Gentle Rogue (18 page)

“Ye promise ye willna do anything tae get yerself punished?”

If he knew what punishment she’d been warned of, he wouldn’t have to ask that. “I promise.”

And she meant it. If it was the captain’s cologne that had been causing her such distress, there was no reason not to tell him about it. She should have mentioned it sooner, she was thinking, just before she ran right into him on the lower deck.

Her stomach flipped over, which brought a grimace to her face that she wasn’t quick enough to hide.

“Ah,” James Malory remarked, seeing it. “You must have read my mind, George.”

“Captain?”

“Your expression. You’ve divined that I have a bone to pick with you about your bathing habits, or should I say, your lack thereof?”

Her face turned pink, then almost purple with indignation. “How dare—”

“Oh, come now, George. D’you think I don’t know lads your age look on bathing as some kind of heinous torture? I was a lad once myself, you know. But you’re sharing my cabin—”

“Not by choice,” she got in.

“Regardless, I have certain standards I adhere to, cleanliness among them, or at the very least, the smell of cleanliness.”

He twitched his nose just for good measure, she was sure. And if she weren’t so furiously affronted, she might have burst into laughter, considering what she and Mac had just been discussing.
He
found
her
smell offensive? God, how ironic, and what poetic justice if it also made him ill.

He was continuing, “And since you haven’t made the slightest effort to rise to my standards—”

“I’ll have you know—”

“Do
not
interrupt me again, George,” he cut in in his most autocratic tone. “The matter has already been decided. Henceforth, you will make use of my tub for a thorough scrubbing no less than once a week, more often if you like, and you will begin today. And that, dear boy, is an order. So I suggest you get busy if you’re still missish in desiring privacy for such things. You will have until the dinner hour.”

She opened her mouth to protest this new highhandedness of his, but the raising of that detestable golden brow reminded her that she didn’t dare, not when he’d made it a blasted order.

“Yes,
sir
,” she said, infusing the “sir” with as much contempt as she could manage without getting cuffed for it.

James frowned as he watched her stomp away, wondering if he hadn’t just made a colossal mistake. He had thought he’d be doing her a favor by ordering her to take a bath, at the same time assuring her she’d have the privacy to do it. As closely as he kept tabs on her, he knew she hadn’t had a decent one since
she’d come aboard. But he also knew that most women, ladies in particular, cherished their baths. He was sure that Georgie was simply still too fearful of discovery to chance it; ergo, he would take the matter into his hands and force her to do what she would be most grateful for. What he had not expected was that she would get indignant about it, though if he had been thinking clearly, which he couldn’t quite seem to manage lately, he would have.

You do not tell a lady she stinks, you bloody ass
.

Chapter Twenty

G
eorgina’s anger dissolved in the warm water the very moment she lay back in the long tub. It was heavenly, almost as good as her own tub at home. Hers conformed more to her size, but having the extra room was nice, really nice. The only thing she lacked were her scented oils and her maid to help rinse her long hair—and the confidence that she wouldn’t be disturbed.

But the tub was long enough to submerge completely, hair and all. The chafed and deeply grooved skin around her breasts burned when the water first covered it, but even that was minor compared to the joy of being totally clean, totally unbound. If only the captain hadn’t insisted…

Oh, devil take it, she was glad he had. It would have taken her at least another week to get up the nerve to do it on her own. And she’d been feeling very sticky lately from the salt air, the heat in the galley, not to mention how hot this cabin got every time the captain took off his clothes. A hurried sponge bath just wasn’t enough.

But as much as she wanted to, she still couldn’t linger in the tub. She had to be back in disguise before the dinner hour, hair dried and stuffed away, breasts flattened again. And there was always the possibility that the captain might actually need something
from the cabin, and in that case, he wasn’t likely to honor her privacy sign. The screen was there to hide her, but still, just the thought of being completely naked with him in the same room was enough to make her blush.

But he was true to his word and didn’t come below until much later. By then she’d had her dinner, had his waiting for him, enough for two, though Conrad Sharpe didn’t join him that evening. It wasn’t until she left to fetch the water for his bath that she remembered that bottle of sweetwater he used. She decided she’d have a sniff of it the moment he stepped behind the screen, but as it happened, he sent her off for extra water tonight to wash and rinse his hair with, and by the time she got back with it, he was ready to have his back scrubbed.

Annoyed now, mostly with herself for having missed the opportunity to get to that bottle when he wasn’t around, she made short work of washing his back. She would still have the few moments while he dried himself, and thinking of that rather than what she was doing helped to keep the nausea down, though she didn’t even notice its absence this once.

Since she always kept his towels near enough for him to reach, she left him as soon as she sluiced the last bucket of water over his back, and headed straight for his highboy. But as her luck had been running lately, it wasn’t surprising that he came around the screen while she was still standing there with the bottle in her hand. And the only reason she was caught was that she’d been so disappointed after taking a whiff of the cologne, she didn’t put it away immediately. The scent was spicy, a little musky, but it didn’t
bring on her nausea as she’d been so sure it would. No, it
was
the captain who made her sick, not the smell of him.

“I hope you haven’t disobeyed a direct order, George,” his voice came at her sharply.

“Sir?”

“What d’you think you’re doing with that bottle?”

She realized then what he was implying and quickly corked the bottle and put it back. “It’s not what you think, Captain. I wasn’t going to use it, even if there was a need to, which there isn’t. I
did
bathe; I promise you I did. I’m not so foolish as to think I could mask an offensive smell with a little sweet scent from a bottle. I know some people do, but I’d rather be…that is, I wouldn’t.”

“Glad to know it, but that does not answer my question, lad.”

“Oh, your question. I just wanted to—”
Sniff it, when he wears it all the time? He’ll never buy that, Georgie. And what’s wrong with the truth? After all, he wasn’t a bit hesitant in telling you that he found your scent offensive
. “Actually, Captain—”

“Present yourself, George. I’ll see for myself if you’re telling the truth.”

She gritted her teeth in exasperation. The blasted man wanted to
smell
her, and it wouldn’t do a bit of good to protest. He’d just make it an order, and get annoyed himself because he had to. But he was only wearing that indecently thin robe. She was beginning to feel the heat already.

She came around the bed slowly. She was wringing her hands by the time she stood before him. And he made no pretense about it. He bent, stuck his nose
by her neck, and sniffed. She might have gotten through it without incident if his cheek hadn’t rubbed against hers.

“What the deuce are
you
groaning about?”

He said it as if he should be the one groaning. And he sounded quite put out. But she couldn’t help it. She felt as if everything inside her was clamoring to get out. She stepped back quickly, far back, so she could breathe again. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but…there’s no delicate way to put this. You make me ill.”

She wouldn’t have been surprised if he came forward and clobbered her, but he didn’t move an inch. He simply said in the most indignant tone she’d ever heard from him, “I beg your pardon.”

She would have preferred to be clouted than try to explain this. What had made her think she could tell him the truth, when the truth was so horribly embarrassing, for her, not him? Obviously, this was her problem. There was something wrong with her, since no one else got sick around him. And he might not even believe her, might think she was merely trying to get back at him for implying that she smelled bad, when she knew very well she didn’t. In fact, he was more than likely going to think just that, and get mad. The devil take it, why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut?

But it was too late now, and quickly, before he decided to stomp all over her, she explained, “I’m not trying to insult you, Captain, I swear I’m not. I don’t know what the problem is. I asked Mac, and he thought maybe your scent was doing it. That’s what I was doing with your bottle, smelling it…but it’s
not that. I wish it was, but it’s not. It could be only coincidence.” She brightened with that thought, which just might save her neck, and even dared to glance up at him to expound on it. “Yes, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

“What is?”

Thank God, he sounded calm, looked it, too. She’d been afraid he would be mottled with rage by now.

“That I only get sick when you’re around, mostly when I get too near you.” Best not to mention the times when just looking at him did it, or his looking at her. In fact, she’d be smart to end this subject and fast. “But it’s my problem, sir. And I won’t let it interfere with my duties. Please, just forget I mentioned it.”

“Forget…?”

He sounded as if he were choking. She squirmed, wishing she could drop through the floor. He wasn’t calm as she’d thought. Maybe he was in shock over her audacity, or so angry that words failed him.

“What…kind…of sick?”

Worse and worse. He wanted details. Did he believe her, or was he hoping to prove she was just being spiteful so he could feel justified in clobbering her? And if she tried to pass it off as nothing now, he really would think she’d only been trying to get back at him, but was now regretting it.

She was indeed regretting opening her big mouth, but as long as she’d gone this far, she’d better stick with the truth.

But she braced herself before saying, “I’m sorry, Captain, but the closest comparison I can think of is nausea.”

“Have you actually—?”

“No! It’s just this real funny queasiness I feel, and shortness of breath, and I get so warm, well…actually hot, but I’m almost positive it’s not fever. And this weakness comes over me, like my strength is just draining away.”

James just stared, unable to believe what he was hearing. Didn’t the wench know what she was describing? She couldn’t be that innocent. And then it hit him, where it hurt the most, and he felt every one of her symptoms himself.
She wanted him
. His unorthodox seduction had worked and he hadn’t even known it. And he hadn’t known it because
she
didn’t know it. Bloody hell. Ignorance was supposedly bliss, but in this case hers had caused him pure hell.

He had to rethink his strategy. If she didn’t know what she was feeling, then she wouldn’t be attacking him and begging him to take her, would she? So much for that splendid fantasy. But he still wanted her confession first. It would give him the upper hand in dealing with her if she didn’t know he’d seen through her disguise.

“These symptoms, are they terribly unpleasant?” he asked carefully.

Georgina frowned. Unpleasant? They were frightening because she’d never experienced anything like it before, but unpleasant?

“Not terribly,” she admitted.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it any longer, George. I’ve heard of this problem before.”

She blinked in surprise. “You have?”

“Most definitely. I also know the cure.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely. So you may go on to bed, dear boy, and leave the matter to me. I’ll take care of it…personally. You may depend upon it.”

His grin was so wicked, she had the feeling he was funning with her. Maybe he hadn’t believed her after all.

Chapter Twenty-one

“A
re you asleep yet, George?”

She ought to be. She’d turned in more than an hour ago. But she was still wide awake. And she didn’t have the captain’s nakedness to blame for it tonight, for she’d kept her eyes firmly closed this time from the moment she climbed into her hammock. No, tonight it was just plain old curiosity keeping her awake, wondering if the captain really did know what was ailing her and if there really was a cure for it. If there was a cure, what could it possibly be? It was probably some vile concoction that would taste horrible. If it didn’t, he would probably make sure it did.

“George?”

She considered feigning sleep, but why bother. A trip to the galley to fetch him something might tire her out, if that was what he wanted.

“Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

She rolled her eyes, already having figured that out. “Can I get you something?”

“No, I need something to soothe me. Perhaps if you read to me for a while. Yes, that ought to do it. Light a lamp, will you?”

As if she had any choice, she thought as she rolled out of her hammock. He’d warned her she might be called upon to do this. But she hadn’t been sleeping,
either, so it made no difference tonight. She knew why she wasn’t sleeping, but she wondered what was keeping him awake.

She lit the lantern hanging by her bed and took it with her to the bookcase. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear, Captain?”

“There’s a thin volume, bottom shelf, far right. That should do the trick. And pull up a chair. It’s a quiet, soothing voice I need, not shouting across the room.”

She paused, but only for a second. She really hated the idea of getting near his bed while he was in it. But she reminded herself that he was decently covered, nor did she have to look at him. He only wanted her to read, and maybe the book would be boring enough to put her to sleep, too.