She stopped midstroke and brought the brush to her nose. Inhaling the scent that had so recently filled her senses, she felt more tears cascade down her cheeks. Resolutely, she pulled the brush through her hair until she had rid herself of most of the tangles. She then pulled it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Securing it with pins, she surveyed her image in Drake's shaving mirror.
She looked not a whit different than she had before. But inside, she felt different. She ached, but she rejoiced, too. All of Drake's anger and rejection could not erase the joy she had experienced in his arms. Nor would she ever forget the picture of him kneeling naked before her and asking for her hand in marriage. Not if she lived to be ancient.
She had been tempted. So very tempted to say yes, but his subsequent behavior had proven her caution well founded. Or had it? She knew so little of men and what motivated their hearts. Her father's example overwhelmed all other experiences. She never forgot the pain of her mother's grief, nor watching Anna die of a fever she would not have contracted had she not been forced to flee England.
What would happen if Thea did marry Drake and then disagreed with something he wanted? Would he turn cold and hard as he had after their lovemaking? Worse, would he one day revile her as her father had done to her mother?
But even if she did not marry him, she would never be completely separate from him again. She wondered how mistresses did it—this sharing of their bodies with first one man and then another. Thea felt as if part of her would never be hers again, a
s if it now belonged to Drake. Perhaps women who sold their bodies lost so much of themselves that it ceased to matter any longer.
Shaking off the depressing thought, she opened Drake's cabin door a small crack and peeked through it. The deck appeared empty, so she opened the door completely and stepped out. She was not ready to return to her cabin, but she had promised Drake not to go anywhere unescorted and he had trusted her to keep that promise. Regardless of what had transpired between them, she would do so.
She had made it to the corridor outside of her room when she heard footfalls behind her. She turned, expecting to see the steward, and caught a whiff of the horrible body odor she had smelled the night of her attack. Without further thought, she screamed long and loud. The sailor coming toward her stopped in midstride. He stared at her as if she'd gone mad, but she didn't care. She would know that foul odor anywhere.
She kept screaming and a stateroom door to her left flew open. A wizened visage peered out. "Eh, what's going on out here? What's all that racket?"
The sailor turned and ran toward the other end of the corridor. The old woman muttered something about the thoughtlessness of the young and slammed her door. Thea had started toward the open door, but changed her tactic and ran after the sailor. He mustn't get away.
She rushed out of the corridor and ran straight into a solid male form. It took Thea only a second to realize that the man holding her arms and glaring at her was Drake.
"The sailor, he's getting away. I saw him." For a moment, her relief at putting a face to her attacker made her forget her anger at Drake and she grinned. "I saw him. It was a sailor, too."
"What are you babbling about, Thea?" His harsh voice made it clear that his anger still simmered just below the surface.
She sobered at the realization. "He followed me into the corridor, but I heard someone behind me. When I turned, I smelled him." She tried to pull her arms from Drake's grip. She looked past him, but saw no one. Where had the man gone? "He's getting away. We've got to go after him."
His grip on her tightened. "A sailor was in the corridor with you? Did he try to harm you?"
"No. No. He was just there. But it was him, Drake. I know it was him. He ran away when the old lady opened her door after I screamed."
"You screamed?"
"Yes. Sacre bleu. Do something. Do not just stand there." She tried to shake him, but he was an immovable object.
"I didn't see anyone on deck when I came up."
She frowned over that statement. "I can't explain it. He must have run very quickly. I didn't follow him at first. I tried to go to the lady in the cabin, but she shut her door and I decided to follow him. He had a short head start."
She couldn't seem to control her mouth as words tumbled out willy-nilly.
Finally Drake moved. It was to turn her toward the staterooms. He pushed her through the door, into the corridor. "Go to your cabin. Lock yourself in. Open the door to no one. I will get the captain."
She craned her neck around to see his face. "Don't be ridiculous. How will you know who to look for without me?"
He continued to propel her toward the cabin. "You can describe him to the captain and myself."
She stopped and strained against his hold. "I want to go with you to search. I must ask him some questions." She had to find out who he worked for in order to protect Uncle Ashby.
Drake grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward her cabin again. "You aren't going with me."
His tone of voice suggested she shouldn't argue.
She tried to yank her arm from his. "I am going with you. I have a bigger stake in this than you do. We are talking about my safety."
"Aboard my ship, you will obey me."
He stopped in front of her room and pulled a key from his pocket. The arrogant man had gotten one for himself. She wondered what his aunt would think about that. He shoved her through the door quite rudely and turned to go.