Starlight & Promises by Cat Lindler

side until I’m quite prepared to relinquish you.” He lowered his head until his face came within inches of hers. His hot breath scorched her skin. “Are you familiar with the crow’s nest?” He pointed.
    She looked up, way up, to a small bucket at the top of a tall mast. Her eyes widened.
    “Hand me one more unanticipated problem, and you’ll find yourself spending your days and nights up there, standing watch. By the time we reach Tasmania, you’ll believe you’ve sprouted wings.”
    He laughed softly, leaving her standing there, trembling, her emotions so jumbled she was incapable of even remembering why she was on a ship.
    His shouting shook her out of her daze. He gestured at Narcissus, who was chewing on a line securing a sail. “And cage that animal before I make him into soup!”

C HAPTER E IGHT
    T he cabin door burst open and banged against the bulkhead.
    “On deck, Sam!”
    Samantha’s eyes popped open. When she sat up abruptly, her hammock flipped over, dumping her onto the deck. Narcissus hit the boards beside her and scrambled for cover. She brushed away the snarled hair obscuring her vision and blinked at Christian. The black outline of his body filled the doorway. He grinned, teeth gleaming in the semidarkness. She began a slow burn.
    “Fifteen minutes,” he said. “Then I return for you.”
    The door slammed shut.
    Heavy with sleep, she pushed herself to her feet, rubbed her sore bottom, stumbled over to the washbasin, and splashed water on her face. The cabin was darker than it should be, illuminated by a lone lantern swaying from an overhead beam. She glanced at the porthole in the left bulkhead. The pink blush of predawn faintly tinted the sky. The sun still languished beyond the horizon! Her slow burn worked itself into a simmering boil.
    She lit another lantern and searched for her clothing among the jumble. Bodies and baggage filled the suffocatingly small cabin to bursting. The ship offered only three cabins, and the women had appropriated the larger one, normally taken by the captain. Aunt Delia and Chloe slept in the double bunk. Hammocks hung from the rafters for Samantha and Gilly. Narcissus now curled up on the narrow window seat along a bank of windows set in the bow, the only flat surface not piled with clothing. Christian and Garrett shared a tiny cabin next door. The captain made do with an even smaller cabin, more like a wardrobe, across the companionway running below deck. Poor stuffy Pettibone, much to his indignation, was obliged to bunk with the ship’s crew. She failed to comprehend why Christian had not engaged a more comfortable ship.
    She cast a look at her family, and her lips pursed. They slept the sleep of the dead. She would never understand how they slumbered through Christian’s bellowing.
    She hurried with her dressing, knowing Christian’s threat to return was not an idle one. What new torture had he devised for her today? The first morning after sailing, he pulled her from her hammock when she refused to rise at dawn and hauled her topside, dressed only in her night rail. Once there, he presented her with a mountain of clothing that required mending.
    “Since you took it upon yourself to drag a gaggle of extra bodies aboard without requesting permission, you’ve burdened the crew with additional work. While we’re at sea, you’ll make yourself useful.” He pointed at the clothing. When she opened her lips to protest, he cut her off, saying, “You may consider that an order.” He parted with a venomous smile.
    The second morning proceeded much the same as the first. Only this time, he assigned her to laundry duty for the entire crew. By the third morning, Samantha learned ‘twas in her best interest to rise, dress, and rapidly present herself topside when he awakened her. Now if she could only master that damnable hammock!
    Dressed and scrubbed but still not fully awake, she shuffled down the companionway and up the ladder to the deck.
    Christian