Free Siren's Secret by Trish Albright

it. You’re impossible,” she hissed. “A mome, a jackanapes, a complete varlet!” She gasped for air, trying to get oxygen as another wave rocked the ship, and she fell to the floor on her knees, holding the mattress with one hand, the bowl with the other.
    “You shouldn’t care what others think.”
    “I never have … before.” Strange that she would care what he thought.
    Her body made a terrible hacking sound. She saw his soft leather boots inches away. He should be grateful she didn’t aim for them.
    Then he was kneeling, holding her body as finally she convulsed out of control over and over into the bowl. It was horrible. Disgusting. Still he held her, pulling her hair back when it fell forward, murmuring words of encouragement. While she suffered, he could have been the devil himself, and she wouldn’t have cared.
    Then finally it was over.
    Her body trembled from the effort, her face covered in sweat and tears. He lifted her onto the bed, wiped her face, then gave her the cloth to wipe her mouth. Then he handed her some tea and told her to rinse and spit. That process nearly made her throw up again.
    Somehow he made the evidence disappear with a call to a young cabin boy. She drank the rest of the tea and lay down. Relieved. Feeling better. Just tired. Maybe now, she could sleep.
    He sat on the edge of the mattress.
    She looked up and he smiled kindly. It made her wish she hadn’t called him a mome. But he must be one to have stuck around for her illness. No doubt he would gloat later. She closed her eyes in misery. A real adventuress would not have been sick the first three days of her adventure. It was a dismal start.
    “I predict you will live to see another day, Lady Olivia. Feeling better?”
    “Surprisingly.”
    He massaged her scalp with his hands. It felt good.
    “Try the biscuits before you fall asleep. You’ve barely eaten in three days. Now that you’re over the worst, food will help.”
    “Does this automatically make us friends? Losing our guts together?”
    “Only
you
lost
yours,
my dear. And usually ‘losing your guts’ is the result of a long night of drinking and bonding.”
    “Oh.” She closed her eyes, too tired to care.
    “You still want to be friends even now that you know you will survive?” he asked.
    “No.”
    He laughed and got up. “Ah. Feeling much better, I see. Good. We will see you for dinner this evening.”
    She grunted, her eyes already closed, listening as he walked to the door.
    “And Lady Olivia?”
    There was a pause. She peeked open one eye.
    “I’m neither a fool nor conceited. But I am a varlet. You’d do well to remember that.” With that, he winked and closed the door.
    Olivia curled up on her side, eyes closed, a smirk on her lips. A rascal indeed. And perhaps the strangest man she’d ever had the good fortune to meet.
    Samuel didn’t know what to make of Olivia Yates. She was the strangest woman he’d ever met. Sweet, smart, and sassy one minute; snooty, snobby, self-important the next. Though he was getting a sense that the latter part came simply from an ignorant upbringing. She had read about the world in books written primarily by Englishmen. He supposed that could ruin anyone. To make matters worse, many of her assumptions were based on her own experience—which was next to none.
    They were having their first civilized meal on board since she and Elizabeth had joined them. Olivia was obviously feeling better, as she did everything possible to irritate him—which mostly meant she never stopped asking questions. His crew might find her curiosity flattering, but he preferred that some things remain private. Unfortunately, she was obsessed with his family—what it was like to have siblings, the rampant gossip surrounding his little sister’s exploits, and which stories about his family were true and which were not.
    His plan for a pleasant dinner turned into an inquisition. He tried to put an end to her queries. “I think you should