Chapter 7
THE SHIP SAILED WITH THE TIDE. REGAN, TOO EXCITED TO eat, too curious to leave the quarterdeck even for a moment, was unaware of the way David’s face whitened or of his constant swallowing. When he excused himself, she smiled and stayed where she was. Noisy seagulls flew overhead as the men ran the sails up. The rolling of the ship reminded her that they were about to set out on a journey, that with the moving of the ship she was starting a new life.
“You look happy,” Travis said quietly from beside her.
She hadn’t been aware of him coming up the stairs. “Oh yes, I am. What are those men doing? Where do those stairs lead to? Where are the other passengers? Do their rooms look like ours, or is everyone’s a different color?”
Travis gave her a grin and fell to telling her what he could about the ship. It was a twenty-four-gun brig, the guns needed to keep away pirates. The other passengers lived in the lower deck, amidships. He didn’t tell her about the close airlessness of their quarters or the strict rules governing the passengers’ infrequent exercise. Only the two of them and Wainwright were allowed to come and go freely.
He explained why nearly all ships were now painted a shade of ochre. Before America’s revolution, all ships had been swabbed with linseed oil, which made the wood darken with each coating. The older the ship, the darker it was. During the war, the English made a point of attacking the darker ships, until someone decided to paint all the ships the color of a newly built one.
Travis pointed to several patches of red paint and said that almost all the interiors, especially around the cannons, had been painted red so that the crew would be used to the color and not panic when, during a battle, they were surrounded by the red of blood.
“Where did you learn all this?” Regan asked eagerly.
“Someday I’ll have to tell you about my time on the whaler, but for now let’s get something to eat. Unless, of course, you don’t feel like eating.”
“Why shouldn’t I want to eat? It’s been a long time since breakfast.”
“I was afraid you might have a touch of what your little friend had—seasickness. It’s my guess that half the passengers below are spilling their guts into chamber pots.”
“Really? Oh, Travis, I must see if I can help.”
He caught her arm before she could reach the stairs. “There’ll be plenty of sick people later, but for now you’re going to eat and rest. You’ve had a long day.”
Maybe she was tired, but also she was sick to death of his orders. “I am not hungry, and I can rest later. I will go to help the other passengers.”
“And I say you will obey me, so you’d better make up your mind.”
She glared up at him, refusing to move.
Leaning down, his face close to hers, he said quietly, “Either you do what I say or I carry you downstairs in front of the entire crew.”
A feeling of helplessness came over her. How could she reason with this man? What could she do to make him understand that it was important to her to feel useful?
As he moved his hand toward her shoulder, she pivoted on one foot and sped down the stairs, through the door, and into the cabin. Sitting down on the window seat, she tried hard not to cry. It wasn’t easy to keep to her dreams of someday being a respected lady when she was ordered about like a child.
It was some time before Travis came back to the room bearing a tray laden with food. Quietly, he set the table before going to sit by her. “Supper’s ready.” He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away.
“Damn it!” he exploded, jumping up. “Why do you sit there looking like I’ve j
ust beaten you? All I said was I didn’t think you should miss your supper and do without sleep to help a bunch of people you don’t even know.”
“I know Sarah!” she gasped. “And you did not say I should rest; you said I had to rest. You never suggest anything; you always demand everything. Did it ever occur to you that I have a mind of my own? You held me prisoner in England, wouldn’t so much as allow me out the door, and now you hold me prisoner in this little room. Why don’t you tie me to the bed or chain me to the table? Why not be honest about what I am to you?”
Several emotions flickered across Travis’s handsome face, but the predominant one was confusion. “I told you why you couldn’t stay in England. I even asked that boy you were with if he’d known you. The ship hadn’t set sail then, and if he’d told me, I could have taken you to your family.”
More tears came to Regan’s eyes. To think she’d thought Travis was jealous, and all he’d actually wanted was another chance to get rid of her. “Excuse me for being such a burden to you,” she said haughtily. “Perhaps you should throw me overboard and save yourself so much trouble.”
Astonished, Travis could only look at her in bewilderment. “If I live to be a thousand, I don’t believe I’ll be able to understand your reasoning. Why don’t you eat something, and then if you want I’ll take you below, and you can hold sick heads over pots all night.”
He looked so sweet, his big eyes so liquid, pleading with her, trying his best to please her. How could she explain to him that what she wanted was the freedom to choose, the right to make her own decisions? She wanted to prove to herself and to her uncle that she was worth something.
Accepting his hand, she let herself be led to the table, but she couldn’t seem to pull herself out of her dark mood. She pushed her food around, barely tasting it. She tried to listen to what Travis was telling her but couldn’t seem to keep her mind on it. She kept thinking of her whole life as someone’s prisoner, never allowed to make even a single decision.
“Drink your wine,” Travis said gently.
Obediently, she drained the glass and felt her body relaxing. It seemed natural when Travis swept her into his arms, held her so securely, and carried her to the bed. While he was undressing her, she was awake only in a haze. Even when she was naked and he was kissing her neck, she only smiled and fell into a deeper sleep.