Seduced by a Spy by Andrea Pickens

particulars of this mission, the better.” He rolled up his sleeves and cut her a sidelong glance. “You aren’t one of those females who faints at the sight of blood, are you?”
    “I think you can count on me not to fall into a swoon,” she said dryly.
    The captain rose to answer the knock on the cabin door. A pot was quickly passed over and the latch set back in place. “Then we had best begin,” he said, handing her the battered iron without further ado. “The weather looks to be taking a turn for the worse, and I would rather not slice off the fellow’s arm by mistake.”
    In the binnacled lamplight, Orlov looked pale as death. Swallowing a strange surge of regret, Shannon braced herself against the roll of the hull and nodded, thankful that he was still unconscious.
    Cutting away the bandages, the captain made the first probe.
    The Russian’s eyes slitted open, their arctic blue color dulled to a gunmetal gray.
    Shannon held up the small roll of leather used to bite back pain.
    He managed to shake his head slightly. Teeth gritted, he pressed his lids closed again, enduring the probing with stoic silence.
    “Bloody hell, can’t you go any faster,” she blurted out. Orlov’s face was sheened in sweat. Without thinking, she reached for his hand, curling her fingers with his.
    “I am trying not to do any permanent damage.” A wave nearly knocked the instrument from the captain’s hand. “A slip of the scalpel could cut through the muscle, leaving the arm useless.”
    “Take your time.” Orlov’s white-lipped whisper held a hint of dry humor, despite his obvious pain. “I’m not going anywhere… I hope.”
    “Brandy?” asked Shannon.
    “Thank you.” He managed a small swallow before lapsing back into oblivion.
    It seemed like an age before the captain gave a low grunt. “I think I have it.” Digging in with the tips of the tweezers, he managed to extract a misshapen ball of lead.
    “Thank God.” Shannon realized her hands were shaking.
    “Aye, and it looks to have come out cleanly,” observed the captain with some satisfaction. Holding it up to the light, he made a closer examination. “Leaving any fragments behind would be dangerous, but I think we need not worry.” The bullet made a dull
thunk
as it dropped into the bloodied basin. “The worst is over.”
    Shannon was not quite sure she agreed as she watched him pick up a gargantuan needle and thread it with black silk. “You are stitching flesh, not canvas, captain.”
    He shrugged. “Can’t leave it flapping loose, can I?” He finished the job with blessed quickness and leaned back to admire his handiwork. “Not bad, under the circumstances.” Flexing his bloodstained fingers, he reached for a towel. “Can I leave it to you to handle it from here?”
    She nodded.
    “Excellent.” He, too, looked relieved. “Again, I apologize for the cramped quarters. But given ship’s size and the need for secrecy, I have no choice but to ask that you share this cabin. And keep to it for the duration of the journey. My orders stressed that we don’t wish to call attention to the fact that a female is aboard, correct?”
    “Correct,” replied Shannon.
    He gave her a fishy stare, clearly wondering what sort of woman was under his hatches. “I shall clear the quarterdeck each evening and escort you topside for a short stroll. Other than that, you are not to stir from here.”
    “Understood.” She matched his clipped tone. “You need not worry about me. I am used to far worse conditions than these.”
    Though the idea of being cooped up with Alexandr Orlov for the duration of the journey might test the limits of her endurance, she added to herself. If the rascal didn’t die of his gunshot wound, there was always the chance that she might murder him with her bare hands.
    Tossing, turning…
no matter which way he moved, he could not seem to escape the hellish pain. Red-hot pitchforks stabbed at his shoulder, while fire singed his