Page 62 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Thank God,” he said. “There’s something here that needs tending.”

I really,really,hoped he wasn’t talking about the dirty bedding.

“I stripped the sheet off already, and we can put another one on. They only shat on the top sheet.”

He stared at me with wide eyes.

“Pardon?”

“Oh, nothing, never mind.”

“You mean the chickens? Theyshaton mybed?”

I laughed nervously and shrugged. “Well, they are difficult to house train. I’ll wash all the bedding tomorrow. Promise.” I crossed my heart to make the vow official.

He closed his eyes, shook his head, then opened them again. They blazed with desire.

“Take off your clothes, Rooster.”

“Well, now,” I said. “Yes, Captain.”

The one disadvantage of my fine clothes—they made it harder to get naked when I wanted to. And, boy, did I want to. But now I wore a shirt that needed unbuttoning, and I wasn’t all that used to fumbling around with tiny little ivory buttons whilst in a heightened state of need. They were very pretty buttons though, and I took a moment to admire them.

“Keep going.”

“Yes, Captain,” I said. I finished with the buttons, pulled the shirttails out of my breeches, and tossed the garment onto a chair. I had undone the flap of my breeches before I noticed the stunned look on Captain Martin’s face.

“What?” I asked, thinking that he simply couldn’t believe how utterly lovely I was.

“Simon,” he said, his voice full of awe.

He lifted his arm very slowly and pointed at my midriff.

“The scar!”

I looked down at where the scar used to be and gasped.

The skin was smooth, and I could discern the outline of the old scar, but the raised edges that had made a relief map of my side were gone.

I held my breath.

What on earth?

I ran my fingertip over the surface. There was no pain, and the area wasn’t as sensitive as before.

I lifted my hands and turned them. My palms looked completely normal now. Anxiety built in my gut, only because I was surprised and confused and didn’t know what the bloody fuck was going on. I looked at the captain.

He stared at my midriff. And he looked as fucking confused as I was.

“What is happening?” he asked. “Why has the scar disappeared? How?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I turned away from him and looked over my shoulder. “Is the skin the same on my back?”

The captain came forward hesitantly as if frightened of whatever powers had done this. I knew I was.

“Yes. The same. A little bit reddened, like your arse after a spanking. But smooth. And I can see freckles. It’s the most remarkable thing,” he said, reaching out a hand. “May I?”

“Aye.”