“That process is time consuming. I calculated the amount of ballast we would consistently need to determine how much space and furniture I could use for a captain’s cabin. My quarters essentially became ballast.”
“Clever.”
“Perhaps,” he concurred. “I wasn’t very clever in my dealings with Mawu Anaisa.” He stepped forward.
Grace held him back. “You and she were both young, and clever isn’t the same as wise. Any young man in your situation, at that point in history, would most likely have done the same.”
He lifted his hand to her cheek. “I don’t know if I could be as generous with understanding as you.”
“Perhaps not as a young man. However, you are much wiser now.”
He smiled. “Arguing the point is worthless. Come, I’ve something else to show you. ”
They walked aft toward a door set in a bulkhead that crossed the width of the ship. Opening the door, Luc revealed a room with the far end curtained off. Grace sniffed as she preceded him inside. “What are those scents? Some sort of oil?”
Luc inhaled. “Ah, linseed oil—used to maintain the decking—cinnamon, ginger, and rum.”
“Shouldn’t they have faded after all these years?” She frowned.
Luc smiled. “I may not have a crew, but I have plenty of time to maintain my own quarters. I use the aromas I enjoy most to mask the smell of tar and pitch.”
Oriental rugs covered the floorboards. Iron braziers affixed to raised platforms graced the port and starboard corners near the bulkhead joints. A smallish desk and matching chair sat against the port bulkhead. Grace nodded. “From what I’ve seen you maintain your ship and equipment very well. Everything is shipshape and Bristol fashion, as would have been said when you were actively sailing.”
Some odd emotion tugged at his chest. “You learned a great deal in your studies of history, but enough about maintenance, I want you to explore the rest of my world.”
To one side of the desk, a set of shelves was attached. A table sat on the opposite side, with two chairs. Everything save the chairs was bolted to the floor and had small rails bordering the edges. “I understand the rails help to keep small items from sliding off the desk and table in rough seas. How do you keep the chairs in place?”
“Since chairs usually aren’t needed in rough seas, and I’m topside, I made it my cabin boy’s job to lay them down and stow them under the table. Same with my desk chair, it went into the knee hole of the desk.”
Grace circled the room as he spoke. “You thought this out carefully.”
He’d pleased and impressed her. Pride rose to the fore. “I tried to.”
“What’s behind the curtain?” She gestured toward the cloth suspended from the ceiling at the far side of the room.
“That’s where I would sleep.”
“May I?” She fingered the velvet hangings.
“Of course.”
The cloth hung from rings on a rod. He pushed one panel aside. “Oh my.” Grace put her fingertips against her lips. The wish to be one of those fingers flashed through his mind.
The ornate bed had carved posts, gauze drapery and was dressed in a crimson comforter. At the edge of a mound of pillows in various colors were the tops of snowy white sheets folded over the bright red quilt. Another brazier sat in a far corner and small chests stood on either side at the head of the bed.
“Does the size surprise you?” Luc tried to hide his smile.
She shook her head. “No, I would be willing to wager that the dimensions of that bed were taken into account when you made the calculations for your cabin.”
“Then what prompted your exclamation?”
“I…I…ah…I’ve seen this bed before.” Despite the dimness of the cabin, a faint blush was visible on her pretty face.
“Really?” He lifted a brow. “Where?”
“In my dreams?”
Luc jerked backward, then tucked his chin. “You dreamt about my bed?”
