Thea paced her cabin while Melly slept like the dead in her narrow bed. It was late, but she could not sleep. Drake was avoiding her.
The only time she had seen him the past three days had been at dinner. He had been polite to her, but that was all. He did not offer to walk her about on deck, nor did he speak much to her after his initial inquiry about her health.
Had his aunt's words destroyed their friendship? Thea wanted to tell him she did not care a fig for Society's scrutiny, but did not know how to without admitting she had been feigning sleep during that incredibly embarrassing conversation between him and his aunt.
Not that she had had an opportunity to speak to him alone.
There was no opportunity to do anything alone aboard ship. She felt she would have a bout of sickness again, this very minute, if she did not get out of the cabin. She was desperate to get out under the stars. Drake had told her not to walk on deck alone, but surely it could not matter at night when no one was there to see her.
She hastily pulled on a gown of dark gray wool. Aunt Ruth had insisted Thea pack it, saying she had no clothes suitable for England's climate. From what Lady Upworth said in her letters, Thea's muslin and India Cotton gowns were all the rage right now. She had not wanted to hurt Aunt Ruth's feelings, however. So she brought the gown. It was two sizes too large and years out of fashion, but it would serve its purpose.
Carrying her shoes, she stealthily let herself out of the cabin and closed the door behind her. She tiptoed down the corridor, not wanting anyone in the neighboring cabins to know what she was about. When she reached the door to the deck, she slipped on her shoes and made her way outside.
The fre
sh air and freedom felt wonderful. She hugged herself and took a deep breath of the salty air. Moonlight reflected off the water, giving an enchanting feel to the night. The sea stretched on and on, making the ship that had appeared quite large in her harbor feel minuscule.
Skirting the stairway that led to the passenger deck, she walked toward the part of the ship most of the passengers ignored. Passing the entrance to the engine rooms, she wondered if she would ever get the chance to see the steam engine in motion. The door to the sailors' quarters was ajar, and loud snoring rumbled through the opening. She skirted by.
Neat coils of rope rested at the base of the main mast, and a bar used for lifting the hatches lay next it. Someone would be in trouble for leaving it out. She ran her hand along the smooth surface of the mast, amazed that such a tall pole would stand securely. Stopping to look up, she soaked in the sight of huge white squares billowing against the night sky.
No wonder Whiskey Jim had said that there was nothing so easy on the eyes as the look of a sailing ship at night.
She also liked the quiet and relative privacy night offered. The skeleton crew that made up the night watch were barely visible in their positions around the ship.
She was preparing to move on when the strong odor that often accompanied sailors alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. Turning to greet the sailor and ask how quickly the ship was traveling, she was caught completely unawares when he grabbed her arms from behind.
Reacting instinctively, she twisted her body. She freed one arm and elbowed her attacker. Since she was still weak from her seasickness, however, her blow had little effect on the large man. He grunted, but didn't loosen his hold. He yanked her toward him, trying to secure her free arm, and she screamed.
"Help! I'm being attacked! Somebody, please help—"
Her shouts were cut short when a dirty hand slammed over her mouth and nose. Frantic, she fought his hold. She needed air. She bit him. Hard.
He yanked his hand away from her face and she sucked in a desperately needed breath.
"You'll pay for that, you bleedin' tart." He squeezed her and she felt as if her ribs were cracking.
She kicked her legs back, satisfied when her heel connected with his shin and his hold loosened infinitesimally. She kicked again with all her might and tried to squirm from his grasp while she attempted to pull enough air into her lungs to shout for help again.
He started dragging her toward the side of the ship. "We'll see if you like fightin' with the sharks more'n you like fightin' with me."
He was going to throw her overboard.
Terror lent her strength and she managed to break his hold on her arm. She swung her fist upward and connected with the underside of his jaw. He swore and staggered. Kicking his kneecap, she twisted violently once again. This time, she broke from his arms. She dropped to the deck and rolled toward the main mast.
"Help me." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded weak and breathless. She could not rely on being rescued.
Her fingers closed around the iron bar she had seen earlier. Thank you, God.
Her attacker grabbed her feet and started dragging her toward the side of the ship again. Taking a firm grip on the bar, she swung with all the strength she could muster. The bar came around in a perfect arc and connected with the villain's shoulder. He howled in pain and dropped her legs.
The sound of running feet told her that help was on its way. Her attacker must have heard as well, because he took off in the direction opposite from the running feet.
She lay on the deck, panting. Her entire body ached from the confrontation. She blessed the negligent sailor who had left the iron bar out, and Whiskey Jim for teaching her how to handle drunken seamen.
The sight of Thea sprawled on the deck, her hand gripping a latch bar, momentarily paralyzed Drake. What the bloody hell had been going on?
He dropped next to her. "Thea?"