Chapter 15 #3
“Really?” He gave a laugh, but it didn’t hold a single shred of humour. He released her and pushed her back. “Because I just stopped you from getting hit by a cleaver.”
The man had been slowly sneaking up behind her with it raised. Alister had intercepted him just in time, so her attacker had sliced sideways instead, which got him in the torso.
Hissing in a breath, he looked down, thankful the injury was on the side he could see, and moved his hand away. He pressed it back when he saw how quickly he was bleeding.
If he’d had his cutlass in his hand, he might have been able to deflect the attack, but he’d been too busy trying to find her to hold it.
“I knew he was there.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “I was just reaching for my pistol when you pushed me.”
He didn’t care if it was a lie or the truth. That wouldn’t change the fact she’d disobeyed his order, and he needed serious medical attention. He turned away from her, walking down the hallway so he could find the surface.
“Let me help you,” she offered, coming beside him as he placed his hand on the wall to steady himself.
He wasn’t weakening, he was just bracing himself through the sharp, throbbing pain that came with every footfall on that side of his body.
She tried to put his arm around her shoulders, but he nudged her out of the way.
“I don’t need anyone’s help, Rosetta,” he barked. “Never have, never will.”
“Captain...” One of his men gasped when he made his way into the sunlight.
“Aye,” he nodded with a disgruntled tone. “Blame the lass.”
He grabbed one of the ropes still connected to his ship and used it to steady himself as he walked across a plank.
The entire time, he knew Rosetta was following him and he really wished she wouldn’t. He didn’t need some woman cooing and fawning over him because he was injured.
At least she’s getting off the trading boat. He wouldn’t have to think about her while tending to his wound. He wanted to be angry, but he was too concerned about himself to care. He’d deal with her later.
“Do you have a doctor on board?”
He guessed her question meant she didn’t.
“Nay. You killed him when you took over my ship.” He turned his head to the closest man available and found Clint staring at him, wide-eyed. “Boy.”
The fourteen-year-old came running over, his tousled hair held back from his face with a bandana. “Y-yes, Captain?”
“Bring a clean cloth, a bowl of grog, and a bottle of rum to my quarters.”
Clint took off running, as if the backs of his heels were on fire, and quickly disappeared below deck.
Alister headed for his quarters. Just when he went to close the door behind him, he felt resistance. “Leave me alone, lass.”
This wasn’t for the squeamish, and he didn’t want to deal with someone who might faint. Heading deeper inside, he grabbed a clean eating knife. He also grabbed a small candlestick and the tinderbox he’d need to light it.
He let go of his wound briefly to strike the flint and set the charcloth on fire, then used that to light a small wooden splint which he held to the candle wick.
Gripping his side once more, Alister managed to remove his shirt one-handed.
He fell into one of the dining chairs and started heating the blade of the knife over the candle flame.
He could see in his periphery she had ignored him and was kneeling at the small chest of her personal items. She’d already removed her coat and rolled up her sleeves, which he’d never seen her do before.
“Do you never listen?” His voice was quiet from pain, but there was a bite to it. “I told you to get out. You’ve already screwed up enough today by not following orders.”
She didn’t stop what she was doing, nor did she answer him. Clint burst through the door, running over to place everything he’d asked for on the table before leaving.
Alister threw the cloth into the grog water to soak with his free hand. Then he grabbed the bottle of rum, ripped the cork out with his back teeth, and spat it across the room.
He chugged half the bottle in one go, trying to numb himself by drowning in it. It wouldn’t be enough. He’d need at least three bottles before he’d be even tipsy – if he was lucky. Rum barely did anything for him these days.
“You shouldn’t drink; it’ll make you bleed more.”
He pointed one of his fingers holding the bottle at her. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
She knelt in front of him, between his legs, reaching to grab the cloth.
“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I have tended to every wound of my crew.” Her voice was small, her expression grim, but she looked surprisingly composed. “As well as my own. I have a little bit of medical knowledge.”
She’s got scars? He knew she’d hurt the back of her arm the day of the pirate hunters, but he thought that might have been her first. It hadn’t looked deep.
“Is that why you followed me in here?”
“Yes.” Her eyes came up to his face, and he noted a hint of softness he’d never seen before. Soft was not something he usually associated with her expressions. “Let me help you so you don’t have to do it yourself.”
His lips pursed into a thin line before he turned his head away. “Fine. You’ll need to cauterise the vein first.”
“I know that.” She twisted the cloth to wring it out and then made him jump when she wiped it over his side. “Will you be able to handle being stitched or should I expect you to wriggle like some?”
“Stitch me? Lass, you ain’t coming anywhere near me with a needle and thread. Just stop the bleeding, and I can heal the rest.”
She was silent for a few moments. When he looked at her, she was closely inspecting his wound.
“No.” She sighed, patting his wound again with the soaked cloth. “You’ll definitely need a few stitches.”
“Nay.” He shoved the burning-hot knife towards her.
“It’ll help stop you from getting an infection.”
“I’ve healed through every injury I’ve ever gotten the same way.”
She gave a shrug. “And today you’ll get a new way.”
Alister slammed the bottom of his fist against the table. “You’re one stubborn bitch, you know that? I’m telling you nay.”
She pushed the tip of the blade into his wound, and he gave a yelp he tried to not let out. It’s worse when someone else does it!
“You got hurt because of me,” she said once she was done cauterising his wound to stop the bleeding. “Let me tend to you properly. It’s my way of showing I’m sorry.”
“Ha!” He chuckled darkly, feeling the corners of his eyelids crinkle while taking a swig of rum. “Can’t believe my ears. The lass is apologising.”
He took another swig, glaring up at the ceiling in thought. She’ll keep pestering me.
“Exactly, so let me help.”
Knew it.