Never (Never, #1) (116)

“Aye.” He takes a step towards me. “We cannae go across till the storm passes, but once it—”

“No.” I shake my head. “I need to back to England.”

His brows go low as he stares at me for a few seconds, then he nods his head towards his quarters. “Come inside.”

“No, I want to go home,” I tell him, my voice starting to break a little. It’s because he’s here, and he undoes me.

“Daph, it’s wild out here. Just come inside,” he says again, ushering me in. He closes the door behind us, then turns to face me, and I notice immediately that he doesn’t close the distance between us. “Now, what’s come about?”

“I told you.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I need to go home.”

Jamison shakes his head, brows low, voice firm. “Daphne, what happened?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m banished.”

“Yer what?” His head pulls back. “For why?”

I sigh. “Because he wills it.”

Hook tilts his head, watching me. “Why does he will it?”

I breathe out, frustrated. “He was getting sexual favors from…” My voice trails, and Jamison’s eyebrows go up. I give him a look. “Your favourite girl.”

His face tugs in confusion. “You?”

I roll my eyes. “Calla.”

“Fuck.” His face falls for me. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

I cross my arms over my chest tightly and breathe out of my mouth because I’m cold.

“Yeah,” I say to the other side of the room before I glance over at him. “It’s okay.”

His brows flicker. “Is it?”

I nod. “I think that it should have crushed me, but it just made me cross.”

He says nothing for a few seconds, just watches me. “Why?” he asks eventually.

“I don’t know?” I shrug. “I’m indignant or something, that he has all these rules and expectations and he’s a hypocrite and a liar and—”

“But yer no’ sad?” Jamison clarifies, holding my eyes with his.

And I can feel it happening as his gaze is on me. The kink in my brow, the scowl that’s been on my face since I saw Peter starts to melt off me, and my face starts to soften to a bloom just because he’s watching me.

I shake my head, but barely. “Not sad.”

His eyes don’t move from me, but he nods before he notices my trembling hands.

My whole trembling self, actually.

“Shit.” He moves towards me. “Ye must be founthered.” He crosses that space that separates me from him and unhooks the cloak that’s around my neck, and it falls heavy and soaked to the floor with a slosh. “We need t’ get ye out o’ these.” He starts undoing the buttons at the front of my dress, and I freeze still because his hands are on me. He gets about midway down my chest before his hand hovers at the button. “Do ye hae anything on underneath that?” he asks that specific button.

I swallow, shake my head.

He nods his head, then he turns, grabs a coat that’s thrown over a chair that’s by him, and holds it up, shielding me from his line of sight.

I undo the rest of the buttons myself, fractionally disheartened, but when am I not with him? Then I peel the wet clothes off my body. They make another loud slap on his floor, and then he brings his coat around my shoulders, and I slip my arms inside.

He turns me around so I’m facing him, and he tugs the jacket closed over me like a robe. “Better?”

I nod, still shivering.

He puts a hand on each of my arms and starts trying to warm me up.

My teeth are chattering away, and Hook frowns at me.

He moves me back into the light. “Yer lips are blue.”

I frown a bit defensively. “I’m cold.”

“Broonie!” Jamison calls out to him. “Now, please. Quickly, come.”

His house fairy appears, looking about as grumpy as he did the last time I saw him.

“Yes, sir?” The brownie looks up at him.

Jamison clears his throat. “Please would ye run her a bath?”

“Yes, sir.” The brownie nods as he walks over towards the bath behind the partition. “Always baths here. No baths at home, filthy girl,” he mutters under his breath, and I catch Jem’s eye and, through my chattering, smile, rather amused.

Jem’s eyes go wide with embarrassment. “Broonie!” he calls after him.

“Sorry, sir,” the brownie calls back but doesn’t sound all that sorry at all.

Jamison breathes out a laugh and then wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly against him, and within seconds, the shivering stops.

“Th-thank you,” I whisper, my voice a bit raspy.

He nods, slowly lowering his chin to rest on top of my head. “O’ course.”

I’ve had his hands on my waist and his hands on my face, but not this. It’s my favourite feeling I’ve ever had in the world, his arms all the way around me.

“You’re a very good friend,” I say, all muffled into his chest.

It comes out more wry than I mean it to, and a hot worry flashes through me that it gives me away, that being his friend isn’t what I want.