Read Online Silver Storm (The Raveneau Novels #1) by Cynthia Wright - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cynthia Wright
Ads: Link
deck to keep it in place. A collection
of charts, instruments, and almanacs lay on the table, flanked by a
brandy snifter and a bottle of French cognac. Candles burned in
lanterns and wrought-iron holders, lending a cozy glow to the
cabin. The scents of tobacco, fine leather, and Raveneau himself
mingled in the air.
He poured some cognac for himself, then
turned to look her up and down. Devon pretended shyness, hunching
her shoulders and surveying her stockinged feet.
"Shoes?" Raveneau asked, as though wishing he
could ignore their absence.
"I forgot." Devon strove for a masculine
voice.
"In the future, I think you should
remember."
"Yes, sir."
"Now then, James, let me explain what I
require of you. My steward is ill—tonight's cooking, I fear—and to
avoid utter chaos in my cabin, I would like to employ you until he
is well. I do not foresee any sea battles or injuries for a few
days, so it would seem that you are the perfect choice."
Devon rubbed her toes restlessly against the
buffed floor.
"You behave like a bashful child!" Raveneau
exclaimed sharply. "I have no patience for men who can neither
speak nor move without instructions. I suggest that you straighten
your back and attempt to convince me you are a worthy addition to
my crew."
Shakily Devon raised her head, but knew
better than to throw back her shoulders. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I
want to be a part of the Black Eagle more than I can
say."
Raveneau gazed long and hard at his new
surgeon's mate and substitute steward. There was an alarming
softness in his husky voice, and his body and face were
fragile-looking. Such large, luminous eyes!
"How old are you, James?"
"Uh... fifteen, sir."
"I have a feeling that sea life may be
exactly what you need!"
Devon's face grew warm. "I am afraid that I
spent too much time in my father's office, watching him and reading
medical books." What am I saying? she thought hysterically.
"I suppose that will be our gain, James. But,
for the present, there are other matters on my mind. We will be at
sea before dawn and there are things I want done before then.
Minter was boiling water for my bath when he became ill. I want you
to finish that task, prepare my bath, then see to it that the
stores of fresh water are replenished before we weigh anchor. It
may be a long while before we've access to fresh water again, and I
don't like to ration my men."
"Pardon me, sir, but I'd always heard that
was necessary."
"James, you will find that I have some rather
unorthodox policies." Raveneau smiled slightly, but his eyes
remained flinty, tired-looking. "I wish there was time to chat
about all of them, but unfortunately—"
Devon blushed, all too aware of his
sarcasm.
"Sir, where will I find this water for your
bath?" She looked around. "Also, is there a tub here?"
"The water is heated in the galley, the tub
is in the wardroom." He smiled. "All the officers share it, though
few have time for real baths. Luckily, I don't need much sleep, so
I am able to indulge in some luxuries."
Devon longed to banter with him, but she
realized that until they were at sea, her position was extremely
precarious.
"I'll go, then, sir," she declared, backing
away. He made no reply but continued to watch her, so she offered a
clumsy salute, backing into the doorjamb at the same time.
Raveneau grinned, his teeth as white as a
tiger's, eyes sparkling silver. "Fortunately, that gesture is not
required on board the Black Eagle," he told her, highly
amused. Devon's face was burning. She stared at her stockinged feet
as he added irrepressibly, "James, I hope you won't be offended if
I say that it is my ardent hope never to lie under your knife!"
Devon found the wooden tub, dragged it out of
the darkened wardroom and back through the open cabin door.
Raveneau's good humor had vanished. He now sat at his desk, poring
over papers and making notations. Devon shrugged and set off for
the galley, which was located just aft of the crew's quarters. The
wooden
of charts, instruments, and almanacs lay on the table, flanked by a
brandy snifter and a bottle of French cognac. Candles burned in
lanterns and wrought-iron holders, lending a cozy glow to the
cabin. The scents of tobacco, fine leather, and Raveneau himself
mingled in the air.
He poured some cognac for himself, then
turned to look her up and down. Devon pretended shyness, hunching
her shoulders and surveying her stockinged feet.
"Shoes?" Raveneau asked, as though wishing he
could ignore their absence.
"I forgot." Devon strove for a masculine
voice.
"In the future, I think you should
remember."
"Yes, sir."
"Now then, James, let me explain what I
require of you. My steward is ill—tonight's cooking, I fear—and to
avoid utter chaos in my cabin, I would like to employ you until he
is well. I do not foresee any sea battles or injuries for a few
days, so it would seem that you are the perfect choice."
Devon rubbed her toes restlessly against the
buffed floor.
"You behave like a bashful child!" Raveneau
exclaimed sharply. "I have no patience for men who can neither
speak nor move without instructions. I suggest that you straighten
your back and attempt to convince me you are a worthy addition to
my crew."
Shakily Devon raised her head, but knew
better than to throw back her shoulders. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I
want to be a part of the Black Eagle more than I can
say."
Raveneau gazed long and hard at his new
surgeon's mate and substitute steward. There was an alarming
softness in his husky voice, and his body and face were
fragile-looking. Such large, luminous eyes!
"How old are you, James?"
"Uh... fifteen, sir."
"I have a feeling that sea life may be
exactly what you need!"
Devon's face grew warm. "I am afraid that I
spent too much time in my father's office, watching him and reading
medical books." What am I saying? she thought hysterically.
"I suppose that will be our gain, James. But,
for the present, there are other matters on my mind. We will be at
sea before dawn and there are things I want done before then.
Minter was boiling water for my bath when he became ill. I want you
to finish that task, prepare my bath, then see to it that the
stores of fresh water are replenished before we weigh anchor. It
may be a long while before we've access to fresh water again, and I
don't like to ration my men."
"Pardon me, sir, but I'd always heard that
was necessary."
"James, you will find that I have some rather
unorthodox policies." Raveneau smiled slightly, but his eyes
remained flinty, tired-looking. "I wish there was time to chat
about all of them, but unfortunately—"
Devon blushed, all too aware of his
sarcasm.
"Sir, where will I find this water for your
bath?" She looked around. "Also, is there a tub here?"
"The water is heated in the galley, the tub
is in the wardroom." He smiled. "All the officers share it, though
few have time for real baths. Luckily, I don't need much sleep, so
I am able to indulge in some luxuries."
Devon longed to banter with him, but she
realized that until they were at sea, her position was extremely
precarious.
"I'll go, then, sir," she declared, backing
away. He made no reply but continued to watch her, so she offered a
clumsy salute, backing into the doorjamb at the same time.
Raveneau grinned, his teeth as white as a
tiger's, eyes sparkling silver. "Fortunately, that gesture is not
required on board the Black Eagle," he told her, highly
amused. Devon's face was burning. She stared at her stockinged feet
as he added irrepressibly, "James, I hope you won't be offended if
I say that it is my ardent hope never to lie under your knife!"
Devon found the wooden tub, dragged it out of
the darkened wardroom and back through the open cabin door.
Raveneau's good humor had vanished. He now sat at his desk, poring
over papers and making notations. Devon shrugged and set off for
the galley, which was located just aft of the crew's quarters. The
wooden
Similar Books
