The MacGalloways: Books #1-3

Chapter 6

6

I sabella rolled to her side, her head feeling as if it had been stuffed with wool. Worse, the change of position only served to increase her agony. A wave of nausea roiled in her stomach as she restlessly moved again, scratching her arms. Everything itched, and the dratted bed refused to stop its loathsome rocking.

Someone dabbed a cool cloth cross her forehead.

Feeling as if she were about to retch, she batted the hand away.

“Miss Harcourt?” asked a deep voice.

A decidedly masculine voice.

Every muscle in her body clenched taut.

Why was a man swathing her head with a cool cloth?

Isabella didn’t dare breathe.

For a moment she couldn’t think. But as she inhaled deeply, everything came flooding back. She remembered the kiss in the park and the devilish smiles and the cool captain who had greeted her aboard the Prosperity . She recalled the dinner in his cabin, followed by the horrible sickness overcoming her when the ship sailed into the North Sea.

He’d carried her into her chamber while she was unable to control the convulsions of her wretched stomach.

He’d held the chamber pot for her.

Isabella groaned, mortified with herself. If only she could melt into the mattress.

Please be a dream. Please at least be an apparition.

“Miss Harcourt?” he asked again.

I am most definitely not dreaming.

Isabella’s eyes flashed open. With a jolt, she sat up, making the blanket slip down to her waist while her head spun like a top.

The captain loomed beside her bed, his gaze first meeting her eyes and then drifting downward.

“Why are you still here?” she demanded, pulling the blanket up to her chin as she caught sight of her dress draped over the back of the chair. Good Lord, her stays were atop the table in plain sight for all to see. At least, if there was anyone else in the cabin, they’d be able to see her undergarment on display as if it were suspended from the main mast.

She glanced beneath the blanket and cringed. “And how did I end up in this scandalous state of dress?”

Captain MacGalloway turned his back, doused the cloth in the bowl, and wrung it out. “Miss Hume was also afflicted by seasickness and was unable to attend you.”

“Oh? And thus you felt my illness gave you the right to remove my gown and stays?”

He draped the cloth over the rack at the side of the washstand. “In my opinion, you needed to breathe.”

“Your opinion? Are you a physician as well as a sea captain?”

“I am not, but I have studied a great deal in the interest of keeping my men free of illness and out of their hammocks. Your breathing grew labored and your stays needed to go—especially after the tincture.”

She clutched the blanket tighter beneath her chin while a wave of nausea crashed over her. Thankfully, the sickness left nearly as fast as it came.

What did he say?

Isabella scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. Ah, yes. The tincture.

The captain had been rather insistent that she drink it down, and she eventually did. And now, she couldn’t remember a thing after finishing the contents of the cup. “How long have you been in my cabin?”

He checked his pocket watch. “Near enough to twelve hours.”

“I’ve been unconscious for twelve hours?”

“Aye, and as small as you are, I’m surprised you are awake so soon. Laudanum can have some latent aftereffects.”

“You gave me laudanum?” she shrieked.

“Mixed with peppermint water.”

“You, you…unmitigated swine!” No wonder her head felt as if it were packed with wool. Laudanum was nearly pure opium. “You could have poisoned me.”

“Not likely, but I’ll admit that someone needed to sit up with you to ensure I got the dosage right. I dinna want to take a chance on creating a scandal, thus decided it was best if I remained at your side until you woke.”

Good glory, things were only growing worse. Isabella was about to be married, albeit to a man she didn’t know or love, yet a man who had already proven himself to be a salacious rake had just spent an entire night in her cabin. “I am ruined.”

Captain MacGalloway tucked his thumbs in his belt and rocked back on his heels. “Och, lassie, you were far too ill to worry about such drivel.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much more assured. The renegade who tricked me into kissing him behind a tree only paces away from his ancestral home sits in my cabin all night and insists I have not been ruined. You know as well as I that your presence here is scandalous .”

“I’ve already apologized for the wee kiss behind the tree, and I’m not about to do so again.” He brushed out the sleeves of his leather doublet, seeming to grow taller. “I am the captain of this ship and live by a code of honor. I also made a promise to your father that I’d look after you throughout this voyage, and that’s exactly what I am doing.”

“A code of honor, did you say?” she asked with an edge to her voice. “But not when approaching unsuspecting ladies in parks.”

Those blue eyes grew intense and stormy, his expression hard. “As I recall, the lass I met in the park was far more adventuresome than the frosty woman before me now.” He took a step toward the door. “It was my decision to personally see to your care rather than appoint a sailor to the task. Had I known how affronted you would be by my presence, I might have opted differently.”

“Wait.” Isabella cast a longing glance at her gown and decided it was best to stay put with the blanket securely gripped beneath her chin. What would she have done if she’d awakened to some crusty old sailor staring down at her? “I may have overreacted a tad.”

“ May have?”

“Yes. I-ah…am… thankful that you did not assign someone else to watch over me. But…”

“Hmm?” he asked.

“Did you assign a sailor to tend Maribel?”

“Aye—Duncan.”

“The cabin boy?”

“I thought the lad would cause the least stir below decks—given the whole idea of ruination and so forth. Forgive me, madam, if you did not approve of my decision.”

Isabella gulped against another wave of nausea. Perhaps she wasn’t yet thinking clearly. “You haven’t slept, have you?”

“I often dunna sleep when asea.” Captain MacGalloway folded his arms and eyed her. “And how are you feeling? Still a wee bit off, I’d imagine?”

“A little queasy—antsy as well.”

“Aye, that would be from the tincture.” He pointed to the bowl and ewer on the washstand. “Perhaps after you freshen up, we might take a turn around the upper deck. A bit of fresh air ought to help set you to rights.”

“We?” she whispered, glancing at the washstand. “What will the sailors think?”

“About?”

“The fact that you have spent the entire night in my cabin?”

“First of all, no one aside from Duncan has seen me inside this cabin. Secondly, every member of this crew is well aware if they spout off about their captain sitting by the sickbed of a guest aboard this ship, they will be assigned to the bilges for the duration of the voyage.” He gave her a gallant bow. “Good day, miss.”

Shortly after Isabella had washed her face and cleaned her teeth, Maribel came in with a change of clothes. “I’m so sorry I was unable to attend you last eve.”

“It seems we both were afflicted by the seasickness.” Isabella pulled her rather pale lady’s maid inside, made note of the empty corridor, and closed the door. “I understand Duncan took care of you.”

“Aye, the boy gave me a tincture. He was awfully sweet.”

“Did he sleep in your cabin?”

A deep blush spread up Maribel’s face. “He’s only a lad.”

“So, he stayed?”

“He slept in the corner.” Maribel opened a small satchel that contained Isabella’s toilette items and pulled out the hairbrush. “I understand the captain himself tended your bedside.”

The statement made the air whoosh from Isabella’s lungs. “He did—but only because he felt I was too sick to leave alone and you were unable to sit up with me.”

“Yes, that is what Duncan said.” Maribel worked the brush through Isabella’s long hair, miraculously releasing the snarls at the ends, as she always did. “Were you…”

“Hmm?”

“Was he…?”

“Hmm?”

“You know what I’m trying to say. Was the captain respectful?”

“Indeed he was.” Isabella had not and would never tell Maribel about the kiss in the park. “I might even venture to use the term heroic…or perhaps valorous.”

“Valorous?”

“Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “He is the captain of this enormous sailing ship, yet he held the chamber pot while I regurgitated everything I think I may have eaten for the past fortnight.” Isabella ran her hands along her aching ribs. “At least, it felt that way. I do not recall ever being so sick I prayed for death, as I did last eve.”

“It was awful, was it not?”

“Definitely not my finest hour.”

“Then I suppose it is a good thing you are marrying Mr. Schuyler and not Captain MacGalloway.”

A stone thudded in the pit of Isabella’s stomach. The captain had behaved rather gallantly, and she’d not been very appreciative in return. But now that he’d seen her doubled over and sicker than she’d been in all her days, he most decidedly would never want to kiss her again.

“Yes,” she agreed, though the word came out rather flat and unconvincing. To allay any further questioning, she grabbed her set of stays and held them against her chest. “Come, I want to dress quickly so that you and I might take a turn around the upper decks. The captain said a bit of fresh air will do us both a wealth of good.”

“Very well.” Maribel twisted Isabella’s hair into a chignon before attacking the laces of her stays. “Are you hungry?”

A bit of queasiness snaked through Isabella. “Not yet. You?”

“Not at all.” The laces tightened. “But I daresay stepping outside sounds quite refreshing.”

It took only a few minutes more, and together they stepped through the outer door to the upper deck.

“Good morning, Miss Harcourt, Miss Hume,” said Mr. MacLean from his place at the ship’s wheel.

They both replied with a good morning, which seemed to prompt everyone on deck to stop what they were doing and greet them.

Captain MacGalloway pattered down the steps, his kilt slapping the backs of his legs. “Ladies, would you like to try your hand at steering the ship?”

“Truly?” asked Maribel.

“It is nay as easy as it looks.”

“No?” Isabella gestured to the three masts full of sails above. “Even when you have a strong wind like today?”

“The stronger the wind, the more difficult it is to change course.” He took her hand. “Come, I’ll show you.”

Duncan slid in beside Maribel and took her hand as well. “The cap’n allows me to steer in finer weather as well.”

The quartermaster grinned. “Only when I need to take a?—”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. MacLean. There’s no need to go into such explicit detail when there are ladies present.”

“Forgive my impertinence,” said the quartermaster, stepping back and allowing Captain MacGalloway to take the wheel.

He looked Isabella in the eye. “If you’ll move in front of me, I’ll let you have a go.”

“Oh, no. I would look rather silly, would I not?”

“No, miss,” said Maribel. “When will you ever have a chance to see what it feels like to place your hands on a ship’s wheel and gaze out over the sea? And the day is fine.”

“Och aye,” agreed Mr. MacLean. “The weather is ideal.”

Isabella glanced at the captain. “Must you stand so close?”

He cut her a look full of arrogance and daring, but his feet remained planted solidly on the deck, both hands gripping the handles.

Mr. MacLean sniggered.

“Come now, lass,” the captain urged.

“Oh, very well.” She looked to Maribel and huffed. “How difficult can it be?”

Isabella stepped in and grasped the handles, the brush of the captain’s sleeves hardly noticeable through the fabric of her pelisse, yet it made her quite self-aware. “There, I have it.”

“Do you feel secure?”

Squaring her shoulders, Isabella tightened her hold. “Of course I do.”

But when the captain released his grip, the wheel jolted and torqued right out of Isabella’s grasp. She skittered aside while Mr. MacLean lunged up to the helm and stopped it from spinning out of control.

Clutching her hands over her heart, she drew in a few deep breaths to calm herself. “My heavens, this is nowhere as easy as it looks. Do you mean to say you fight the sea all day long?”

“It’s no’ so bad once ye grow accustomed to her,” said the quartermaster.

Maribel chuckled and pointed to the sails. “I do believe you have quite an audience, miss.”

Sitting atop one of the mainsail’s booms, three sailors had become idle, doing nothing but gawking. The mops on the deck had stilled, each one of them with a sailor leaning on its handle, eyes wide and watching their every move.

“Enough entertainment, men,” shouted Mr. Erskine as the boatswain marched aft. “Back to work!”

The captain offered his hand. “Will you ladies do me the honor of a turn about the decks?”

Isabella hesitated for a moment, but after receiving a nudge in the back from her lady’s maid, she placed her fingers in his palm. As he closed his fist around them, a warmth spread through her. She didn’t want to succumb to his charm, but everything about him was so incredibly tempting and ever so attractive to her soul. And as he led her along the ship’s rail, her spirits soared as if she were floating across the timbers.