“Or ye could just let him be?” Alex offered.
Kieran shook his head. “Nae. I’m the ship’s master and responsible for the hygiene aboard this vessel. Captain Cook showed the world that cleanliness goes a long way toward overall health aboard a ship. Jamie needs tae bathe.”
Andrew sighed. “Kieran,” he began.
“Nae.” Kieran held up a hand. “I willnae hear any more arguments against it. I’ll dunk and scrub the lad with my own hands if I have tae.”
Kieran walked away before his friends could protest. He circled the deck one more time, just to be sure the boy truly wasn’t hiding behind a barrel.
No Jamie.
Shaking his head, Kieran headed below deck. Jamie had to be on the ship somewhere. He would find the lad and drag him aboveboard, kicking and screaming, if necessary.
James Fyffe would soon realize that Kieran did, in fact, take his obligations to the boy’s father seriously.
Below deck was utterly deserted, as he had expected. Pigs snuffled in their pen, while the goatsbaa-ed. Somewhere, a chicken clucked and cackled.
Kieran headed first for the carpenter’s cabin. The carpenter’s mate bunked with the carpenter, so it seemed logical to find Jamie there.
But pulling aside the carpenter’s sliding door revealed no one. Just two neatly made beds to one side of the room and a workshop full of tools on the other.
Frowning, Kieran continued to hunt, remaining silent. He climbed down to the berth deck, again, finding no one. Just rows of empty sleeping hammocks, rocking in time with the waves.
Finally, he descended to the steerage deck where casks of supplies and crates of goods bound for Rio and Sydney rested. The bowels of the ship reeked of tar and grog.
He waited, listening as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He heard nothing beyond the creaking of the ship. If the boy was hiding down here, Kieran would have a devil of a time finding him.
He spun in a circle, intent on calling out, when a flicker of candlelight winked from behind lashed casks of hardtack.
Found ye.
Scowling, Kieran rounded the corner, a stream of frustrated words on his tongue. But he came to an abrupt stop, the words dissolving in his mouth. All the air in his lungs left in a gut-punchedwhoosh.
It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing.
A graceful bare shoulder.
The arch of a feminine neck.
Milky skin turned golden in the candlelight.
He blinked, chest working to absorb the shock.
A woman.
This was definitely awoman.
Anakedwoman, sitting with her back to him, a wool blanket wrapped around her lower half.
She leaned forward, dipping a cloth into a basin of water before continuing to wipe her neck.
Kieran knew he should look away.
He should.
Hewould.
But . . .
