After a while she fell asleep, only to have the handsome man invade her dreams, and she felt things she’d never felt before, either. Oh, goodness, she wished she hadn’t had that conversation about “marriage duties” with her soon-to-be mother-in-law. Joseph’s mother had laughed, saying she found nothing of a duty about the experience and if her husband had done his job with Joseph he would make sure Amber didn’t see it as a duty, either. She had told Amber much of what she should expect and feel. And in her sleep, she finally felt most of these emotions. She didn’t wake again until morning’s light beamed through her small porthole. Though
her room was cool, her skin felt flushed and somehow needy.
Damn that handsome man.
Chapter Two
Amber straightened the velvet bow around the collar of her pink blouse. It matched her navy-blue wool skirt perfectly. Then she took one last look at her hair in the little mirror over the dresser. Time to go for breakfast, she told herself, but her gaze remained locked with her eyes in the mirror as thoughts spun through her mind.
Would she see him? Amber bit her bottom lip, unsure if she wished for a “yes” or “no” answer. She supposed she would see him. It was inevitable after all. So when she did, what should she say after the reckless way she’d flirted?
The real question was how she could even face him. And if they did speak to each other, it stood to reason he’d ask her name again. She would be forced to give Helena Conwell’s name. That was the trouble about lies. They seemed to multiply. She sat down on the bed, tempted to skip the meal altogether.
But no. That would only put off the inevitable anyway and it would be cowardly. She’d flirted on purpose. This was her adventure, though she had not named it as such until then. She had promised to travel as Helena. It had even been her own idea and she’d given her word. That thought helped her get a grip on herself. Honor demanded she continue as planned.
She stood, marched to the door and pulled it open. As she turned the key in the door to lock it, she heard a deep groan come from behind her. She whirled and another low moan drifted out of the cabin across from hers. Amber noticed the door stood ever so slightly ajar. Hesitant to offer aid to what sounded like a man, she looked around the deserted saloon. Perhaps she should go for help, but he sounded to be in dire need and Amber had never been one to stand by and do nothing.
She advanced on the door and carefully pushed it open a bit, but after little more than a foot she met with resistance. “Hello,” she called out. “Sir, do you need assistance?”
Another groan was the only answer. Concerned for her fellow traveler, she thanked God she’d worn her own plain blue twill that was un-encumbered by a bustle. She took a deep breath, squeezed around the door and nearly stepped on the gentleman’s outstretched hand. He lay on the floor with his face turned away from her.
“Sir,” she called, her voice trembling as she stepped around him. Then she could only stare. It was the handsome man. He was clearly sick or injured.
She sank down and laid her hand on his forehead. He was burning up. She looked around and hurried across the stateroom to the washstand. After pouring water into the washbowl, she rushed back with a cool cloth to bathe his face.
His eyes opened and he stared up at her with glazed violet eyes. She didn’t know what startled her more—their pure violet irises, or his words.
“Helena?” he asked, his voice weak with fever. “Is it you?” He reached up and traced her cheek with his burning fingers.
She told herself it was the fever that made that slight touch radiate heat through her. It had to be, for she didn’t want to feel anything for one of the men trying to stop Helena from living her life as she saw fit. “How dare you seek to interfere with—” she began.
He grabbed her wrist and seemed not to hear her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Franklin was inventing evidence against Kane. Please, believe I didn’t know.” There was such vehemence in his gaze that she found herself transfixed. “Harry was so worried for you as he died in my arms. I must keep my promise. I must protect you, Helena. You must be wary of Gowery. More wary even than you were. He is not what he seems.”
Amber decided not to argue names or intentions at that point. “Yes. Certainly,” she told him in her gentlest tone. “Put all that from your mind. Right now you must get to your bed. Let me help you.” She might well have saved her breath for he seemed to lapse into sleep. She tried to tug him upward, but he was dead weight. Kindness had failed … “Listen to me, you large galoot. Sit. Up.”
“Yes, Mimm,” he answered and rolled up onto his knees. “I’m hot, Mimm. I’m so hot.” He dragged himself to his feet with help from her. Once standing, he looked in her eyes. “Goodness, Mimm, you’ve shrunk. But you’re very pretty, suddenly.” He frowned. “You’re not lookin’ a bit like yourself.” Once again she heard the touch of an Irish accent in his speech and fought a smile.
“Come … You’re not far from the bed. One foot in front of the other,” she ordered as they wove across the floor. And then his weight got the better of her and he toppled, pushing her on to the bed. Stunned, she lost her breath as he landed half on top of her. Amber tried to shift out from under his body, but no matter how she squirmed and tugged, she couldn’t get her dress free. Desperate, she pushed on his shoulder so she could take a breath. He opened his eyes and stared into hers. “You aren’t Helena.”
“No, I’m Amber.”
“You’re my pixie. Did you just appear there?”
“No. You fell upon me,” Amber explained. She’d been so busy trying to help him, she’d forgotten all about the fact that the handsome man knew Helena. But her anger had cooled. He seemed to only want to help the woman she’d promised to impersonate. He’d talked as if he were an old friend of her family’s, but not a friend to Helena’s guardian.
A knock sounded in the cabin. “Is there a problem, ma’am? I heard a shout.”
“Oh, yes,” she called back. “I came to this man’s aid and he’s collapsed on top of me.”
“Has the gentleman perished?” he asked, sounding suspicious.
Her patient tried to push himself off her. “Are you my angel instead?” he asked. “Am I dead after all?” He stared at her with heartbreak in his violet eyes. “What will happen to Meara?”
His eyelids drooped closed then and his weight pressed more heavily on her. “He’s not dead, but he is very ill,” she called the man at the door. “I just need help to get up, then we can summon the ship’s surgeon.”
“You’ll have to extricate yourself,” the man at the door shouted. “I am a minister—Reverend Willis. I will pray for the man, but I fall ill very easily. I shall go find the doctor, though.”
“Then find him quickly, for God’s sake!” she shouted back, though she had to admit it came out like more of a croak, what with a man’s weight all but crushing her.
In the next moment, she managed to twist herself free, but her skirts were still trapped under him. So there she sat, showing more ankle than she had since she was in short skirts, but at least she was no longer trapped.
The
