“I’m going to change into something drier.”
“Best check on your guest as well.”
Again, Isaac’s gaze drifted to the hatch and a thread of guilt bubbled up. He’d meant to go down and reassure her before the storm hit its worst, but it had grown so fast, he hadn’t wanted to risk leaving the helm.
A lamp hung near the main hatch and he took it on his way to hiscabin. Once below deck, the movement seemed worse, and he ran one hand along the deck above to steady himself. It was no coincidence a captain’s quarters always rested in the aft portion of a ship where there was the most stability. Hopefully, it hadn’t been as bad in there.
At his door, he knocked. No answer. “Miss Montclair, I’m coming in.”
When theTempestcrested a wave, he opened the door and stepped inside the dark room. A few things laid strewn across the floor, casualties of the waves. He swept the lantern in front of him as he took in the rest of the cabin. A form huddled on his bed and he stepped forward.
“Are you alright?” He lifted the lantern, the flickering light reflecting off her pale face. His breath caught. She’d changed into nothing but a shift, rumpled and disheveled from the storm. The thin fabric clung to her curves, the swell of her breasts pressing softly against the material. One shoulder had slipped free, exposing smooth skin beneath.
He quickly averted his gaze, heat creeping up his neck. He should turn around. Leave her. Yet the storm howled outside, the walls of the cabin creaking and groaning. She slumped against the wall with her knees pulled to her chest. He couldn’t just walk away. Couldn’t leave her to her fears.
“Miss Montclair?”
She gave a barely perceptible nod, her silence almost as loud as the storm outside.
“The peak of the storm is over, it will get better from here on.”
Another quick nod.
He crossed the room to his wardrobe, and opened the door, trying to recall his first storm at sea. He’d been keen to show his bravery and had performed his tasks with enthusiasm. But no amount of bravado had prepared him for the way the ship had bucked and groaned with each plunge down a wave or the deafening crash of water against thebow. Each roar of wind in the sails had sent his heart plummeting, a knot of fear twisting deep in his chest.
Over the years, he had come to understand the rhythm of a ship in stormy weather, to trust the timbers beneath his feet. A well-built vessel reacted to the storm’s rage—absorbed its power. Now, when the winds howled and the waves rose, he faced the fury with the same steady resolve as he did the calm.
He cleared his throat. “I know it seems frightening, but I promise, all will be well.” Water dripped from his sodden clothing as he collected a new shirt and coat. “You should try to get some rest.”
She pulled her knees closer to her chest, still mute, but gave him one more nod. He sighed. Not much he could do. She’d have to weather the storm and make it out on the other side before she realized it wasn’t so bad. With a reassuring smile, he turned to the door. He almost reached it before she finally spoke, her soft words barely reaching him.
“Don’t leave me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Lieutenant Caldwell paused,his hand resting on the doorknob and Josephine tightened the grip around her knees, her pulse mirroring the pounding rain against the window. Sitting alone for the last few hours had been agonizing. Anything not secured went clattering to the floor as the ship violently rolled back and forth, each crash making her tense. After extinguishing the lantern for fear of starting a fire, she’d sat in darkness, flashes of lightning casting their ominous glow through the windows.
Every story she’d ever heard told at the tavern of storm-wrecked ships played through her mind, and as the storm grew worse, her imagination created a wide range of scenarios that either ended with her clinging to a piece of wreckage or being pulled into the dark depths of the sea. Unable to keep her balance, she’d retreated to the lieutenant’s bed, the sandalwood scent of his sheets providing little comfort.
He stood still, the light from his lantern reflecting from a puddle forming at his feet.
Please.
She repeated it in her mind, again and again.
Or perhaps she said it aloud. She wasn’t sure.
He turned, his hand dropping from the door, and her muscles slackened, causing her back to sag against the wall.
“Alright.”
That one simple word might be the sweetest one she’d ever heard.
He reached up and clipped the lantern to a hook in a rafter, where it swung safely. Raising the bundle in his arms, he gave her anapologetic smile. “I need to get out of these wet clothes. Do you mind if I at least change my shirt?”
“No. Of course not.” She shook her head at her hoarse voice and turned toward the wall.
Silence fell around them, punctuated by the wet slap of clothing hitting the floor. Her pulse quickened at the thought of him standing there, bare from the waist up. The need to put a picture to the thought warred with her sense of propriety.
