Raven Saint Read Online Free PDF Page B

Alers rose. Muffling a moan, he placed a hand on his back. “It is not my Holy Book, and what would you know of it anyway?”
    â€œI know more than I care to.” Rafe took another puff of his cheroot, hoping the tobacco would calm his temper. “But to appease your sense of righteous mercy, the price I get for her will save many lives.”
    Father Alers flapped his hand through the air as if arguing with Rafe was a waste of his time. “And put out that cheroot. You will light the ship aflame.”
    Rafe scowled. Why did he allow this old man to play the father to him? He only taunted him with his inadequacies. “I am the capitaine of this ship, and I’ll do as I please!” he shouted in a tone that sent most men cowering.
    Father Alers guffawed. “What has pricked your nerves tonight if not la dame Westcott?”
    â€œC’est absurde.” Rafe sat back against his desk and rubbed his chin. “But I will not have her waste away and lower my profits. Force her to eat, if you must, and inform me when she fully recovers.”
    Father Alers turned and waved a hand through the air. “Force her yourself, Capitaine. You forbade me to attend to her further, did you not?” And with that, he hobbled out and closed the door.
    Rafe put out the cheroot in the empty brandy glass and avoided the temptation to toss the glass across the cabin. They’d been at sea barely a week, and Mademoiselle Westcott was already proving to be more of a problem than he expected.
    ***
    Grace climbed the companionway, her legs trembling with each step. Whether from weakness or fear, she didn’t know, and she no longer cared. After doing naught but retch and pray for days—she’d lost count of how many—all she had to show for it were a pair of bruised and scraped knees. Not to mention her spinning head which continually induced her to lose the contents of said stomach—which of course was already empty, making the action all the more painful.
    To make matters worse, nightmares from long ago attacked her feverish mind with ferocity. One nightmare in particular—a nightmare that had been so terrifying, she’d never spoken of it to anyone. A nightmare that had changed the course of her life forever. The night she had seen a vision of hell.
    Even now she couldn’t bring herself to think of it, but its memory always lingered at the edge of her thoughts, prompting her with greater and greater urgency to save those who were heading down a path that led to the horrifying place. Finally, pushing aside the hellish vision, she decided to venture on deck for some fresh air and to see if perhaps God could hear her pleas more clearly out in the open. Perchance this ship and its occupants were so evil that they blocked her prayers from rising to heaven. But now as she rose above hatches and slid her shaky foot across the deck, she questioned the wisdom of her actions. Instantly, a dozen pairs of eyes fastened upon her as tightly as the hooks on the bodice she’d been forced to squeeze into.
    Her sister Faith had always told her never to cower before bullies, so she lifted her chin to meet their gazes. A cacophony of whistles flew her way.
    â€œShiver me soul, if it ain’t the captain’s piece,” one portly sailor in a red shirt said.
    â€œAn’ a handsome petticoat she be.” The man next to him elbowed his friend and grinned.
    A lanky man with a pointy chin licked his oversized lips. “Don’t she look as tasty as a sweet berry pie.”
    â€œCome join us, mademoiselle,” another sailor gestured toward her. “We haven’t had our dessert yet.” The men all joined in an ear-piercing chortle.
    Grace lowered her chin, flung a hand to cover her bare neck, and made her way to the railing, hoping not to topple to the deck from weakness and humiliation. Perhaps this had not been a good idea, after all.
    Trying to erase the vision of the