hair still looked as if she threaded her fingers through the glorious mass, and her dress hung on her like it had done last night. When she bent, one hand held the bodice to her chest, and he wondered if her stays weren’t secured very well.
He drummed his fingers on the mattress. For certain her stays wouldn’t be tied properly. She didn’t have Mrs. Winters to assist with her dressing.
“Captain? Where would you like me to put these?”
He fastened his gaze on the clothes stacked in her arms. “Pile them on the floor by the door. When Gabe returns, I shall have him show you where the wash room is located so you can learn to do that chore.”
She did as instructed, then turned back to her duties. Silence lasted a few minutes as she moved around the room. When she’d first walked in, she’d been tired, but now it seemed as if her eyes were wide awake. Color bloomed on her cheeks. He’d give anything to know her thoughts right now.
Huffing, she stood straight and planted her hands on her hips as she glared at him. “Captain, do you have to watch me the whole time? Isn’t there something else you can do?”
He folded his arms across his chest, careful not to touch his stab wound. “I enjoy watching you, Miss Stanhope.”
“You make me uncomfortable.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps that’s why I’m enjoying myself.”
Growling, she arched an eyebrow. “Captain, please. Can you not look elsewhere? What if you read a book or something? Or better yet, close your eyes and try to get more sleep.”
“And have you attempt to kill me again? I think not, Miss Stanhope.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” she whispered.
“No?” He rubbed his scruffy chin. “Why don’t I believe you?”
She let out a noisy sigh and walked to the side of his bed. “When I thought I had killed you and was locked in that tiny room for three days, I did a lot of thinking. Anger and panic had driven me to do what I thought was the best course of action at the time. My father’s death had put me in dire straits, and I feared for my own safety with you—a highwayman.” She breathed slower and ran her fingers through her hair. “I was only trying to defend myself. I didn’t want to kill you, I assure you.”
Although her words sounded sincere, he still couldn’t trust her. She’d been a chameleon the first time, and he was certain she’d turn back into the devil’s daughter again.
He patted the space beside him on the bed. “Tell me about your father and why you think you’re in such dire straits.”
Her throat constricted as if she swallowed hard. Bright blue eyes widened as she switched her attention to the spot he indicated on the bed, then to his face. She gave him a hesitant nod and sat closer to the edge than to him, of course.
“When my father was sent to New York to work with the Royal Navy, he arranged for me to live with my aunt and uncle. My mother had just died, and since I was only twelve, I still needed a guardian. Father sent my uncle money to care for me, but the year before he planned to return, it didn’t come. I wore second-hand gowns or my aunt would make them herself. We couldn’t afford for me to have any sort of etiquette lessons whatsoever, so my aunt taught me all I know.”
Marcus had disliked her father the first time he’d met the man and now knew why. Obviously, the older man didn’t care one whit about his daughter. Only power and prestige mattered. So much like Marcus’ own sire. Perhaps it was a good thing Isabelle didn’t know the truth about the Commodore. Still, Marcus couldn’t show her how the sad story softened his heart… if only just a fraction of an inch. “I think your aunt did a remarkable job.”
She smiled, and even if it wasn’t full, her eyes darkened. “Thank you.”
Her gaze swept over his face before dipping to his chest, bare except for the white bandage around his middle. Color flared across her cheeks again as her attention jumped back to his eyes. He
He drummed his fingers on the mattress. For certain her stays wouldn’t be tied properly. She didn’t have Mrs. Winters to assist with her dressing.
“Captain? Where would you like me to put these?”
He fastened his gaze on the clothes stacked in her arms. “Pile them on the floor by the door. When Gabe returns, I shall have him show you where the wash room is located so you can learn to do that chore.”
She did as instructed, then turned back to her duties. Silence lasted a few minutes as she moved around the room. When she’d first walked in, she’d been tired, but now it seemed as if her eyes were wide awake. Color bloomed on her cheeks. He’d give anything to know her thoughts right now.
Huffing, she stood straight and planted her hands on her hips as she glared at him. “Captain, do you have to watch me the whole time? Isn’t there something else you can do?”
He folded his arms across his chest, careful not to touch his stab wound. “I enjoy watching you, Miss Stanhope.”
“You make me uncomfortable.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps that’s why I’m enjoying myself.”
Growling, she arched an eyebrow. “Captain, please. Can you not look elsewhere? What if you read a book or something? Or better yet, close your eyes and try to get more sleep.”
“And have you attempt to kill me again? I think not, Miss Stanhope.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” she whispered.
“No?” He rubbed his scruffy chin. “Why don’t I believe you?”
She let out a noisy sigh and walked to the side of his bed. “When I thought I had killed you and was locked in that tiny room for three days, I did a lot of thinking. Anger and panic had driven me to do what I thought was the best course of action at the time. My father’s death had put me in dire straits, and I feared for my own safety with you—a highwayman.” She breathed slower and ran her fingers through her hair. “I was only trying to defend myself. I didn’t want to kill you, I assure you.”
Although her words sounded sincere, he still couldn’t trust her. She’d been a chameleon the first time, and he was certain she’d turn back into the devil’s daughter again.
He patted the space beside him on the bed. “Tell me about your father and why you think you’re in such dire straits.”
Her throat constricted as if she swallowed hard. Bright blue eyes widened as she switched her attention to the spot he indicated on the bed, then to his face. She gave him a hesitant nod and sat closer to the edge than to him, of course.
“When my father was sent to New York to work with the Royal Navy, he arranged for me to live with my aunt and uncle. My mother had just died, and since I was only twelve, I still needed a guardian. Father sent my uncle money to care for me, but the year before he planned to return, it didn’t come. I wore second-hand gowns or my aunt would make them herself. We couldn’t afford for me to have any sort of etiquette lessons whatsoever, so my aunt taught me all I know.”
Marcus had disliked her father the first time he’d met the man and now knew why. Obviously, the older man didn’t care one whit about his daughter. Only power and prestige mattered. So much like Marcus’ own sire. Perhaps it was a good thing Isabelle didn’t know the truth about the Commodore. Still, Marcus couldn’t show her how the sad story softened his heart… if only just a fraction of an inch. “I think your aunt did a remarkable job.”
She smiled, and even if it wasn’t full, her eyes darkened. “Thank you.”
Her gaze swept over his face before dipping to his chest, bare except for the white bandage around his middle. Color flared across her cheeks again as her attention jumped back to his eyes. He
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