Page 26 of The Rebel

Crap.

While I was upright and the boat was moving, the rocking didn’t bother me, but now that I’m lying down and the anchoring makes the boat bob, my stupid body is registering the change in posture. Repeated ear infections as a kid ensure I’m not a great traveller and motion sickness can be a problem.

My stomach gripes and a cold sweat breaks out over my body. Hell. This isn’t going to be pretty.

‘I’m sorry,’ I manage to say, surging off the bed and making it to the bathroom just in time.

I slam the door and bend over the toilet, retching. It’s not good. That tropical fruit salad I had for breakfast was a bad idea.

I try to stand but my body has other ideas and I retch again and again until nothing is left. Weak and woozy, I finally push to a stand and prop myself on the basin. Glancing in the mirror is a mistake. I look like shit, my skin a weird grey-green and my eyes watery.

Groaning, I splash water on my face and rinse my mouth out. I open the glass cabinet and thankfully there are fresh toiletries there. I tear open a plastic-covered toothbrush, squeeze a dollop of paste from a mini dispenser, and brush my teeth. Only then do I start to feel slightly human again.

This time when I look in the mirror the green has given way to pale but I feel better. Time to face Hart and explain my humiliating bolt from the bedroom.

I open the bathroom door and he’s pacing, his expression formidable. When he spies me, he takes two steps towards me then stops, as if he doesn’t want to get too close.

‘Are you okay?’

I nod and wrinkle my nose. ‘Sorry about that.’

His eyes turn flinty. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’

Too late, I remember he has a weird thing about apologising when it isn’t one’s fault.

I point at my ears. ‘These go wonky sometimes so when I lie down on a moving vessel…’ I mimic barfing. ‘It’s not pretty.’

He doesn’t say anything for an eternity and when he moves it’s so swift he startles me. He pulls me into his arms, one hand clasping me tight at the waist, the other cradling the back of my head against his chest.

I feel his heart thudding against my cheek and it’s disarming how much I like being comforted. I’m under no illusion that’s what he’s doing. He may be a man of few words but his actions speak volumes and he looked tortured when I opened the bathroom door.

‘I’m okay,’ I murmur, when he finally releases me. ‘Though I feel like an idiot for disrupting your plans to spoon me.’

I smile, hoping my joke will alleviate the tension bracketing his mouth. It doesn’t.

With a final glower, he stalks out of the cabin and slams the door.

Chapter Thirteen

Hart

I’m in hell.

I don’t do emotions. I don’t do intimacy. And I certainly don’t do comforting, but I indulged in all three and am reeling because of it.

I hated hearing Daisy vomit. I wanted to barge in and do something to help but I couldn’t, gripped by helplessness when I’m usually decisive. Then to make matters worse she opened the door, I took one look at her wan face, and a surge of protectiveness made me hold her, wanting to do anything to make things better for her.

I’m not that guy.

I can’t be any woman’s fucking hero.

So I dragged my sorry ass up here, drew the anchor up, and we’re moving again. The faster we get to the other island, the best vantage point for Gem Island, the better.

I hear a footfall behind me, followed by a murmured, ‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’ I will myself not to turn, waiting for her to climb the few steps up to the bridge.

Like the bastard I am, I studiously avoid looking at her, still shaken by my feelings back in the cabin.

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