Read Online The Firebrand by May McGoldrick - Free Book Online Page A

sea?”
    She stared at the man blankly. “Of course not! I’ve sailed a number of--”
    The ship rose and then dropped with a sideways rolling motion that was too much for her. Suddenly, she was running for the small windows and holding her hand to her mouth.
    As she emptied the contents of her belly into open air, the gray-green ocean rose up in swells high enough to spray her with stinging brine.
    In a moment, a pair of hands drew her back in and she found herself on knees and retching into a bucket.
    On and on it went. A nightmare of sensations! A most horrible weakness! She willed herself to stop and tried to force open her eyes. But one glimpse of her own bile in the bottom of the bucket and she was heaving again. Her stomach was empty, and yet—as the ship rolled or lurched or dove into the bottomless well between two waves—she continued to retch.
    Time passed. She wasn’t sure how much. Vaguely, she was aware of voices in the cabin. People around her. With her arms wrapped around the bucket and her head buried in it, however, she couldn’t find the strength to look up. With every movement of the ship, her body convulsed. The only conscious thought she had now was the desire to die.
    “...Wrap the lad...dry blanket...Nay, I’m fine...set your course as you...”
    The knight’s voice. Alan’s. Another, as well. A moaning sound that she realized was coming from her own body. With a will, she raised herself above her misery enough to sense the presence of young Gillie, as well, but immediately sank again without being able to open her eyes fully. She would live out her life with her two arms wrapped tightly around the bucket.
    “...not much of a sailor...I do not know a woman who...”
    Something in the tone of the new voice penetrated her stupor. Scorn.
    This was everything that she hated. Helplessness—the inability to protect herself. Seasickness was the one weakness that she could not conquer, and her mother knew it very well. Adrianne knew it was the reason Lady Nichola had arranged to have her sent to an island. Her mother wanted her in a place where leaving...where escaping...would be next to impossible. Even for her.
    Fighting the sickness, she realized that her body was shivering violently. The cramping of her belly was like a red hot poker jabbed into her entrails. She was obviously in her final death throes.
    “Coll, go find a dry blanket...and fetch a clean bucket, as well.”
    Adrianne felt someone sweep back her hair. Strong hands took hold of her shoulders, supporting her.
    “I can take the lad back to galley and keep an eye on him there, master.”
    “Nay! I’ll not go!” Gillie’s voice.
    “Leave him here for now.”
    The sound of the cabin door penetrated. One of the hands moved to her back. She could feel the warmth of it through her blouse. She lifted her head enough to rest her forehead on the back of her hand. She would not die with her head in the bucket.
    “You’d best go on deck, Alan.”
    “Are you sure you can deal with this yourself?” There was a note of teasing in the shipmaster’s voice. Somehow, she just didn’t see any humor in the fact that she was dying.
    “I’ll call up for you if I need help.”
    Footsteps. The door of the cabin closing. Adrianne desperately wished the knight would just go away, too, and let her suffer her last moments of agony alone. Suddenly, to her great disappointment, her wish was granted as the warm hands dropped away. She heard his boots scrape the rough floor as he stood and took a step back.
    The ship shuddered before dropping about a mile straight down, and Adrianne heaved again, twisting in pain as the cramping seized her middle again. This was so much worse than her journey to Barra, and far, far worse than the trip to France that she’d taken with her father when she’d been a young child of only seven. Well, she’d never see twenty-seven, of that she was certain.
    She couldn’t help it as tears sprang to her eyes. The ship