in1 by I Kissed an

Author:I Kissed an
Language: eng
Format: epub

They watched each other in utter stillness.

She wanted desperately to retrace the path he’d drawn on her jaw with her own fingertips.

To feel what he’d felt. She wanted to drag her own fingers along the diamond-angled line of his jaw.

When she saw that her hand had actually risen, was actually hovering an inch or so from her lap, she dropped it to her knee.

She stared at it, and suddenly her five gloved fingers looked like the petals on that jasmine blossom.

“Which reminds me, we should go say farewell to our hosts and return to the ship if we want to catch up to Mr. Hardesty in Brest. It’ll be interesting to see if The Olivia has lifted anchor while we were dining.”

He stood gracefully and turned to extend his hand to help her up.

She took it. His enveloped hers almost absurdly. She was suddenly abashed. Almost…

shy.

She had never felt shy in her entire life.

He held her hand a moment longer, as though puzzled by this thing she’d given him. He frowned slightly down at it. Then released it almost comically quickly.

His eyes flared wide; she saw this in the dark. He turned away from her and straightened his spine.

He turned and strode back to the house.

She followed him, and glanced back over her shoulder at the fountain one more time.

Chapter 13

V iolet was awakened at an ungodly hour by the next morning by vigorous knocking at her cabin door.

She rolled gracelessly out of her bunk, feeling as though she’d slept in a clothing press, worked her arms through her nightrobe, and staggered to the door, opening it just a crack.

“Good morning, Miss Redmond.” It was Mr. Greeber’s untenably sunny voice. “You’ve been given a job to do! You’re to be cook’s mate!”

He made it sound as if she were to be knighted.

Cook’s mate? The position lately belonging to Mr. Rathskill?

“I’m to be…I beg your pardon?” She rubbed at her eyes. She peered beyond him, hoping he’d brought coffee or tea. She sniffed hopefully.

“When Rathskill left we were without a cook’s mate, and well, mum, seeing as ’ow ye’re a woman—”

She was instantly awake. “For heaven’s sake, that doesn’t mean I know how to cook.”

“Well, the captain thought ye’d be perfect, mum.”

The captain thought! Her reward for coming to his defense last night was to be set to work?

She didn’t care who he was. She was a Redmond.

He read her expression. “Oh, scarce any cooking is involved,” he reassured her. “’Tis really more about preparation. And boiling. Though Hercules would prefer it fancier, like, but ’tis a ship, after all. Mostly mixing, boiling, shaking off the weevils and maggots, things o’ that nature. Determinin’ wot can be eaten and wot must be tossed o’er the side because the bugs ’ave got at ’em. Though we took on some fresh goods in London, so we mayn’t have trouble with weevils fer a time.”

“W-weevils?” She did not want to be the ship’s weevil shaker.

“And we’ve vegetables as the trip is short,” he said brightly.

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