If I Wait For You by Jane Goodger Page A

jaw
was tense. As if he were angry with her. Again. Suddenly, she was
sick to tears of hearing in his voice, seeing in his eyes, how much
he wished her gone.
    “ If you want, I can leave
this ship. I can leave at the next port.”
    He turned and Sara knew with a
certainty he was indeed angry. “Why do you say such things? As if
you are some unwanted baggage that no one wants? As if you are
worth nothing to anyone on this ship?”
    “ Because it is true. You
cannot deny that my presence on this ship is not
wanted.”
    He actually looked as if he might
argue with her. Then his gaze softened. “Miss Dawes. These men
think you are their angel of mercy. Half of them think themselves
in love with you. If I were to send you off this ship now, I fear
I’d have a mutiny on my hands.”
    The look she gave him was clearly
skeptical.
    “ What would the men say of
me if I were to pack my wife up without a by your leave? You’ll
stay on board, Miss Dawes, whether you—or I—like it.”
    Sara smiled at him, her grin widening
at his obvious discomfort. “I had no idea I wielded such power, Mr.
Mitchell. Perhaps I should make good use of it.” At this moment of
victory, the ship decided dip then rise, and her air of command
vanished as she threw her head into her bucket.
    For the second time that night, she
heard West laugh.

Chapter SIX
     
    West eyed the ship on the
horizon with curiosity. It appeared to be a barque lumbering slowly
toward them, perhaps a whaler, if her slow progress was a clue.
The Julia had
been out of the doldrums for a week now, and the men were due for
some recreation.
    “ In the mood for a gamming,
Mr. Mason,” West said, his eyes still on the distant
ship.
    “ Would do the men good,” he
said. “And that little wife of yours, too.”
    West gave his first mate a sharp look.
“Why would you say that, Mr. Mason?”
    The old man shrugged his bony
shoulders. “Seemed a little peaked lately.”
    West turned to find Sara, his eyes
locking on her lithe form as she, too, looked to the horizon to the
ship. Even in her shapeless brown dresses, she was strikingly
feminine. Her hair was braided, but several long, waving strands
had escaped to whip behind her. “She’s seemed all right to
me.”
    “ Has she now?”
    West, his eyes still on Sara, nodded.
“She’s not one to complain,” he said uncertainly. In truth, he’d
not paid much attention to her in the last days and had felt
immensely better for his effort. It was a small ship and West had
made a fine art of keeping his eyes directed to the sea, the sails,
anywhere that would keep her from his line of sight.
    “ No. Not Mrs. Mitchell.
She’d not complain if cook served her roach-filled
bread.”
    West did his best not to roll his
eyes. Mr. Mason was clearly one of the men who had fallen under the
charms of his “wife.”
    “ She’s a hearty girl, yes,”
West said, barely able to keep the obvious pride from his
voice.
    “ Hearty, ye say.
Hmph.”
    West’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know
something I should know? Is there something wrong with her?” He
heard the hint of panic in his voice and told himself he was simply
acting the concerned husband. He was frankly beginning to get a bit
worried. What the devil was Oliver so obscurely hinting
at?
    “ P’haps ye should talk to
yer wife yerself. P’haps ye should ask her about a certain blessed
event.”
    “ You think she’s
with child ?” he
asked, unable to keep the utter amazement from his
voice.
    “ I’d say it was obvious.
She’s been eating salty foods, complaining of boredom. Walking
around the deck restless as a cat looking for cream one minute,
looking ready to cry the next. Holding her stomach.”
    “ She’s seasick,” West said
dryly. “Believe me when I tell you this, Mr. Mason, my wife is not
going to have a baby.”
    Oliver’s cheeks, beneath that bushy
beard of his, turned ruddy. “Well, it’s not as if it’s an
impossibility,” he grumbled. Then he glared at West.