Chapter 10
Cat was miserable. No, she wished she were merely miserable. Misery was a level to aspire to. She was somewhere far below misery, and if Death appeared at this moment and offered to take her away, she’d listen.
Worse than learning that of the five men from Brodie’s company, it was Thane MacPhearson who she’d have to accept hospitality from, it turned out that she also had to get to this supposed safe haven by sea.
The men had decided that traveling by road was too predictable and therefore too dangerous.
The many rest stops and changeovers meant more opportunities for Cat’s enemy.
So Thane decreed that they’d go most of the way by ship, leaving the harbor in Edinburgh in the dead of night, and arriving in a small port town fairly close to the MacPhearson family holdings in the Highlands.
Cat hadn’t asked what “close” meant, and now she assumed it merely meant “also in the northern hemisphere,” because it felt like they’d been sailing for about one hundred years.
Cat thought back to yesterday (had it been just yesterday?) when Aunt Tacita not only failed to tell the men to all get out, she’d actually agreed that making Cat leave the city was a good and worthy idea.
Cat had protested vociferously, but in the end Tacita simply said, “Go pack some things, dear. You’re going, so you might as well go gracefully. ”
Thus Tacita had spoken, and Cat was powerless to deny her aunt’s wish.
But, oh, how she wished she could! The ship rocked relentlessly on the sea, the pitch and roll of the deck mocking her pitiful attempts to keep her stomach’s contents inside her body where they belonged.
Bile rose, and she scrambled—again—for the bucket in the corner of the cabin.
Lord, how could she still be sick? There was nothing left in her to be thrown up. And yet.
Gagging at the vile taste in her mouth, Cat still gave a sigh of relief. If the past experience of the several hours she’d been at this was reliable, she would have about five minutes of internal calm before she’d need to repeat the process.
The door to the cabin banged open, and Thane strode in, disgustingly hale and hearty. “Miss Ross! Didn’t you hear me calling?” He looked around, and finally saw her huddled in the corner of the cabin. “What the hell are you doing down there?”
“What do you think?” she growled, gesturing to the bucket. Then a wave of nausea hit her again. Early! No doubt it was a reaction to him. She quickly bent her head over the bucket again.
Thane moved closer.
“No!” she said, holding one arm out to stop him. “I’m disgusting. Everything is disgusting.”
“You didn’t say you got seasick so easily.”
“How would I know?” she spat, furious at him for existing. “I’ve never sailed before, you hideous…kidnapper!”
Thane knelt by her, but offered no words of comfort. Instead, he hooked his hands around her shoulders and hauled her up. “Come with me,” he ordered, virtually dragging her along.
“Saints preserve me, where? Are you going to throw me overboard?”
“At this point, I’m considering it,” he muttered, guiding her through the narrow passage and then up to the deck.
A spray of seawater hit her cheek the moment she emerged. Cat grimaced at the cold, though it was a salve to her overheated, sweaty skin.
Then the ship rolled again, and her stomach heaved along with it. Cat moaned and lurched toward the side. Thane practically pushed her to the rail, his hand on her back as she cast up what little remained in her stomach into the swirling waters below.
After a few dry heaves, she stood there, stiff-armed against the rail, her whole body shaking from the aftermath of her sickness.
“I want to die,” she said, her elbows suddenly buckling.
“Don’t say that.” Thane grabbed her and pulled her away from the rail. Cat was unable to keep her feet, her muscles having turned watery. He swung them both around and slid down so that he was leaning against the gunwale’s side and she was leaning against him.
It was inappropriate, to say the least. But how could she object when she couldn’t even walk? Raindrops spattered over her, sticking strands of hair to her face. Weakly, she tried to pick them away. She hated hair on her face.
“Let me,” Thane said gruffly. “You’re done out.”
His fingers smoothed back the loose strands, and then wiped away the wetness of the rain, or tried to. It was a losing battle.
“Is this punishment?” she asked. “You hate me so much that you chose to sail so I’d flip inside out on the journey.”
“Today’s a rather rough passage, though as you said, no one knew you’d have this reaction,” he said. “But I chose it for speed and safety, not to punish you.”
“What good is it to arrive faster if I die on the way?”
Thane, damn him to hell, chuckled. “You’re not dying. A touch of seasickness never killed anyone. Once you’re back on land, you’ll feel just fine.”
A touch of seasickness? “I hate you,” she said.
“Aye, you’ve made that clear before.”
“Oh, no. I disliked you before. Now that you’ve put me on a ship, I despise you. Oh, God.” Her stomach heaved once more, and she tried to stand.
Thane instantly helped her up and kept her in one place as she vomited over the side again. His legs, steady as anything, pressed against her own, pinning her so she couldn’t lose her footing…though at the moment, the ship was listing dangerously far to the side.
Cat saw the surface of the sea come closer, closer. In a panic, she gripped him hard, terrified she’d slip free and fall.
“I’ve got you,” he told her, his voice as unwavering as his stance. “You won’t fall, Cat. I’ve got you.”
She took a breath. The ship was righting itself, and the sea pulled away. Cat’s nauseousness was temporarily forgotten. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “I hate the sea.”
“I didn’t know,” he said in apology.
“I didn’t hate it until today!” she snapped, turning her head to look back at him.
She caught those green eyes gazing at her with an emotion she’d never seen before. Not from Thane anyway. Tenderness.
“You can let me go now,” she said, furious that he was so close, and that he might have just saved her life. Again.
“Perhaps you’d first let me go?” he inquired, amusement in his voice.
With a start, Cat realized that her hands were spread over his thighs, gripping tightly, and she could feel his muscles underneath the linen, hard and taut.
She released her hold as if scorched. “I didn’t intend that!
” she warned him with a glare. God, he was…
a very strong man. Did he develop those muscles from riding? Did his other muscles compare?
What are you thinking?! one part of her mind screeched in alarm.
The other part was registering that Thane had again helped her to sit down on the deck.
He sat beside her, which ought to have felt safe, except she could only gaze at his thigh lying next to her own leg, the outline of which was clear due to the sopping-wet fabric of her gown.
She plucked at the skirt to obscure the too-obvious shape of her legs underneath.
“Leave it,” he said. “No one can see.”
“You can see.”
“So? You’ve told me again and again that my opinion is worth less than nothing.”
“Well, that’s true,” she grumbled. She did not care at all what Thane thought of her legs.
He went on, “Though I must tell you, as fact and not opinion, that your complexion is a rather alarming shade of green. I’ve seen others get seasick, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this bad.”
“Imagine if you had to feel it instead of see it.” She raised a hand to her cheek, wondering exactly what shade of green her skin was. “Do I look hideous? I feel hideous.”
“You could never look hideous,” he said with a little smile.
Dear Lord, was he being kind? She must resemble a corpse about to be dropped six feet down.
“Why are we out here instead of inside?” she asked, feeling the sting of the wind.
“The fresh air will help you. And some say that when you can see the ship move through the water, it makes the seasickness lessen.”
“I feel no better.”
“Give it a moment.”
“The cabin did stink,” she said, sniffing the mineral tang of the sea air. “At least it smells better out here.”
“Aye, there’s nothing like it.”
“I always thought the ocean smelled bad.”
“Near the shore, sometimes. But that’s not the ocean. That’s the seaweed and the fish and the shells and all the work that goes on near the shore. Out on the water, it’s different. Purer.”
She nodded, admitting to herself that he was right. Then the breeze swept across her, chilling her wet face and body. Cat fought off a shiver. “My cloak’s in the cabin.”
Thane immediately shrugged out of his heavy wool jacket and settled it over them both, like a blanket. He put his arm around her and drew her closer to him.
“Take long, slow breaths,” he advised. “Keep your gaze on the horizon and just try to stay calm. We’ve hours to go, but the good news is that the ship’s dinners are never very good. You won’t miss a thing.”
She bit back a gag at the mere thought of food. “I hate you.”
“Yes, I know. Breathe. There you go. We’ll go back below deck in a few minutes, once you feel better. That’s fine. You’re doing just fine, Cat.”
She laid her head back, only to encounter his broad shoulder. She was too drained to resist, and in fact his body did make a rather excellent pillow. She’d relax just for a moment, until she opened her eyes again…
* * * *
Thane kept his arm tight around Cat as she finally gave in to exhaustion. She must have been in absolute misery down there in the cramped, airless cabin, probably feeling ill from the moment the ship left the safety of the harbor.
A sailor passed them, and spared a look for Cat. Even sick as she was, her face held an undeniable beauty.
“She all right?” the sailor asked.
“Seasick is all. Fresh air is the best cure.”
“Aye, so it is. But when your wife wakes, give her a touch of warm brandy too. Her throat’ll be raw.”
“She’s not…” Thane instantly gave up on explaining. “Aye, I will. Thanks for the advice.”
The sailor nodded and moved on.
His wife. If Catriona heard that, she would have jumped up and slapped him across the face for perpetrating such a foul notion. Poor Cat. First dragged aboard a ship, then heaving her guts off the side, and, worst of all, being mistaken for his wife.
Unexpectedly, Thane smiled. This would be a fun taunt for later.
Then Cat murmured something and nestled closer to him under the cover of the jacket, and all thoughts of teasing fled.
She was so soft. It was difficult to believe, especially since her whole attitude was more barbed than a porcupine.
But when she was asleep, her tart tongue couldn’t come up with the deadly insults she seemed to have infinite stockpiles of.
Christ, they should have had her at the front.
Artillery? Why bother? The enemy would have fled in the face of her vitriol.
The image made him laugh, but then he recalled that she had not been at the front. Her twin brother had.
And he had died.
Putting Thane and Catriona in this very odd position.
Not that the position was all bad, not with Cat curled up next to him, her breathing gentle and her chest rising and falling peacefully.
She was no longer shivering, and in fact felt quite warm.
With the slightest shift of his hands, he could explore that warm flesh, find out if it was as silky to the touch as it was to the eye…
No. Christ. His body was responding to this errant, error-ridden thought with more enthusiasm than it should. This was Catriona Ross. The little sister of Brodie, who he’d vowed to protect, and then utterly failed to do so. And as if he forgot, a spitfire little hellion to boot.
So Thane didn’t move an inch. He strove to think the coldest, most unsensual thoughts he could to calm his primal urges. And he sure as hell didn’t enjoy the softness of Cat’s limbs against his own, or her sweet mouth falling slightly open as she dozed, her lips pink and glistening.
He noticed that her hair had once again fallen onto her face, and he reached to push it off. His fingers trailed along her cheekbone, and then drifted to her jawline, relaxed now, rendering her expression into something much more vulnerable than how she presented herself to the world.
Maybe that brittle brilliance was more of a mask than he’d realized. It was how she protected herself against society after losing her twin, and then her mother too soon afterward.
Regret filled him. He’d lost Brodie, but Thane would go to hell and back to prevent Catriona from dying too.
“I’ve got you,” he told her softly. “No matter what happens, I’m going to keep you safe.”
Beside him, Cat’s eyelids fluttered as she slid deeper into sleep.