Free Dawson Bride (Wolf Brides Book 3) by T. S. Joyce

I’d never kissed a man before and I certainly hadn’t ever imagined doing so in front of a rowdy group of likely pirates, but Gable was consuming. His jaw worked as his teeth grazed the closed seam of my lips, and I wanted more. Wantonly, I angled my head and opened for him, then clutched his shirt helplessly as his tongue brushed mine with languid strokes. The warmth inside of me spread until surely I’d burn up with the wanting.
    He pulled away with a pained sound and rested his forehead against mine. “Remember, go straight to the address I gave you when you get to Boston Harbor. I’ll find you there.”
    I unclenched my fists from his shirt and breathlessly, I said, “Promise?”
    He leaned forward on the balls of his feet on the pebbled shore, holding my hand as the row boat pulled away. At the moment our fingers parted, he said, “I promise.”
    He stood on the beach beside the captain until the darkness swallowed them up. My heart lurched with every row of the oars that placed waves in between him and me. I wasn’t entirely sure I’d ever see him again and the fear broke apart something in me that I’d managed to keep whole until now. Silent tears streaked down my cheeks as we drew up beside the Anna Gale. One of the men hauled my two small bags Gable must’ve stowed in the row boat, and the other helped me climb the treacherous rope ladder that scaled the side of the ship.
    My arms shook with the effort of hauling myself upward on that flimsy rope, and my lungs burned as I gasped the briny air.
    The deck was amiss with the chaos of sailors readying for sea. Ropes were tied and pulled, knotted and thrown. A man sat comfortably on a rafter high above, readying a sail. The murmured chatter of the workmen ceased when I fumbled on board.
    “Oy,” the seaman beside me yelled out. “Just a stowaway, boys. Get back to work then!” He was a short man with a slight build and when he smiled, half of his teeth were missing. “Name’s Cyrus Dreck. The hands just call me Dreck. I’m Captain Kelley’s first mate, so’s if you need anything and he’s busy, you come to me.”
    “Thank you, Dreck.”
    “This way, milady. I’ll show you to your quarters and then I must get back to the men. A little birdie told me you’re being chased by something fearsome. Best we get out of port the second the Captain boards, yes? Now, I don’t know what Captain Kelley’s told you, but the Anna Gale isn’t equipped for passengers, and especially the kind of your…” He looked me up and down. “Merit,” he finished with a snaggle-toothed smile. “Living arrangements won’t be up to snuff, but that ain’t the point far as I hear it. The point’s to get you to the Americas safely, am I right?”
    “You’re correct, Sir. Whatever living arrangements you have will be fine, I’m sure.”
    He puffed out his chest and said, “Smashing,” in a hoity-toity tone.
    He led me to a steep stairwell and I clung to the rope handrail for balance on my pained hip. The boat rocked to and fro and as I sank deeper into the belly of the ship, panic washed over me like the drizzle of rain. Dreck lit a lantern and hung it from a rope tied to the ceiling. It swayed gently with the rocking of the waves. “Careful with these, milady,” he warned. “Don’t want to be lighting the ship on fire out in the middle of the sea.”
    Note to self: I’d need to learn to see in the dark.
    The rolling lantern light washed over row after row of wooden casks. “Is this what you’re shipping?”
    “The best whiskey money can buy. We’ve boxes of fine French wine in the back over there as well.” He pointed to a hammock attached to the ceiling. “That’s where you’ll sleep. You’ll get used to the motion of the ocean eventually, and hanging in the air will keep you from rolling out of bed. We sleep in ones similar but all the boys sleep in the same room like a barrel of packed fish. Captain thought you’d be more comfortable with a space