Read Wherever You Are for Free Online

between Thomas, the cup and Morgan.
    “Out, Thomas.”
    “But, sir—”
    “Out!”
    She flinched. Thomas mumbled something and left.
    “This will help the pain.” He offered the cup again.
    She pressed her lips together in silent argument. Morgan sighed and raised the cup to his lips, pretending to sip and swallow. “See? No poison. Just a little willow bark for the pain.”
    He shuffled forward, held the cup to her lips and the back of her head with his free hand. His dagger was clutched tightly in her hand, the blanket held firmly in the other. Her wide eyes watched him warily as she drank.
    “Wh-what is that?” Her face twisted into a grimace.
    “Rum laced with willow bark,” he lied. “Drink more.”
    She let him feed her the drink, strangely relieved she was allowing him to touch her. When she drained it all, he moved back and watched her closely. Her gaze wandered over the cabin. After a short amount of time her eyelids began to droop. She fought to keep them open.
    “How’s the pain?” he asked.
    “Still hurts.”
    “Give it time.”
    She forced her eyes open. “What… What did you give me?”
    She struggled to stay awake, her fear and anger helping in the fight, but the laudanum would clearly be the victor. “I told you. Rum and willow bark.”
    “Liar.” Her eyes closed fully and she slumped forward, his dagger clattering to the floor. He caught her against his chest. Her hair clung to the stubble on his face and he smelled the stench from the fire in it.
    “I won’t hurt you, little one,” he whispered, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
    He lifted her, trying not to touch her wounds but finding it impossible. She moaned and her eyelids fluttered but she didn’t awaken. Morgan laid her on her stomach and retrieved the dagger to place beside her; within easy reach should she awaken. Slowly, he pulled her arms out of Thomas’s bloodied shirt. The one beneath was singed, burnt through in places and shredded by the cat-o’-nine.
    He cut it up the back and pulled it off her. He was about to ball it up when he paused, then stared, disbelieving. What the hell? The buttons weren't like the buttons he was used to. These were thin, transparent and smooth. Definitely made of something other than wood. His breathing hitched. Quickly he worked the shirt off her, only to find yet another one made with thin straps over the shoulders and lace along the top. He used his dagger to cut it off with shaking hands, slicing what was left of it up the back and peeling it away.
    His stomach muscles tightened. His gaze strayed to her burnt outer shirt he had thrown on the floor. He lifted it by the collar. A small fabric tag was sewn inside with the letters DKNY stitched on them. He inspected the lacy undershirt and found a similar tag only this one said Victoria’s Secret in flowing letters.
    He looked at the woman, his mind tumbling backward to a place he rarely allowed himself to go. No . His mind screamed the denial.
    Trembling, he reached beneath her and tried to tug her trousers off but they were stuck on her slim hips and she groaned when he jostled her. Blindly, carefully, he searched for a buckle or a belt and found a small metal tab on the side. He drew back, studied the tab as his heart galloped in his chest. This wasn’t happening. Not again.
    He removed her trousers and held his breath when he saw the undergarments beneath. Holy hell. White lace. Very, very tiny white lace that barely covered her nicely rounded derrière.
    Morgan stared, his mind a mixture of thoughts and impressions he couldn’t sort through. No wonder everyone thought she was a boy. With those slim hips and small breasts concealed under so many layers, added to the fact that except for Isabelle no one expected to find a female on the ship, it had been a natural assumption.
    Someone knocked on the door. Startled, Morgan stuffed her clothes under the bed. The ship’s surgeon, a jovial, short, squat fellow named