Sinclair 1 - The Man Must Marry by Janet Chapman

Author:Janet Chapman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-03-02T00:17:22+00:00

Chapter Twelve

As impromptu voyages went,Willa supposed this one had no more problems than could be expected; the nights were absolutely heaven, and her hormones definitely were getting plenty of exercise. But during Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

the daylight hours…Well, for her sailing-challenged stowaway, this was probably the voyage from hell. To begin with, Sam was always either eating or looking for something to eat. He was burning an awful lot of calories—both during the day and well into the night. But he’d already gone through the small supply of food she’d brought, as well as what little food he’d packed in his dry sack. They were still at least a day from home, and Willa figured she would have to start fishing. When he wasn’t eating, Sam was tripping over the rigging, slamming into the boom, or nearly falling overboard. He just couldn’t seem to find his sea legs. He had a small cut on his left cheek and a knot the size of an egg on his temple, and three of his fingers were taped together because he’d caught them in the mainsail winch yesterday.

If this trip ended up killing Sam, Ben and Jesse would be forced to draw straws to see which of them would have to marry her, and then she’d have to find a way to ditch each of them. Though she could claim it wasn’t her fault that Sam couldn’t sail his way out of a wet paper bag, she didn’t think she could explain three unexplained deaths. Four if she included Abram. After all, the old man had died while in her employ.

They’d all be buried in really nice caskets, though.

“How did you find that can of sardines?” she asked when Sam plopped down with a groan beside the wheel. “I hid it in the oven because I knew you’d already checked there. Did you think the food fairy had paid a visit since the last time you looked?”

He popped the top off the can and held it up with a smile. “She obviously did.”

“I was saving those sardines to use for bait.”

He snorted. “You can use the dead flesh hanging off me instead. I haven’t been this sore since Andy Simmons beat me up in kindergarten.”

“I hope you’ve noticed that I’ve refrained from laughing at your klutziness,” she said, working hard not to smile. He looked positively pathetic.

When he finally finished draining the last drop of oil from the can, he eyed her speculatively. “I just figured out why you’re always tripping over yourself. If the floor’s not moving, you can’t function. You grew up on a swaying deck.”

“The floor of my factory doesn’t move, and I’m not a klutz at work. I’ve never met anyone with such a huge appetite.”

“For food or…” His gaze dropped to her chest.

Willa immediately reached for her jacket. “We’re definitely in theGulfofMaine . It’s getting downright cold.”

“We could put the RoseWind on autopilot and go below,” he suggested, his deep blue eyes snagging her gaze. “And share our body heat.

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