The Kraken's Mirror by Betita Maureen O

Author:Betita, Maureen O. [Betita, Maureen O.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Decadent Publishing Company
Published: 2011-01-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

She woke the next morning to find he’d left the cabin. She moaned. Her battered body was going to ache. Stretching, she blinked in amazement at the lack of pain. In fact, she hadn’t felt this good in decades. Raising one arm, she examined it. Still a bit flabby, still some wiggly skin at the upper part. But underneath all that, her other hand traced the new muscles. In the faint light she realized how dark her skin had grown.

In the months she’d been here, in this strange new world, she’d seen no sign of skin cancer. And she’d looked. She’d asked the others if they worried about it. Tink laughed at her. She did that often.

Lifting a leg from the covers, she eyed it with some pleasure. It took months to stop the morning groans. When she’d first started helping on the Quill, she hurt—constantly. She’d been fairly useless for a long time. Stubbornness saw her persevere.

Sure, she took up the hobby of book binding at the captain’s suggestion. And part of the money she brought in went toward ships funds. She’d wanted to do more. And she learned. Helping with lines, mending sails, cleaning. All that fresh air, the sunshine, the work, it did what steady visits to the gym didn’t.

“I’ll never be skinny, but I’m thinner,” she spoke to her extended leg.

“Heaven forbid you grow skinny.” Alan stepped away from a dark alcove.

She dropped her leg and sat up. “Where the hell did you come from?”

He adjusted his breeches. “A small privy. Not much more than a simple hole, but better than the alternative.”

“Bathroom? I don’t have to use a bed pan or…?” She stopped. The Quill did boast one rather impressive bathroom, but the rest were little more than old-fashioned outhouses. On a ship, that confused her to no end.

Janey explained that the inside privies were sanitary due to a chemical mix tossed into the holding area that broke it down to basics.

“We wash them out every week.” She’d grinned, obviously proud.

“They have this on every ship?” Emily asked.

“Not every, but most. The French don’t believe in it. They think it’s some evil thing that will eat through their hulls. It might if they don’t wash it out.”

Well, Silvestri wasn’t French, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

He pulled a robe from a drawer and held it open, beckoning to her with a broad smile. She eyed the robe with pleasure. A lovely shade of blue, almost turquoise, and covered with intricate embroidery of birds and blossoms. The colors mesmerized her.

He lifted it higher and she gave in, slipping from the bed and straight to the robe. He slid it over her shoulders and stroked her arms, mimicking the way it caressed her skin.

“This is the softest thing I’ve ever felt.” She touched the sleeves.

“Not the softest, but I admit, it’s close,” he answered.

With a snort, she stepped away. “This privy, I need shoes?”

“No, it’s clean.” He gestured toward the alcove. “I’ll collect breakfast while you see to your necessities.

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