Page 111 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
“Where am I going to go? The dress shops are all closed,” she replied, earning a chuckle from Cedric.
He swallowed his amusement, rearranged his features, and shifted his hard gaze to Mrs. Parker. “The same for you, Mrs. Parker.”
“No dress shops for me, either.” She nodded, her eyes finding Alana’s, and they both burst into giggles.
“Once you’ve changed the bandages, dispose of the old ones in the stove,” Cedric said over their mirth.
“How long will you be gone?” Pushing up on her arms, Alana winced, pain accompanying each tiny movement.
“I’m not certain how long it will take to locate Mr. Evans and Mr. Johnson, but I must find out what happened to them and to the hostages before my crew learns of the disappearance. There’s not enough gold aboard this ship to stave off their thirst for revenge if Evans and Johnson duped us. As the remaining leaders aboard this ship, Mr. Hayward and I hold the blame.”
His gaze flicked to Mrs. Parker. “They cannot know of either of your existences. The danger is too great.”
“We understand the urgency of the situation.” Sitting beside Alana, Mrs. Parker drew the tray of bandages toward her. “We will whisper.”
“Thank you.” He lingered a moment as though he wanted to say something further, but shook his head, turned, and strode from the room.
The lock clicked behind him, and they were left in silence.
“Does it hurt much?” Mrs. Parker asked as she lifted a cloth from the bowl and wrung out the blood-tinged water.
Alana tensed and buried her face in the pillow, biting the edge as Mrs. Parker drew the cloth across the exposed portion of her back.
“Only when you do that,” Alana gasped.
“It’s a necessary part of your treatment.”
“You sound like Ced—Captain Shaw.”
“I like him,” Mrs. Parker said, not mentioning Alana’s use of his given name.
“He’s a pirate.”
“Who keeps risking his life to protect you.”
Pressing her lips together, Alana refused to reply, not wanting to encourage Mrs. Parker’s romantic notions regarding their ‘gentleman’ kidnapper. No matter how she turned it in her mind, a relationship with Cedric—Charles—didn’t work.
“Once we’re freed, do you intend to travel on to Boston?” Alana twisted her head toward Mrs. Parker.
“I’m not certain.” She placed two bandages across Alana’s back, pressing them gently against the injured skin, before speaking again, her melancholy voice winding around Alana. “With Hugh gone, I’ve been considering returning to Wiltshire. Perhaps Susannah will allow me a room in her home.”
“If she follows through with her engagement to that horrible Mr. Lockhearst, you won’t receive an invitation to visit. Expecting a room would be unreasonable.”
“I feared that would be the case.”
“We shall live together, Mrs. Parker!” Alana rolled onto her side, crying out softly as she rotated, and placed a hand on the woman’s arm.
“Louisa,” she corrected, offering a small smile.
“Louisa,” Alana repeated, adding a definitive nod. “And you should address me as Alana.”
“But where will we live?”
“On my father’s estate. It’s just him and Aidan most days, and he gets quite lonely. I’m certain he would enjoy your company as much as I.”
“They must be sick with worry. By now, news will have reached England that our ship was attacked. My poor sister must be distraught.” Louisa stuck her nail beneath one of the bandages stretched across Alana’s stomach, peeled the strip up, ignoring the hiss that came from Alana, and added it to the growing pile on the tray. “We should write them once we’re put ashore.”
“We aren’t going to be put ashore,” Alana said through gritted teeth.
