Meanwhile Hanley, the shit sack, swaggered about the frigate, boldly demanding servitude and compliance from the crew.
Clunk.
Shifting in his hammock, Percy peered through the obscurity toward the officers’ cabins. Heather’s guard appeared to haveleft, either to join the day shift in sleep or to aid the men abovedecks during the storm.
Snick. A door latch opened, and a softly uttered “shite” floated toward him.
He huffed a quiet laugh. What was she doing?
With swift movements, he leapt out of his hammock and padded toward her on bared feet.
There was a soft click as Heather closed her door. The ship heaved once more, and she gripped the door’s handle.
“Ballocks,” she muttered with feeling.
He grinned. “What are you doing?”
In a sudden rush of movement, she connected her fist to Percy’s jaw, and pain flared hot as he cursed and groaned.
“Jesus, Heather, your training has done you well,” Percy said, his voice muffled.
Heather snorted. “You startled me!”
“Clearly,” he returned with a smirk. “I came to see if you required aid.”
The ship pitched sideways, slamming her against her cabin’s door.
“Damnation, are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Yes—no. Drat. How are you able to keep upright?”
“I keep a wider stance, and I’m accustomed to theSapphire’s movement.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, then leaned closer to whisper, “I take it you were unable to speak privately with the captain?”
Guilt twisted in his chest. “He refused an audience with me—on numerous occasions.”
Heather nodded. “I daresay it shall be a challenge to secure his support under these circumstances, but we must at least try.”
She staggered sideways with a curse as the frigate rocked in a deep swell. Percy darted a hand out to steady her, and a zip of heat raced up his arm.
He cleared his throat. “While I’m pleased to see you, Heather, I must ask. Why are you about?”
She sighed. “I must see the surgeon, I’m afraid.”
Thunder cracked overhead.
“The surgeon?” Percy asked, his voice tight.
“Yes. Might you show me the way?”
“Come.”
He clasped her hand and wrapped it about his arm, pressing her firmly against his side as theSapphiretilted once more. Percy leaned in the opposite direction as the swell, holding her up with him as he walked. His pulse raced at her touch, and he thought once more about telling her the truth about the masque. But so much time had elapsed that he worried she would be downright furious.
“Are you well, Heather?” Percy asked again.
“Well enough, I suppose.” She paused, tightening her grip on his arm as the ship tilted. “Actually,” she amended, “I’m not well, Percy. I feel so?—”
