Prisoner of Desire by Mary Wine Read Free Book Online Page B

over his shoulder. It would keep his right leg from being any help in the water.
    "But getting our hands on her won't be easy. I doubt she'll have more freedom than I do.
    Mordaunt has a possessive nature."
    "Leave that to me."
    Garrick didn't like that. His face was set into a deep scowl, betraying the rage burning inside him.
    Warren understood. He doubted he'd take captivity any better.
    "We're brothers. You'd have done the same for me."
    Warren drew in a deep breath. It was the only way. As much as he detested hiding behind skirts, this wasn't a matter of courage. A rowboat made a fine target on the open water. They needed someone on board the marines wouldn't fire on.
    So a hostage it would have to be.
    "Land ho!"
    After five weeks at sea, the word land was exciting. Lorena joined everyone else in rushing toward the top deck to get a glimpse of their destination. The sun had newly risen, turning the horizon scarlet. The faint outline of land was basking in the new light. In spite of her enjoyment of the trip, she gazed on their destination hungrily. The small deck space afforded her had seemed to shrink every week.
    She longed to stretch her legs and escape the silence.
    Oh, the ship was full of noise, from the slap of the sails to the men whistling while they worked to maintain the vessel, but they went to great lengths to avoid conversations with her. She was sick unto death of remembering it was for her own good.
    The air was much warmer now, her bonnet slowly driving her insane with how much heat it
    trapped against her head. Her tiny cabin didn't offer any relief. She might remove her gloves and bonnet below deck, but there was not even a tiny porthole to let air into the space she'd been allotted. Once the sun rose and began shining on the side of the ship, the space became an oven.
    She'd spent a few hours standing at the bottom of the stairs that led up to her deck space because it was shaded and the wind blew down. Three weeks out of port, the air had changed and the
    difference was dramatic. Even after having two weeks to adjust to it, she found it stifling.
    The heat drove her down the steps before they reached the dock. Sweat coated her beneath the layers of her dress. She felt dank and smelly, and truthfully if she ever laid eyes on another bowl of porridge, it would be too soon. It was now far simpler to understand why sailors deserted ship in foreign ports. It was hunger which drove them to break their pledges.
    "Water for you, ma'am. It's fresh water too. With land sighted, we can use up the stores."
    Being spoken too was slightly shocking. The lieutenant appeared with a smile on his lips and a large copper cooking kettle in his hands.
    "I told the cook to leave it cool since you're unaccustomed to the climate."
    "Thank you."
    Her skin began begging for a bit of that water. There had been naught but salt water for cleaning with and it left a gritty feeling behind.
    The few times it had rained, the crew took to the decks to bathe under the sails, but she had been strictly imprisoned inside her cabin. Listening to the sound of fresh-water rain hitting the sails above her was a torment she was sure she would recall to her dying day.
    The lieutenant shouldered his way past the slim planks that made up the door to her cabin. He left the pot on the floor because it was deep and would likely topple right off the short stool she had.
    She pushed the door shut and slid the iron bolt to secure it. Her bonnet ended up on her bed in record time. Removing her gloves took longer because the fabric stuck to her sweaty fingers. She peeled them off, one fingertip at a time. The bodice of her dress followed. The ties on the front of her corset were tempting, but she resisted the urge to escape from the contraption. The problem with freedom was that once tasted, returning to prison was so much harder. She couldn't greet Adam Mordaunt in her chemise after all, even if the climate made her long to.
    But the copper kettle held