I take us both over the railing and Nicholas is there, helping to untangle the tow rope from her wrist. It’s not five seconds after I shift her into a cradle when her knees start to go up toward her chest. “With me, now,” I tell him. “My cabin.” I send Jason to get the doctor, and the rest of them scatter. They know what to do in the event of hypothermia. I don’t know how serious this is, but I’m not going to wait to find out.
By the time I reach my cabin there’s already water running. Warm, verging on hot. The man who turned it on clears the way for me, and I lower her directly into the tub.
Her dress is a lost cause and I reach both hands into the water to tear it away. It comes apart with almost no force. How long has she been out there?
She’s got her legs drawn up to her chest, so I climb into the tub too and slowly, slowly, ease her knees down. I don’t want her to get stiff in this position and cause more damage. She sighs, finally relaxing, and I get my first good look at her.
My heart gives a single, oversized beat.
“What the hell were you doing out there?” I ask, mostly to myself. She turns her head, resting her cheek against the tub, whispering now.
The ship’s doctor comes in next, stethoscope already out. “How’s her temperature?”
This gives me another excuse to put my hands on her skin. She’s colder than the bath water, but my pulse slows. “Not bad.”
He reaches down to hear her heartbeat. The doctor, Evans, blinks in the light, pulled out of his bed when he’s supposed to be off duty, but his eyes are clear. “Let’s get her dried off.”
I lift her out of the tub, and Nicholas is there with a stack of warmed towels. I ignore the fact that I’m rubbing down a naked, gorgeous woman and try to focus on the task at hand, which is making sure she doesn’t die. People don’t always mix well with the sea. Sometimes the shock sets in later, after the rescue, and you lose them when you least expect it.
Doc Evans holds the bathroom door open for me when I have her bundled back in my arms. “She can stay in the infirmary. I’ll keep an eye—”
“No.” I stride across the room and use one hand to push back the blankets on my own bed.
The doctor knows better than to argue with me. He waits until I’ve pulled up the sheets around her to make his final study. “Unharmed,” he pronounces. “Except for a bad sunburn, and she’s dehydrated.” He slings his stethoscope over his neck. “A hospital would be ideal, but she should be all right given enough rest and water.”
“I’ll handle it.”
I can tell he wants to press me on this. Nicholas can too. My first mate puts a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and sees the both of them out.
When I’m alone with her there are things to be done. I set out water for when she wakes up, and I’m considering more blankets when there’s a soft knock at the door and Nicholas presses a warm one into my arms. I tuck her in tight.
I take the sextant out of its case and go back to my spot near the window. There’s nothing out there now but waves and moonlight.
I don’t know why I told Doc Evans she couldn’t go to the infirmary.
All I know is I need to keep her with me.
3
Ashley
The bedsheet slips over my shoulder in an insistent tug.
I swim up toward the sensation from a deep, dark sleep as the hand keeps pulling the blankets away. God, why?
I bat blindly at the hand, my arm seeming heavy and pointless. “No, Robbie. I have a headache.”
“I’ll bet you do.” This low voice—this smooth, deep voice with a hint of amusement—does not belong to Robbie. I feel the roll of the waves then. My center of balance shifts. I’m not on my side, after all. I’m on my back in a bed, being eased up onto firm pillows.
My eyes resist opening. I force them. The reward is bleary, dim vision. A strong hand wraps around the back of my neck and turns my head, and then there’s a cup at my lips, and then I have no choice but to swallow down cool liquid.
Water. It’s just water, free of salt. It’s heaven. I didn’t know how thirsty I was until this moment. I didn’t know how the taste of the sea lingered on my tongue. It’s washed away, thankfully, by the first few sips of water. It’s like coming back to life.
Somehow, the water makes it easier to see—or at least to focus on the man in front of me. The man who is holding me upright and making me drink. Blue eyes, the color of deep water, track the movements of my lips on the cup. Because he’s not looking directly at me, since I don’t have to make eye contact with him yet, I can take in the rest—dark, wavy hair, stubble that makes him look like a pirate.
He can’t be a pirate.
Can he?
The rest of the room seems to confirm that he is, indeed, a pirate.
This is no pocket yacht with blinding white fixtures and sleek lines and shiny chrome.
Far from it.
This room is layered in knotted wood, dark chrome, brass. A collection of antique maritime equipment dots the walls—old things that look like they measure or steer or provide light in underground places.
He takes the cup away and I lick the last drops off my lips. “Where am I?”
“On my ship.” The scratch of a pen on paper tells me he’s writing something down. Not important enough for me to look at with my heavy, tired head.
“And who are you?”
He turns those blue eyes back on me and smiles. “I’m more interested in who you are.”
I’m shaken by the smile, on the verge of a shiver, and I can’t quite figure out why. Because it’s beautiful? Yes. And dangerous? Also yes. He’s close enough for me to breathe in the clean salt scent of him. The blanket slides down and cool air meets my peaked nipples.
The crashing shame comes before I look down. My glance tells me what I already know.
I’m naked.
Alone in a room with a man who might be a pirate.
In a bed. Maybe his bed.
I summon all my available indignation and grab for the sheets. “Did you take off my clothes? Where are they?”
He watches this with a curve to the corner of his mouth that makes me want to shrink under the blankets and die. “There was no cleaning them after the soak in sea water they took. I burned them.”
“You what?”
“We don’t have any pretty things on this ship. You can wear my shirt and my pants when you’re well enough to get up. That won’t be any time soon.”
“I can get up right now.” I push myself up on one elbow, away from those damned pillows. It’s a mistake. All the knotted wood spins around me in a dizzy circle. I put a hand out to catch myself. The man catches me instead, with big hands that put me right back where I started. My heart pounds like I’ve been running.
“Now that you’re finished with that, tell me what happened to you.”
“I tried to get up and I failed. Obviously.” My stomach turns like the room.
He chuckles, his voice dark and spiced, like whiskey. “Before that. What’s a girl like you doing this far out in the ocean?”
I pin the blankets to my collarbone and try to test my legs. Sitting up didn’t work, but if I could sit up, then I should know if I’ve broken anything. There are no spikes of pain when I wriggle my toes. “Why does it matter?”