To Love a Rogue by Valerie Sherwood

Author:Valerie Sherwood [Sherwood, Valerie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 1850180792
Published: 1987-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

Lorraine drew herself up. “And you need not join me in this bunk!” she cried in a voice that shook.

“I do not intend to,” was the savage response. “You can sleep on the floor or on the deck for all I care, but from this night on I will occupy my own bunk!”

In silent rage she watched him go.

Dinner that night was not well-attended. The ship’s doctor was “indisposed” and rumors of the cause of his indisposition flew about. The captain’s lady sent word via Johnny Sears that she was not hungry and would not be joining them. And the captain himself spent the time stalking the deck and studying the sky.

Inside the cabin Lorraine was pacing about, hot with indignation. How dare Raile think those things of her? Could he not see that she had only been . . . What had she only been? Certainly André L’Estraille’s admiration was ardent and intense, certainly she found him attractive, but she would never have betrayed Raile—how could he think it?

First, she latched the cabin door—let him kick it in!—then she unlatched it, all too eager to give him a piece of her mind. Why did he not come back? It was growing late and the long swells the ship rode were dulling her senses, making her sleepy.

Raile did not return to the cabin. She did not know where he slept—or if he slept.

By morning the strong wind that had sprung up in the night was bearing them rapidly south. Lorraine skulked in the cabin, not caring to have her confrontation with Raile on deck where others could observe them. He was wrong, wrong! But . . . how could she make him see it?

Plainly the evidence was against her. She ate her breakfast and then her lunch alone in the cabin.

By late afternoon, she could stand it no longer and went out at last upon the deck. Raile stood some distance away conversing with MacTavish. As Lorraine approached them, MacTavish bowed and gave her a civil greeting. Raile appeared not to see her and continued talking earnestly, managing adroitly to turn his back to her. MacTavish looked distressed but Lorraine was furious at being ignored.

“I wonder if you could tell me of André’s condition, Mr. MacTavish?” she interrupted them sweetly. “He is suffering from a wound given him by our captain in a fit of jealousy.”

A sudden quiver went through the broad back that had been presented to her. Raile wheeled around, and although his dark face was impassive, there were little sparks flashing in his cold gray eyes.

“Our ship’s doctor is resting nicely. Heist attends him.”

“Perhaps I should see him myself,” she caroled.

For a moment she thought he would spring at her—and indeed in that reckless moment she would have welcomed it to break his insulting indifference. Then his iron control returned. “You will return to your cabin, mistress,” he instructed her. “And make no more trouble aboard this ship.”

Several sailors had stopped to stare.

“You have no authority over me, Raile Cameron,” she heard herself say perversely.

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