to her in her undressed state had stirred him. The sounds of her removing her underclothes aroused his senses even more. He was only too aware of the vision she must present in her nakedness.
And of how it felt to touch her.
In the past twenty-four hours he’d rarely not been touching her, but his fingers brushing against her skin stirred him as a man, not a rescuer. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, true, but this situation certainly did not warrant such a response.
And she was the last sort of woman he needed to be aroused by—the aristocratic daughter of the family he’d been raised to despise. Besides, she was much too vulnerable for a gentleman to take advantage.
‘I am dressed,’ she said. ‘You may turn around now.’
He turned. She’d donned the loose shirt and breeches the fishermen wore and held the rough knitted stockings that covered their legs and feet.
‘I must remove my half-boots, but I’m well covered now.’ She sat in one of the chairs.
For the first time he noticed her half-boots. Something about them... They looked worn, not at all what he would have expected her to wear.
She removed one and held it up. ‘I have no memory of these.’ She shrugged and set the shoe aside. ‘You must change now, as well. I promise not to look.’
He smiled. ‘Will you help me if I cannot undo my buttons?’
She coloured. The flush on her cheeks only made her more lovely.
Lowering her gaze, she said, ‘Of course I will, if you need me.’
He coughed. ‘It was a jest, my lady.’
She turned her chair away from him and quickly donned the stockings. He continued to watch as she then busied herself taking pins from her hair, most of which had already fallen to her shoulders in tangles. It was remarkable that any pins remained. She took the comb from her reticule and started working on her hair, one strand at a time.
Lucien forced his eyes away and changed into the clothes the fishermen provided.
He hung their old clothing and her reticule on pegs on the wall and joined her at the table.
She looked over at him and smiled. ‘These clothes are remarkably comfortable, although I feel a bit as if I am in my nightdress.’ Her face fell. ‘How is it I remember how a nightdress feels and I do not remember owning one?’
He had no answers for her. ‘When we are back on land you can consult a physician.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I would fear he’d send me to Bedlam.’
Such a worry was not unfounded, but surely her family would not allow such a thing. He’d not allow it.
‘We are likely to be on this boat for three weeks,’ she said after a time. ‘Is that not what the Captain said?’
‘It is,’ he responded. ‘We must make the best of it.’
Her expression turned determined. ‘I am glad of it. I am certain I can manage such a small world.’
‘And, who knows?’ he added. ‘Perhaps your memory will return by then.’
She detangled her hair strand by strand and it calmed Lucien to watch her. When done, she put her hair in a plait.
She held the end of her plait in her fingers. ‘I suppose it will only come loose again without a ribbon.’
Lucien rose and picked up the neckcloth he’d taken off. He cut the edge with the knife they’d used to slice the cheese and ripped a long strip.
He handed it to her. ‘This should work.’
‘But you’ve ruined your neckcloth.’ She reached for it.
He laughed. ‘I’d say the sea ruined it already.’
She wound it around the end of her plait and tied the ends with a bow.
They finished the rest of the bread and cheese and soon Lady Rebecca’s eyelids closed and her chin dipped on to her chest.
She jolted awake.
‘You must go to bed.’ Lucien rose and helped her to the Captain’s berth.
She curled up beneath the blanket, her eyes blinking in an effort to stay awake.
‘Sleep now,’ he murmured.
She seized his hand. ‘Where will you sleep, Lucien? There is only one berth.’
He tried again. ‘I should not sleep in this cabin with you, my lady. It is not proper.’
‘I do not care.’ She gripped harder. ‘To tell the truth, I am a little afraid to be alone.’
She looked very afraid.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll make a bed for myself on the floor.’
* * *
Lucien waited until she was sound asleep before gathering their dishes and slipping out the door. He found the galley and the Captain, who again said how pleased he was that he did not have to squeeze his men any more than merely finding another berth for himself. The fishermen managed to give Lucien another blanket and he returned to the Captain’s cabin.
She still slept.
Dead tired himself, Lucien formed a hammock of sorts with the blanket. As soon as he was settled in it, he, too, fell asleep.
* * *
He was awoken by Lady Rebecca’s cries. The room was pitch black.
‘No! No! Stay away! Stay away!’ She thrashed around in the berth.
He made his way to her in the darkness and held her arms to still her. ‘Wake up. You are having a dream.’
Her thrashing stopped and she threw her arms around his neck. ‘Lucien! I was being chased and then I was in the water and you were too far away to reach me.’
He unwrapped her arms from around his neck. ‘Only a dream.’
She kept hold of his hand. ‘Yes. A dream. I am awake now.’
‘Who chased you?’ Someone from her past? This was hardly the sort of memory he wished returned to her.
‘I do not know. It was as if the blackness pursued me.’ She trembled. ‘I am quite recovered now.’
He remained at her side. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, but her hand trembled.
The nightmare was still with her then. ‘I’ll sit beside you for a while,’ he told her.
Her hand seemed small and vulnerable in his larger one.
In the darkness he heard her murmur, ‘Everything was black, then all I could see was you.’
He sat with her until her hand relaxed and her breathing came soft and rhythmic.
When Claire woke the next morning, Lucien was gone. She sat up quickly, her heart pounding.
She was alone!
But she remembered where she was—on a fishing boat—and she remembered Lucien.
She remembered, too, that he’d woken her from that terrible nightmare and remained beside her in the narrow berth. She also remembered how she’d thrown her arms around him.
Her cheeks burned.
Although she could not remember who she was or anything about her past, she knew with certainty that it was shameful of her to embrace a man like that. Even if he had been a perfect gentleman.
Perhaps she was wanton. Could that be? Could it be she’d already compromised herself and that was why she’d felt no hesitation to insist he share the room with her? She might be a lady,