I shrugged, admittedly grateful for his company. “Very well. You grab the lantern.”
The hold smelled stale and humid. And there was something eerie about it. I stayed close to Mr. Ashby, convincing myself that it was due to his lantern rather than the fact that I was irrationally afraid. I heard a squeak and I yelped, jumping and grabbing on to Mr. Ashby.
I felt him chuckle. “It is a rat, Miss Findlay. No need to fear. That is what we came down here for.”
I still hadn’t let go of him. “That doesn’t make rats less frightening.”
“No, I don’t suppose it does.” His hand covered mine and I felt him tug on it, letting me know he wished for me to release him. Suddenly I was very aware of his warmth, his strength, and his smell—an earthy musk that filled my senses and masked the mildew scent of the hold.
I released my grip quickly. “Ah, sorry. I was just…”
“It’s fine. Did you bring the bag?” He lifted the lantern so he could see my face. I saw his too and felt my pulse race suddenly.
“Um. Yes.” I held up the brown sack as evidence.
We checked the traps—ten in all—and put the unfortunate creatures into the bag before going back to the main deck. I sucked in the fresh air gratefully. Mr. Ashby emptied the bag over the railing to feed the fish. I idly wondered how big those fish would be, to eat large rats like that.
Mr. Ashby grinned as he looked at me. He must have noticed my expression—half disgust, half dread. “Was that task too distasteful for you?”
A corner of my mouth lifted as I responded dryly. “Of course not. In fact, I look forward to our next rat hunt.”
He closed the short distance between us. “Do you, now?” The way he looked at me, those blue eyes dancing with laughter and that teasing smile, caused my cheeks to heat. Surely he didn’t mean to bring up that moment in the hold with my arms around him, breathing in his scent.
I crossed my arms stubbornly, then hid my embarrassment beneath a haughty expression. “Indeed. I enjoyed emptying the traps so much that I would happily do it alone.”Doing it alone might be less dangerous.The sudden thought made me pause. Dangerous for whom?
“I see. And you would enjoy the experience more that way?” He raised an eyebrow. Was he truly goading me?
I scoffed. “It makes no difference to me whether you accompany me or not.”
He turned his head to hide a smile, though he failed to do so, and nodded. “I did not have any suspicions to the contrary.” His blue eyes met mine and held them for much too long.
We didn’t break our connection until Patrice approached. I looked away from him abruptly and balled my fists in an effort to force back down whatever feelings had risen to the surface.
“How was swabbing?” I asked Patrice.
She wiped the sweat from her brow. “Better than yer job, no doubt.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Mr. Ashby said. “Miss Findlay was just telling me how much she enjoyed the experience.”
My gaze did not leave Patrice. “Yes, it was most thrilling.” I chided myself for the use of such a word to describe my time below deck.
Patrice gave me a strange look and then nodded. “Shall we eat?” she said, apparently not interested in continuing our conversation. I followed her closely as we descended the ladder to the mess deck.
The rest of the evening proceeded in much the same way as it had the previous few weeks, despite all that had happened two days prior.
After dressing down, Patrice rolled into her bed and turned to face me. She propped her head onto her hand. “Ye seem to have gotten closer to Mr. Ashby of late,” she observed.
I sat and looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?” Certainly she wasn’t imagining… My heart beat faster at the implication.
“What do ye think I mean?” Her raised eyebrows only furthered my suspicion that she was alluding to something inconceivable.
I turned my back on her to get into bed, pulling the blanket up under my chin before facing her again. “It’s hardly surprising that we’ve gotten closer, considering everything we’ve been through so far. I’d say we’ve become good friends.”
She flipped onto her back and closed her eyes. “Aye, that’s what I meant. Ye seem to be good friends.”
She fell asleep soon after that, and I wished I could fall asleep as quickly. My thoughts unintentionally turned to the warmth of Mr. Ashby’s closeness earlier that day. Whatever feelings had come over me were perfectly understandable. I had come to trust and rely on him. As I’d told Patrice, we were becoming good friends. There was nothing untoward about our friendship. Even as I rationalized my growing appreciation for him, however, I knew our friendship had the potential for something more.
And the possibility ofthatwas unthinkable.
