Tori had had a life-or-death situation thrust onto her, and she'd adapted. She turned narrowed eyes on Grant. Here this man was using her to further himself, and in doing so was snatching her from one life and shoving her headlong into another.
When would she have some control over her fate? Fear warred with a fury so hot it scalded inside. So loud, she heard nothing but her pumping heart.
The ship bucked as the wind snapped the sails taut, making her insides feel wrenched, and the island grew hazier in the distance. She stood, tottered forward, and grabbed at the wheelhouse.
"Victoria, Miss Scott will show you to your cabin," Sutherland said from behind her. When she turned to him, he frowned at her. "Camellia's just here."
She vaguely heard him. In her mind, his mouth moved slowly--really no words came out. Her eyelids grew heavy and then she was spinning, able to see the sun straight above her. A loud thud sounded somewhere near her. She heard Cammy screech, and noticed the side of her head ached unbearably. She wanted to cry. The captain spoke again, only this time his words came from just beside her, not commanding but asking. "Victoria, please open your eyes."
When she struggled to open them, she saw that his face was tight.
"Keep your eyes open, sweet."
The ship bucked again, making her moan. When her eyelids fluttered, he scooped her into his arms. Vaguely, she felt Cammy slapping at the captain to get to her, and him squeezing her tighter into his chest. "Then take her to the cabin"--Cammy snapped--"if you won't let her go."
Eleven
The nightmare came with a vengeance. This time the sounds of the groaning ship boomed in her ears. Her stomach tumbled with the jagged rise and fall of the bow. Tori opened her eyes, waking into her nightmare, not out of it.
Cammy peered down at her, a feigned smile pasted on her green face. Tori scrambled up in bed, unable to mask her alarm over her appearance. Green around the gills? She'd never really understood the saying until now.
Tori sat up too fast. Her head felt light but for an insistent throbbing on the side of her skull. "Cammy?" she muttered. "What's happened?"
"You fainted and hit your head."
Fainted? Her? "I meant, what's happened with you."
"Seasickness." She gave a harsh laugh. "Ill on the island, sick on the ship."
"Don't say things like that. It'll pass." Her optimistic words did not match her thoughts. Cammy clearly felt wretched and needed to be in bed. Though the ship vaulted up a wave, Tori rose and went to the washstand.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to wake up." When they plunged into a trough, water sloshed from the bowl. Ignore that thundering sound. Ignore the way the boards shake beneath your feet.
"You need to rest!" Cammy said sharply.
"I was just about to say the same to you."
"But you've been hurt...." The last words were snuffed behind Cammy's tightened lips. Against her obvious efforts, she flew to a bucket and retched. Tori petted her hair, resisting the near overwhelming urge to join her. Fighting it was a grueling ordeal. Sweat drenched her, her breaths became gasps, and she had to lock her jaw. Tori knew that once you gave in to seasickness, you didn't stop until you hadn't the energy to move, a condition sailors called the special kind of hell.
Grant held out as long as he could. He didn't miss the looks Miss Scott gave him each time he came by the cabin. And his excuse that as a captain it was his duty to check on passengers? She waved it away.
At the door, he heard two voices. Finally, Victoria had awakened. He knocked and heard Miss Scott say waspishly, "If that man comes by one more time..." To him, she called, "Go away! She's fine. She's awake."
Damn it, woman. He hadn't wanted Victoria to know how often he'd been by. Just when he was about to leave, Miss Scott apparently changed her mind and called him in.
He greeted each with a cool nod.
"I need to talk to you, Captain," Miss Scott said.
Victoria frowned at her.
"You've got to get Tori out of this cabin. She's going to be sick like me if she stays."
Her eyes went wide. "I'm not leaving--"
"You are," Miss Scott said with a fierceness Grant would've thought impossible the day before.
"This is a cargo ship," he said. "There isn't a free cabin."
"Then move me somewhere. In the hold--I don't care."
"Victoria, come with me," Grant commanded.
"I said I'm not leaving!"
Miss Scott rose, her face pinched as she prepared to say something.
Grant grabbed Victoria's arm. "You're only going to upset her more. She doesn't need this from you."
"Indeed," the woman bit out before sinking back down.
Ian strolled by at that moment. "What's all the commotion?"
"They want me to leave Cammy," Victoria said, the words like an accusation.
"So she won't get sick," Grant added.
Ian swung his head in to survey the situation. "I was planning on entertaining Cammy today anyway--you know, regale her with all my engrossing tales."
Victoria scrutinized Ian for several tense moments.
"Listen to him, Tori," Miss Scott ordered. "He's got a stomach made of lead. You can return when you get yourself settled."
"Victoria, we'll be fine," Ian assured her. "I took care of her before you came aboard. And if you don't stay well, I'll be nursing two of you."
Seeming to make a decision about him, Victoria reluctantly nodded, and Ian entered. "Cammy, where were we?"
Miss Scott muttered, "You were about to tell me one of your exaggerated stories and I was about to lose my breakfast."
"Ah, just so."
When Grant drew Victoria from the cabin, he propelled her forward so he could shut the door. She stumbled back. Looking down at the considerable drop to the water made her eyes go wild. Grant swore under his breath and placed himself between her and the rail as he guided her to his cabin.
Once inside, she appeared to relax somewhat and openly studied the room. He wondered what she thought of it. Nothing superfluous cluttered the Spartan interior. It was tasteful but not colorful, and every piece had a purpose. "This appears to be straight seasickness with Miss Scott. Ian will make sure she's comfortable," he said.
"I believe that he will." She added in a mumble, "Otherwise, I never would have left." When she turned to his bookshelf, she sucked in a breath and hurried over. "Beautiful," she sighed. "And intact." She pulled out the first book, Robinson Crusoe, and raised her eyebrows. "Research?"
He stood straighter. "I've got to get back to work. I'll have some food sent in when you feel better."
She replaced the book and nodded,
but he made no move to leave. "You gave us quite a scare," he found himself saying. Luckily, his tone was casual. He hoped he didn't look as exhausted as he felt.
She sat at the edge of his bed, the first woman ever to be in his cabin. "Were you worried about me?"
So much that I didn't sleep. "You took quite a hit."
When she ran her fingers over the bed linens, images flashed into his mind of her flushed with pleasure and tumbled from sex. Realizing he liked her in his bed far too much, he excused himself, and attempted to run the ship.
Near dusk, the seas got lively. Grant returned to get his oilskin and found her sitting ramrod straight, fists bunched in the sheets, eyes wide and fixed directly ahead.
"Victoria, I should let you know there's a squall headed for us."
She swung her gaze to him. "I never would have figured that out all by myself." In a huff, she stood and paced.
"There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm going to keep you safe." She never stopped, never even acknowledged what he'd said. Did she not believe him? Did she not think he could? The idea rankled. "You need to buck up. This is the first squall, but it won't be the last, nor the fiercest. You're just going to have to be strong."
"Be strong? So if I tell myself to be strong, it will just happen? Self, be better with arithmetic." She held up her hands. "Nothing there either." When he scowled at her, she said, "The truth is, I don't want to be strong."
The room canted up and to the right, and she stumbled into the bed, latching on to it. When they landed with a teeth-clattering thud, she moaned. He noted with alarm that tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sick of being strong! What I am now is scared to death!"
In the past, if a disgruntled woman cried, he'd always said, "I'll leave you to compose yourself." But now he couldn't stand the idea of her hurting.
Grant wasn't completely without feeling, no matter what people said. Hadn't he just yesterday battled the urge to bundle her in his arms on the deck? And lost? Though he was needed on the bridge, he said, "I'll sit with you awhile, if you don't want to be alone."
She hesitated, then weakly held out her hand, the simple movement beckoning him to sit by her. He did, and she sidled closer, looking up at him with such gratitude, her eyes were brimming with it.
In a low, soothing voice, he explained every song, yell, and knotted vibration. "That snap is the sail grabbing a gust.... That knock just there is a loose pulley someone really should tighten.... No, no, when the timbers groan, that's good. It means they're bending as they should."