Free Dangerous Waters by Jane Jackson Page B

Crossley.”
    â€œNone is taken, Miss Dymond.” He stood up, his head almost touching the great crossbeams that supported the deck. “May I escort you up on deck? It is a fine sunny day and – “
    â€œNo!” Phoebe blurted. Then collecting herself she forced a smile. “No, thank you. I will stay here.”
    But instead of taking his leave as she had expected, he sat down again resting one elbow on the table and briefly inspecting his fingers.
    â€œYou have not made a sea voyage before?” He made it a question but Phoebe guessed he was just being polite.
    She shook her head. Then darted him a glance. “Is it so obvious?”
    He smiled and raised one shoulder in a shrug. “I wouldn’t know. This is my first trip too.”
    Phoebe searched his face warily. Would he say such a thing if it were not true? What would he gain? “Are you humouring me, Mr Crossley?”
    â€œNo, Miss Dymond. I am stating a fact. I did not mean to be impertinent. I asked only because I wondered if perhaps the ship’s motion is affecting you. I understand it can sometimes take a day or two to get used to it.”
    For the first time she was able to smile naturally. “No, the motion has not disturbed me at all, at least not so far. But should it do so I have several remedies in my case.”
    â€œThen why,” he quizzed gently, “on such a beautiful sunny day do you choose to remain down here? Heaven knows there will be rain enough before –” He stopped, rising to his feet as Phoebe jumped up grabbing the table edge to steady herself.
    â€œBecause – because I have things to do. Excuse me.” Wrenching open the door to her cabin she whirled inside and pulled it shut. Leaning against the partition she pressed her palms to her fiery cheeks. He had no right to question her. She held her breath, waiting, counting the seconds as she willed him to go. She had reached six before she heard him move away, then the sound of his boots on the brass stairs.
    Trembling she took off her long cloak and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. Having claimed she had things to do she had better find something. Keeping occupied would pass the time. And there was so much time to pass. Kneeling she pulled her trunk forward, opened the lid and lifted out two sheets, two blankets and a pillowcase. As she shook out the folds and began to make up the bed she breathed in the sweet fragrance of lavender. A flood of memories made her eyes burn. Blinking away tears before they could fall she concentrated on tucking the sheet neatly over the grubby mattress.

Chapter Five
    The smell of cooking made Phoebe’s insides cramp and she pressed a hand against her stomach. Breakfast – the little she had been able to eat of it – had been a lifetime ago in a different world. Normally she enjoyed meeting and talking to people. But circumstances were far from normal. Though she would have preferred to remain in her cabin she knew that to do so would provoke curiosity, even censure, among the other passengers. It certainly would not help her prove to the surgeon that she was competent to look after herself and had no need of a guardian.
    With difficulty – for her fingers were shaking – she poured out another small measure of valerian tincture, shuddering at its bitterness. Please let it work quickly. Smoothing her hair, shaking out her gown and fastening the top button of her short jacket, she opened her door.
    Mossop entered the mess from the other end carrying a fistful of cutlery. “Ready for your dinner, Miss? Be ready in five minutes.” He began setting out knives and forks.
    With a hand out to steady herself as the ship gently rose and plunged, Phoebe lurched into the short passage, past the armoury, and into the WC. It was much colder in here and she shivered. Warily approaching the wooden seat all she could see was an encrusted lead-lined