him, trying to clean the wounds on his face, he woke. Fully woke. I gasped, reeling back as our eyes locked, as far as I could tell. He tried to sit up, causing me to push him back down. “Don’t move–” I said, but he grit his teeth in pain, even flinching at my touch.
Like a true whaler, the first thing he did was curse. I bit back a harsh word aboutnotusing profanity in my home and, instead, focused on helping him relax.
“You’re alright, but you need to rest,” I said.
“Where am I?” he asked, delirious. His voice was smoky and low, and his dark brown eyes studied me. His eyes settled on the burn marks covering my neck and hands. Then they returned to my face. “Are you the angel who saved me?”
I blushed. “No. I’m not an angel, but I will help you get better.”
“With a face like that, you’re too pretty to be from down here.”
I frowned. If he were thinking clearly, he’d notice my black dress and that I most certainly didn’t look like an angel. The burn marks should’ve raised some concern for him too.
He’s delirious.And he needed rest.
The whaler started to move again when I gently pushed him.
“Please…”
His skin was warm to the touch, and it was quite awkward that he wasn’t wearing a shirt… or anything for that matter. A large blanket covered him, but still.
“Listen,” I said. “You need to rest, and when you’re feeling better, we’ll figure everything out.”
“What’s your name?” he asked, though he already began to fall asleep again. His temperature was too high. He needed rest.
“I don’t normally share my name with strangers,” I said softly.
He raised an eyebrow as if he found that amusing. “My name’s Alaric. Alaric Galebourne. Now that you know who I am, I would say we aren’t strangers anymore. Would you?”
I gaped.
Alaric Galebourne, the wealthiest, most reputable whaler in all the Tempest Seas? What washedoinghere, washed up like driftwood?
His steady breaths meant he’d fallen asleep again. My stomach tightened as I continued gently cleaning his wounds.
He killed so many whales. Commanded fleets. Supplied whale oil to every kingdom, island, and province.
And here he was.
I loved whales, and it hurt that they were beingdestroyed at such a rapid rate. And the man in charge of their murders was here. On my settee.
My mind raced. He had to go as soon as possible.
I wentoff to the farmer’s market the next morning, wondering if I’d hear any gossip about Alaric Galebourne or his ship. Not surprisingly, I found a new crew of whalers. They looked rough, just as Alaric had.
Like they’d seen battle.
Battle…Yes. That would explain all the debris on Alaric’s skin and his gaping wound.
I thought of going up to them but lingered in the shadows of the banyan trees, changing my mind. With big, brawny bodies and rough, hardened expressions, they were the face of intimidation. I shrank and went around them to find Noni.
“Did you notice those whalers?” I asked as I placed my baked goods on her table. She nodded and leaned in.
