Page 14

Humiliation heated him from waist to hairline, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat as the wave receded.

It also galled to have been so incapacitated, and if it had not been for the kindness of the women, Devin was not certain what he would’ve done.

For certain, Mr. Compton would not have offered to assist again. He had been so furious about Devin casting up his accounts on his perfectly polished boots that he’d ordered two nearby crewmen to see Devin below before he had stomped away, cursing obscenely beneath his breath.

The second officer might very well refuse to speak to Devin for the voyage’s duration, which from their brief encounter, was no great loss. Devin consoled himself with the knowledge that by the time he had vomited on Mr. Compton’s feet, little remained in his stomach—although he distinctly recalled seeing a speck of chewed carrot.

Regardless, Devin sincerely doubted Compton would perceive the incident in a favorable light.

As Trinity already knew who he was, Devin had opted not to use the name he had registered to sail under. It mattered not if the other passengers or the crew knew his true identity. The deception had only been to put Mother off the scent, and as that had worked marvelously well, there was no point in continuing the ruse.

In short order, Devin had lit the lamp, stripped, and washed using the sandalwood and cedar soap Shillingford had packed. The man was nothing if not detail-oriented. The water in the pitcher was cold but refreshing as Devin poured it over his head. Once he toweled dry, he donned a fresh pair of pantaloons, cleansed his teeth, then proceeded to lather his face for a much-needed shave.

A soft rap preceded the door flying open, and Miss Ablethorne swept in carrying a tray, leaving the door ajar behind her.

“Good morning,” she cheerily greeted as was her wont. “I hope you are—”

She gasped as Devin spun toward her bare-chested and with his silver razor in hand.

“You are out of bed,” she stated needlessly, her pretty eyes dual moons in her face. She swiftly dropped her gaze to the floor. “I beg your pardon for barging in without permission.”

Adorable pink glazed her cheeks as she deftly lowered the panel that sufficed for a table with one hand while balancing the tray with the other. A frown puckered the alabaster contours of her face.

“I brought you gruel, dry toast, and black tea, but perhaps you would prefer something heartier?” Confusion and chagrin puckered her forehead. “Or mayhap you wish to eat in the saloon with the others?”

No, Devin would much rather enjoy a forbidden tête-à-tête with her.

“Gruel and toast are just fine.” He was not sure he could stomach anything richer, truth be told.

A pleased smile teased the corners of her mouth before she wrested it under control.

“Hopefully, your constitution will be similar to mine.”

At his quirked eyebrow, she continued.

“I was just as wretchedly ill as you on my first voyage.” She gave a delicate shudder. “I truly wanted to die.”

He well knew that feeling.

“But once I recovered, I have never been plagued with malaise since.”

“Never?” Could it be true?

“Never.” She rubbed the tip of her nose. “But others become ill with each journey, so I know my circumstance may not be typical.”

“I shall pray I am as fortunate as you, Miss Ablethorne.”

Even with the door ajar, her presence in a male passenger’s quarters, let alone a known rogue’s cabin, bordered on scandalous.

Upon waking, Devin had believed it very early morn but now wondered if perhaps it wasn’t closer to midmorning.

“Do you know the time, Miss Ablethorne?”

His timepiece was around here someplace. He was not sure where they’d tucked the watch before bundling him into his berth.

“Near ten.” She pointed to a peg beside the doorjamb. “That reminds me. Your watch is in your jacket pocket.”

“Ah, I wondered where it had gone to.”