Page 102 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
“Would you forgive me if I could bring the dead back to life?”
“Yes.” She raised her eyebrows, daring him.
Leaning over her body, Cedric knocked on the wall three times and said, “I’d like a word with you.”
“Who are you talking to?” Her eyes flicked between Cedric and the wall behind her.
“The woman tending to Mr. Hayward.” Standing, he walked across the floor, unlocked the door, and pulled it open.
“What happened to Mr. Hayward?” Alana frowned, recalling the twinge that crossed his face after he’d pulled her from the ocean.
“Mr. Johnson shot him.”
Alana gasped. “Why would he do that?”
“He was drunk.”
“And he thought I was a demon,” a decidedly feminine voice announced.
“Mrs. Parker!” Alana didn’t have the strength to rise from the bed, but she held out her hand as a greeting.
“My dear Mrs. Dubois!” Mrs. Parker sailed across the room and grabbed Alana’s hand, crushing her fingers.
“I’m so pleased to see you.”
“Oh, I have missed your company. However,”—clucking her tongue, Mrs. Parker glared at Cedric—“I have seen you look much better.”
“I didn’t know she was a woman.” Cedric took two steps forward, an apology glowing in his eyes.
“I’m thankful you were able to save her from the crew.” Mrs. Parker’s gaze slid over the bandages covering Alana’s wounds. “Will she heal?”
“I’ve done everything within my ability to prevent her from infection.”
Mrs. Parker’s eyes narrowed. “And the scars?”
“There will be many,” he replied, moving nearer, and his fingers twitched as though he wanted to touch Alana but didn’t want Mrs. Parker to know of that desire. “But a man of worth wouldn’t be bothered by such a slight deformity.”
“Are you a man of worth, Captain?” There was an impertinent undercurrent in Mrs. Parker’s question.
“What did you do with Mr. Johnson?” Cedric asked, ignoring her query.
“Mr. Hayward tied him to his bed.”
Cedric nodded, indicating his agreement with the decision, and gestured to Alana.
“Would you see to the injuries on Mrs. Dubois’ torso? I need to verify something.”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Parker said, lifting the cloth from the bowl of water.
Cedric’s gaze slid to Alana, and he opened his mouth as though he wanted to speak, but paused, holding his tongue, turned and strode from the room. A moment later, the lock scraped, securing them inside the cabin.
Alana flinched when Mrs. Parker wiped the cloth across the cuts on her chest. To distract herself from the pain, she asked, “Have you been aboard the ship this whole time?”
“Captain Shaw and I have an agreement. I agreed to work off my share of the ransom so Hugh wouldn’t need to.”
Alana’s heart clenched, and she lifted her arm, placing her hand on top of Mrs. Parker’s fingers, stilling them. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“About Hugh?”
