The English Lily (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) Read Online Free Page A

Thomas.
    “You’ve hurt yourself, Miss Faye,” he said. Before she realized his intentions, he peeled the glove from her hand. “Someone, please get water and a towel.”
    “I’ll do it,” Niccòlo said and rushed out.
    “Your pretty muslin piece is ruined,” Juliette said.
    “What are those marks on your hand?” Rebecca gasped.
    Kendra jerked her hand from Mr. Thomas and snatched up her glove, biting back another sting of tears. She could not abide the kindness or the humiliation. “Please, excuse me. I-I must find Louisa.” She dashed out, ignoring their protests. Let them talk. ’Twas nothing to which she was unaccustomed.
    The need for fresh air overwhelmed her. Nausea threatened. It was all she could do to make her way to the upper deck, posthaste, where large drops of rain were starting to cry from the clouds.
    She turned her face up. No one would see her cry. The rain would do it for her.

Chapter Four
    “What the hell are you doing standing in the rain like an imbécile ?” Joseph barked. The balmy air from that morning had dissipated into a cold wet blanket. “You’re not even wearing a cloak.”
    Kendra’s spine was so rigid Joseph feared it would snap if the ship took an unexpected lurch. Her gloved hand clutched its mate. She did not turn, nor did she admonish him with one of her scathing retorts. Indeed, she did not even look at him. Her despondency did more to diminish his anger than he cared to admit. A delicate shudder racked her small frame. She was freezing, shivering under the onslaught of the chilled rain.
    “ Mon Dieu ,” he muttered, slipping from his great coat. He dropped it about her shoulders and guided her back to the companionway. “What is it, Lady Kendra? Are you ill? Where is your maid?”
    “No! No, I’m…I’m not…I don’t know. I-I just needed…some air.” Her chest heaved in heavy gasps.
    “Well, now you need dry clothes. Come, let us find your maid, and I shall see about rallying some tea for you.”
    “Please, I just want to be left alone,” she said. Her voice was faint, hidden beneath his cloak.
    Joseph stopped. Gripping the folds, he turned her to him. He had to part the coat to see her downturned head. Her pale gold hair was soaked and plastered to her head. With an index finger, he lifted her chin. Two spots of red flushed her cheeks in an otherwise pale pallor. A stab of guilt pierced his chest. She’d been crying. “I’ll kill him.”
    “Kill whom?” she hiccupped. Her body convulsed in a shivering mass.
    “Niccòlo. What did he do?”
    “W-what a-are you t-talking about?” Her teeth chattered so hard, he could hardly discern the words.
    Joseph’s gaze strayed to her luscious red lips. Breath hitched, he froze. Something intense flared through his entrancement. Suddenly, unable to help himself, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers. She tasted of sweetness, innocence. Too much to resist. He coaxed her mouth apart with his. After her initial shock, she melted into him, and he devoured her mouth, stroking his tongue against hers, over and over. And hot. Very hot. His hands fell away and he stepped back, appalled by his abrupt lack of control.
    Her face was like fire, her one hand ice cold. “Find your maid,” he growled, and spun on his heel.
    Joseph cursed himself to hell and back, hunting down the cook. Sometimes he was the most insensitive clod. How could he expect Kendra to accept his hand in marriage when he accused her of being an imbécile , for God’s sake? And who the hell had made her cry?
    He found the cook deep in his cups, reeking of gin. Joseph snatched him up by the neck of his worn shirt. “Send tea to Kend—Lady Kate’s quarters. Hurry it up,” he snarled. He paused. “Wait, just prepare it. I’ll deliver it myself.” Satisfied with the fear in the man’s eye, Joseph let go and darted back to the group gathered in the commons. At first, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. His gaze fell on Niccòlo