Bring Me the Horizon by Jennifer Bray-Weber Read Free Book Online Page A

unwavering, delectable. It amazed her that in her duress, she was able to still appreciate his allure.
    “She’s not well.” Richard stepped forward, almost between them.
    “The wine did not help?” He directed his question to her, looking over Richard’s shoulder.
    “I...I’m not used to sailing.” Her gut bubbled and she placed her hand to her belly. “I...” Oh, criminy . The need to belch expanded in her chest, burned up her throat. She spun around and heaved, emptying her stomach over the railing.
    Richard wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “’Tis all right, child. Let it go.”
    Gracie couldn’t stop spewing, even after she had nothing left to purge. She was dizzy again, and her throat seared with each breath and swallow. When she was done making a mockery of herself in front of Captain Banning, she would be mortified, on top of her shame.
    “Come,” Richard said, handing her a handkerchief. “You need to lie down.”
    Nodding, she swiped her mouth with her shaky hand. But as she stepped away from the gunwale, she stumbled.
    The captain swooped her up into his arms and strode to the hatch. “Have Hobbs bring her ginger tea.”
    “Perhaps I should stay with Miss DuBois,” Richard offered, following close behind. “Your charge is to the crew and this mission. You needn’t worry with the lass.”
    “She is the benefactor to this mission, Monk. Therefore she is my charge.”
    Gracie kept the handkerchief pressed firmly to her mouth. Her head rested against the captain’s chest. She inhaled his salty musk, earthy, smooth, male. His scent was like a salve, comforting, healing.
    He went to great lengths descending down the ladder and into the companionway with gliding steps as not to jostle her and her quarrelsome stomach further. When he reached her door, he bent to turn the knob. She groaned, wishing she was inside, prone on her bed.
    “Sorry, poppet.”
    He laid her down gently, arranging for her comfort. “How do you feel?” he asked, setting down the chamber pot next to the bed.
    “Like death,” she managed. By heavens! Vomiting, in front of him. Take me now. She’d never be able to look him in the eye for fear of what she might find—revulsion.
    “Death would be preferred.” He pulled over a chair and sat. “When I first sailed, I became violently sick. Three days passed before I earned my sea legs.”
    “Three days?” She couldn’t imagine feeling this horrible for that long.
    “I couldn’t afford being down any longer than that lest I be beaten or tossed overboard for failing to do my shipboard duties.”
    “For being ill?”
    “The need for survival overcomes such maladies.”
    “How old were you?”
    A flash of anguish passed across his features. “Ten maybe eleven.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Hobbs’s ginger tea should ease your sickness. For now, you should rest and give it time.”
    Her curiosity piqued about his childhood, but she sensed he would not speak more of it. Richard had said they’d known each other as children. Gracie might try prying him for information later.
    She sought to lighten his mood. “Well, I fear this puts a hitch on my plans for becoming a world adventurer.”
    “You want to travel?”
    “I think I might quite enjoy seeing the exotic places I have heard about from the merchants passing through Hispaniola. Especially the great city of London.”
    He chuckled. “If you favor drizzling, frigid winters and soot-filled skies.”
    She must have frowned because he quickly amended. “But the tall buildings, the societal balls, and the lush gardens are to be experienced at least once.”
    “Sounds divine,” she said.
    Gracie dropped her arm across her eyes. The black void eased the tilting cabin, but only for a moment. She moaned against the rising squeeze in her throat.
    “Oh God,” she gasped.
    She rolled to her side and Captain Banning snatched up the chamber pot, angling it beneath her face. Nothing came out but a brutal heave.