“Would you like to examine it?”
Should she? No, definitely not. It was too soon to get that close to him.
But she pointed out, “The doctor will be coming to do that.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Because he ought to check you for fever, infection, especially since you stupidly spent the day working instead of resting.”
“If you keep that up, Jack, I’m going to start thinking you’re worrying about me.”
She snorted, then grit her teeth, which made him grin. The man was entirely too friendly for a kidnapping pirate. And much too easily amused. It was as if a joke were lingering in the room whose punch line she’d missed, and every time he looked at her, he was reminded of it. He couldn’t really be so damned insouciant and cheerful when this situation was beyond serious, could he? That would make him—heartless.
“I’ve seen all of Dr. Death’s incompetence that I care to. The crew might trust his tending, but I don’t. Besides, he’s likely drunk this time of day.”
Her eyes flared wide. “Was he foxed when he stitched you last night?”
“You couldn’t smell it?”
“And you let him sew your wound?!”
“Are you ready to play doctor, Jack?”
She stopped herself from laughing. This was the perfect opportunity to try to be nice to him when it was at his own suggestion and he wouldn’t be suspicious about the change in her attitude. But what if she couldn’t control herself when she got near enough to him to examine his wound? What if she socked him instead . . . ?
Chapter Twenty-Two
YOU DON’T NEED TO agonize about it, Jack. I wasn’t being entirely serious.”
She could tell Bastard was still joking, so she sighed. “I wasn’t aware that seriousness came in half measures. Remove the bandage and I’ll have a look. For all you know, your foxed doctor made the wound worse, not better.”
She didn’t have to get close to him just to look. And it would be a good start, grudging help rather than offered help. So she went to the side of the desk. But he hadn’t removed his bandage. He was staring at her legs again!
“You might want to untie my shirt if you’re going to wear those.”
“Why?” She glanced down at the britches. “They’re a good fit.”
“No, they’re not. They’re so tight around your hips and thighs that you might as well be naked.”
“Oh.”
The blush came instantly but left just as fast as soon as she saw that he’d stopped looking at her. He was unwrapping his bandages and keeping his eyes on the task, so she quickly unknotted his shirt and pulled the now-wrinkled lower half of it down to her knees. But she definitely wasn’t going to forget that his seeing her in tight britches bothered him. Seducing him might not be so difficult after all.
The square bit of padding the bandages had held in place was stuck to the wound. He pulled it off slowly without wincing before his eyes came back to hers. “Well?”
She tsked. “Look at it yourself. You can’t tell anything about that wound with all that blood caked around it. It needs to be washed first.”
“Go ahead.”
She moved to his washstand and grabbed one of the little towels on the shelf under it. She soaked it in the water bowl and wrung it out, then came back and tossed it at him. “You go ahead. You know if I do it, it’s going to hurt so bad you’ll cry.”
He burst out laughing. Once the dried blood was rubbed off, she could see the slit she’d caused was about an inch and a half. She winced a little even if he didn’t.
She frowned and leaned closer, then exclaimed, “Good grief, the doctor only gave you one stitch and it’s already unraveled. No wonder it’s still bleeding.”
He shrugged. “He probably got distracted when you called me a murderer.”
She snorted at that reminder. “You didn’t lock the door. I assume someone’s standing guard out there?”
“Of course.”
“Then send him for a needle and thread. You need proper stitching if you want that wound to heal anytime soon.”
“Still determined to make me cry?”
“Good guess,” she quipped with a tight grin.
But he did as she suggested, though he told the sailor to send someone else to fetch what was needed. Jackie arrived moments later with a needle and thread and a tray of food.
“Bring me a lit lantern or a candle,” Jacqueline told the boy. “I need to pass the needle through a flame.”
“So you received doctoring lessons, too?” Bastard said with some surprise.
“No, but I’ve seen a competent physician at work before, and I know a dirty needle is worse than no needle a’tall.”
“But how are you with a needle?”
“I know how to sew, if that’s what you mean. My cousin Judy wanted to learn embroidery and I wasn’t going to just sit there and watch her do it, so I learned, too.”
“I would have thought you’d have been out slaying dragons instead.”
“She and I did everything together. I didn’t like the sewing, but she was pleased that I tried it with her.”
“And then she hunted dragons with you?”
She glanced up at him and noticed his grin. “Is that what you did as a child? Pretend to slay dragons?”
He laughed. “Actually, Mort and I pretended to slay pirates. But then we grew up in the Caribbean. I don’t think there are any dragons there. Was that a real smile, Jack?”
It had been, for the briefest moment, but she wasn’t going to kick herself about it. “I was just imagining a dragon romping through the islands. But Judy and I didn’t need to play pretend. Our family is too big. There was always something exciting happening to occupy us instead.”
“Did she reciprocate and try all of your activities as well?”
“Goodness, no. Some of the things I cajoled my father into teaching me, she considered too unladylike for her. But she watched and cheered me on.”
“Steering a ship isn’t dangerous.”
“Fetch me a rapier and I’ll demonstrate.”
He chuckled. “Lessons of that sort, really?”
“Much more fun than needlepoint.”
To have such a normal conversation with him was a little disconcerting. A good start to her plan, but it still felt odd discussing their childhoods in such a whimsical way. But she didn’t want to waste this opportunity to find out more about him, maybe even something personal that she could use against him.
So she said, “I would have guessed you grew up in England, not the Caribbean. You certainly sound English.”
“Have I intrigued you again?”
“Again? Oh, that,” she scoffed, thinking of the masquerade ball. “Any mystery is intriguing, and that’s all you were—when you were wearing that ridiculous mask. Were you born in the islands?”
“Yes, of English parents. You’d be surprised how many Englishmen settle in the West Indies on the islands Britain has claimed.”
“Which island?”