“Sit,” he commanded gruffly, then knelt before me.
I averted my head, pressing a hand to my mouth as theSeraphimpitched and plunged, each swell of the waves sending my stomach lurching like a toy boat caught in a storm.
“I think I shall be sick,” I moaned, feeling utterly helpless. My stays pinched in all the wrong spots and I could hardly breathe in the stuffy space.
He found a washbasin at just the right moment when I heaved whatever was left within my stomach. Tears flooded my eyes when he removed the ceramic basin.
“You needn’t stay, Sebastian.”
He placed the basin on the floor and brushed aside the strands of hair sticking to the sides of my face with infinite care. “I’m not leaving you, Kitty. In sickness and in health, aye? Lie down and perhaps you can rest.”
The cabin swam before my eyes, and then he pressed a tin cup of tepid water to my lips before I could protest.
“Drink,” he said. “I’ll see if the cook has something for you to eat.”
I sipped what I could, but my stomach immediately protested.
“No food.” I pressed a hand against my mouth. “Only sleep.” My fingers fumbled for the buttons at the back of my gown.
“Let me,” he said after a weighted pause. I had taken care of my own dressing needs aboard the ship, but now ... I felt too dizzy and weak to do much of anything.
His eyes searched mine as he helped me slide out of the damp morning gown, then lifted it over my tumbling hair.
“I can manage the rest,” I said, though my chattering teeth betrayed my dismay. Each morning and night, Sebastian left our cabin while I attempted to dress myself and arrange my hair into something fashionable. A horrible state of affairs without a maid.
“Kitty,” he said, his voice low, “you’re too ill to argue. We are married, after all, and unless you wish for me to find someone else to assist—”
“No,” I croaked. “I suppose I won’t sleep with the stays. I fear I’ve never been in this situation before.”
His fingers grazed my shoulder—but instead of comforting me, I felt a flutter of uncertainty. And as I lay there, wondering what our marriage would truly become, I found myself terrified—terrified that I might never truly understand what it meant to be a wife. Would we ever have children, or would I remain as isolated as I had been at Seven Oakes with him consumed with his work?
“Turn around,” he commanded, but not before I saw his throat bob.
I held my breath as his fingers worked at the stays, the pressure easing with each pull. My heart thudded painfully, a mix of embarrassment and something else I couldn’t quite name. No man had ever touched me like this before, and the intimacy of it made my cheeks burn. I kept my gaze fixed on the wall, willing my pulse to slow, but it only raced faster when he gently slid the stays away, leaving me clad in nothing more than a shift.
I was fully covered with the linen undergarment ... yet I felt anything but.
“There,” he breathed, his tone more relieved than triumphant. “Now lie down.”
I obeyed and sank into the bunk as a wave of exhaustion overtook me. The nausea still gripped me, but the room seemed steadier with Sebastian so close. He tucked a blanket around my shoulders, his touch careful, almost reverent.
“Do you regret it?” The question escaped before I could stop it, my voice barely above a whisper.
He frowned. “Regret what?”
“Marrying me,” I said, my throat tightening. The vulnerability of the moment left me raw, stripped of all pretense.
Sebastian’s lips curved into a wry grin, and he shook his head. “No, Kitty. I don’t regret it.”
“Even with a bride who looks a fright?”
“Maybe more a mermaid, drenched by the ocean,” he countered before averting his gaze from my face. “An exquisite mermaid, truth be told.”
Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips. He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing against my knuckles in a way that sent a frisson of heat through me before he tucked a stray strand behind my ear. “You’ll get your sea legs.”
Would I ever feel myself again?
“Tell me a story then. I know hardly anything about your family. Or you, for that matter.”
