The Reaper (Pirates of the Coast Book 8) by Barbara Devlin

Author:Barbara Devlin [Devlin, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-23T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

The sun broke through the clouds, as Blade and Jean Marc rode into Port Royal and steered toward the inn. In the saddle, he shifted and sighed, as he had been painfully aroused since he claimed one kiss—a single kiss, from Charitye, and he could not stop thinking about her.

“What is wrong with you?” Jean Marc asked, as he narrowed his stare. “You blush, and you keep making weird little noises.”

“It is nothing.” Blade came alert and ignored his friend’s gloating expression. No doubt, Jean Marc knew the source of Blade’s unrest. “I am hungry, and my belly grumbles.”

“Then we should eat at the inn, because the return trip will take just as long.” As they turned onto the main thoroughfare, Jean Marc urged his stallion into a gallop, despite the muddy roads. “But I will not linger anymore than necessary, because Maddie may go into labor at any moment, and I would anchor at her side, as I have for the birth of our daughters.”

“Is birthing babes not women’s work?” A vision formed of a heavily pregnant Charitye, and Blade blinked and shook his head. Why could he not get her out of his mind? She was no different than any other bit o’ fluff. Of course, that was not true. “And how are we to convey Charitye’s possessions to Fair Winds, when we have no rig?”

“I am expecting a load of supplies to be delivered to the house, today.” Jean Marc shrugged. “If we find her things, I will have the men pick up her belongings. If we brought a wagon, it would have slowed us down, and I promised my wife I would return in time for dinner, and I never break my promises to Maddie.”

“All right.” Nervous for some unknown reason, Blade drew rein at the inn and slid from the saddle. After tying up his horse, he dusted his hands on his breeches. “Then let us have done with it, because I am anxious to get back to Charitye.”

“Oh?” What began as a snort soon erupted into full-blown hilarity, and Jean Marc wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Let me guess. You tried your hand at courtship and failed miserably.”

“Worse.” Blade huffed a breath but took no offense, because he relied on Jean Marc’s advice on women. Whores he could manage, but respectable ladies presented an altogether different hazard. “I insulted her.”

“I knew it, and I told Mon Chou as much.” Again, Jean Marc burst into laughter. “Now are you ready to sign the pact and begin your year of atonement? I wager you are equally impatient to make the pretty Charitye your bride and beget some babes on her.”

“My friend, you have the head of a chicken, the heart of a yellow dog, and the bowels of a worm.” Blade snickered. “And those are you good qualities.”

“Ah, but I have Maddie, so what do I care?” Jean Marc elbowed Blade. “And you are hardly one to talk, given you are as bone-headed as a backwards blowfish.

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