Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie (11 page)

“But is there no one to care for him? We need him to reach our destination.”

“The first mate will assume leadership in the event of his death.” The surgeon’s cavalier attitude inflamed her temper.

“Captain Hillary is
not
expendable. He’s strong, and he can survive, but he’ll need attending. How can you dismiss him as if he has no value?”

“Please understand, Mrs. Lavigne. I could request a volunteer to sit by his bedside, but frankly, I don’t know anyone who would take on the task nor have the knowledge to do the captain any good. I’ve done all I can for him.” He grasped her arm and tried to lead her away from Daniel’s door, but Lisette jerked free.

“Your efforts are not good enough.” She would be damned if she allowed Daniel to die.

Eleven

A hacking cough tore through Daniel’s quarters as Lisette entered. Monsieur Timmons had told her she could find him in his bed, and after much pointless debate on the wisdom of her decision, suggested she prepare herself. He’d spoken to her as if she were some silly girl given to swooning and needless tears. Lisette understood illness after years of living with her mother, and she would not turn into a puddle of mush at the mere sight of a bed-bound man.

Jake Hillary had not been easy to convince to stay away from his brother’s bedside, but he did have Amelia and his unborn child to consider. Lisette had promised to provide Daniel with the best care possible and to summon Monsieur Hillary if his brother took a turn.

Hurrying across the great room, she entered the office. Monsieur Patch would bring water to the stateroom door in a moment, but Lisette wanted to check on Daniel first.

Thank goodness Serafine had agreed with her about caring for Daniel and promised to watch after Rafe. Neither she nor Serafine believed any man onboard could fill Daniel’s boots. His crew looked to him for guidance, and he ran a tight ship. He would see them safely to Port Albis, but only if he survived.

Her stomach twisted as she neared his sleeping chamber. Lisette hadn’t wanted to admit to Serafine or herself that she had other reasons for wishing for his recovery. A lump swelled within her throat, and she took a deep breath to keep her tears at bay. She wasn’t one given to needless emotions, but if he died… She shook her head to rid herself of the morbid thought.

“Daniel,” she called softly as she pushed open his chamber door. Two facts struck her as she entered the room: it was as dark as a tomb and sweltering. “
Sacre
bleu
.”

His fever had to be burning out of control with the added heat. Why hadn’t Monsieur Timmons opened a window?

“Lisette?” Daniel’s voice sounded weak and scratchy. “You can’t be in here.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been trying to entice me to your bedchamber for weeks.”

As her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, she was able to make out his reclined figure under the coverlet. She walked to his bed and placed her palm on his forehead, her heart racing in alarm. He burned with a fever so hot she feared his brain might scorch. She had seen it once before with a servant child. The young boy had thrashed about and uttered animal-like cries. She squeezed her eyes closed to shut out the memory.

The boy hadn’t survived.

“I had measles as a child. I can’t get them again.”

He captured her hand and held it against his searing lips. “Are you certain?” His body quaked as a chill gripped him.

“I’m certain.” She brushed aside wet tendrils of hair from his eyes. “Now do be a good patient and rest.” She pulled the covers to his chin before moving to the far end of the chamber to lift and latch the window. “You need fresh air and a cool cloth for your head. I’ll return with water in a moment.”

She swept through Daniel’s quarters to the stateroom door to find a bucket half filled with water sitting outside. Looking around, she couldn’t locate Monsieur Patch. No doubt the surgeon had ordered him into quarantine as well. She grasped the rope handle with both hands and tugged on the bulky bucket. Water sloshed over the side and landed on the deck with a splat.

A couple of men looked her direction, but neither moved forward to assist her. Lisette squared her shoulders. She could do this without their help. Moving slowly, she backed into the cabin and closed the door with her foot. She wobbled side to side with her burden toward Daniel’s chambers, spilling a little more as she went. When she reached his room, it was already cooler.

She lowered the bucket and whisked to a small wardrobe to search for handkerchiefs. Richly woven coats and vests swayed in unison with the ship when she flung the doors open. Lisette found a drawer filled with neatly folded handkerchiefs and grabbed them all.

At Daniel’s bedside, she laid her hand to his forehead again. His scorched skin was dry to the touch. “You must drink something.” She located a tin cup and dipped it into the bucket. “Can you lift your head?”

Daniel’s strength had diminished a great deal, but he struggled to lift his head. Lisette slipped her hand under his neck for support and touched the cup to his lips. “Sip slowly,
mon
amour
.”

His lashes flickered and glassy blue eyes regarded her a brief moment before his heavy eyelids drooped again. “Thank you.”

Once he had settled back on the pillow, she soaked a handkerchief in the cool water, squeezed out the excess, and gingerly laid it across his brow.

She found an upholstered chair in a corner of the chamber and dragged it to the side of his bed. The cabin was opulently draped with rich brocade linens in icy shades of blue and silver, and hand-woven carpets covered the rough planks. And it was spacious, nothing like the room she shared with Serafine and Rafe. Never did she expect to find such luxury on the
Cecily
, or any ship.

When the handkerchief on his head turned warm, she replaced it with a fresh one then curled up in the chair to wait out his fever. The clang of the bell outside signaled it was early afternoon.

Daniel slept in fits and starts throughout the rest of the day. His jagged cough often startled him from slumber, but he succumbed to exhaustion again at once. Lisette changed the handkerchief at every half hour toll of the bell, and she took her meal in his chambers for fear he would wake and need her.

When darkness descended, she lit a lantern and fought to stay awake in order to attend to him, but her eyes felt as if someone had flung sand into them. She closed them for a moment.

“Lisette,” a faraway voice called. “Lisette, I need—”

She jerked awake, recalling where she was, and moved to Daniel’s side. “I’m here. What do you need?”

His cheeks were flushed red and a quick touch to his brow made her stomach plunge. “You’re burning like fire.” She had to cool him off before his mind became addled.

When she flipped the covers from his body and folded them at the foot of the bed, he moaned and shivered. Lisette turned to reassure him, but her voice stuck in her throat. She had forgotten Daniel was bare from his waist up.

“
Mon
dieu
,” she muttered.

On the occasions when he had held her close, his solid body under her palms had stirred her curiosity. She had imagined him much like the granite statue of Andrew Jackson outside the Cabildo, but more pleasing to the eye. Nothing in her limited imagination had prepared her for the actual sight of him. Not even the red patches splattered over his torso detracted from his perfection. Is this what all men looked like beneath their clothes? She trailed a tentative finger along the crevice running down the center of his abdomen toward his belly button.

“How remarkable you are.”

He moaned, startling her from her reverie. “If I didn’t feel like hell, I’d be pleased by your adoration.”

Lisette snatched her hand back. “Forgive me, Captain. I meant only to bathe you.”

She busied herself with soaking a handkerchief and wringing it out before placing the cloth across his chest.

Daniel sucked in a sharp breath. “Cold.”

“I need to bring down your fever.”

When she smoothed the next handkerchief along his collarbone and neck, his teeth clicked together, but he offered no more complaints.

She hummed an old song she had learned from her nurse, Alva, to distract herself as she continued her ministrations. When she stopped humming, Daniel groped for her hand.

“Sing to me.”

She draped the last handkerchief over the bucket’s edge and lowered the lantern flame. Lisette only sang to her brother or when she was alone. She began softly, timidly.

Daniel closed his eyes and held her hand when she returned to his side. “Your voice is soothing. Please, don’t stop.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks at his unexpected compliment. Climbing onto the side of the bed, she sang the rest of the melody while he drifted to sleep once more. She tested his forehead. He had cooled considerably. Her shoulders slumped as fatigue threatened to overtake her, but she couldn’t move away without waking Daniel. His hand engulfed hers and refused to relinquish it.

When she couldn’t sit upright any longer, she stretched out beside his lean body, soaking up the heat rolling off him in waves, and surrendered to sleep.

***

Before he opened his eyes, Daniel sensed Lisette beside him, her unbound hair soft under his cheek. She had taken to sleeping with him the first night his spots had appeared and fever raged through his body. He’d been too weak to do anything but accept her charity, and truth be told, a few days in bed left him feeling sapped of energy even now. But this was the first morning he felt almost normal.

He savored this time to admire her while her guard was down. A long strand of ebony silk lay across Lisette’s cheek and lips. In slumber, she appeared delicate as if one strong knock could shatter her, but underneath her fragile outer layer beat a heart of iron. To think she had taken care of his every need without complaint…

Humility sent a fresh wave of heat to his face.

Lisette stirred beside him and opened her eyes briefly. A breath later, they flew open. “Daniel?”

“I’m fine, Lis. Sleep some more.” He placed a hand on her shoulder to ease her back to the pillow, but she resisted.

Her hand pressed to his forehead. “Your fever is gone.” Tossing the covers aside, she raked her gaze over his chest and abdomen, heating his blood. “The rash has faded too.”

The wonder in her voice made him smile.

“Had you hoped I might not recover?”

She issued an indignant huff. “After all the trouble I have gone to? You must be daft.”

Her hair illuminated like a dark halo in the morning sunlight, and he couldn’t resist smoothing the mussed strands. “I must be. Here I’ve had you in my bed for days without tumbling you.”

She smiled smugly. “Why do you think I am in your bed? You’re too weak.”

“Is that so?” Daniel grasped her around the waist and rolled to haul her on top of him.

Lisette gasped. “Monsieur, put me down. You need more rest.”

His breath wheezed from the minimal exertion, so he complied with her command and settled her beside him again. But he didn’t release her from the circle of his arms. “Did you sleep well, luv? I didn’t wake you with my coughing, did I?”

Her brow wrinkled as if searching her memory. “I don’t think you woke me even once, unlike two nights ago when you kept me awake with your silly chatter.
Mon
dieu.
I never knew a man could be so enamored of an inanimate object.”

“What did I say?”

“Oh, nothing really,” she said, adopting a teasing tone, “besides the words of a lovesick fool. You put Romeo to shame.”

He laughed. “Don’t tell me I spouted the stanzas of a love poem.”

“Not unless someone has composed an ode to your ship.”

Daniel’s smile faded. He was uncertain he wanted to hear the rest.

“You kept calling out, ‘Cecily, I love you’ and mumbling something about being sorry. I knew you loved the sea, but that was a bit
overboard
.” Lisette lifted an eyebrow in jest.

“I must have been out of my mind with the fever.”

He released her and tried to turn away, but Lisette’s slender fingers closed around his shoulder. “Daniel, what is it?”

The tender concern in her voice was real. He had been the recipient of her compassionate care for too many days to fool himself into believing she feigned the emotion. He rolled to his back and trained his gaze to the ceiling of wooden planks.

Lisette rose to her elbow, her dark hair falling like a silken scarf over her shoulder. Her jewel-toned eyes roamed his face and she smiled sadly. “Cecily isn’t just your ship. You named her after a woman.”

He experienced a familiar tightening in his chest, as if caught in a vise that might crush him.

She caressed his cheek. The tips of her fingers grazing his skin possessed the power to ease the pain in his core, if not the pain of his conscience. “You may tell me of your love for her, if you wish.”