Free Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - Wyndmaster 1 by The Wyndmaster's Lady (Samhain) Page B

moan.
    “I’ve got you,” he said, tightening his grip on her.
    The sour stench of vomit filled the cabin and the smell was making him queasy. He had to swallow hard
    to keep the bile from surging up his throat. Laying his forehead against her back, he took deep breaths in
    through his mouth to quell the nausea.
    “Ah, milady,” Vargas said as he came hurrying in. He rushed to the nightstand, took up the basin, and
    ran out with it. Where he dumped the contents was a mystery but he came back to hold the basin under
    Celeste’s chin. Sierran could hear him bellowing for Mac to bring a fresh pitcher of water and a cup.
    “Is everything okay on deck?” Sierran asked.
    “We lost a crewman to the sea but the cap’n said we can ride it out. It’s a bad one, Commander,”
    Vargas answered.
    Mac arrived and poured Celeste a cup of water. “Here you go, milady,” the Solarian said. “Rinse your
    mouth out for us.”
    Celeste cheeks were flaming as she fumbled for the water and brought it to her lips.
    “We’ve been blown way the hell off course,” Mac told him. “We won’t make Zykanthos before late
    afternoon tomorrow now.”
    “My father,” Celeste managed to say as Vargas ran a cool washcloth over her heated face. “Is he all
    right?”
    Mac’s lips twisted. “Aye, milady. I checked on the Dungeon Master, myself. As luck would have it, he’s
    still chained to the wall but at least his shouts have died down to hissing now.”
    Celeste nodded and moved to lie back down. She heard Sierran’s gasp and knew she’d bumped into
    his chest. “Milord, I am so…”
    “Don’t say it,” he warned, moving back from her so she could stretch out. “Never apologize to me.”
    She turned her head and looked at him. He was so unbelievably attractive lying there on his side facing
    her. His dark hair was once more falling over his forehead and she longed to push back the silky curls. In
    a flash of light from the windows, she could see his eyes had a honey gold cast to them. In all, he was one
    devastatingly handsome man and the sight of him was wrecking havoc with her senses.
    “Fetch me some soapy water to clean this up, Mac,” Vargas ordered as he hunkered down on the floor
    to mop up the vomit with a discarded towel that had been used to dry Sierran’s hair. Mac went to do as
    he was asked.
    “When you get done with that, have the captain come see me,” Sierran told Vargas.
    Vargas’ eyebrows drew together at the request but he didn’t question it. “Aye, Commander.”
    After Vargas and Mac left the cabin—the floor cleaned and smelling slightly of pine—Sierran finally lay
    down beside Celeste. She was as rigid as a board but he didn’t think that was because she feared him as
    much as she feared hurting him.
    “Milady?” he questioned softly. The rain had finally stopped and the wind was no longer skirling like a
    berserker around the ship.
    “Aye, milord?”
    “You asked what I intended for you and your father,” he reminded her.
    Celeste was already tense as she tried so hard not to come into contact with his injured body. “Aye?”
    “I’ve not decided about him as yet but I have decided about you.”
    Her heart was hammering wickedly in her chest and she eased a hand up to her throat. Before she could
    ask what his decision was, there was a light knock at the door.
    “Come!” Sierran called out.
    Captain Petros Kynth was a big, burly man. When he entered the cabin, he appeared to dominate the
    berth he’d given up to his passenger. “You heard about my crewman?” he asked.
    “I will pray for his soul,” Sierran acknowledged.
    “It was his first time out,” Petros said with a shake of his head.
    “Give Vargas his family’s address and I’ll see they get compensated for his loss.”
    Petros thanked him. “Was there something else, Commander?”
    “Aye,” Sierran said. “This is Lady Celeste Allen.”
    “Milady,” Petros greeted her with a touch of his finger to his