Wherever You Are by Sharon Cullen Read Free Book Online

before, it was nothing compared to now. He’d slept sporadically, the woman’s cries and restlessness keeping him awake. There’d been a few times over the past several days when he thought he’d lost her. The fever had been high, higher than he’d ever seen. High enough that he’d called O’Callahan in to help, but all the quack wanted to do was bleed her and Morgan ordered him out of the cabin.
    He’d given her the last dose of laudanum a few hours ago. Her eyelids were fluttering and soon she would awaken. He’d stopped the laudanum mainly because he didn’t want to risk her reliance on it, but partly because he wanted to talk to her. Find out who she was, where she came from, who sent her.
    For the past several days she’d mumbled incoherent words but one stood out strikingly clear: Zach.
    She moaned and turned her head. Blonde hair fell across his pillow. He knew it was blonde because he found fresh water and washed it. After she muttered Zach’s name, he had to know. Had to know the exact color. Just like he had to know the color of her eyes.
    He brushed her hair away from her face. Her brow puckered and she turned into his hand. “Wake up, little one.” Her lids fluttered.
    “Hey. Wake up.”
    “Mmmm.” She blinked and looked at him. Green. Her eyes were green.
    Morgan pulled his hand away and leaned forward. “Welcome back.”
    She frowned. Her gaze darted around the room in confusion. She scooted up in bed and quickly gathered the blanket against her.
    “Wh-where are my clothes?” she asked, wide-eyed.
    “They were too damaged to save.”
    He’d kept the dagger beside her on the bed and her hand began to inch toward it. He pretended not to notice. “How are you feeling?”
    Her fingers curled around the hilt. White-knuckled, she slowly drew it toward her. “Fine.”
    “I doubt you’re fine. How does the back feel?”
    “It hurts but not as bad.” The dagger slowly made its way to her side. Her voice was rough with the smoke she inhaled. He found he liked the sound of it.
    “What’s your name?”
    Over the last several hours her face had regained some color but it quickly drained. “I didn’t set fire to your ship.”
    The reminder of the fire had his anger beating heavily against his ribs but he ignored it, knowing if he frightened her, he wouldn’t get any answers. “Do you know who did?”
    She shook her head.
    “How did you come to be in the manger?”
    For a moment her brows dipped in confusion. “I… I don’t know.”
    Morgan’s first instinct was to call her a liar. The fear in her eyes made him hold his tongue. Maybe she didn’t know. “Where are you from?”
    Her lips pursed and she looked around the room, her gaze pausing on the various pieces of furniture—the desk, the small table with a single chair, the locker shoved up against the wall, and the lanterns swaying with the roll of the ship.
    “Where are we?” she whispered.
    “Heading to London.”
    She swallowed. “In the Atlantic?”
    Morgan went on alert. She should know they were in the Atlantic if she’d stowed away before they left Boston. “Yes.”
    “Wh— What year is it?”
    Suddenly his heart sped up and his hands turned clammy. “1727.”
    What little color that was left in her face turned a sickly gray and the dagger she’d been clutching to her thigh trembled.
    “1727,” she whispered mostly to herself. “How?”
    “How what?”
    Those big green eyes turned to him and she shook her head.
    “What’s your name?” he asked again, suddenly desperate to hear it.
    Her gaze slid to the windows and the fist clutching the blanket to her chest tightened.
    “Your name,” he repeated softer.
    “Juliana,” she said softly. “My name is Juliana.”
    Morgan sat back and stared at her. Juliana. Her name was Juliana. Juliana who loved Zach. Juliana whose eyes were green.
    A hard knock on the door made her jump.
    “Enter,” Morgan said.
    Patrick, Morgan’s boatswain, poked his head in.
    “What