Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger (Dangerous Dukes 6)

Any doubts that Christian might have had in regard to Lisette being a ‘good sailor’ had been dispelled the night before when, once on board the fast sloop, she had stayed up on deck conversing with the captain, who could speak and understand a rudimentary smattering of French—despite Christian’s urgings for her to stay below deck—during the whole process of the ship setting sail and leaving the harbour.

This morning she looked even more bright-eyed and happily flushed in the cheeks.

Whereas Christian was in great discomfort from the wound to his thigh. Indeed, he had only managed to remove his boots the previous night before collapsing onto the bunk bed in which he now lay. He had then tossed and turned for most of the night, the swaying of the ship not helping in the slightest.

‘At least one of us is pleased with the arrangement,’ he snapped in disgruntlement.

Lisette’s eyes widened at this show of bad temper from Christian; he had always seemed to be so calm and unruffled in t

heir acquaintance to date. Even when he had been shot.

She studied his appearance more closely; his boots had been removed, but otherwise he seemed to have slept in his clothes—possibly because he had been unable to undress completely without assistance?

Assistance Lisette was ashamed to admit she had not thought to offer the previous night, in her enchantment with remaining on deck to watch as they set sail for England.

Christian’s hair was also tousled and unkempt, there were dark shadows beneath those lavender-coloured eyes and his face had a greyish cast to it. Not a particularly good sign, but far better that he be pale in the face than flushed with a fever.

‘I believe you will need to undress, so that I might look at your wound again,’ she announced lightly—in an effort to hide the embarrassment she felt at the thought of the two of them being alone here when she helped Christian to remove his clothes.

She had not considered that, in her relief on discovering they had been given separate cabins aboard the ship, she would find herself completely alone with Christian when she came to his cabin; François had always been present when she had dressed Christian’s wound whilst they were in Paris.

Christian scowled up at her. ‘Do I look as if I am capable of undressing?’

Yes, the Comte was decidedly out of sorts this morning. ‘I meant with my assistance, of course,’ she came back pleasantly.

‘Are you sure?’ He quirked an impatient eyebrow. ‘I would not wish to keep you from going up on deck and enjoying the rest of the voyage or to “damage your reputation”!’

Lisette ignored the jibe. Not only was it unworthy of the man she had come to know, but they must both be aware, even occupying separate cabins as they were, that her reputation would be ‘damaged’ forever, just from her having travelled alone with him to England.

Lisette had considered at the time, and still did, that it was a small price to pay in exchange for escaping, even only for a while, the life she had been forced to lead in Paris.

‘I will help you to undress,’ she repeated briskly. ‘And then go and beg some hot water from the ship’s cook to first help you wash and then to cleanse your wound. I will also need to acquire something I can use for clean dressings.’

‘No doubt you are now on speaking terms with all the crew!’ the Comte snapped accusingly as she crooked an arm beneath his to help him sit up higher against the pillows.

Yes, definitely out of sorts—and rude with it. ‘The Captain was kind enough to introduce me to his officers and the men in the galley last night, yes,’ Lisette answered distractedly, her expression deliberately neutral as she peeled the fitted jacket from him, before untying and removing his cravat and unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

Some of which she was sure Christian could have done for himself last night, but had perhaps been too tired or irritable to do so, after struggling to remove his boots. Men, her maman had once warned her, did not make good patients—mainly because they had no patience with their own weakness in having become sick in the first place. Although that could not be said of Christian’s current predicament, when he had come by his present injury through no fault of his own.

Except in showing a marked interest in her.

Her own guilt over that was enough to cause Lisette to hold her tongue in regard to Christian’s uncharacteristic bad temper as she lifted and then removed the shirt from his body.

Her breath caught in her throat when she turned back from depositing the soiled shirt on the floor and found herself looking at Christian’s completely bared chest.

And what a chest it was—lightly tanned, with tautly defined muscles and just a light dusting of blond hair in the centre of his chest and tapering down to the waistband of his pantaloons.

Pantaloons Lisette now had to remove if she was to inspect and re-dress the wound on his thigh.

Christian inwardly acknowledged he was being less than gracious, let alone gentlemanly, this morning and, sensing Lisette’s reluctance when it came to the unfastening of his pantaloons, he deftly released the buttons himself. But there was little he could do to help in regard to removing them; his leg now felt so stiff and sore he could barely move it.

Lisette’s slightness of stature, and the height of the bunk bed upon which Christian lay, meant that her breasts were almost on a level with his chest, allowing soft wisps of her silky hair to brush across the bareness of his skin as she bent over the bed and struggled to peel back the pantaloons.

His manhood, in complete rebellion with how debilitated the rest of his body felt, instantly sprang to attention. Noticeably so, as Christian finally lay back weakly against the pillows wearing only his drawers.

That weakness was no doubt being increased because all the available blood seemed to have now gathered in his engorged member!

Had he ever suffered such an embarrassing moment as this before? Not that Christian could recall, no.