Page 62 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

“She’ll address ye as Captain Smith.” Rowan’s growl filled the room like bad breath in an elevator.

I ignored big and grumpy and focused on Max. Examination, that was second.

“OK, Captain Smith, let’s take a look.” I gently pulled back the blanket, revealing a tanned, bare, but youthfully muscled chest. He wore a pair of cotton breeks.

“Can you roll onto your back?” He shook his head. “No, ’tis too painful.”

“Can you feel your feet?”

“Aye.”

“Can you move your legs?”

“It causes much pain.”

That was a good sign. At least his spinal cord wasn’t severed.

I removed the blanket and handed it to Rowan. He hovered over me, wringing the blanket as if he were a worried mother.

“Let me work on your muscles first.” I moved around the bed behind Max and mimicked the way Eli massaged my neck and back. Nothing caused tight muscles more than saving the world.

A tin of something sat on the table next to me. I opened it and sniffed. Peppermint and eucalyptus. With my fingers, I scraped a dollop from the tin.

“’Tis for the smell. The balm relaxes him.” Rowan moved closer, leaning over my shoulder, sucking in air through clenched teeth.

“This also helps relax the muscles, if you apply it directly.” I squatted behind Max, rubbing his back with the salve. He moaned a few times, each one followed by a grunt from Rowan, but the taut muscles relaxed under my fingertips.

“Do you mind?” I spoke to the large mass blocking the light from the window as I lifted my chin toward the only chair in the room.

Rowan folded the blanket neatly and placed it on the table. He didn’t sit but leaned against the wall, watching Max like a lion over his cub.

“It feels better.” Max glanced over his shoulder and smiled at me. I continued the massage.

Rowan relaxed and stepped toward the windows. “Will he walk again?”

Rowan had a lilt to his voice. It was different from Caiyan’s Scot. Possibly Irish. But Max’s accent was more a mixture of something I couldn’t place.

I moved in front of the boy captain and pulled his leg forward, trying the old leg over the side of the bed stretch. The hanging bed swayed and banged against my thighs.

Rowan straightened—the lion on high alert.

“I need him…” I looked around the room. “There.” I pointed at a built-in window seat under the bay of glass.

“Max,” I began gently.

Rowan scowled and grumbled a curse.

“I mean, Captain Smith, we’re going to move you, which might hurt. But if you’ll push through the pain, I can try and make it better.”

Max nodded, his eyes big and trusting. The eyes of a little boy who hadn’t had much hands-on attention.

Rowan twisted his mouth skeptically, then lifted Max. He grunted sweetly to the boy and moved him slowly, carefully, with an unexpected gentle touch.

“Lay him on his side like so.” I demonstrated by lying side posture on the wooden window bench.

Rowan put Max on his side as I instructed. I bent Max’s knee and pushed it up with my legs like I had seen Eli do.

Max’s face pinked, but a wave of pain quickly replaced the awkwardness of my proximity.

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