“We’ll serve ourselves, Georgie, since you’re running late tonight in your duties,” the captain said as she shoved the tray on the table between them.
She looked at him in mild inquiry. She wasn’t about to feel guilty about forgetting to do something she hadn’t been told about. But he got a rise out of her anyway when he wasn’t forthcoming with an explanation, wasn’t even paying attention to her now as he examined the meal that was quickly being revealed by his loathsome friend.
“Whatduty have I overlooked, Captain?”
“What? Oh, my bath, of course. I like it directly after dinner.”
“With fresh water or sea?”
“Fresh, always. There’s more than enough. Hot, but not scalding. It usually requires about eight buckets full.”
“Eight!” She dropped her head quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed her dismay. “Yes, sir, eight. And will that be once a week or every other?”
“Very amusing, dear boy,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s every day, of course.”
She groaned. She couldn’t help it. And she didn’t care if he heard her or not. The big oxwouldhave to be fastidious. She would love a bath every day, too, but not when it meant lugging heavy buckets all the way from the galley.
She turned to leave, but was arrested by the first mate’s comment. “There’s a bucket rail housed on the poopdeck, squirt. You can try it, but I doubt you’ve the muscle to tote four buckets at a crack. So use the water cask at the top of the stairs for the cold fill. It’ll save you a bit of time, and I’ll see it’s replenished for you each evening.”
She nodded her thanks, the best she could do at the moment. So what if he was actually being nice, in making the suggestion. She still didn’t like him or hiscleancaptain.
Once the door closed behind her, Connie wanted to know, “Since when d’you bathe every evening when you’re aboard ship, Hawke?”
“Since I acquired that darling girl to assist me.”
“I should have known.” Connie snorted. “But she won’t thank you for it when she counts all the blisters on her hands.”
“You don’t think I mean to have her tote all those buckets, d’you? Heaven forbid she should develop muscle where she doesn’t need it. No, I’ve already arranged for Henry to show what a kindhearted chap he is.”
“Henry?” Connie grinned. “Kindhearted?” And then, “You didn’t tell him—?”
“’Course I didn’t.”
“And he didn’t ask you why?”
James chuckled. “Connie, old man, you’re so accustomed to questioning every bloody thing I do that you forget no one else dares.”
Chapter Sixteen
Georgina’s hands were trembling a bit as she piled the dishes back onto the tray and cleaned up the captain’s table, and not because they’d been put to heavy use. No, she’d had to do no more than carry all those buckets from the door to the tub, thanks to a blustery Frenchman who’d gotten all upset when she sloshed water on the deck. His name was Henry, and he wouldn’t listen to her protests when he ordered two crewmen, not much older than Georgie was supposed to be, to carry the buckets for her. Of course, the boys were a lot bigger than she was, and certainly stronger, and she had only protested because she felt she ought to, and because she figured they would grumble at having to do her job for her.
But they didn’t protest, and Henry’s last testy word on the subject was that she should grow a little before she attempted to do a man’s job. She almost took offense at that, but wisely held her tongue. The man was helping her, after all, even if he didn’t see it that way.
She’d still had to do some carrying, since her helpers dropped their load outside the door, refusing to enter the captain’s cabin. She didn’t blame them at all. She wouldn’t enter his domain, either, if she didn’t have to. But the little bit of carrying she did wasn’t responsible for her trembling hands. No, they trembled because James Malory was behind the bath screen taking his clothes off, and just knowing that was making her more nervous than she had been at any other time today.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to stay in the cabin. She had the dishes to return to the galley, and she still had her hammock to collect from the crew’s quarters in the forecastle. But she wasn’t out of the room yet. And she was still there when she heard the water splash.
She tried to force it away, but an image came to her mind of that big body easing into the hot water, steam coming up to surround him and wilt that thick mass of golden hair. Beads of moisture would form across his massive chest until his skin reflected the light of the lantern hanging over him. He would lean back and close his eyes for a moment as his body relaxed in the soothing heat…and there the image ended. Georgina simply couldn’t picture that man relaxed.
Her eyes flared wide when she realized what she’d been doing. Was she crazy? No, it was the stress and strain of a perfectly horrid day, and the day wasn’t even over yet. Angrily, she tossed the last dish on the tray and swiped it up, heading for the door. But she didn’t quite reach it before the captain’s deep voice floated out to her.
“I need my robe, Georgie.”
His robe? Where had she put it? Oh, yes, she’d hung it in the cabinet, a thin piece of emerald silk that likely wouldn’t fall past his knees. It certainly wouldn’t offer any warmth. She’d wondered when she’d seen it earlier what it was even used for. But when she couldn’t find any nightshirts in the captain’s belongings, she decided he must sleep in it.
She returned the tray to the table, quickly grabbed the robe out of the cabinet, and nearly ran across the room to toss it over the screen. But she’d no sooner pivoted back toward the table when she heard from him again.
“Come around here, lad.”
