Capture The Night by Geralyn Dawson Read Free Book Online

What an awful way to die, with one’s head poised over a chamber pot.
    The briny scent of damp wood and wet hemp swirled in the air around her replacing the odor of sickness in her memory. She stopped at the Uriel’s railing and lifted her head to the wind. Tasting salt on the air that buffeted her face, Madeline grabbed at her bonnet as it threatened to sail away on the strong breeze. She imagined a picture of wind filling the hat and lifting her bodily from the ship’s deck to sail away on the trade winds. It’d be better than dying over a chamber pot, she decided. Closing her eyes, she said dreamily, “I can almost believe I’m flying.”
    Beside her a deep voice rumbled, “It’s the only thing that makes it bearable.”
    Madeline turned. Her husband stood leaning out over the railing, staring at the foam bubbling in the ship’s wake. He wore his denim pants and a white linen shirt, and he carried a copy of Fourier’s disciples’ periodical, La Phalange , tucked beneath his arm. It was the first time she’d seen him since the voyage began, and she hadn’t yet decided whether she was grateful he’d not bothered her during her indisposition or annoyed that he’d abandoned her to her misery with such ease. Maintaining a neutral tone, she asked, “You don’t enjoy sailing?”
    “Lady, I’d just as soon tussle with a Comanche counting coup on black-headed Texans as to be aboard this boat. I read somewhere that a ship is like a prison with the contingency of being drowned. That pretty well sums it up, as far as I see it.”
    Madeline didn’t know how to reply to that. In fact, she wasn’t certain whether she wished to speak to him at all. Heavens, the man could scowl! She pulled her black wool cape tighter and lifted her chin in a perfect aristocrat’s snub.
    Amusement kindled in his eyes. He rolled the magazine and held it in one hand as he crossed his arms and turned sideways, resting a hip against the rail. “You still feeling puny, Maddie? I heard you had a right fine case of green gills.”
    Madeline made her decision; she was definitely annoyed. “Oh, really?” she replied, shoving a stray strand of hair back into her bonnet. “So you did inquire after me? And I was under the impression that you’d forgotten I was aboard ship. Well, silly me.”
    He grinned and said, “How could I forget about you? Everyone aboard ship could hear you moaning and groaning all night long. Personally, I was glad to hear that you were sick. I’d hate to think you’d been carrying on for any other reason—especially on our wedding night.”
    Of all the nerve , Madeline thought, flexing her fingers as the need to slap him caused her hand to tingle. Has he no sense of propriety whatsoever? She’d met many rough-cut men in her day, but even among the more criminal element, men tended to temper their language around a lady. But then, Brazos Sinclair didn’t consider her a lady, did he?
    Deflated, she said, “And what has occupied your time this past week, sir?”
    “Oh, I’ve been studying.”
    “Improving your French, I hope?”
    “Nope.” He held up the magazine. “I’ve been reading up on this philosopher fella you people set such store in. I’ve got to tell you, Maddie, I think what he’s preaching is just a bunch of heifer dust.”
    Heifer dust ? What was this language Brazos Sinclair spoke? She sniffed with disdain and said, “Charles Fourier was an exceptional man, a great thinker. Someday his name will be mentioned with Plato and Aristotle.”
    Brazos thumped his chin with the magazine, then said thoughtfully, “Plato and Aristotle, aren’t they those two guys who wrestled alligators in the Paris carnival last year?”
    Madeline’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “Wrestled alligators! Why …”
    Chuckling, Brazos reached out with a finger and nudged her mouth closed. “I’m just teasing you, Maddie. About the Greeks, anyway.” He lifted his gaze to the men climbing the rigging to furl the