'Oh, yes. I read it in a book, so it must be true.'
Victoria nodded. 'Are you really going to help me?'
'How could I not?'
Lord, she started crying again. Taylor didn't want to go through another round of weeping and consoling. 'Please stop that,' she pleaded. 'You're going to wear yourself out. I cannot believe you thought I would abandon you. Shame on you, Victoria.'
'I don't want to be a burden or suggest that you…'
Taylor took hold of Victoria's arm and led her over to the staircase. 'Of course you don't want to be a burden. You won't be, I promise. I have a terrible habit,' she confessed then. 'I seem to believe I know what's best for everyone around me.'
'I don't believe knowing what's best for someone else is a terrible habit,' Victoria replied.
'Not just someone else,' Taylor corrected. 'Everyone else. And yes, it is a terrible flaw. Madam calls it my affliction. She says I shouldn't interfere and it's quite arrogant of me to think I can make a difference in anyone else's life. Very arrogant indeed. Those were her very words to me time and again. I fear she's right. I give you my word I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do, Victoria. But I do insist on helping you.'
'Thank you, Taylor.'
'We'll talk again tomorrow after you've had a good night's sleep and aren't so tired.'
'I would be most appreciative of your counsel.' Victoria paused a moment before continuing. 'Are you able to know what's best for you all the time?'
Taylor's shoulders slumped. 'That's the rub in this affliction I'm cursed with,' she explained. 'I never seem to know what's best for me. Just everyone else.'
The bewilderment in Taylor's voice made Victoria smile. 'Perhaps I'll know what's best for you.'
Taylor smiled back. 'Perhaps you will.'
Because the staircase was only wide enough to accommodate one person at a time, Taylor motioned for Victoria to take the lead. 'I'll walk with you to your cabin door so I'll know where to find you.'
Victoria paused on the bottom step. Her expression was solemn when she turned to look up at Taylor. 'Are we going to be friends?'
Taylor didn't hesitate in giving her answer. 'I believe we already are.'
The commitment was made. Taylor knew full well what she was taking on. She didn't blanch over the responsibility she'd just taken upon herself. She would take care of Victoria until she was strong enough and able enough to take care of herself. And the baby, Taylor silently added. She mustn't forget about the baby.
Friends helped friends, yes, but there was more to
Taylor's promise than that. Much, much more. Children, all children, should be cherished and protected from harm by every able adult. It wasn't a rule; it was a sacred commandment in Taylor's estimation, and she would do whatever it took to ensure Victoria's and her baby's safety…
No matter what the cost. It wasn't a choice. It was her duty.
Her noble intentions were going to die with her. She wasn't going to be able to help anyone, least of all herself. The ship was going down, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She was convinced it was only a matter of minutes before everyone was sleeping on the bottom of the ocean. Taylor would have knelt on the floor and said her prayers for forgiveness to her Maker for all the mean things she had ever thought about anyone, except her uncle Malcolm, of course. She believed that if she really was contrite about being so arrogant and bossy, she might be able to sneak into heaven, but kneeling anywhere was simply impossible with the hurricane-force winds knocking the little ship around and around. She wedged herself into the corner of the bed and pressed her shoulders against the wall. She really tried not to be afraid, but Lord it was an impossible task. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so horrible if it weren't the middle of the night and so pitch black inside the cabin. Taylor hated the darkness, but she didn't dare try to relight the lamp for fear she might accidentally set the walls on fire. And so she sat in the dark with her eyes squeezed shut and her arms clutched around a pillow, listening as her trunks slammed against one wall and then another. She fought her terror and her panic with prayers and pleas to her Maker while she waited for the end.
What was going to happen to her sister's babies?
The twins needed a mother. She couldn't even imagine what would become of the little ones. And Victoria… What would happen if she survived and Taylor didn't? She'd promised to help her new friend, and how would Victoria survive without any money or family in America?
Oh, God, there was so much she wanted to do. It wasn't fair to die like this. She let out a loud sob and gave in to her tears. No one, not even a bossy, arrogant, think-she-knows-everything young lady should have to die like this. She didn't want to die all alone. She wanted company.
And most of all, she wanted Madam.
The door opened with a bang. Taylor jumped a foot. Mr. Ross stood in the entrance. He all but filled up the entire doorway. She could see him clearly, for the light from the lamp perched in the leather holder high up on the hallway wall shown brightly all around him.
She'd never been so happy to see anyone in all her life. He looked like a god to her. Or a prince. He was drenched from head to foot. His dark hair hung down over his forehead and his white shirt and black pants were molded to his body. The bulge of muscle in his upper arms and his thighs made him look invincible to her. He was like a mighty warrior from the past, this princely giant she was married to, and Taylor found herself calmed by his mere presence. He was such a commanding figure, and the casual ease in his every movement, so graceful for such a huge man, actually captivated and soothed her.
Lucas Ross couldn't have been more appealing to her if he'd been dressed in elegant, regal robes:
'Hell of a wind kicking up.' He made the remark in a casual tone of voice and took another step inside. 'I'm soaked through.' He turned then, tossed his wet bedroll into the corner of the stateroom next to his satchels, then shook his head very like a dog would do to rid himself of the rain. Drops of water flew outward in an arch.
He smiled at Taylor. One look at her face told him she was terrified. He noticed the tears coursing down her face. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Her gaze was centered on him, but he didn't think the terror he saw in her expression was because he'd entered the cabin in the middle of the night. He used the cabin to house his clothes and came and went several times during the day. No, he wasn't responsible for her tears. The storm was causing her panic.
He couldn't fault her reaction. In truth, he felt the way she looked. He'd been in storms before but nothing as violent as this one. They were in real jeopardy of going down.
He wasn't about to share his opinion about their dire circumstances with Taylor, however. The last thing he wanted or needed was a hysterical woman on his hands, and for that reason, he forced himself to move slowly, to act as though he had all the time in the world. He was as nonchalant as possible. He even whistled.
She shifted in the bed when the ship tilted again.
'Do you prefer sitting in the dark?'
It took her a full minute to find her voice. 'No,' she whispered. She moved back so she was once again visible to him in the beam of light from the hallway. 'But I was concerned I would set the cabin on fire if I tried to relight the lamp.'
Lucas turned to go back outside. 'Where are you going, Mr. Ross?'
Panic made her tone sharp and her words tremble. She couldn't seem to calm down. She didn't want him to know how afraid she was. He might think she was a coward. It really was laughable, she supposed, worrying about his opinion of her now, just minutes before they were both surely going to die, but foolish as it was, she still tried to hide her fear. He didn't know her very well, and she didn't want him to go to his watery grave believing he'd married a weakling.
'I'm just getting the lantern from the hallway,' he called out.
He was already back inside the cabin by the time he finished his explanation. She watched him shut the door, then walk over to the opposite side of the room and tie the lantern to the metal hook protruding from the wall. One of her trunks went sailing past him while he was securing the base of the lamp to the stand. The ship took a perilous dive then. Taylor pressed her back against the wall, dug her heels into the sheets, and tried to maintain her balance. She was still tossed to the side. Lucas hadn't budged. His balance was impressive. So was his attitude, she decided. He didn't seem to be at all concerned about their perilous situation.
She felt it necessary to point out the obvious. 'We're in the middle of a hurricane, sir. I believe it's only a
