Jolly, possessing an ironclad stomach, worked diligently fastening everything in sight while his friend Bones moaned in agony in his hammock below.
"No fish for you last night?" Lucian asked, checking the knot on the water casket.
"My stomach protested last night, but not much. I'm feeling right fine and ready for another meal."
"Noontime is near, though I doubt the fare will be generous. I hear cook isn't feeling too well himself," Lucian said. He caught sight of Santos on deck. Catherine was hooked to his arm.
"If cook isn't up to it, I can tend to the meals until he is," Jolly offered.
Lucian nodded his approval, his interest fixed on Santos and Catherine. She appeared to cling to him. And worse, Santos seemed attentive to her. His arm circled her waist, her head dropped every now and then to rest on his shoulder.
Had Santos lost his mind? The ship needed attending before the storm hit. Catherine could damn well entertain herself. He marched across the deck straight for the unsuspecting couple.
"Bloody hell, Santos, the ship needs —" He stopped abruptly when Catherine raised her head from Santos's shoulder. Her complexion was deathly pale, her lips dry, dark half circles beneath her eyes and she looked to have lost weight.
"What's wrong?" he asked, jealous of the way she clung to his friend.
"I think the fish," Santos explained. "She hasn't kept down any food or drink since last night. I found her this morning on the cabin floor, heaving into the chamber pot."
Lucian blanched at the thought of her alone with no one to help her, reduced to tending herself over a chamber pot. If he had stayed with her or at the most seen to her care, this would not have happened.
"I thought some fresh air might help," Santos said, but shook his head at Lucian.
"You're still not feeling well, Catherine?" Lucian asked, the answer obvious. He ached to scoop her frail body up and cart her down to the cabin and tend to her himself. But she appeared content with Santos and he would not force his help on her.
She shook her head, leaving it on Santos's shoulder.
"Would you like Santos to take you back to the cabin?"
She hesitated and then nodded.
"See to her care," he instructed his friend, and turned to walk away blaming himself for her suffering.
"Lucian."
His name, pleaded so softly, barely reached his ears and he turned unsure if he had heard the summons.
Catherine stood crying, her hand at her stomach.
He rushed to her side, slipping his arm around her waist and practically carried her to the railing. His arm cushioned her stomach as he bent her over the railing while she attempted to retch into the sea. But her stomach had already been purged and she suffered dry heaves and no more.
"Nothing stays down," Santos said anxiously.
Lucian caught his worried look. They had seen men die from such constant and useless retching.
Catherine moaned and dropped back against Lucian. Her hand sought his and weakly she grasped hold of him. "Please stay with me."
His heart almost broke from her soft, aching request. He scooped her up into his arms and her head immediately sought the comfort of his chest. "Don't worry, angel, I won't leave you."
She sighed in relief. She was with Lucian now. She would be safe. Everything would be all right. Her stomach cramped again and she moaned.
Get cook to fix chamomile tea," he instructed before hurrying off to his cabin.
He cursed himself a million times over for not tending to her properly, for ignoring her and for realizing how much he missed being with her.
He entered his cabin and blessed Santos for seeing to its cleaning, the strong scent of lye soap filling his nostrils. The sheets also had been seen to, freshly scented and drawn back for her return.
With care he lowered her to the bed. "Your shift would prove more comfortable than this silk dress," he suggested.
"I would love so to wear one of my shifts, but I soiled them in my feeble attempts to make it to the chamber pot to retch. That is why Santos found me on the floor. I had not strength left to move."
And she had no strength after her explanation. His anger with himself grew, thinking of her alone and suffering, unable to move or help herself.
Reluctantly he stepped away from the bed and hurriedly searched his chest in the far corner for a silk shirt, discarding garment after garment until he located the soft white one, a favorite of his. He returned to her, sitting on the bed beside her.
"This garment should prove more comfortable." He didn't wait for permission to assist her; his hands were already easing the silk dress off her."
His eyes narrowed when he stripped her completely and saw that in one day's time she had indeed lost weight. Her rib cage showed beneath her translucent skin and her stomach sank in instead of curving seductively as it did before.