Status: Complete
Skull and Dagger
Feeling better.
Annabelle lowered her eyelashes and opened her mouth, obediently drinking down the soup broth that Frank had guided to her lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that there was something seriously wrong about letting a pirate spoon-feed her, but she was enjoying herself too much to care.
She eagerly parted her lips for the last spoonful and drank it down dutifully.
“There now,” Frank said softly, moving to put the tray over onto the desk so that it no longer separated them. “Feeling better?” he asked, turning back to her.
She nodded with a little smile. All the other injuries she had sustained had been minor, but her throat had grown even more swollen over the last day. She couldn’t really even talk now and couldn’t eat anything solid. She was, of course, capable of feeding herself the soups that Frank had specially made for her, but she’d come to enjoy having him pamper her. It was definitely the sort of thing a girl could get used to…
He sat back down in the chair beside her bed, straddling the back and using it as an elbow rest. “We’re going back out to sea,” he informed her casually.
She sat up more against her pillows and prepared to listen to him. The quiet was far the most tedious thing about having no voice, and the deep rumble of his baritone was the perfect balm to soothe her irritation.
“Wanna make sure that those wankers don't have any friends,” he explained. “And, if they do, we’ll need to lose them before we reach Dead Man’s Island.”
She quickly scrambled for the parchment and pen before her and wrote “Dead Man’s Island?” in a hand that her father had always informed her was far too impatient and not anywhere near ladylike enough.
Frank didn’t seem to mind, however. “Sort of a pirate refuge,” he explained. “It's a safe haven - no fighting or killing of any sort allowed. And when I find out who sent those pricks, I fully intend to kill…” His eyes narrowed to dark slits, and he unconsciously reached out to caress the one curve of her throat that hadn’t been bruised.
She felt her cheeks flush a deep red and lowered her eyes, looking up at him through long, curled lashes. She found it quite paradoxical that out of all the men she had ever met in her life, the one to treat her most tenderly was a pirate.
She eagerly parted her lips for the last spoonful and drank it down dutifully.
“There now,” Frank said softly, moving to put the tray over onto the desk so that it no longer separated them. “Feeling better?” he asked, turning back to her.
She nodded with a little smile. All the other injuries she had sustained had been minor, but her throat had grown even more swollen over the last day. She couldn’t really even talk now and couldn’t eat anything solid. She was, of course, capable of feeding herself the soups that Frank had specially made for her, but she’d come to enjoy having him pamper her. It was definitely the sort of thing a girl could get used to…
He sat back down in the chair beside her bed, straddling the back and using it as an elbow rest. “We’re going back out to sea,” he informed her casually.
She sat up more against her pillows and prepared to listen to him. The quiet was far the most tedious thing about having no voice, and the deep rumble of his baritone was the perfect balm to soothe her irritation.
“Wanna make sure that those wankers don't have any friends,” he explained. “And, if they do, we’ll need to lose them before we reach Dead Man’s Island.”
She quickly scrambled for the parchment and pen before her and wrote “Dead Man’s Island?” in a hand that her father had always informed her was far too impatient and not anywhere near ladylike enough.
Frank didn’t seem to mind, however. “Sort of a pirate refuge,” he explained. “It's a safe haven - no fighting or killing of any sort allowed. And when I find out who sent those pricks, I fully intend to kill…” His eyes narrowed to dark slits, and he unconsciously reached out to caress the one curve of her throat that hadn’t been bruised.
She felt her cheeks flush a deep red and lowered her eyes, looking up at him through long, curled lashes. She found it quite paradoxical that out of all the men she had ever met in her life, the one to treat her most tenderly was a pirate.