Loving Sarah (14 page)

She had to know if he had lived or died. Ian had gone over the side. He didn’t fall. He jumped over the rail. He’d risked his own life to try to save that of another. She didn’t think it was possible that the two of them had made it back on the boat. Not with the ocean as violent as it was when she saw him dive into it. How long had it been? She couldn’t tell. The only light came from the lantern, and the room was not pitching as violently as before.

She should go find him. She tried to rise and fell back onto the bed. God her head throbbed. “Ian?”

“No, lassie. ’Tis me, Seamus.”

“Of course I know who you are.” Good God, her head was splitting! “Where’s Ian?” She groaned as she sat up. “Did I hit my head?”

“Cap’n’s ’pon deck, m’lady, at the helm. And ye got a right big goose egg on the back of yer head, ye do.”

“I saw him go over.” She tried to remember exactly what it was she did see before she’d fallen. “I thought he….”

“He did go after that scrawny kid Bartholomew. The daft lad fell off the fore mast when he was checking on that sail he hung. If’n he’d hung it right the first time, there’d never been need for ’im to go up a second time during the height of the storm.”

“Ian’s safe?” she asked, astounded he’d made it back. “What about young Bartholomew?”

“E’s back, too.” Seamus grinned, revealing an uneven set of blackened teeth in his leathery face just before another violent pitch sent the hull nearly over. The grizzled old sailor clung to the support beam steadying the light so the thing wouldn’t smash against the roof.

Knowing he was safe, she reclined back onto the pillow and said a prayer of thanks for the crew’s lives and their good fortune to see the storm through. “I never thought someone could make it out of the water when the seas were that rough.”

“In weather likes this, we tie off to the rail or a mast, m’lady. We might go over, but we’re dangling alongside until someone brings us up. In Bart’s case, he was tied at the mast and was hanging unconscious off the side of the hull. He smashed his noggin’ pretty good. He’ll be a’right though. The cap’n got him and he’s recuperatin’ in ’is hammock.”

“Does the captain know I fell?”

“No. I figured he’s got enough ta worry over without worryin’ over you.”

“Thank you. Please don’t tell him about this. As you said, it’ll only cause him undue concern.” She gave the veteran sailor a wan smile.

“You’re a good lass.” The man handed her a mug with wine from the bottle on Ian’s bookcase. “Now drink some of this, and ye’ll be feelin’ better in no time.”

“Thank you.” Sarah accepted the mug from the grizzled old man and sipped from the same bottle of wine she’d had the other night. Another flash of light in the darkened afternoon sky and the immediate clap of thunder told them both that the storm was still not over. The ship and all of her crew were still at risk. Her head throbbed, and she leaned back against the headboard. “Are you certain the captain is well? Perhaps he needs some help?”

“He’s just fine, m’lady.” Seamus made himself comfortable on the bench seat with a pillow to rest his head upon as he leaned into the corner. “We all went through worse than this last year roundin’ the cape comin’ back from China. Both cap’n’s are fine sailors and knows what their boats can handle.”

Sarah sipped from her mug, the sweet wine warming her from the inside. She said nothing as the old veteran sailor droned on. She wasn’t sure if he talked to relieve her fears or because the noise drowned out some of the sounds from above deck. “I spent me whole life at sea, m’lady, most of it in service to me country. Then I sailed with Cap’n Cully for a while. I was there as he taught a young Lucky how to tie knots on the voyage from Italy.

“The young cap’ns have a good head for this business,” he added. “Both are strong sailors. They remind me of the brothers, Cully and Flynn. And that makes it easy for a man to sign onto a ship when the captain knows what he’s doin’ and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty alongside his crew.”

“Or jump into the ocean to save one of his crewmen,” she muttered.

“Aye. That too,” the grizzled old salt agreed.

“I knew he was special from the moment we met, and…I ruined his life, his plans, everything, and he…hates me now. But…I….” How could she explain the odd feeling she had to their captain. The attraction and desire she felt?

“Have ye told the lad how ye feel?”

She shook her head and sighed. “No. He is not very happy with me and has made that quite clear.”

“So, when we return home ye’ll be partin’ ways, then?”

Sarah nodded. “Before that.” She swallowed past the lump forming hard in her throat. “In New York. I return with Lucky.” She swiped at a tear, likely her exhausted state from worrying over the crew during the storm causing this unwanted release of emotion. “You know, none of this would have happened if that silly boy had rowed me out to the right boat,” she choked. “We might have had a different beginning, with a happier ending.”

Sarah began to feel as though she needed sleep. She yawned and caught herself as her head fell forward. She frowned her suspicion as Seamus. “Did you put something in that wine?”

The old cook shook his head. “It’s from the cap’n’s bottle right there. I ain’t touched it.” The man smiled. “Well, I tasted a bit o’ it to make sure it hadn’t gone to vinegar, y’see. Can’t have His Grace’s sister drinkin’ bad wine.”

Sarah wanted to ask him if the rest of the crew knew who she was but was already beginning to drift into slumber. She nodded and slunk down on the mattress, too tired to be angry with him. “If I sleep, will I get tossed from the bed?”

“Seein’ as this bed ain’t got a fiddle rail, I’ll tuck ye in right tight, lassie. And I won’t be leavin’ the cabin, unless they need me topside.”

“Thank you, Seamus.” Sarah grabbed Ian’s pillow and hugged it tight, wishing it were him she was holding. Wishing she could start over from the moment she landed on this ship. There were so many things she would do over.

So many things.

I
an entered the cabin several hours later, once they’d cleared the storm, and found Seamus lying on the bench, snoring. The old man’s eyes opened when he heard him come in, and he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“The lass fell down the steps when she saw ye jump in after the lad. She didna want me to tell ye, but I thought ye might need ta know, Cap’n.”

Concern for Sarah quickened his step, and he went to the bed. He turned a questioning glance to Seamus. “Did she hit her head?” He turned back to look as her slumbering form. Not only would he have to explain a hasty marriage in the New York harbor to her brother, now he had to explain her injury as well.

And marry her he would. The last couple of days he’d resigned himself to the fact that the right thing to do was marry her, no matter what his plans had been. There was no way he could avoid it. It angered him that these circumstances were forced upon him, but if he were honest with himself he’d known this was the case before she’d offered herself up to him. And he’d resolved to talk to her about it tonight before they came upon the storm.

He kept replaying the events of the other night. Before he’d gotten angry and accusatory with her. Each time, he remembered that amazing hour of carnal sex unlike any he’d ever experienced before, he wondered what it might be like to marry her and be done with the courtesans.

Sarah was eager, adventurous, curious, and willing. She wasn’t unattractive. He actually enjoyed looking at her, especially naked. From the moment he’d sat next to her at the dinner the night before the race, he’d felt more than a little pull toward her. All in all, he could do much worse than a beautiful, intelligent, well-connected lady for a wife.

She’d be the perfect countess for him one day when that wicked old bastard cocked up his toes and became fertilizer for some churchyard. He thought about how to go forward from here. First he had to apologize for his actions from two nights ago and discuss what might possibly lie ahead for them.

“She’s got a knot on the back o’ her skull, Cap’n. We spoke a while, and she seemed fine te me, an’ I reassured her ye was a’right. Then I gave her a bit o’ wine to help her sleep through the rest o’ the storm.”

Ian met the old salt’s gaze.

“It was just wine,” the old sailor said again. “She was worried for ye.”

“I’m sure you told her I could handle myself out there,” Ian replied.

“I did.” Seamus stood and made great theatrics of stretching his back while groaning. “Y’know, the lass thinks ye hate her, and I know she’s not been ’erself these past few days.”

“My anger is more at the circumstances that forced us together, than at the lady herself,” Ian said before turning his attention back to the sleeping Sarah. “I don’t hate her.” He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and she sighed. “Far from it,” he whispered. “I’ll be forever indebted to you for saving the next Countess Mackeever.”

The grizzled old salt nodded as he shuffled from the cabin and quietly shut the door behind him. Ian slid the bolt, then removed his wet clothing, replacing them with a dry shirt and drawers. His mind whirled over the day’s events and the revelations he’d settled himself into before the storm. He lay next to her on the bed to get a few hours of sleep, both his mind and body physically exhausted.

S
arah slowly came awake to the soft snoring of a man near her ear, and her heart raced. Why had Ian come to sleep in here? With his arm loosely draped over her waist, she noticed he’d removed her trousers and demi-corset, and if he’d done
that
what else had he done while she was sleeping? Her bladder would burst if she didn’t get behind the screen soon. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying she didn’t wake him. When she rolled away, she tried her best to avoid stirring him as she slid off the bed.

Her entire body ached from the tumble she took the day before, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from groaning out loud with the stiffness in her back. Her shoulder and entire left side felt as though she’d been trampled by a team of horses. She stood in front of the room’s only mirror, cursing the fact that it was nowhere near large enough to show her much beyond her head and shoulders. And to make matters worse, the thing was mounted to the wall where she could only see the top of her head, which was fine if she was combing and braiding her hair, but if she wanted to see anything more she’d have to stand on the chair. And she’d be damned if she was going to stand on a chair and undress in front of Ian.

She crept behind the screen and noted his clothing from the day before draped over the top to dry. After removing her shirt and making use of the pot, she stood behind the screen, twisting and turning to get a good look at the dreadful coloring of her skin on her entire left side from knee to shoulder. Blue, purple, eggplant, and greens blended to form a kaleidoscope of sorts from the good bruising she got thanks to her fall. And she never would have fallen if she hadn’t worried about the crewmen at the cry of man overboard, Ian in particular. That moment had played in her dreams all night long, and each time she relived what had happened as she stood at the top of the steps.

She remembered finding the hatch closed, and she had to push it open to see on deck. As she held it against the wind, the very first thing she saw was Ian jumping over the side of the ship, and her mind froze. She didn’t remember if he’d had a tether—hadn’t seen one through the driving rain. But instinct took over and she leaped forward screaming his name as she let go of the hatch, which then came down on the top of her head, sending her falling back into the companionway.

Ian. She swiped a tear when she thought about her actions. She covered her face with her shirt, wishing she’d done things differently. No doubt what she’d done was wrong, using him to satisfy her curiosity as she did, but she’d enjoyed it so much that when she relived the hour of foreplay and sensual pleasure her core began to tingle and she grew wet again. And each time she imagined doing the act again, it was always Ian’s face that came to mind as her lover.

Except her captain wanted nothing more to do with her. He’d made himself clear three nights ago when he left this very room in a rage and never returned.

Until last night.

Sarah thought she’d be happy if they could just have peace between them. He didn’t have to get on bended knee and propose marriage because she wouldn’t marry him now anyway after the horrible accusations. But she didn’t want to stay cooped up in the cabin, punished for her actions.

Slipping her shirt over her head, she turned to find the object of her desire and disaffection staring around the corner of the screen.

“Why are you in here, Captain?”

“Your bruising is severe. Are you in pain?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, I assure you.” She met his hazel-eyed stare with one of her own. “Why are you here?”

“Because this is my cabin, and that is my bed. After a grueling day of fighting that storm, I wanted a warm, soft bed to stretch out upon, not a narrow hammock to squeeze myself into.”

She humphed. “You are rather…large.” She moved past him and into the room and found her trousers and stockings and went to the bench where she redressed. Moving to the mirror, she picked up her comb and raised her arms to comb her hair and winced at the pain in her left shoulder.