Read Online Island Flame by Karen Robards - Free Book Online Page A

it was hard on MissCathy. She was very young, and he’d stake his life that she had been an innocent.
    “Be you all right, miss?” Petersham questioned huskily.
    “Certainly I am all right, Petersham,” Cathy snapped, suddenly afraid that he would somehow guess her shame. She would simply die if anyone knew! But Petersham didn’t say anything else. He arranged the meal in silence, and left without venturing another word.
    Sighing, Cathy uncurled herself, pulled the chair up to the table, and began to eat. She was surprised to find that she actually felt hungry, despite the trauma she had suffered.
    She was just forking the last of the corned beef into her mouth when another tap sounded at the door. Her eyes flickered toward the oaken portal apprehensively. Who was it this time?
    “Yes?” she called warily. Petersham poked his head around the door, and she relaxed.
    “I thought you might enjoy a hot bath, miss. We’ve had an old tub down in the hold for months that nobody has had a use for. If you’d like, I’d be pleased to bring it up for you.”
    Cathy thought quickly. A bath sounded wonderful, and her abused body screamed for her to accept. But if this was a gesture from the captain, designed to ease what passed for his conscience, she would jump overboard before she would agree. She would take no favors from him!
    “Whose idea was this?” she asked sharply.
    “Why, mine, miss. Whose else could it have been?”
    This was so true that Cathy was surprised into a wry smile. Did she really think that Captain Jonathan Hale would spend his valuable time worrying about her comfort, especially now that he had taken what he wantedfrom her? Not likely! To him, she was just an inanimate body without thoughts or feelings.
    “Thank you, Petersham, I would like a bath,” she answered.
    Petersham beamed at her, then disappeared around the door. Cathy leaned back in her chair, suddenly faintly ashamed of her earlier behavior. After all, what had been done to her could hardly be blamed on Petersham. He at least had shown her nothing but kindness since she was taken prisoner.
    Cathy was prepared for the brief knock this time. When the door opened in response to her summons, Petersham entered, closely followed by a husky sailor lugging a large hipbath, and another bearing one of her own small trunks.
    “My clothes!” Cathy exclaimed joyfully.
    “Cap’n gave permission to bring up some of your things, miss,” Petersham said, smiling at her. “I took the liberty of selecting the trunk with your night attire. Was that right?”
    The mere mention of the “Cap’n” was enough to make Cathy see red, especially in connection with him giving permission for something to do with herself, but bit by painful bit she was growing wiser. There was no point in cutting off her nose to spite her face. If she instructed Petersham to take that trunk back to the gloating devil with the message that he could wear the dratted clothes himself, she would gain nothing but a fleeting instant of satisfaction. Better to make the best of things now, and bide her time. As Martha had often said, all things come to he who waits. And Cathy was prepared to wait forever, if need be, for her revenge.
    “It was very thoughtful of you, Petersham,” she murmured, her face a cool mask hiding her thoughts. Then, as the sailors brought in steaming buckets of water and proceeded to fill the tub, she added gruffly, “Petersham, about this evening, when you brought my supper. … I—I wasn’t myself. I’m sorry if I was rude.” It was the first time in her life that Cathy had ever apologized to anyone for anything, and she felt absurdly shy. But Petersham’s beaming smile was her reward.
    “That’s all right, miss. Everyone has a bad day now and again.”
    That was the understatement of the year, Cathy thought, but said nothing. When the sailors had the tub filled to Petersham’s satisfaction, the three men left her alone in the cabin.
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