Chapter Eighteen
“What’s wrong?” Willa swept a glance around the darkened orlop deck. They were alone.
“Have you forgotten?” He waited a long moment, then began again. “I know what you and Madame de Santis got up to. I saw that packet of powder hidden in the locket in your sea chest.”
“What powder?” Panic filled her throat like acid.
“You didn’t know? She’s using you.”
Her mind raced, trying to make sense of his accusation. “What makes you think it has some dark purpose? And, furthermore, you have no business sneaking around our quarters. For all you know, the locket is mine, and that packet contains only a sleeping powder.”
He grasped her wrist in a tight grip. “What I do know is that miniature on the locket has to be a dead likeness to someone in that bitch, Ariadne’s, family. All you have to do to prove the powder is harmless is to take me to your cabin and swallow the powder yourself right now.”
When she tried to jerk away, he stepped back into even deeper shadows between two guns and pulled her with him.
She hissed in pain. “What is it you want? I don’t have time to guess at your games. I have to get back to Dr. MacCloud.”
“I’ll just bet you do. But that great, hulking husband of yours is no good to you now, is he?” He laughed low when she sucked in a breath. “What I want is to see your fine bottom stretched over this gun. Tonight, just before the middle watch, at seven bells.’
“You’re insane, Dalton. Why? Why would you risk losing your commission for a bit of perverse pleasure?” The minute the words left her lips, Willa cursed herself for a lackwit.
She could see his teeth bared in a grin even in the shadows. “I’ve wanted you for years. Wills, Willa, doesn’t matter. Be here tonight, or I’ll make sure everyone on the ship knows you’ve been consorting with French spies.”
He turned to leave and then came back. “And after I’ve started the rumor, I’m going to find out the real reason Dr. MacCloud went into Gibraltar. Maybe both of you have something to hide.”
He left rapidly, climbing the ladders through the hatchways toward the top deck. Willa shook so hard, she collapsed against the cannon until she could collect herself. She knew she had friends on the ship who would defend her, but she could not trust Dalton not to make their lives a living hell. There was only one person aboard the ship who would not suffer from his displeasure. That was her last hope and possible downfall. She’d have to take the risk.
Cullen knew. He knew the minute Willa returned to the sick bay. Something was wrong. When had they become so close that he could read the emotions flitting across her face? After so many weeks of wedded pain, and pleasure, he suddenly felt like an old married man, as happy as an old hunting dog dozing in front of the fire. When had that happened?
His eyes were in danger of closing again in sleep when she abruptly exchanged places with the mate who had been singing to him ever since she’d stepped away.
“That’s enough, thank you, Mr. Ward. Mr. Parker could use some help with the other patients.”
“You’re not going to read to me again from that children’s book, are you?”
“It’s not really a children’s book, but, yes, children do seem to love it.”
“It’s political satire, with a huge dollop of adventure. Just the thing for bright little girls who grew up pestering their fathers with questions.”
“Just for that, Dr. MacCloud, I’m going to prop you up in your lonely hammock and force you to down some more of Poppy's beef broth.”
He groaned and flung out an arm pretending to shoo her away. When she brought several pillows to brace against his back, and he had to help her set him upright, his moans were real. “I don’t remember what happened in Gibraltar, but it must have been a helluva battle royal.” He eased up a bit more and uttered a curse beneath his breath. “There is not a place on my body that doesn’t ache.”
Willa held out a cup of the now cooled beef broth.
Cullen screwed up his face in a grimace, but dutifully accepted the broth and choked the liquid down. He handed the cup back to her and complained. “I don’t see much sympathy shining out of those gray eyes of yours.”
“Dr. MacCloud, until I know exactly why you felt compelled to seek a battering in Gibraltar, I’ll have to withhold my judgment.”
He closed his hand over hers and squeezed before giving a start in shock. “Mrs. MacCloud, your hands are freezing. Have I been unconscious so long that the Arethusa has sailed near one of the poles?”
When she leaned over him and felt his forehead with the back of her hand, he could see the pain in her eyes. He pulled her close and demanded, “Tell me what has happened, or I swear, I’ll climb out of this damned contraption and find out for myself.”
She smoothed back his hair and leaned close to his ear. “Please trust me. I’m fine. I’ll explain later.” And with that, she was gone.
The marine outside Captain Still’s door nodded to Willa and gave a brisk rap with his knuckles before turning back to her. “Has Dr. MacCloud rallied from his head injuries yet?”
Willa straightened. “Yes, but he doesn’t remember any of what happened on Gibraltar.” She knew it was important that the rest of the crew have confidence in their surgeon’s recovery. “Do any of the men who found him know anything more about what happened?”
He gave her a broad, sympathetic smile. “You’ll have to ask our Cap’n Woodall.”
Just then Captain Still came to the door with spectacles shoved atop his head. Behind him, charts were piled high on his table, with dividers lying on one
