Merline Lovelace by The Tiger's Bride

with a provocative lift of one black brow.
    After her uncomfortable night in the rope locker and her tumultuous morning in the surgery, Sarah wanted nothing so much as water to wash with, clean clothes, and something to fill her empty stomach. She accomplished the first two goals easily enough. A thin, one-eyed seaman who introduced himself as John Hardesty brought her a bucket of seawater a short time after the captain’s departure. Sarah scrubbed her skin until it tingled and lost all traces of red.
    Wrapped in a length of thick cotton batting that served as a towel, she knelt before the captain’s sea chest. The lid creaked when she opened it. A faint scent of cedar drifted up from the neatly folded shirts, coats, and trousers. Not wishing to delve too deeplyinto his personal effects, Sarah lifted out a white linen shirt and a pair of fawn-colored trousers. The trousers hugged her hips with shocking intimacy, but the shirt hung down to her knees and afforded her a modicum of modesty. It also, she discovered to her dismay, clearly showed the dusky tips of her breasts through the fine linen. She dug into the sea chest once more and retrieved a fancifully embroidered vest.
    A long, painful battle with the captain’s silverhandled brush freed her hair of most of its tangles. Searching for something to tie it back with, she peeked into the chest once more. She found just what she needed deep in a side pocket…a slender, black velvet ribbon.
    When she drew the ribbon out, she discovered that a painted cameo dangled from one end. Sarah tipped it to the light and gazed down at a portrait of a ravishingly beautiful woman with clouds of soft brown hair and creamy skin. The unknown beauty could match Abigail in perfection of features, Sarah readily admitted, but the impish smile in her jade green eyes suggested that she wouldn’t come close to the younger Miss Abernathy in sweetness of disposition.
    Curious, Sarah turned the cameo over. The inscription on the back promised that Jamie would always, always be held in the heart of the woman who inscribed herself as Dorcas.
    Her lips pursing in disapproval, Sarah tugged the cameo free of the ribbon and dropped it back in the pocket. The trunk lid closed with a slam.
    Some time later, a knock on the cabin door summoned her to dinner. With the Phoenix running before a stiff wind and the captain at the helm, she had only the injured Mr. Burke’s company in the mess. After afew swallows of an inedible stew made with rice, mushy vegetables, and something she sincerely hoped was chicken, she excused herself and tumbled into the silk-covered bunk.
    Her second morning aboard the Phoenix, she gathered her courage and ventured above decks. She stepped out of the hatchway to the sight of sunshine sparkling like diamonds on the sea. It took a few moments for the busy crew to notice her. When they did, she was treated to a chorus of mutters and hostile glances.
    Standing amidships, Straithe caught the murmurs and turned. He raked her with a quick look, then said a few words to the man at his side. The scowling seaman pulled off his hat and handed it to the captain. Straithe strode to Sarah and handed her the wide-brimmed canvas hat.
    “Keep this on, and stay well aft, clear of the booms.”
    The booms, Sarah guessed, were the massive, swinging timbers that anchored the ship’s triangular sails. Eyeing the way the rearmost boom swept across the deck like a huge scythe at that precise moment, she readily agreed to keep out of its path.
    “See that you do,” Straithe said curtly. “If you cause a disturbance or dally with the men, I’ll toss you over the side.”
    Before she could think of an appropriate answer to that bit of incivility, he strode off. Obviously, he was already regretting his decision of the night before.
    Well, he could regret all he wished. She was aboard the Phoenix, and here she would stay. Plunking the floppy canvas hat on her head, Sarah retreated to a small bench in