Page 109 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
“After you change my bandages,” she said, her gaze lifting to his face.
“Yes,” he replied, and there was no mistaking the hunger in his voice.
“Perhaps Mrs. Par—” Cedric’s head whipped toward Mr. Hayward, who froze mid-sentence and said, “I’ll keep you updated regarding Evans.”
After unlocking the door, Mr. Hayward stepped into the corridor, and Cedric, directly behind him, instructed his first mate to check on Mr. Johnson before he closed and locked the door.
“Let’s start with your back again,” Cedric said, indicating she should flip onto her stomach.
“I thought you were going to feed me,” she grumbled. Shifting, she inhaled a sharp breath as she turned.
“I am.” He snagged a piece of bread from the plate, placed the dry chunk on the tray with bandages, and carried the tray over to the bed. Passing her the hunk, he smiled. “Enjoy.”
“I’d like to register a complaint with the chef,” she murmured and nibbled on the corner.
“Until you’re clear of infection, that’s all you get.” He sat beside her. Hand hovering over the first bandage, he paused, his eyes flicking to the back of her head. “This may hurt.”
She stiffened, swallowed, and glanced over her shoulder at him.
“Then give me something to keep my mind on.”
He nodded, and his fingers pinched the end of the first strip. As he peeled the cloth up, he said, “I told you the blame for Patrick’s unhappiness was at the feet of Miss Dowling. However, I didn’t reveal that my father is responsible for instigating her rejection.”
“What?” Alana came off the bed.
He wasn’t certain if her reaction was due to the pain of the bandage removal or his admission regarding his father’s meddling in her brother’s life.
“What does your father have to do with Patrick’s rejection?”
“He paid Miss Dowling a large sum of money to refuse him.”
“But why? Your father is married, is he not?”
“He is. He wanted to prove that he could punish me, and my friends, whenever and however he so chose, simply because I wouldn’t comply with a request.” Cedric placed the soiled strip next to him and began removing the next bandage. “Your brother’s assistance with my escape from the authorities stems from his hatred of my father.”
“I don’t like him much, either,” she murmured, her voice pitching as he pulled the remaining bandage from her skin.
Banging echoed in the chamber, and Cedric’s eyes snapped to the door.
“Who is it?” he snarled, rising from the bed.
“Hayward.”
“Did you find Evans?” Cedric crossed the room in two steps. Before he could unlock the door, Mr. Hayward’s voice crawled through the cracks.
“No, but we’ve got a different problem.”
“Which is?” Cedric asked, ripping open the door.
Mr. Hayward walked into the room and spun around halfway across the floor. Worry pinched his face, stretching the scar on his face into a disturbing, puckered line. “The hostages are missing.”
“What do you mean they are missing?” Cedric’s heart thudded, threatening to burst from his chest.
Had Evans kidnapped the remaining four ladies and taken them ashore for his own personal gain? The crew would demand his head… or someone else’s in its place.
“They aren’t in their cages,” Mr. Hayward replied with a hint of annoyance, indicating he felt his first sentence was explanatory enough. “And a longboat is also unaccounted for.”
“He must have taken the women ashore to ransom them.” Cedric’s gaze shifted to Alana, who lay silently on his bed, her face buried in the pillow as though she were asleep, despite the fact that he knew she was listening intently.
