Page 29 of Lord of Temptation
Acouple of hours after sunset, the storm caught up with them—or they caught up with it. Anne wasn’t quite certain of the particulars except for the fact that she was exceedingly disappointed in the captain’s navigating skills. When the ship had begun tossing her and Martha about the cabin as though they were ragdolls, they both ran up to the deck and watched in horror as water lashed over the sides.
The captain grabbed her arm in a bruising hold and jerked her about. The fury reflected in his eyes rivaled the storm’s. “Get below and stay there!”
“What about you?”
“Now!”
And he shoved her.Shoved her!Then the bulk that was Peterson was doing the same with Martha and blocking the doorway. “Into your cabin immediately!”
Now she and Martha were curled on the bed, taking turns hanging over a bucket, even though neither had anything left to bring up. She tried to console herself that the ship had no doubt been through many storms, that the captain no doubt knew what he was doing. But the fierceness with which the boat lurched was terrifying. Her stomach sank and rose with the swells of the sea. She wanted to die, wished she was dead.
The ship groaned and creaked. How could it withstand the bombardment? What if it didn’t?
She thought she heard a knock. Was it the ship splitting apart? Then it came again and the door opened. The captain stood there with strands of his drenched hair having worked free of his leather thong. He removed his greatcoat and tossed it to the floor where it landed with a wet slap.
“Are we going to sink?” she asked.
“No, we’re through the worst of it.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.” She wanted to tell him that if anything it felt worse, but at that moment her stomach pitched and she grabbed the bucket. Oh, it hurt, it hurt to heave and have nothing come up.
Suddenly he was crouched beside her, rubbing her back. “Easy now,” he cooed, before yelling, “Peterson!”
The large man stepped through the doorway. “Aye, Cap’n?”
“Take the maid to your quarters.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
He leaned over the bed and lifted a feebly protesting Martha as though she were a feather pillow. “Easy, woman. No one’s going to hurt you.”
To Anne’s surprise, Martha sagged against him and began crying.
“I know, I know, girl. It’s frightening, but it’s all over now. You’ll feel right as rain soon enough.”
She was also surprised by the soothing tone of his voice, and she wondered if he’d been watching Martha that afternoon as much as Martha had been watching him. The painful cramps stopped, and she rolled back. “He won’t ... hurt her, will he?”
“No, but with the bed bolted down and one side up against the wall, it’s too difficult to try to take care of you both here. He’s big, but he’ll be as gentle as a lamb.”
“And you?”
“Gentle has never been my style. I can’t believe you’re still in your blasted corset.”
“I thought we might have to abandon ship.”
“Which is exactly why you should have taken it off.”
“I didn’t want to wash up onshore improperly attired.”
“Sweetheart, we’re so far from any reachable land that you would have been drowned. You wouldn’t have cared.”
She didn’t like his scolding her and was going to explain that Martha had loosened it some, but she was distracted by his fingers rapidly unbuttoning her bodice. She slapped at his hands with what little strength she could muster. “Don’t.”
He’d already completed the task and was working on her corset. She was wearing a chemise beneath it, but still she tried to roll away from him, only he held her in place.
“Don’t be so modest,” he growled. “I’m not looking.”
She relaxed. “Truly?”
