Falling for the Pirate Read Online Free

down, down, to the unconscious body sinking below. And all the while he thought, I’ve killed him .
    A lifetime of bastardy, and Nate had managed never to kill another human being. Hargate was going to be the first man he killed. That was the plan. But now, a boy lay limp in his arms.
    Except—
    When his men pulled him up, he saw long chestnut hair, soaking wet and shimmering with the moon. When he laid the body gently on the dock, he also saw two small but unmistakable swells beneath the wet shirt. When he saw her eyelids flicker with faint consciousness. Nate felt a surge of relief and gratitude…and wondered how he ever could have missed it.
    The thief wasn’t a boy at all.

Chapter Three
    It was warm in the room. Too warm. The bedclothes were suffocating, and someone had built a strong fire. She could smell the coal.
    Coal . There was something about coal, but she couldn’t remember what. Her head felt foggy, as if filled with water, her thoughts adrift in the murky dark. There was something important she had to remember. Floating just beyond her grasp.
    Cuts and bruises all over her body made themselves known as she came awake, as if they awoke too, one by one. Her palms burned, as though she’d fallen and scraped them. Her ankle throbbed—possibly she’d twisted it. Her side ached. What had happened to her?
    If she held herself very still, the pain dulled to a muffled roar, just quiet enough that she could focus on other things.
    Such as where she was.
    And who she was.
    Her eyes felt glued shut. She opened them by force of will and stared at a plain drapery striped with light and dark blue. Pretty, serviceable. She was almost sure she’d never seen it before. Almost, because she couldn’t remember what she had seen before. She could only feel certain she hadn’t.
    The furniture looked heavy. Good quality. Not ornate.
    That detail seemed meaningful to her. Not ornate . As if she had once lived somewhere that was ornate—with fancy tapestries and delicately carved furnishings. Somewhere much colder than here.
    A faint memory of freezing water and sinewy shadows came to her, tickling her memory. Sinking, drowning. But nothing moved beneath her now, and her throat felt utterly dry. If she’d been in the water at some point, she was most definitely on land now.
    She looked around, letting her gaze sweep the cozy room before landing on a large wooden chair. More to the point, the man sleeping in the chair.
    His legs were spread wide—bracing himself, even in sleep. His shoulders were well above the back of the chair, his head leaning against the wall behind. He seemed too large for the furniture, like a grown man sitting on a child’s rocker in a nursery. Only, this chair was average-sized.
    She had a sense of familiarity, of having seen him before. Which was strange, because she didn’t feel like the sort of woman acquainted with pirates.
    And this man was most definitely a pirate.
    He wore no jacket. She felt faintly scandalized, except he was also alone in the room with her. He was alone in the room with her, which was far worse than being in shirtsleeves. And if that weren’t shocking enough, the ties at his collar hung loose, baring a portion of his chest. Tanned. Sprinkled with dark hair. And wholly inappropriate for her to see.
    She looked away—and right into his eyes. He was awake now. He’d been watching her examine him.
    “Who are you?” Her voice came out low and rough. What had she been doing last night to make her voice so raw?
    And had she been doing it with him ?
    The pirate stretched slowly, wincing as his body straightened into order. She had the sense he was rolling himself back up, as if he were a tree he had to trim just to stand upright.
    “You asked me the same question last night,” he remarked.
    His voice vibrated with sarcasm. He didn’t sound happy to greet her this morning. And, in fact, her sense of familiarity was completely misplaced if she’d asked for his name only