She didn't respond. Her eyes stared past him as if searching for someone else.
He shook her slightly. "Thea. What happened?"
She blinked. "Drake?"
"Yes." She was starting to scare him. Had she fallen and done injury to her head?
He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her closer. "Tell me what happened."
The latch bar fell from her hand, clanging against the deck. "Did you trip on the bar?" He would find the man responsible for leaving it out and deal with him personally.
"Trip? No, I didn't trip." She tipped her head back and looked at him. "Thank the sailor for me."
"Thank him for what? You aren't making any sense." And his patience was getting thinner by the minute.
"For leaving the bar there, of course." Then she fainted.
Her head slumped against his shoulder. Picking up her limp body, he turned to the first mate. The seaman had been walking the deck with Drake when they had heard a loud curse. Not certain why he had felt instant dread at the sound—it was, after all, common enough to hear cursing aboard ship—Drake had taken off at a run. The first mate had followed him.
They had come upon Thea lying alone on deck, and for a few minutes Drake had forgotten the curse. It had not been Thea's voice he had heard. Not unless she made a practice of imitating the gruff timbre of a man.
"I think she was attacked. Alert the captain and search the ship."
The seaman nodded. "Whoever the bloody bastard is, he's probably made it back to his cabin by now, Mr. Drake."
"Search anyway."
"Aye, sir."
Drake turned and headed toward the cabin Thea shared with her maid. What had she been doing on deck at night? Even Thea had to realize how dangerous it would be for a woman alone, the darkness a cover for perverse deeds.
He stopped in front of her door and Thea's eyes opened. They filled with terror and she stiffened in his arms.
He tightened his hold on her. "It's me, Thea. No one is going to hurt you."
"Drake?"
He said, "Yes," again for the second time in ten minutes.
She relaxed against him. "Thank God."
He waited for her to produce the key for her door. She didn't move. She just lay in his arms, her breathing much too shallow. Perhaps she had not locked the door. He tried the handle, but it did not move.
She roused a bit from her stupor. "The door is locked."
"I see that."
"I wanted Melly to be safe."
Lucky Melly. "Do you have the key?"
"Oh. Yes."
She fished around in the pocket of the voluminous gown she was wearing. When she found the key, rather than letting him release her, she leaned down and unlocked the door. He carried her inside the cabin and she shut the door behind them.
He set her on the bed and then lit the lamp. "I'll wake your maid."
"No."