Cassandra agreed. She’d been shocked by Devlin’s confession, that was all. Coming on the heels of their lovemaking, who could blame her? The problem was how long it had taken for her to decide what to do. The answer should have been simple. She should have told him it wasn’t his fault the moment she’d acknowledged the fact. As his friend, she should have tried to ease the pain and the guilt that so clearly consumed him much sooner.
Instead, she’d kept her distance, too wrapped up in her own grief to pay attention to his.
Tomorrow, she decided as she snuck her way back inside their cabin and cast a quick glance at the bed where he lay, she’d do what she could to acquit him of blame. She’d forgive him if that was what it would take for him to forgive himself, and most importantly, she’d tell him she’d no intention of ever leaving his side.
Unfortunately,as it turned out, fate wasn’t quite with her.
The cabin was still fairly dark when she woke to a series of thuds. Her body seemed to tilt, then the chair behind Devlin’s desk fell over. Men’s voices, shouting, accompanied the stomping of feet as they hurried about overhead. Timbers creaked and Cassandra’s head dipped down until she was looking up at her feet. Good God! The overturned chair slid toward her, paused for a second, then slid back from whence it had come.
Grabbing onto the side of her bed, Cassandra attempted to sit. The ship rocked so violently she struggled to stay in one spot. One look at Devlin’s bed and she saw he was gone. The ship pitched and fell once again with such crashing force, it was a wonder the wood didn’t splinter.
“Mama?” The shout was faint, barely audible from the opposite side of the bulkhead.
Cassandra was on her feet in a second, heedless of how impossible walking might be. If Penelope was frightened, she’d find her way to her cabin, one way or another, even if she had to crawl there on her hands and knees just to stop from falling.
She grabbed her robe and shoved her arms through the sleeves while steadying herself against the edge of her bed. The ship lurched and she skidded forward, slamming her hip into the desk.
Muttering an oath she’d never imagined she’d ever speak, she reached for the door knob and hauled herself forward.
“Penny,” she gasped, almost falling into her daughter’s cabin. “It’s just a storm. You mustn’t worry.”
“I don’t feel very good,” Penelope groaned. “I really think sleeping in a hammock would have been better.”
“Do you think you might be sick?” Cassandra asked, ignoring her comment.
“Maybe.”
Cassandra glanced around, furiously searching for something her daughter could use if she had to cast up her dinner. When nothing seemed to avail itself, she made her decision. “Don’t leave your cabin, Penny. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Penelope’s voice followed Cassandra back into the passageway.
“Make way,” a sailor shouted as he ran past her. Before she could think to ask him where Devlin might be or how long he reckoned the storm might last, he’d disappeared up the ladder.
A spray of water landed at her feet. Cassandra held on fast to the brass rail attached to the bulkhead and fought to stay upright while the ship rolled to one side.
“Mama!”
Returning to Penelope’s side right now would accomplish nothing, so Cassandra clenched her jaw and made her way forward. She wasn’t quite sure how she managed to reach the galley without falling over. Sheer force of will and knowing her daughter depended on her for help were the only explanations. She grabbed a pot from the hook it had been secured to, held on tight, and started back toward Penelope’s cabin.
“Here,” she gasped when she finally returned. “Use this if you have to.”
The ship dove and Cassandra’s stomach dropped. Penelope screamed, but she didn’t let go of the pot. “I don’t like this, Mama.” Her voice was strangled. “I don’t like it one bit.”
“I know. Neither do I.” The deck began tilting again, as it did right before the ship began falling. Cassandra braced herself for the inevitable, with her feet wide apart and both hands gripping whatever surface they could find. And then it happened again, jarring her bones. Her side ached where it had made contact with the desk, and her ankle was sore too, though not sprained, thank God. She could at least walk.
“Water,” Penelope said. “There’s water on the floor.”
“It’s coming in through the hatch every time it gets opened. You don’t have to worry. It’s not a leak.” Penelope nodded and bent her head over the pot. At least the guardrail along the edge of her bed would stop her from falling out. She’d be safe as long as she stayed where she was. “I have to go back to my cabin, Penny.”
Penelope’s head jerked up, her eyes latching onto Cassandra’s. “No. Please stay.”
“I…” Another wave lifted the ship, then dropped it straight back in the ocean. Cassandra’s foot slipped and before she could gain her balance, she fell on her bottom. Hard. Pain arced through her, wrenching a groan from somewhere so deep it felt like it came from her belly. “I can’t stay here for as long as this lasts,” she said once she managed to pull herself upright. “But maybe you can come to my cabin instead. Devlin isn’t there right now. He’s probably—”
“Up there,” Penelope said, her eyes wide with panic.
“He, um…” Dear God. Cassandra hadn’t allowed herself to worry about him until right now, but of course Penelope was right. He was the captain after all, and as such, he was probably at the helm as they spoke. She swallowed and told herself to stay calm. “I’m sure this isn’t his first storm. It’s worse for us because we’re not used to it. Come on. I’ll help you move, Penny. Let’s—”
“Man overboard!”
