Falling for the Pirate by Amber Lin Page B

cleared her of any long term effects from her fall. The cut on her side was healing. Her ankle only hurt when she wasn’t careful enough.
    She heard Dr. Richards speak in low tones to Mrs. Wheaton outside the door. After a few minutes, the housekeeper came inside the room carrying a large bundle of cloth.
    “The doctor says you can be up and about. These are your dresses.”
    So he had ordered her dresses made, after all. Accepting dresses from a man…well, Julia may not know her real name, but she knew what that meant. It meant he was her…patron. Even if he would never avail himself of those rights.
    But she didn’t have any other choice. She had no other clothes.
    “How did he have so many made?” she asked as Mrs. Wheaton hung dress after gown in the wardrobe. Six, she counted. The imbalance tilted to his side even more, leaving Julia lightheaded and faintly nauseated.
    “Captain Bowen found a dressmaker who altered what she had to fit your measurements.”
    How did he know my measurements? She didn’t voice that question. Perhaps Mrs. Wheaton had taken them while she was sleeping. And yet, she knew that hadn’t happened. The pirate had known. He had thought about the shape of her body. He had described it to a stranger. Possibly touched it.
    A sudden blush suffused her cheeks.
    “Would you like to try one on?” Mrs. Wheaton asked, her gaze averted.
    Julia peeked again at the clothes and realized she wasn’t entirely sure how to put them on by herself. However, she knew exactly how to move as Mrs. Wheaton tucked her into the dress. Julia sucked in her breath at all the right times. It was as natural as breathing, lending credence to Nate’s theory that she had once been wealthy, with a maid to help her dress.
    “When is the captain expected to return?”
    “He keeps his own hours.”
    Well, then.
    Only after Mrs. Wheaton had left did Julia smooth her hands over the flossed silk and wonder at it. There were far plainer, more serviceable dresses available for sale. Ready-made clothes for maids and shopgirls and servants. They must exist, somewhere, even if Julia wouldn’t know where to find them. And yet, he’d gotten blue silk with pale blue petticoats.
    A dull sense of dread formed in her stomach. What would he expect in repayment?
    Breathe. She was being unfair. He had been nothing but kind to her, when he had every reason not to be. She could be sitting in gaol right now, awaiting a trial. She could be in a workhouse.
    Or if he hadn’t jumped in to save her, she could be dead.
    Yes, she was fortunate to be here, under his charity and protection—even if he preferred not to call it such. The problem was that she didn’t know anything about him. She knew his name. She knew that he was captain of a ship that helped orphaned boys. It was a charming portrait but hardly complete. Did he have family?
    A wife?
    Her corset suddenly felt too tight. Her breath came shorter. Why did she keep supposing he had designs on her? Ah, yes. Because he had backed her against the chimney and pressed up against her body and kissed her. That was certainly enough to make her worry.
    She had to figure out his intentions. Learn about the man who held her life in his large, capable hands.
    The home itself was modest and compact, but the furnishings were designed for comfort. The rug had a simple design and thick, plush pile. Perhaps downstairs she’d find something more illuminating.
    She opened the door and peeked into the hallway. Empty. The scent of oranges and vanilla and something baking wafted up from the kitchens. She crept down the stairs, feeling like an intruder. Like a thief . She wasn’t here to steal anything, but what she was doing was just as bad. Betraying his trust. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop feeling there was something important she was missing.
    Paintings on the wall depicted the sea and waterscapes, and the magnified interlocking pieces of a ship. No land in sight. A low hum of voices