Free Capture The Wind by Virginia Brown Page B

his hands over the smooth, polished surface of the side rail. He had to find her. He had to know. Too much of his life had been spent searching, and now he was near—so near. He would not rest until he found the answers he sought, and he had no intention of being distracted. This time, he would succeed.
    “What is that?”
    Angela gazed suspiciously at the concoction in the huge quartermaster’s hands. Steam rose from the brew Turk had mixed in a bowl. He ignored her, and poured a liberal amount from the bowl into a cup.
    “Drink this,” he ordered, holding the cup to Emily’s lips.
    Emily drew in a deep breath of the aromatic steam, her eyes widening. “It smells like  . . . Mrs. Peach’s cookies.”
    “I daresay.” Turk nudged the edge of the cup closer. “It is quite tasty, so you needn’t look at me as if I intend to poison you, child.”
    Emily cast him a quick, frightened glance, then drummed up her courage and took a sip of the brew. For a moment, she waited, as if she expected to fall into writhing convulsions at any second, then she took another cautious sip.
    “Good heavens, child,” Turk said, his rich voice rife with impatience. “Drink it all. It cannot cure you from the outside.”
    “Ginger,” Angela said suddenly, and Turk looked in her direction. She indicated the mixture. “It smells just like ginger.”
    “How astute of you. That is precisely what it is.” He turned his attention back to Emily, who took the cup and drained the remainder in a single gulp. Turk nodded his approval. “Marvelous.”
    Angela scooted to the edge of the deep chair behind the captain’s desk and folded her hands primly in her lap. “What benefit does the ginger have?”
    “It eases motion sickness, which is what your companion suffers from at present.”
    Intrigued, Angela said, “I suppose sailors must have all sorts of remedies available of that nature, given that you are always at sea.”
    “Not necessarily.” Turk poured another small amount into a cup for Emily and gave it to her, then stood, his full height intimidating in the cabin. “I know of few men at sea who become seasick. Though there are, I suppose, a fair number who might begin their career with that affliction. As we do not generally invite passengers aboard, I have never had to use ginger for this particular ailment.”
    “No?” Angela glanced at him. His dark face gleamed with a polished luster in the light of the lantern. Some of her distrust of the quartermaster dissolved. Despite the ferocity of his appearance, he spoke like a cultured gentleman. She looked away from his piercing gaze and decided to stay with a safe topic of conversation. “Have you made a study of herbs?”
    “Among other things. Eight years ago, I discovered quite by accident that certain foods produced adverse effects. And other foods, if ingested daily, could cure certain maladies.”
    “And you’ve investigated this further?”
    Turk smiled slightly. “Yes. A member of my family had grown quite ill, and I chanced upon a book, Macrobiotics, or The Art to Prolong One’s Life, by a man named Hufeland. His studies concluded what I had already learned through studying the Chinese philosophies. It’s quite fascinating.”
    Angela smiled. “And Hufeland’s book taught you to use ginger to cure Emily’s seasickness.”
    “Indirectly. Though Chinese practitioners discovered its use as a healing spice over two thousand years ago, it is a versatile little root. Tibetans use it to help convalescents recuperate from illness, and in Japan, a ginger-oil massage is considered quite beneficial in alleviating spinal and joint problems. It is even,” he continued as he replaced Emily’s empty cup on the tray he’d brought, “useful for the treatment of mild burns. Said to bring almost instantaneous relief.”
    “Must Emily drink it often?”
    “As often as the symptoms occur, I should think.” Turk stood with his massive legs braced apart. Angela studied him