War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (22 page)

Sarah tried to hide her smile at his
suggestion. “Perhaps, it’d be easier to just let him soak in a tub.
And I just happen to know where to find one.” The hand headed off
to make arrangements and Sarah headed to the rest of her
patients.

Her nausea faded and she even started to
gain her balance in her new tilted world. She worked tirelessly
until night, when Tristan put his foot down. He would not allow her
to sleep in the hold with the men. He set up a watch in case any
emergencies occurred and made sure she would be notified.

Satisfied, he guided her back to his room.
Sarah washed up silently, she was nervous about sharing a bed with
him with his men just moments away. So much had happened it was
unfathomable that just yesterday they were at the ball. She hoped
that the Colonel and Ryan were not punished for their actions.

She heard the bed creak under Tristan’s
weight and was brought back to the present. Moving to the bed, she
settled in next to him and was pulled into his embrace. The night
air blew in through the window as the ship swayed gently in the
water. Twisting, she lifted her hand and ran it through his silky
hair. His lids were half closed when he glanced down at her; he’d
been awake for almost two days and she was torn between resting and
relieving the ache he had awoken earlier.

Making her decision, she leaned up and over
him, her lips a breath away from his. She slowly lowered her mouth
until their lips touched and she kissed him gently. A soft groan
escaped him and he moved to flip her over.

“No,” she whispered, pushing him back. She
took her time letting her hands roam through his hair and she
kissed him deeply. Her mouth languished over his and promised more
to come. She trailed her lips and mouth down his chin and neck,
alternating between nipping and licking. His skin tasted of salt
and sweat and it only increased her hunger for more.

He was shirtless and she was grateful for
not having that barrier to deal with. Her fingers traced the
striations of his muscular arms. Arms she had watched work
effortlessly today in aiding the sick. Although he put on an aloof
front, he was very charitable. That fact alone just made her love
him even more.

Her fingers and mouth trailed an intricate
pattern over his torso. His scattered chest hair tickled her nose
as she resumed her sensual maze. She rubbed it roughly against him
trying to lose the sensation as he chuckled at her.

“Shhh!” she admonished, returning to her
task. All too soon she reached the waistband of his pants. She
tugged at the button, one of her most ardent nemeses. Taking pity
on her, he released the offensive thing and was rewarded for his
help as her hand found his need.

The sensation of her warm hand and the cool
air brushing over him only heightened his arousal. He let out a
surprised gasp when her tongue flitted out over the tip. He reached
down for her and his hands were pushed away as she continued her
sweet assault.

Motivated by his reaction, she opened her
mouth wider and engulfed the tip. A slow hiss escaped his lips as
he grasped the covers tightly in his hands. Not quite sure what to
do next, she pulled back and used her tongue to trace his length.
She felt it stretching even more underneath her hand and it
fascinated her. She gripped him tightly with her fist and again
tasted him. She was surprised when he suddenly grasped her
shoulders and pulled her back up to him.

“I need you now,” he growled, covering her
with his body. His hands pulled her shift up and he was happy to
find her bare underneath. Sarah, used to his gentleness, gasped as
he entered her forcefully.

His mouth went to her ear as he repeated,
“I’m sorry,” with each determined thrust. Sarah, along for the
ride, grasped onto his shoulders. He cried out with his release;
slowing his momentum, he matched his movement with the swaying of
the ship. Sarah soon followed with her own rapture.

***

The cool light of dawn seeped into the room
and dragged Sarah out of a deep sleep. Rubbing her sleepy eyes with
her hands, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her
befuddled mind took a second to register her surroundings. She was
on the
Vixen
and quite alone.

Freeing herself from the tangle of sheets,
she stood to locate her clothes. Dressing slowly, she sat and ran
her brush through her tousled locks. The door clicked open and
Tristan appeared, looking fresh as ever. He held a tray of food in
front of him and sat it on the bed next to her.

“Hungry?”

“Yes,” she replied, eyeing the fresh fruit,
cheese, and bread. She picked up the loaf and tore off a section to
nibble on. “Do you think the
Sea Maiden
is alright?” Sarah
asked, where the
Vixen
was not much of a threat to the
French, the
Maiden
could be more so.

“Gabriel can handle anything. They’ll be
fine,” he assured her, “besides, sound travels across the water. If
there were any shots fired, we would have heard them.”

“When will we reach land?”

“We’ve had good winds and weather; two,
maybe three days. Gabe is meeting us on a small island off of
Georgia.”

“Georgia? Is it safe there?” she asked.

“Safe as anywhere these days, the British
haven’t gotten that far south yet, but from what I’ve heard they
have their eye on Savannah.”

“Heaven help us if they gain further
control.”

“Let’s just worry about the task at hand. We
have plenty to keep our minds occupied,” he mumbled between
bites.

Sarah nodded, a wave of nausea washing over
her; she closed her eyes and tried to fight back the sensation. She
felt Tristan’s hand grip her arm, and she opened her eyes to look
into his.

“How long does seasickness last?” she asked,
embarrassed by her weakness. She didn’t have time for this; she had
much work to do.

Tristan grinned. “It affects some more than
others, one of my hands has been sailing for twenty years, and
still upchucks on a regular basis. On rough days, half the crew
will be hanging over the side.”

She glanced at him, not sure if he was
kidding her or not. She sipped at the warm tea and finished her
bread and cheese. Tristan offered her a strawberry and she took it
from him. The sweetness surprised her; it was so difficult to find
the good ones. She licked the juice from her lips and pushed him
away with a squeal as he tried to cleanse her lips for her. Giving
him a quick peck, she escaped through the door and headed down into
the hold.

The mood was somber as Sarah noticed a
covered body. She pulled back the blanket and stared down upon the
boy. He had been sickened with dysentery. She had hoped the fresh
food and water would help, but it was too late. He was too weak to
fight.

A hand squeezed her shoulder and she looked
up at Wit, the crewman who had suggested the dunking the day
before.

“He died free, can’t ask for more than
that,” Wit spoke in his gruff voice.

Sarah nodded, forcing back her emotions as
she had learned oh so long ago. He wasn’t the first dead boy she
had seen, and probably would not be the last. She watched as he was
carried up the stairs to be tossed into the sea. It was too risky
to store his body until they landed. Although it sounded horrid,
being buried at sea was seen as an honor for many.

Sarah moved on to tend to the living. Her
body automatically doing what it must, while her heart grieved in
silence. She finally came upon Jonathan, who was grumpier than
ever. “How are you?”

“Ready to get on deck,” he practically
snarled.

Sarah took it in stride. “Well, let’s see
how you’re doing.” She pulled back the blanket to press on his
abdomen. Checking several different sections and getting “No’s” for
all of her questions of pain, she noticed the blanket beginning to
tent lower down. Embarrassed, Jonathan tried to hide his growing
excitement even in his weakened state. Sarah remained professional
and pulled the cover over the rest of him.

“Looks like you’re getting your strength
back,” she teased. “Alright, you can move to the deck, but only
soft foods for the next day or two. Your stomach isn’t used to rich
foods and they will come back up,” she warned.

He nodded his reddened face without speaking
and Sarah moved on to the next patient. Everyone was improving
somewhat; it would be much better once they reached land.
Especially for those with dysentery, who were ill anyway.

Her queasy stomach would love a reprieve
from the constant motion, and being in the hold only made it worse.
Coming to her small pox patient, she was surprised to find him
alert. She felt his forehead and found it cool to the touch. A
quick inspection showed his lesions were all scabbed over and in
various stages of healing. He would bear scars, but he would
live.

The next two days at sea were the same. Two
more men perished, but the rest grew stronger day by day. Her days
were spent cleaning and washing, her nights were spent in Tristan’s
arms. Life was surreal at the moment and she was unsure about what
would happen when they reached land. Tristan’s end of the bargain
was fulfilled. Would he abandon her?

She was woken by the call of seagulls. The
angry birds screamed their threats and Sarah reluctantly got up to
start the day. There was much energy on deck and she grabbed Wit as
he moved past. “What’s going on?”

His bearded face broke into a grin, showing
off his blackened teeth, “Land!”

She hurried to the railing and looked over;
in the distance she could make out a thin strip of land. She could
not wait to feel solid ground under her feet again. There was lots
of work to do, regretfully she pulled away from the enchanting view
and headed below to ready the men for transport.

The hold was practically empty; all of the
men that were able bodied were on the deck enjoying their freedom.
She went around changing out dressings and organizing her supplies
to take on land. The waves grew stronger as they neared the island
and Sarah sat down to keep from falling. A metallic clanking could
be heard as the heavy anchor and chain were tossed into the
sea.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and turned
to see Tristan with a triumphant smile on his face. “Land!”

Sarah could not refuse a chance to tease
him. “And I thought you loved the sea.”

“I do, but I know that you will be happy to
be in the light. Men are rowing over to scout out the island and
set up an area for recovery. We should have everyone moved out
within the hour.”

“We’ll be ready,” she replied, grasping his
hand and squeezing it. She wanted to do so much more, but she felt
uncomfortable in front of her men.

Her men, the ragged pack of half-dead
soldiers. She had grown close to them over the past week and she
wouldn’t trade them for a whole battalion of Brits.

Tristan released her hand and cupped her
check; with a tender smile he turned and returned topside.

Sarah gathered up the covers and directed
Wit and the other crew to help the sick to the top deck. With the
hold once again empty, she grabbed a mop and again washed it down
with vinegar. She knew she could assign this task to one of the
crew; however, it kept her weary mind busy.

She had mixed feelings about landing; the
fresh air and steady ground would do wonders for the few ill still
in dire need. No, what was worrying her was Tristan. He had
fulfilled his end of the bargain and she knew not what he expected
next. They had never discussed anything beyond the rescue. Except
for the silly ruse he had told the Colonel about them heading to
England to marry. Time was ticking away and she was scared; the
depth of the feelings she had for him frightened her.

After Silas died, she didn’t think her heart
would ever mend. That she would never be able to love again, or be
loved. The ache was still there as she thought of her family, but
it wasn’t as deep. It was not all consuming as it once had been.
Was her heart less full of grief? Or had it just stretched to love
some more?

Her arms and back ached as she finished her
penance; however her thoughts were still troubled. She grasped the
bucket and headed up deck to face her future.

Jonathan greeted her as she grasped the
items and returned them to their place. Sarah had not seen him in a
day or two and she was surprised by his transformation. His once
pale skin was now sun kissed, giving him a healthier hue. His
strength was greater from the regular meals aboard the ship and
even though he was still quite thin, a broad grin spread across his
face.

“Isn’t it the most remarkable thing you ever
saw?” he gestured at the island. Sarah looked down to watch the
deep blue waves breaking onto the sandy beach. Further back, the
island was covered with a dense forest of lush, green trees and
rocky cliffs.

It did seem surreal; she had never even
heard of lands such as this. The plan was to stay here and
rendezvous with the
Sea Maiden
. She had worried about the
ship’s safety, but Tristan assured her all would be fine.

For Jonathan’s sake, as well as the crew’s,
she hoped he was right. Of course Tristan was hardly ever
wrong.

“Ready Miss?” a gruff voice asked, and she
actually jumped at the intrusion. She turned to the brusque looking
man with arms the size of tree trunks and nodded. She was ready.
Jonathan followed her as she was led to the rail; she looked down
at the small rowboat. She hated this part. She watched the tree man
climb down and the other man climbed up to rest after several
crossings.

“Coming?” he asked again. Sarah nodded in
reply and cautiously grabbed the rope ladder and threw a leg over
the side. She felt for the rung and then followed with her other
leg. She stood still, trying to gather her courage. A brisk wind
blew, billowing up her skirt. Her face blushed red, and needing no
other encouragement, she lowered herself rung by rung. She reached
the small boat and was almost tossed over the side until the man
grabbed her arm and pulled her down to a bench.