“I’m sure I look a sight. Oh, Aimee what are ya going to do?” Bronnah sits down and stares at her friend. Aimee’s smile could light the night sky.
"I'm getting married, and he's promised me that I shall have my own shop in Maine. After we drop you, we're going home." Aimee claps her hands and spins in excitement. "It is wonderful, no?"
“Yes, it is.” Bronnah stares at her shining with love and wonders if she will ever find that. Exhaustion beats at her. “I think I need to sleep for a bit.”
“Of course,” she gathers the corset and torn dress top. She holds it up and starts fussing in French.
Bronnah giggles in response. “First my dress and now my corset. He seems to have a thing for that big knife of his.”
"Oui, I can see that. Lucky girl." She laughs at Bronnah's blush. "I shall see what I can do with this. Rest for now." She leaves quietly, and Bronnah removes the long skirt, petticoat, and boots then stockings and garters. Now in a white shirt, she climbs under the covers and sleeps. The gentle rocking of the sea soothes her, and she finds peace for the first time in days.
Chase watches as Captain Foster maneuvers the schooner through the sea, staying close to the shoreline. They're picking up speed now with the wind pushing them to safety. The cold air blows around them as he looks at the stars.
“This was not something I saw on the horizon.” Chase grins and looked at Allen.
“Maybe you could fill me in, Marshall.” Allen phrases it as a question, but it’s more of a demand. “I’d like to know who wants to kill my girl and why?”
"I'll tell you what I know, but you aren't going to like it." Chase states. An hour later he leaves Allen and returns to the cabin. He quietly steps over to the bed and stares down at Bronnah. She's sleeping on her side with the moonlight glowing around her. One hand is clutching at her side, and she's shivering in the cold air. He draws the blanket over her and sits in a chair to watch over her.
Bronnah sleeps, tucked deep inside the belly of the ship, rocked by the gentle sway of the sea. Shivering in the dark, she sighs when a woolen blanket is draped over her. Chase is stunned by the urge to cherish and protect her. Bronnah is a puzzle to him. Educated and trained as a nurse she speaks like a lady, yet cusses like a sailor. From what he has seen she has quite a temper. He smiles thinking about it. Chase pushes his hat down over his head and leans back to sleep thinking that he has slept in much worse places and conditions.
Heavy boots stomp across the wooden deck of the ship. Bronnah jerks awake and sits up, stifling a groan at the pain in her side. She stares around the cabin in confusion. When her eyes reach the corner, she is stunned. Chase is sitting in a chair with his arms across his chest. His cowboy hat is pulled down over his face, and his rifle is propped in the corner within easy reach.
As quietly as possible Bronnah lifts the blanket and swings her legs over the side of the bed. When she tries to stand and straighten up, pain ripples through her side, reminding her of her wound, once more. She gasps and doubles over, waiting for the pain to pass. Her hand flails out to steady herself and encounters a wall of muscle. She grabs a fist full of his shirt turning into his body and rests her forehead on his chest for a moment.
"Sorry, give me a moment," she whispers. Chase holds her and watches impressed as she straightens inch by inch allowing the muscles to get used to the movement.
“Just take it easy, now. Where are you going?” She releases him and walks around the small room stretching her muscles.
“I was going to take a stroll and stretch my muscles.”
“Well, darling as much as I’m enjoying the view, I’d rather not have to kill all the sailors on this ship,” Chase chuckles.
Standing in a long sleeve button up shirt she would be any man’s dream come true. He is aware of just how little she is wearing under that shirt. Bronnah gasps and tugs on the shirt. It’s down to her mid-thigh, but the pain and early hour had her forgetting her circumstances.
Her blush flares and he's smart enough not to laugh. "I could loan you my coat and walk with you.” He picks up his duster and offers it to her. Bronnah groans in mortification and covers her face.
"Excuse me for a moment." She snatches a blanket from the bed and hurries to the hall bath and returns quickly to climb back into the bed and covers up once more. "Chase, you don't have to watch over me. I'm perfectly fine alone. I'm used to it." The hollow emptiness of the words has him pausing to look closely at her.
Chase walks over to the kerosene lantern and lights it. He sits in the corner and tosses off his boots. His hair falls forward shielding his face from view. Her fingers itch to touch, to run her fingers through his hair and see if he reacts to her touch the way she does to his.
"Since we are both up, we should talk." When his eyes meet hers, Bronnah is stunned by the direction of her thoughts.
"Tell me your story Bronnah." Her tongue flicks out, and she wets her lip causing his body to react. He knows better than to have feelings for a witness. Sitting back, he stares at her, waiting for her to start.
"Where do I start, Chase?" Bronnah hesitates to speak
