Nearly a Lady by Alissa Johnson Page B

house. Yes, it was going to be torture to see Winnefred Blythe sitting across the table from him every day, worse if he had to listen to that wonderfully low and free laugh of hers.
    He made himself look away and begin a slow walk in the opposite direction. He’d attend breakfast, he decided. From what he could tell, breakfast was the shortest meal at Murdoch House. More important, performing his duty in the morning would give him the rest of the day to be alone.
    He would not, under any circumstances, attend dinner. He would not end his day lying in his bed with the picture of Winnefred Blythe so fresh in his mind.
    Nights, he thought grimly, were difficult enough.

Chapter 7

    G ideon studied the wavering chart. He needed a plan. He needed to find a way to get them all out of this damnable mess.
    But the chart kept shimmering in and out of focus. He couldn’t read it. He couldn’t think.
    If the fighting would only stop for a minute, if the ship would be quiet for just one buggering minute, he’d be able to think.
    “I can fight, Cap’n. Let me fight.”
    He looked up from the table. When had the boy come in?
    “Get to the hold, Jimmy.”
    “But I can fight, Cap’n. Just give me a gun.”
    “You can’t fight.” He gestured impatiently at the boy’s chest. “You haven’t any arms for pity’s sake.”
    The boy looked down at his bleeding injuries.
    “Bugger me. So I ’ave’nt. Me mum’s going to be right peeved.”
    Gideon blinked at the blood. That wasn’t right, was it?
    No, that wasn’t right at all.
    He needed to get the boy to safety. It was his responsibility to get the boy to safety.
    “Get to the hold.” Hadn’t he told the boys to go to the hold? “Now.”
    “Nah.” Jimmy shrugged. “Don’t need me arms, really. But Bill’s ’ead is gone. Could be a problem.”
    The cabin door swung open and young Colin Newberry came in with a hole the size of a dinner platter through his belly, and Bill’s head clutched in his hand like a lantern.
    “Found it! Where’s the rest of him?”
    “I’m losing you,” Gideon heard himself whisper. “I’m losing you.”
    Lord Marson came in behind Colin. The left half of his upper body was gone, utterly gone, and blood flowed from the remaining half to pool on the floor. “What’s the captain lost? Is that Bill’s head? He’ll be looking for it.”
    “Get to the hold! For pity’s sake, I told you to get to the hold!”
    Bill’s head blinked at him.
    “But, Cap’n, we just come from the hold.”
    As the figures before him blurred, a scream echoed in Gideon’s head and strangled in his throat. He wanted to force it out. If, just for once, he could force it out, the agony of it would lessen. But nothing came from his lips but a long moan he heard as if from a great distance.
    “Gideon. Gideon, wake up. Please, wake up.”
    Winnefred’s voice floated to him over the waves of pain and frustration. Finally, finally , the scream began to die, slowly fading away like the final note of a violent symphony.
    He saw her eyes first. It was so different to see something other than the ceiling or the bottom of a canopy when he woke from the dream, and for a moment he did nothing but stare while the last of the dream shrank away. It wasn’t such a terrible thing, really, to wake to beautiful eyes filled with concern . . . and fear.
    “Gideon?”
    “Bloody hell.” He pushed her away with shaking hands. “A moment. Give me a moment.”
    “Yes. Of course.”
    He sat up and reached for the shirt he’d tossed on the floor when he’d grown over-warm reading in bed. Pushing his arms through the sleeves, he rose, grateful that he’d fallen asleep with his trousers still on. Then he planted his hands on his hips and concentrated on settling his heart into a normal rhythm.
    Only when he was certain he had regained a modicum of control did he turn to face Winnefred once more.
    She was sitting on his bed, and he noticed for the first time that she was dressed