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him down on one of the bunks which were attached to a wall in the extra
room of Olivia’s suite. 
     
    Ricardo was a very trusted employee, and loyal to Lord
Beckford.  Having worked for him and travel with him for years, Beckford knew
that Ricardo and his wife, Maria would be completely trustworthy, and possibly
the only ones that they could trust in circumstances like the present one. 
     
    The captain now, on the other hand, was a good
captain, but an ambitious young man, and very loyal to the government in every
way.  So keeping the patient hidden was of the utmost importance.
     
    Olivia pulled up a chair alongside the bunk, sat down,
and listened to the labored breathing of the patient, while she gazed at the
sleeping figure.  It was hard to tell whether he was handsome or not, with the
sunken cheekbones, and bruises covering him.  “Mercy,” she thought to herself,
“what am I thinking of his looks for at a time like this.  The poor fella may
be dying, and here I’m thinking about what he may look like.”
     
    But she couldn’t take her eyes off the fascinating
stranger.  His hair was long, past his shoulders’ though matted, but black as
coal, skin bronzed from either sun or heritage, she couldn’t be sure which,
maybe a mixture of both.  Massive shoulders and muscular arms, probably from
back-breaking labor for many years it seemed, though his face was gaunt and
haggard, his stomach flat.  “Oh my,” she thought suddenly, “When his health
returns, he would be the most magnificent, impressive of creatures, if not
downright handsome, well at least greatly proportioned.”
     
    He stirred, mumbled a few unintelligible words,
nothing of which she could understand, then loudly rasping, “Chow time, let’s
put the feed bag on.”  Then he said clear as day, “Rope that calf and get that
hot iron over here, brand that maverick ‘fore the critter gets loose.”  He’d
been thrashing his arms about and Olivia reached around him with both arms, and
literally held him down to keep him from falling from the bunk.  She needed to
call to her uncle, but couldn’t let go of the patient either.
     
    Then all of a sudden he spoke slowly, distinctly, as
if in awe, “Well, what do we have here?  A wench ready, willing and able.  Ah’m
a little under the weather right now love, but soon as I get my strength back,
I’ll be happy to oblige you with ever’thin’ I got.”
     
    Olivia jumped back startled, and quickly let go of
him, as she looked down into two very bloodshot emerald-green eyes, in which
danced stars of humor, mixed with pain, and on the sexiest lips, the sappiest, most
lazy expression she’d ever seen.
     
    “Oh,” she sputtered, gasping, “I was just trying to
save you from falling, you egotistical lout.  To think that I’ve been trying to
save your worthless life.”
     
    She ran from the room, as she heard weak laughter
behind her.  “What is the matter with me,” she muttered as she shut the door then
breathlessly leaned against it.  “It’s obvious the poor man is delirious.” 
     
    Olivia stiffened her spine, tilted her small perky
little chin, then patted her tight golden blonde bun, tucked a loose strand
behind her ear, then took a deep breath.  She thought, “Why have I reacted to a
very ill person’s mutterings like that?  I am usually a very calm and collected
person.”  And with that thought in mind, she felt to see if her very prim bun
was still in place.  Satisfied, she once again opened the door then hesitantly
stepped inside.
     
    Raspy even breathing told her that the ‘patient’ was
once again sleeping, or pretending……or well whatever.  She approached the bunk,
and lightly put her cool hand to his temple, which she found to be still very
hot to the touch. 
     
    Feeling that he was feverish, she then moved to a
small end table, which was secured to the wall, and which held the pitcher of
cool water.  Pouring a bit of the cool liquid into a