Heart Of The Storm. Mary Burton

      “Look, there’s nothing to worry about,” Ben said. “The lady’s honor is intact.”

      Ida folded her arms over her chest—a clear signal that his answer didn’t suffice. “I’d like a word with your guest.”

      “Ida.” He shoved out a breath. “Can’t it wait?”

      Ida stepped around Ben. “When will you be leaving?” she demanded of Rachel.

      “Ida, the questions can wait.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, ready to turn her toward the door.

      Ida pursed her lips, holding steady. “If you are smart, you’ll report the wreck and be done with Rachel Davis. You’ve saved her life—your obligation has been met.”

      Rachel clutched her sheet. “She is right. I should be leaving,” she said.

      Ben’s gaze pinned Rachel. She looked paler now. “Stay put.”

      Callie folded her arms over her chest. “Mama, this is Ben you are talking to. He’s not good at walking away from unfinished business.”

      “Well, maybe it’s time he learned,” Ida snapped.

      Callie was right. There were too many questions that needed answering before he walked away from Rachel. He should. But he wouldn’t. “She stays until she’s strong enough to travel.”

      “Then bundle her up and send her to my place,” Ida said. “I’ll care for her.”

      “The last thing she needs is a mile-long walk in cold morning air,” Ben said. “She can barely stand.”

      “It’s not proper,” Ida said.

      “It’s practical,” Ben said.

      Callie stepped around her mother and extended her hand to Rachel. “Ben will take good care of you. But if there is anything you need, send Ben to the village. Mama and I will help you.”

      Rachel slowly loosened one white-knuckled grip on the sheet and took Callie’s hand. “Thank you.”

      Ida snorted. “Callie, you’re as tenderhearted as your cousin.”

      Callie laughed. “Don’t be offended by my mama, Mrs. Davis. She sounds hard but she’s not.”

      “She is being careful,” Rachel said. “I would worry just as much if I were in her shoes.” Ben noted Rachel’s voice had a smoky, seductive quality. Raw silk.

      Ida’s frown eased. “Seems you’re the only one with a bit of sense here.” She studied Rachel closer this time. She approached and laid the back of her hand on Rachel’s forehead. “My word, dear, you’re hotter than a fritter. Are you feeling all right?”

      Rachel nodded slowly as if the action required great effort. “I’m just tired.”

      Ben’s annoyance drowned in concern as he moved to Rachel. “She was colder than ice last night.”

      Ida glanced over at her shoulder at Ben. “Ever consider extra blankets?”

      “I tried that first,” he said, teeth clenched.

      Ida studied Rachel closely. “Ben is right. You need to stay in bed. Don’t waste another bit of energy. We don’t want the chill to settle in your lungs.”

      Rachel started to move toward the bed, but in two steps she crumbled. Ben scooped her up in his arms and laid her on the bed. He pulled the blankets up over her.

      Relieved to withdraw to the comfort of her pillows and blankets, she eased back and closed her eyes. Her blond hair draped the white pillow. She looked drained. “I just need rest.”

      Ida laid the back of her hand on Rachel’s forehead. “Aye, you are warm. Ben, how long was she in the water?”

      “Thirty minutes after I found her, but before that I don’t know.”

      “Hours,” Rachel said. “I lost count.”

      “Ben, I don’t like the look of her.”

      He’d battled too damn hard to save her to loose her to a fever. “I’ve Yaupon tea,” he said.

      Ida nodded. “Good idea. That’ll help any fever. Brew it strong and keep her in bed. If she doesn’t improve by morning, we’ll send to the mainland for the doctor.”

      Rachel’s eyes, bright with fear, widened. “No! I’m sure a doctor isn’t necessary. I just need a bit of rest.”

      Her reaction didn’t surprise Ben. A woman on a freighter. A black eye. “The doctor’s a good man, Rachel. There’s no need to fear him. And he is discreet.”

      “I’m not afraid,” she said, lifting her chin. “I will be fine. In fact, if I could just have my dress.”

      Ben wasn’t convinced—not by a long shot.

      And judging by the softening look on Ida’s face, she wasn’t convinced, either. With only the strength in his index finger, he pushed her back on the pillows. “Your dress is in a wet heap on the floor. And you’re not moving a muscle.”

      Ignoring him, Rachel sat forward. “Perhaps, then, I could just trouble you ladies for a dress. I could trade mine for it. Once it is dry you will see that it is a fine dress.”

      “When you are well, I will happily see to getting you a dress. For now, listen to Ben, dear,” Ida cautioned. “Your health could take a turn and you would find yourself in real trouble.”

      Clutching the blankets, Rachel boldly swung her legs over the side of the bed. She paused, clearly dizzy. Her mind wanted more than her body could manage.

      The woman was stubborn, Ben thought.

      She started to crumple forward.

      Ben wrapped calloused hands on her bare shoulders. Her skin burned with the heat of a fever now. He eased her back against the pillows.

      Rachel’s breathing was ragged. “I really must leave.”

      She was weaker than a kitten and it took only a slight nudge to settle her.

      “Lady, only a fool or a runaway would try to leave in your condition,” Ben said evenly. “So tell me, which are you?”