Raven Saint by MaryLu Tyndall Page A

should I thank you? You deliver me from the wolves only to feed me to a lion.”
    He winced inwardly, unable to deny that truth. Yet at the moment, deep down, he wished he had met this lady in a different time, in a different place, and that she was not the daughter of Admiral Henry Westcott. He ground his teeth together. What was wrong with him?
    She seemed to sense his conflict, and the haughty veneer fell from her face. “Captain, return me to my home. I beg you.” Her eyes moistened. “There are so many who depend on me. Not the least of whom are my sisters. Faith is so new to her beliefs, and Hope, my other sister.” The mademoiselle sighed and wrung her hands together. “She ran away and we do not know where she is, but she will need me when she returns.” She clasped the chain around her neck and stepped toward him. The vulnerability, the desperation, the appeal in her eyes softened the shield around his heart. “Surely you have family somewhere that you love?”
    At the mention of family, Rafe’s armor stiffened once again. “I have no family.”
    â€œBut I heard Father Alers make mention of your father.”
    â€œMy father is a beast.” Rafe’s back stiffened. “A man who beats innocent children and preys on young women. To me, he is dead.” Why was he telling her this? he thought. What was it about her that made him want to tell her?
    Her forehead wrinkled and she looked at him curiously. Heat stormed through him as he realized the irony of what he had just said. He clenched his fists. “Contrary to what you might think, mademoiselle, I am nothing like him.” He turned to go, displeased with the course of the conversation and the way it made him feel.
    She laid a hand on his arm, drawing him back by her touch. “Then behave differently, Captain. Take me home. I promised my mother, don’t you see? I promised her I would keep my sisters close to God, that I would keep them on the straight path.”
    Rafe knew of promises. Promises that had been nothing but smoke and dust, here one day and then blown away with the trade winds the next. But something in her eyes made him want to believe that some promises could be kept, that some people could be trusted.
    And that angered him all the more.
    â€œStay in your cabin, mademoiselle,” he snapped, “or the next time I may allow the men their play.”
    She winced, but Rafe steeled himself against caring. He could not care. Would not care. “I will have Father Alers bolt a lock and chain to this door tomorrow, so that by the time we arrive at Port-de-Paix, you will be unable to cause any further trouble.” He patted his chest, looking for the cheroot he usually kept in his waistcoat pocket, but he had not donned his waistcoat. He needed a smoke. A brandy. Anything. He needed to get away from this woman. “Come, Spyglass.”
    The cat shifted her one eye from Rafe to Mademoiselle Grace but did not move.
    â€œSpyglass.” He snapped at the rebellious feline, yet the cat remained. “Zut alors!” Rafe stomped out and slammed the door with a bang that echoed down the companionway. Even his cat was under her spell.
    ***
    Grace jumped as the door slammed. She sank into the chair. Spyglass leapt into her lap and began to purr. Petting the cat, Grace drew a deep breath and then released it, hoping to ease the tightness in her chest. Not just tight from the harrowing events below but from her time in the captain’s presence. He befuddled her. She wanted to hate him. Did hate him. But then he had rescued her and the look in his eyes when she pleaded for her freedom ... it was almost as if he cared. Regardless, she did not fear him as she did the men in the hold. Though he was as wild as the sea he sailed upon, she didn’t believe he would hurt her. Sell her, but not hurt her himself. Instead she sensed an overwhelming sorrow in the captain, a hopelessness, and