Hello and welcome back to the nonsense, gentle readers! Today's recap is another funny one, hopefully (by which I mean that I had fun with this chapter and I hope that translates into my writing); it's on the shorter side, but worry not, for the next one is a doozy.
Until we get to that... let's begin.
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| Today's reading faces have been provided by Mad Max. Thank you, Max. |
Chapter 13: Spies! Blurting Out Information Randomly!
Previously on Moonlit Obsession: after the two of them finally built some trust between themselves by sharing information about spy stuff, sleazy douchebag Stephen Burke challenged oddly-named spy Anemone Carstairs to a game of cards with stakes of more spy news vs. a kiss. Because he's a creep who couldn't just give her the intel she needs, and/or behave in a way that would make her want to kiss him rather than have to kiss him. Naturally, since this is a bodice-ripper romance, Anemone ended up losing the game and having to play tonsil hockey, too. After a dubious consenty and buttery (?) makeout session, Burke revealed to his first mate in some 19th century sailor locker-room talk (so... poop deck talk? I don't know) that he's only trying to seduce information out of Anemone, then inwardly admitted that he's doing something wrong. Is he going to continue seducing her, despite acknowledging that it's a despicable thing to do to a vulnerable young woman? Does a bear shit in the woods?
Chapter 13 starts by describing the storm that Burke observed at the end of chapter 12 raging for several days. There is some genuinely effective writing about what it feels like to be in the middle of such weather out at sea – well done, book, for once I have no complaints. Anemone goes up on the deck on the first day to offer her sailing expertise to help with the ship, but since this book doesn't allow her to actually do anything with her collection of bizarrely specific skills, Burke firmly orders her back to her cabin. She spends the next two days tending to sailors and distributing food in a nice and domestic way rather than doing any actual physical work; then on the third night of the storm William startles her out of bed to inform her that Burke got injured by a falling piece of rigging.
Deploy the confetti!
Alas, Sea Urchin dashes to his cabin, looks at his "oozing wound" (ew) and sees that it's ugly, but not fatal. Sadly enough. Since none of the sailors seem to know or at least attempt to do first aid when their own darn captain gets hurt, Burke was just vaguely draped on his bed and left there with a huge open chest wound, and so it falls to Anemone to patch him up... because of course. She goes to dig the medical supplies out of Burke's desk, "tossed aside the letter from Henri Marceau without a second glance" and ignores the vial of laudanum Burke had taken from her, too...
SUPER MEGA SPY!
...then she begins tending to Burke's ouchie. He passes out while she works on him, giving her time to ogle his hot bod, and for me to laugh very hard.
Naked muscles bulged beneath those blankets, and the bronzed and powerful length of him had made a vivid impression on her mind.
Anemone, honey, he has a chest wound. Stop looking at his dick. (I know, I know, it could just be another description fail of his entire body – after all, he is very much a dick – but I'm not fishing my mind out of the gutter because it likes it there.)
After staring at Burke's... length, Anemone spares a moment to feel sappy about him and tenderly sits with him. No, seriously.
Tenderly, she sat by his side and watched him as he slept [...]
I hope she gets gently pitched across the cabin when the ship lurches again. That would be hilarious.
Sadly, nothing that awesome happens in this scene, and instead Anemone falls asleep by Burke's side, then wakes up in the morning with the storm having finally quieted down. Since she came to tend to her worse half in nothing but her unmentionables, but doesn't feel like leaving his bed even to make herself decent, she chooses to slip on some of his clothes. She then "decided against even trying to fit her feet into Stephen's enormous boots". I'm sorry, but I'll be picturing him with hobbit feet for the rest of this recap after that. You're welcome for the mental image.
After putting away Burke's medical kit with him still asleep, Anemone spots the letter she didn't look at last night and finally decides to sneak a peek. It's a rare occasion to see the elusive Carstairs Backbone emerge from its nest, dear readers, so you may take a picture if you wish before it retreats again. The letter is coded, so she grabs some paper and a pen and goes to work; the description is rather vague but makes it sound like the code used is a rock-simple substitution cipher, so before y'all start admiring Sea Urchin for doing some proper spywork for once... I could break a substitution cipher in seventh grade. Edgar Allan Poe taught me how.
No, seriously. Then I laughed very hard.
My dear Lord Pelham. [...] I am writing to warn you against mentioning a single word to anyone of the plan I so foolishly spoke of to you in a careless moment. Forget that I ever did so!
Spies! Blurting out information randomly! Totally Spies was a more realistic spy story than this, I swear to God. (Also it kicked way more ass, but I digress.)
After telling Lord Pelham that he's not going to say anything more about the plan, Marceau's letter proceeds to say a shitload more about the plan, because of course – namely that a mysterious troublemaker codenamed the Spider, as well as some guy named De Vauban, are a part of whatever's going on in New Orleans. Marceau also wrote that what these two are up to could result in years of war. I'm not going to tell you what the plan is yet or what they're hoping to achieve with it and why, but trust me, we'll get there. Oh, will we ever get there.
Once she's done with her reading, Anemone pauses to stroke her mustache thoughtfully as she ponders the fact that three people died for this letter. Smooth, Monsieur Marceau. Very smooth. Burke rouses her out of her musing by asking if she knows who the Spider is, surprising Anemone because she didn't expect him to wake yet, and she notes that he looks completely back to normal despite the giant hole still in his chest. Also, his mood ring eyes are "flame blue" today.
Anemone rushes to Burke's bed and begins babbling to him about how glad she is to see him up and okay – that makes one of us – then he tells her to shut up because he's not angry about her reading Marceau's letter, much to her relief. (And mine. I don't want to know what would happen if he did feel angry.) He takes a moment to flirt with Anemone about her wearing his clothing and undressing him while he slept; she protests that she only did it to let Burke sleep more comfortably (match made in hell, I see) and that she "didn't look! [...] Well, not closely!" I'm letting that one speak for itself.
Then they start making out, and don't stop until Burke starts unbuttoning her shirt. Anemone squirms away, he tells her to come back, and she notes that "Everything between them was happening too quickly for her cautious nature." No shit, Sherlock. I'm not shaming her for lusting after a guy she barely knows – I think we've all been there, unless we're asexual – I'm just pointing out that her being so into him after knowing him for some two weeks, and starting their acquaintance the way she did, does not compelling romance make. After Burke tries to ask her to help him with a bath – ew – even he notes he's moving too fast with the courtship ("no shit, Sherlock" squared) and lets her go, only asking her to dine with him tonight so they can discuss the letter. Anemone feels some apprehension, knowing that he's a lot more interested in divesting her of some garments and some virginity than he is in talking spy stuff, but gives in because "there was no avoiding the evening now". I mean, that's true in a more general sense because she can hardly stop the sun from setting, but hey, Sea Urchin, here's a novel idea: SAY NO.
Not that Burke would listen, I think, knowing his track record. Sigh. So with some joking about their dubious consenty makeout session from last night, Anemone accepts Burke's dinner invitation and flounces, ending the chapter.
Since chapter 14 is going to be a trip and a half (we all know what's about to happen, and I'm rubbing my hands together like a fly on a slice of cheese and going MUEHEHUEHEHUE at the thought of letting y'all see the nonsense), I'm cutting things off here – the next recap will be a two-chapter episode, to make up for my shorter chapter-by-chapter posts lately.
Gird your loins for next time, gentle readers. I mean, loins are going to be involved in that one anyway, so get ready is what I mean. See y'all.
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