wind came up from the southwest, driving banks of heavy clouds and the Sea Devil , in full sail, before it. Standing near the prow, Bryce watched the ship slice through high, black swells, and then gazed up at the velvety dark sky. The moon had disappeared. Bryce hoped a storm wasn’t brewing; that might stop them from reaching St. Lucia by morning. Once there, he planned to send a message to Jean Moreau and demand a ransom for the return of his kidnapped mistress.
Would Moreau be willing to make a deal? Bryce wondered. Or would he try to trick them to get Caitlin back? The Frenchman was well known for being as shrewd as he was deceptive. But would he dare to gamble if he thought his woman’s life was in danger?
Bryce was anxious to get Caitlin off the Sea Devil . Just thinking about her huge, serious blue eyes and the tears he’d seen running down her cheeks tonight made him feel unpleasantly guilty.
She always looked and acted so innocent. Even the silly lies she’d told him about being a triple agent could be easily discerned as such. Was she playing a game? Or was she really as balmy as Lars?
Thinking about the old cook, Bryce carefully headed back across the slanting deck as the ship rolled with the wind. If Lars still had Caitlin working, Bryce wanted to tell him to let her get some sleep. As he neared the galley door, however, a slight figure burst out in front of him and wove its teetering way to the ship’s side.
“Caitlin! Don’t jump!” Bryce yelled above the sound of rustling sails and wind. She didn’t answer but hung her head over the railing. He reached her in a couple of strides and took hold of her shoulders when he realized what was wrong. “If you’re going to be sick, don’t stick your face right into the wind! Come to the other side.”
Half dragging her as they struggled, he managed to take her in the other direction. Her face was white in the dim light of the open galley door, and she groaned before retching on to the deck—and all over his left pant leg and shoe.
“Oh!” She groaned again. “Now look what you’ve made me do! Can’t you leave me alone?”
“I’m trying to help you. Come over here,” insisted Bryce, steering her toward the opposite railing. Gently placing an arm around her midriff from behind, he held her head over the side as she was sick over and over again.
“Lots of people get sick when they’re first aboard a ship. You’ll get over it,” he said, wondering why he wanted to comfort her.
In a few minutes Caitlin stepped back from the railing, shivering as she leaned against him. “I don’t want to get over it. And I don’t want your help. I’d rather be off this dumb boat.”
“Ship,” corrected Bryce, trying to ignore the warmth where her slight body touched his own. A strand of her hair whipped across his face. “I’d like to see you off this ship too. But in the meantime you might as well try to get used to it. Why don’t you come back to the cabin, take some medicine, and keep warm and quiet?” He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed when she swung out and away from him. She’d felt so good nestled between his arms.
“No. I think it will be better if I sleep on deck,” stated Caitlin. Standing under the straining sails, her blue eyes glowing with angry determination, her long hair tossed by the wind, she looked like a tempestuous water sprite.
Bryce stepped nearer. “That’s ridiculous. It’s too cold out here.”
She moved away, edging toward the galley door. “I don’t want to sleep in your cabin again. And don’t think you can talk me into it, either. Thank goodness I found out that all that dizziness was seasickness—and not you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m just seasick! I’m not attracted to you!” she shouted before disappearing down the stairway.
As he made his way to the ship’s wheel to relieve Anselm, Bryce couldn’t help but brood. Caitlin had a lot of nerve for a hostage. Her
Would Moreau be willing to make a deal? Bryce wondered. Or would he try to trick them to get Caitlin back? The Frenchman was well known for being as shrewd as he was deceptive. But would he dare to gamble if he thought his woman’s life was in danger?
Bryce was anxious to get Caitlin off the Sea Devil . Just thinking about her huge, serious blue eyes and the tears he’d seen running down her cheeks tonight made him feel unpleasantly guilty.
She always looked and acted so innocent. Even the silly lies she’d told him about being a triple agent could be easily discerned as such. Was she playing a game? Or was she really as balmy as Lars?
Thinking about the old cook, Bryce carefully headed back across the slanting deck as the ship rolled with the wind. If Lars still had Caitlin working, Bryce wanted to tell him to let her get some sleep. As he neared the galley door, however, a slight figure burst out in front of him and wove its teetering way to the ship’s side.
“Caitlin! Don’t jump!” Bryce yelled above the sound of rustling sails and wind. She didn’t answer but hung her head over the railing. He reached her in a couple of strides and took hold of her shoulders when he realized what was wrong. “If you’re going to be sick, don’t stick your face right into the wind! Come to the other side.”
Half dragging her as they struggled, he managed to take her in the other direction. Her face was white in the dim light of the open galley door, and she groaned before retching on to the deck—and all over his left pant leg and shoe.
“Oh!” She groaned again. “Now look what you’ve made me do! Can’t you leave me alone?”
“I’m trying to help you. Come over here,” insisted Bryce, steering her toward the opposite railing. Gently placing an arm around her midriff from behind, he held her head over the side as she was sick over and over again.
“Lots of people get sick when they’re first aboard a ship. You’ll get over it,” he said, wondering why he wanted to comfort her.
In a few minutes Caitlin stepped back from the railing, shivering as she leaned against him. “I don’t want to get over it. And I don’t want your help. I’d rather be off this dumb boat.”
“Ship,” corrected Bryce, trying to ignore the warmth where her slight body touched his own. A strand of her hair whipped across his face. “I’d like to see you off this ship too. But in the meantime you might as well try to get used to it. Why don’t you come back to the cabin, take some medicine, and keep warm and quiet?” He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed when she swung out and away from him. She’d felt so good nestled between his arms.
“No. I think it will be better if I sleep on deck,” stated Caitlin. Standing under the straining sails, her blue eyes glowing with angry determination, her long hair tossed by the wind, she looked like a tempestuous water sprite.
Bryce stepped nearer. “That’s ridiculous. It’s too cold out here.”
She moved away, edging toward the galley door. “I don’t want to sleep in your cabin again. And don’t think you can talk me into it, either. Thank goodness I found out that all that dizziness was seasickness—and not you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m just seasick! I’m not attracted to you!” she shouted before disappearing down the stairway.
As he made his way to the ship’s wheel to relieve Anselm, Bryce couldn’t help but brood. Caitlin had a lot of nerve for a hostage. Her
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