DANGEROUS WATERS

Excerpt

"Miss Dymond, will you trust me?"

Phoebe gazed at her shoes, embarrassed by her own hesitation. "I don’t know you." He was trying to be kind. But she was wary of trusting anyone now.

"That’s true. But as a doctor I am bound by oath as well as by inclination to preserve life. You cannot spend the entire voyage down here. Your health would suffer. Look up. Do you see the blue sky? The sun is shining. It’s a beautiful spring day. Come. No harm will befall you, I promise."

As he held out his hand Phoebe could feel the familiar and dreaded stirring of panic. She couldn’t. He had promised she would be safe. She couldn’t. She shook her head.

"I – I can’t." She turned her face aside. He would release her now and, his patience exhausted, walk away. But he didn’t.

"All right, not today." Cupping her elbow once more he steered her away from the stairs and turned towards the door leading into the captain’s day cabin.

"Where are we going?"

"One moment." Knocking, he waited an instant then turned the handle. Stepping inside he drew her gently after him.

Light streamed in from small-paned windows above a wide padded seat that almost filled the stern wall of the cabin. There was a cabinet to one side and a bookcase on the other. In the middle of the cabin stood a table covered with books and papers on which rested some kind of nautical instrument and an inkstand. A few feet from her along the bulkhead was a small black stove, and on the far side of that another door.

He released her arm and stepped away. "Take a look," he gestured toward the window.

She felt the blood drain from her face. Did he have any idea what he was asking? Of course not. How could he? Then anger as hot and bright as a flame scorched through her. "You have no right to do this."

After an instant’s vivid shock, his face closed. "I beg your pardon?"

Despite a shame so intense she could feel her chemise clinging to damp burning skin she would not apologise. Perhaps his intentions were good and honourable. But how could she be sure of that when people she had known for years - She closed her eyes. Then raising her head she half-turned towards the door.

"We should not be in here."

"I thought," he said quietly, meeting her fury with calm, "if you could bring yourself to look at the water from in here, perhaps even allow me to open one of the windows, you might find the prospect of going up on deck a little less - daunting."

She wanted to run away and hide. And if he had responded with sarcasm or impatience or disdain she would have been able to justify doing so. But he hadn’t so she couldn’t. Damn him. Gripped by emotions terrifying in their strength and complexity she wrapped her arms tightly across her body as if this might keep it all inside and under control. Her mouth and throat were dust dry and it hurt when she swallowed.

She took a step forward, then another. If he said a word – But he didn’t. If she glimpsed the smallest hint of triumph – But she didn’t. He simply stood where he was, his eyes locked on hers. As she reached him he stepped aside so she could see the view he had blocked with his body.

"Oh," Phoebe gasped. She gazed at the ship’s wake spreading in a widening vee of sunlit foam that glittered like diamond-dusted lace on rolling swells of deep blue water.

Awestruck, she whispered, "It’s beautiful," and felt the hard tangled knot of grief inside her soften.

Published by Robert Hale in March 2006 and available from Amazon.co.uk.

Last revised 10 March, 2007 . Content © Jane Jackson and design © Artemis Web Design