Heart's Safe Passage Read Online Free PDF Page B

maiden name, a purr to her whimper.
    Had he not cradled her in his arms, she would have curled up on herself like an overcooked shrimp, hidden her face so he couldn’t see her any more than she would look upon him.
    “’Tis a wee bit of the mal de mer, no more.” He set her on the bed. “Get yourself into dry things while I fetch you something to drink.”
    “No, not mal de mer.” Yet inside the cabin, with the windows closed, the merest suggestion of sustenance set her off again. With her eyes still closed, she tried returning to the window. “I need air.”
    “But you’re getting everything wet letting the water and rain in like that.”
    “No, please, I can’t—” A sob of pure mortification broke from Phoebe’s throat.
    Rafe Docherty handed her a basin and held her head.
    Phoebe burned with shame, shivered with cold. Sobs of mortification choked her so she couldn’t say what she was thinking. If one can die of humiliation, I’ll be dead in minutes.
    “No, you will not die of the humiliation or the sickness.” The sonorous voice held a hint of laughter. The hand that brushed her hair away from her brow held tenderness despite rough calluses.
    So she had spoken her thoughts aloud.
    She curled up as tightly as she could and wrapped her arms around her knees. The door latch clicked. No bolt sounded.
    “That’s revolting, Phoebe,” Belinda said. “I’m not even hungry anymore.”
    “So sorry.” Phoebe began to shiver. “This cabin is so small. It’s like—”
    But it wasn’t. Though low in height, the chamber wasn’t much smaller than an average bedroom. If she continued to tell herself that, she would be all right. Surely.
    “Will you fetch me some dry clothes, please?” she asked.
    “I don’t know where—oh, all right.”
    Rustling, snapping, the creak of hinges followed. A few moments later, Belinda brought Phoebe a nightgown reeking of lavender. Her throat burned, but she was done for now. With Belinda’s aid, Phoebe exchanged wet things for dry, then snuggled into the quilts on the bunk, covers smelling of sea air and sunshine and oddly calming.
    A knock sounded on the door. “May I come in, ladies?”
    “Of course.” Belinda tucked a stray curl behind one ear with one hand and gripped a chair back with the other. The smile she granted Docherty was positively coy. “You’re being so kind to my friend.”
    “I like my carpet in here.” His tone was brusque, chilly as sea air. “Drink this, Mrs. Lee.” He crouched beside the bunk, slipped his arm beneath Phoebe’s shoulders, and lifted her enough for him to hold a cup to her lips.
    Ginger tingled in her nose. Ginger and—
    She jerked back. “You’re trying to drug me.”
    “Aye, there is a wee bit of poppy juice in there.” His clear gray eyes met hers with a gentle compassion that made her own eyes sting. “’Tis the best way. ’Twill calm you without incapacitating you.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Believe me, I ken how you are feeling.”
    Ginger, of course. She’d smelled it on him earlier.
    “Odd you’d choose to be a sailor,” she murmured.
    “I did not choose it.” The harshness returned. “Drink. I have not all night to play nursery maid.”
    “Then take it away. I am not seasick.”
    “Indeed?” His brows arched. “Seems I have seen evidence to the contrary.”
    “No, no, it’s the cabin, the smell.”
    “Aye, the lavender.” He grimaced.
    “What’s wrong with lavender?” Belinda sounded belligerent. “It makes me happy.”
    “It makes me ill,” Phoebe muttered.
    One corner of Docherty’s lips twitched. Their eyes met in a moment of understanding.
    “Drink the ginger water,” he said. “’Twill help whatever the cause.”
    “I don’t want my brain to be as useless as mush.” She glared at him. “However you want it to be.”
    “Considering Mrs. Chapman’s condition, I do not want your brain like porridge either, but I do not wish you suffering from the sickness