This Perfect Kiss Read Online Free PDF

made his leg ache, and absently he rubbed his palm against his thigh as he opened the door and found his steward in the corridor, warming blankets in hand. He took one, then directed the rest to his daughter’s chamber. “After you deliver those to Anna’s room, bring hot water and soap to these quarters,” he said. “Then bring our guest something to eat. Coffee?” he asked her.
    â€œAnd something for my dog?”
    â€œWill a plate of kippers suffice?”
    At her nod, he allayed the information to his steward. “Have we any women’s clothing on board?”
    â€œMaybe sir,” his steward said. “Captain Bentwell’s wife keeps a trunk in his quarters.”
    Shutting the door, Camden turned back into the room. As Miss Douglas and her mongrel stared back at him, he contemplated what he had got himself into.
    â€œYou will remove those clothes so I can have them burned.” He jutted his chin toward the trunk in the far corner. “You can find something in there to wear. My robe should provide you adequate protection until we find you something more suitable. I trust the dog will not chew up anything.”
    â€œBut these are your quarters. Where will you stay?”
    He gathered up his hat and gloves to quit the room. “Accept my hospitality, Miss Douglas. I am not normally so accommodating.”
    She waited until he had opened the door before saying, “Thank you, my lord. You have saved our lives this day whether you like it or nay.”
    His hand froze on the latch and his gaze returned to hers. Any normal person would have been grateful for his aid. Yet with typical colonial impertinence, she seemed to reproach him, as if his character had been on trial in a room filled with his peers.
    â€œI will repay you for any expenses you incur on my behalf,” she said.
    Camden’s scowl gave way to a momentary lapse of amused silence. She could not afford one of his shirts. But her posture told him more eloquently than words that she intended to repay him every shilling if she had to dig turnips from the ground the rest of her life to do it.
    He was not a man tolerant of emotions, especially his own, yet he found himself possessed of the need to lift her face back into light and ask her what the hell she could possibly do to support herself.
    â€œChristel . . . Miss Douglas,” he managed with patience, “if ’tis your conscience you need to appease, you may do what you think best.”
    â€œI have never thought you less than kind, my lord.”
    Her voice again arrested his hand on the door latch. Only this time it was the words spoken that made him turn. For they had not been facetious, nor had she meant to be hurtful.
    He wanted to laugh. Saundra had not died thinking him kind.
    But he could not force cynicism into his thoughts. There was none.
    â€œAnd me with no reputation for civility. You, Miss Douglas, are still too trusting by far, or you would not be stranded and in need of my help.” He cocked a brow, surprised that of everything he had been able to say, it had been the truth that had cowed her into silence. “ Now do I have your leave to retire?”
    C amden’s steward was waiting for him in the corridor. “I put yer trunk in my cabin, my lord.” Carrying a tray, he hurried forward and swung open the door to his quarters. “I am heating water for the girl’s bath. She is young. I had heard she got out of Lisbon before they closed the port for cholera. She is fortunate to have made it this far alone. Why would a woman cross the Atlantic alone?”
    â€œI do not know, Harry.”
    â€œMust have been desperate to come home.”
    Camden limped past the little Irishman into a cabin that was smaller than his privy closet. He dumped his cloak, hat and gloves on the bottom berth. The room had a washbasin and a narrow space next to the wall barely wide enough for Harry’s sea bag and