Virginia Heath - The Uncompromising Lord Flint

‘Better for what? My impending execution?’

He ignored her croaked sarcasm. Instead, Jess heard water being poured from a jug. ‘Here—drink this.’

That comforting hand buried gently under her head on the pillow, supporting her enough that he could press the cup to her dry lips with his other hand. Jess drank gratefully, uncomfortable at being helpless—especially in front of him, the hateful man. Meeting his gaze in this state was unthinkable, so she focused on the cup instead and the steady hand holding it. Surprised that the neat, clean fingernails did not sit on the pampered hands of an aristocrat. Those hands had seen work, real work. Capable hands. Kind, too. Even when they had restrained her in the sea, he had not retaliated and hurt her when so many male hands had. He had been strong, though, more proof if proof were needed that her new gaoler did more than socialise and issue orders to his servants.

Being so close unnerved her. She could smell his skin—soap, some deliciously spicy cologne with undertones of fresh air from his immaculately laundered shirt, evidence that Lord Flint was particular about his personal cleanliness. Another luxury she had once taken for granted. Up against his golden perfection, she doubtless looked a wreck. Her own fingernails were torn and she was aware of a tender swelling on her lip. Before one errant hand went to her head to check the state of her hair, Jess pushed him and the cup away, suffering the indignity of allowing him to lower her spinning head back to the pillow. She made the mistake of glancing up at him, her eyes locking with his concerned green gaze. There it was again. That odd sense of well-being and connection, when she knew better than to trust anyone.

‘Thank you.’ Not at all what she wanted to say. A pathetic, heartfelt effort, when she wanted to spear him with something pithy. Something that clearly demonstrated she was not done yet and he hadn’t beaten her, but those kind eyes drew her in and the intended insults died in her mouth. He smiled with genuine amusement then and her breath hitched.

‘Fear not. I’m sure the politeness you are suffering is only a temporary affliction brought about by your knock to the head, my lady, and the old you will return soon enough to vex me.’

‘ Oui... I hope so, too.’ Jess felt the corners of her mouth begin to lift in a returning smile and screwed up her face to stop it. Why was she responding to his charm and his undeniably handsome face? She hated him! If she ignored the flashes of compassion, gentleness and decency, this man wanted to see a rope around her neck! What was worse was there were no stinging retorts currently in her arsenal either and that wouldn’t do. For several seconds, she searched her mind for something—anything in either English or French—to redress the balance and came up blank. Incroyable! What use was being fluent in two languages if neither served your purpose at your time of need?

‘You are very lucky to be alive. Many a ship has fallen foul of those rocks you scaled. The sea was calmer today.’

Jess didn’t feel particularly lucky. Hard to feel blessed when now so riddled with fresh guilt that seemed to have lodged itself between her ribs like a parasite that was doing its best to claw its way through her, reminding her that she was selfish to still be thinking only of her freedom despite the dreadful ramifications of her actions, not to mention she was back at square one. Galling when she had specifically aimed for the most deserted piece of coastline. ‘How did you find me?’

‘I know this area well and the good-for-nothing Captain turned out to be very good at one thing. He calculated the speed of the current and plotted your likely direction. You were either destined for the headland or the calm bay behind it. We landed there, in case you were wondering, and rather fortuitously saw you climbing that cliff as we sailed past.’

Imbécile! She should have paid closer attention to the water rather than her irrational fear of heights!

He seemed to understand her anger and its cause, and merely smiled in response. He would pay for that, once the bed stopped whirling. The knock at the door saved her from pouting like a spoiled child.

A cheerful, ruddy-faced older gentleman barrelled in, clutching a black leather bag. ‘I see the patient is finally awake.’ He smiled kindly as he sat on the mattress next to her. ‘You took quite a bash to the head, young lady. If you don’t mind, I need to examine you. How are you feeling?’

Jess wasn’t going to discuss anything or suffer the indignity of being examined in front of her gaoler, allowing him to see the evidence of her weakness and shameful frailty, so turned to him imperiously. ‘You may leave us, Monsieur Flint.’

He laughed then and shook his blond head, and she hated the fact he looked delectable when amused. ‘Not in a million years, my lady, I believe you are forgetting who is in charge. Until you have been safely delivered to London, I’m afraid I shall be sticking to you like a barnacle sticks to a rock. From this moment on, I will be your shadow. Joined at the hip. But in the spirit of basic human decency , I shall step out of your way and avert my eyes.’ He made a great show of moving towards the window and turned his back to stare out of it. ‘You may continue, Doctor. Imagine I am not here. Both of you.’

‘Twenty-four hours of bed rest!’ Gray shook his dark head in disbelief. ‘If word gets out she’s here, we’ll be sitting ducks.’ They were still waiting for the other fifty men from the King’s Elite to make their way from Plymouth, where they were waiting, to this remote corner of the Devon coast. It would be hours before they arrived. ‘We’re too close to the coast for my liking. If the Boss’s men find her, they’ll have her halfway back across the Channel before the others arrive!’

‘That’s why I’ve told the Captain to set sail immediately and head out to sea. I don’t want anyone spotting a Royal Navy frigate lurking near the shore.’ Flint had kept back a few of the crew to stand guard in the interim. It wasn’t an ideal scenario, but at least with the enormous ship gone, the tiny fishing village would appear normal from a distance to anyone unfamiliar with it.

‘And if someone from here talks, or has already talked? We caused quite a stir marching in carrying her on that stretcher. I don’t like it, Flint.’

Neither did he, so he didn’t argue. With the spring sun setting and only the one narrow lane serving as both the entrance and exit of the village, if the enemy came, they were done for. ‘It is what it is. We can’t move her yet. She’s as weak as a kitten—albeit a feral one with claws.’ Who he didn’t trust as far as he could throw her despite his irrational need to protect her.

‘Rather you than me, old boy. I think I’d rather take my chances with the smugglers. At least they are predictable.’

A good point. Flint glanced back at the bedchamber door, then decided that leaving her alone for two minutes, even though the windows were securely locked and the key was tucked in his waistcoat pocket, were two minutes too long. To be certain, he stalked back to the door and poked his head inside. She was sleeping just as she had been when he had left her, but in case she wasn’t he left the door open a crack before returning to his friend.

‘Have a carriage readied as a contingency in case we do need to leave fast, but assume that we’ll be off some time tomorrow afternoon to make Plymouth before nightfall.’ Being on the roads after dark would be tantamount to suicide and counter-productive. They were supposed to be bait, not a target.

Flint watched Gray leave and felt a pang of guilt for putting his comrades in danger. Not that he’d lied about the bed rest, the physician had been most specific, citing all manner of complications should they attempt to move her too soon, but because he was putting the welfare of a potential traitor over that of his men. Why should he care if Lady Jessamine became ill? But he did.