Captive of Sin Read Online Free PDF Page A

was Felix she really feared.
    In response to her vehement refusal, Akash shrugged, the movement subtly foreign. “Let me at least see what the damage is. If you’ll permit?”
    “Be careful. She’s hurt her arm,” Sir Gideon said urgently.
    “My friend, you know you can trust me with her.”
    Reluctantly, Charis stepped forward. Akash carefully lifted the coat away from her shoulders and laid it inside the coach.
    She stood before them in her wreck of a gown. The night was freezing. The needle-sharp wind carried a promise of snow. Her good hand rose shaking to close her bodice while she angled her chin with a pathetic attempt at pride. She was decent. Barely. But she knew she looked dirty and hurt and helpless. With moonlight, the carriage lamps and the lantern, her bruises and abrasions must show with humiliating clarity.
    “Please sit down, Miss Watson.” Sir Gideon slid a folding stool from the back of the carriage and set it behind her. He also passed her the pug-scented shawl.
    She subsided with gratitude—her knees felt like rubber—and draped the shawl over her shoulders. Hesitantly, she extended her arm toward Akash. He frowned as he gently manipulated her wrist. Although his hold was skilled and sure, she winced.
    “It’s sprained but not broken,” he said eventually.
    Relief gushed through her. Life over the next three weeks would be tough if she was whole. A broken arm would be a disaster. Thank goodness Hubert’s beating had ceased once he knocked her unconscious.
    Akash tested her hands, arms, neck, then ran his fingers carefully over her face. His touch was so impersonal, she gradually relaxed and became aware of the activity around her. While Tulliver checked the horses, Gideon collected a leather bag strapped to the back of the carriage. Without speaking, he placed it beside Akash. He turned away and began to lay a fire.
    Trying to distract herself from both the cold and the painful examination, she watched the graceful deftness of Gideon’s gloved hands as he accomplished the workaday task. The breath caught in her throat when the cracklingflames caught and lit his remarkable face to gold, gleaming along smooth cheekbone and angular jaw.
    Beautiful. The word whispered through her like a glissando on a harp.
    Looking at Sir Gideon made her restless, edgy. She shifted to ease a strange pressure in the pit of her stomach.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Watson.” Akash raised his hands from her shoulders.
    She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
    She blushed when she realized he’d seen where her attention strayed. Straightening on the rickety stool, she strove to bring her unruly heartbeat under control.
    As she looked up into Akash’s face, the compassion in his eyes made her cringe. He was a handsome man. The recognition was as dispassionate as if she studied a fine portrait. His handsomeness didn’t call to her the way Sir Gideon’s did.
    Sir Gideon disappeared into moonlit darkness and returned carrying a tin kettle, which he set on the blaze. She’d been so focused on watching him that she hadn’t heard the stream bubbling in the distance. Behind her, Tulliver muttered softly as he fussed over the horses.
    Once the water heated, Akash used a damp cloth to wash the blood and dirt from her swollen face. Even the lightest touch stung, and she tautened every muscle to stay still. She struggled not to glance at Gideon as she huddled in her shawl.
    Eventually, she couldn’t help herself. While she silently bore Akash’s ministrations, she looked across to where Sir Gideon stood on the far side of the circle of firelight.
    His febrile dark eyes were glued to her. Some deep turmoil she didn’t understand stirred in his gaze. His gloved hands clenched at his sides. She read anger in his expression, the same anger he’d betrayed when he first saw her battered face. She shivered although she knew the rage was targeted at her abusers and not at her.
    He stiffened as he noticed her attention and turned