The Lady Machinist (Curiosity Chronicles Book 1) by Ava Morgan Page B

stoked.
    He broke nearly all boundaries with her. Everything he preached to the crew about holding fast to the mission fell in the face of one heated moment. No, he couldn’t lie to himself. There were many moments when the sight of Lydia tempted him.
    His body still warmed at the remembrance of her feminine softness beneath the damp fabric of her clothes, her arms about his neck, every smooth curve pressed against the length of him. She was shaken by the storm and from being far from home. No matter how capable and quick-witted she was, her intelligent attributes did not conceal her vulnerability. His reaction to that vacillated from wanting to protect her to an even greater, primal urge to comfort her. Not just with assuring words, either.
    Rhys shook his head free of the notions, hating that the very drive to do those things would be the same force that would wreak havoc on both of their causes if he had acted upon them. More importantly, there was Lydia’s honor to consider. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that her will prevailed over his. If she wanted him to remain in that navigation room for much longer…
    Malcolm cut in on Rhys’ thoughts as he reached the deck. “How fares the lass?”
    He wondered if Malcolm or any of the crewmen kept track of his time in the navigation room. If so, they would realize that the duration was a bit longer than it normally took to deliver a tray of food. “Better than any of us.” Rhys kept his reply simple.
    “Aye, at least she has a roof over her head.” The bosun swilled rum as he surveyed activity on deck. The crew started to settle for the night, with each man seeking rudimentary shelter from the elements under makeshift tarpaulin awnings and inside the longboats.
    Rhys wiped rain off his face. “I’m surprised you ask about her.”
    The bosun stiffened his lip. “I asked because that whelp Finley will need the use of the navigation room on the morrow. Where will you put her, then?”
    “The cabin will be dry if we can continue to draw water out from the manual pump. Have a crewman switch shifts in the engine room every hour.” He stopped when he heard a smug voice sound nearby.
    “I am an Aspasian noble. I will not be forced to sleep out in the rain.”
    Rhys peered in the direction where Nikolaos’ voice hailed and saw him arguing with O’Neil. The engineer sat under a makeshift tarp awning and shot back a retort.
    “I don’t care who you are. I’ll not give up my tarp. There’s canvas coverings stored in the sail room. Get one and make your own shelter.”
    Beard dripping water from the rain, Nikolaos raised his head and took notice of the navigation room on the quarterdeck. “Never mind. I will sleep there for the night.”
    Rhys stepped up to him. “That area is off limits to you.”
    Nikolaos took stock of him and sneered. “But not to you. Is that why you took your time delivering Lady Dimosthenis her evening rations?”
    “If you ever make an insinuation about me and Lady Dimosthenis again, I will tie you to the hull and have you dragged from bow to stern.”
    Nikolaos remained insolent. “You’ll have to speak Greek to me, Captain. I’m afraid I’m not well-versed in nautical terms.”
    Rhys seized him by the collar and yanked him up and over the side rail of the ship. “Shall we start with ‘man overboard’?”
    Nikolaos attempted to gain footing on the rails, but Rhys held him out too far. “You wouldn’t drown me for wanting to sleep out of the rain.”
    “No.” Rhys moved closer to the rails, so Nikolaos’ legs danced a jig in mid-air above the rolling ocean. “But I should for you attempting to oust an injured man from his shelter, as well as refusing to lend aid to him and a crewman earlier when they needed your help. Why should my men see to your comfort when you have no regard for their lives?”
    The crew formed a semicircle near Rhys and observed as he meted out justice. Rhys gave the Aspasian lord a shake. “Answer the