Wherever You Are by Sharon Cullen Read Free Book Online Page A

is it, Patrick?”
    “You’re needed up top, Cap’n.”
    Morgan heaved himself out of the chair, too relieved to escape the confines of his cabin and the woman named Juliana. He followed Patrick out the door, ignoring her as if she weren’t there, hoping when he returned she wouldn’t be. Because, suddenly, his life held much more danger than Barun stalking him.
     
    Juliana closed her eyes, her heart beating a thousand miles a minute.
    Please, God, when I open my eyes, let me be in my apartment in Kansas City. But when she opened them she saw a cabin. On a ship. In the middle of the ocean.
    1727.
    Not possible. Simply not possible. The last she recalled she was… Panic had her twisting the blanket in her fist. Remember, Juliana. Remember . Fire, water, a small boat. Rats. Being flogged.
    She let go of the dagger and swiped at her tears. Oh, God. This was a nightmare. Worse than any nightmare she’d ever had and she’d had some doozies.
    This couldn’t be real. Ships and flogging and men who looked like pirates?
    She shifted and remembered she was completely naked. Well, not completely. Her torso was tightly wrapped in bandages and she still had her panties on. What had Morgan thought of those? Certainly Victoria’s Secret panties weren’t available in the eighteenth century. And her clothes? Had he undressed her? What had he thought of her clothes? Had he noticed they were different?
    She blew out a breath. “Listen to yourself, Juliana. You’re acting like you really are in the eighteenth century.”
    She looked at a crudely finished table and chair. Her gaze skipped to the desk then the lanterns hanging on the walls. Okay, what if she were in the eighteenth century? How’d she get here?
    She closed her eyes and massaged her temple. How? She’d been talking to Zach’s mother, Emily.
    Small pieces—snatches of conversation, impressions, feelings of deep sorrow, grief, despair, were the only things Juliana could grasp from that day. Nothing concrete, nothing that would tell her what exactly catapulted her from the Langtree’s kitchen in Kansas—twenty-first-century Kansas—to a burning ship in the eighteenth century.
    “Oh, Lord.” What was she supposed to do now?
    Find a way back.
    But how?
    Slowly, gingerly, she slid to the edge of the bed, making sure the blanket was wrapped securely around her. Black dots danced in front of her eyes and her stomach churned. The full impact of her predicament slammed into her. She was simultaneously horrified and terrified. It was too much—being flogged, possible time-travel. Do not pass out, Juliana MacKenzie. She wrapped her arms around her middle, stretching the healing skin of her back. She’d been flogged. Beaten. And the man who ordered her flogging had nursed her through a fever. At least she was pretty sure Captain Morgan had been the one who’d taken care of her.
    A vision of those large calloused hands undressing her and healing her took her by surprise. She remembered his voice calling to her, reaching out to her through the pain and the darkness. He’d been gentle and kind. Had that been Morgan or someone else?
    She couldn’t separate reality from memories because intertwined with those visions were memories of Zach’s face and Zach’s voice.
    She took several deep breaths. The pain in her back wasn’t as sharp or as cruel as before but it was still there, a stark reminder of the horror she’d lived through. She never again wanted to feel that helpless or be at the mercy of someone as sadistic as Captain Morgan. Even if he had healed her.
    Why? Why had he healed her? Why order her beaten then heal her? She vaguely remembered the woman, Isabelle, and the conversation between Isabelle and Morgan. And the disbelief when Isabelle left her in Morgan’s care. After that she was left with the fuzzy memories of Zach and the unbearable heat of her fever.
    One thing at a time, Juliana. Stand, walk around, don’t pass out. Baby steps.
    She stood slowly,