Free Glorious Victorious Darcys 01.5 - His Broken Angel by Beth Ciotta

voice.
    Doc kissed her forehead. “Stay here and rest.” Willing good sense, he left the room, the flames of hell lickin’ at his boots.
     

Chapter Nine
    Lily knew she’d acted scandalously with Doc. She’d lost control and she was finding it hard to care. Even though Doc had worked miracles on her injuries, she couldn’t shake the feeling that life was short. She’d escaped death on the
Britannia
only to risk being crushed by a maniacal bounty hunter. Even now, being in the heart of a Freak Fighter outpost, anything could happen. What if she fell prey to a suspicious hostile? What if ALE discovered the outpost and blew the hideaway—and everyone in it—to smithereens?
    What if she tripped on her own two feet, hit her head, and crossed through the Pearly Gates?
    In a heartbeat, her life could be over. She wasn’t ready. Whether she recovered her vision or not she wanted to pursue the pleasures of life with vigor. Like kissing, and touching, and caressing the man who set her heart aflame. She wanted to make love. She wanted to have babies. She didn’t need sight to do all those things. As for her art, surely she could find some way to divert her passion.
    Lily dressed as fast and as best she could in her confounding darkness. Everything—trousers, shirt, sack coat—fit fairly well. She wished there’d been a gown or at least a frilly bodice—something more feminine to make her look pretty in Doc’s eyes. She wondered what had happened to her own dress then bemoaned the loss of her entire wardrobe. Her sketchbook and charcoal pencils, her treasured art box containing her paints and brushes—all lost on the
Britannia
.
    “Be grateful you’re alive,” she told herself then pinched color into her cheeks and finger-combed her hair. She was anxious for Doc’s return. To discuss their future.
    His concern that her intimate feelings were rooted in gratitude and awe had rattled her, but not as much as his questioning her backbone. Regardless of her recent anxiety, Lily possessed a good dose of determination and grit. She attributed those qualities to being shuffled from one relative to another for most of her life. Being smothered or manipulated by her wards in a bid to shelter her from her brother’s perilous world. She knew Tuck’s intentions were pure and that he’d kept her at arms’ length to keep her safe. But as she’d grown older, she’d craved adventure and purpose. And she’d longed to spend time with the older brother she barely knew.
    It had taken a good amount of grit for Lily to finagle passage to England via the
Britannia
.
    Tightening and tying the laces of the sturdy boots she’d borrowed from P.J., Lily contemplated fate. She thought she’d been destined to join her brother and his exploits aboard the
Maverick
. Now she knew her destiny lied with one of Tuck’s crew. She could assist Doc Blue with his healing efforts. He possessed a blessed gift, and she wanted to help him share it with others, like he had with her.
    Lily fairly burst with renewed drive.
    When could they leave here? Jasper had ordered them to the outpost for their safety, yet she felt like a prisoner. Did Jasper aim to keep her here until she was as good as new? If he sent her to Tuck blind, did Jasper truly think the famous Air Marshal would blame him for her affliction and come gunning? Doc had said her blindness wasn’t permanent, but what if it was long lasting?
    Anxious, Lily sat on the shoddy bed and braided her hair to keep from pacing. Her legs felt as good as healed, but she didn’t want to push her luck. Braiding her hair felt natural and easy and she welcomed the monotony of something normal.
    The door creaked open and Lily lit up.
    “Temper your excitement, Gentry. It’s just me.”
    P.J.
    The aviatrix clomped into the room and slammed shut the door. “Your
sweetheart’s
in the next room speaking with Snoop. I brought us something to drink and eat. I see you found my clothes. They fit you nicely, even