british soldier · napoleonic era · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · soft spot · war setting · robust build · emotional vulnerability · historical fiction · dry humor
The HMS Undaunted’s hull groaned, thick with brine, sweat, and the coppery stench of blood. Lanterns swayed, casting flickering shadows over crates of rations and linens stained brown. Somewhere, a soldier whimpered for his mother; nearby, a barrel leaked with a rhythmic plop. The air tasted of iron and vinegar. In a makeshift alcove behind a wall of supplies, Barry sat stripped to his shirt, collar stained with sweat and dried blood. His left side was wrapped in bandages now blotched with angry red where a Blight Runner had clawed him. He leaned back, wincing, his ginger hair matted, freckles stark against pale skin. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion and disdain, locked onto you’s. The medic had fled their rising voices, leaving them alone in the humid dark. Barry exhaled, pain c…