Cadence

six

Six

Hours later a heavy pounding on the cabin door drew her from a deep slumber. “Coming,” Cadence croaked toward the door, working to disentangle herself from the bedding. Stumbling to her feet she was thrown brutally against the bulkhead as the ship rolled violently into a deep trough. Fighting through the darkened cabin she snatched the hatch inward to find Curtis standing drenched before her door. The sight may have been erotic had she not become painfully aware of the raging storm threatening to swallow the Heavenly Mistress and her crew into oblivion.

“Jesus, Cam!” Curtis exclaimed. “You are the only man I know who can sleep through a goddamned hurricane!” Water poured in rivulets from his muscular frame. “Davy Jones himself could crash through your door and I doubt you’d be the wiser.” A glass lantern cast a meager glow of yellow light through the gangway. Curtis jerked his head in the direction of his quarters. “Get in there and find me some dry clothes while I give you your instructions.”

Struggling to maintain her footing against the precarious heaving of the ship, Cadence followed him from her quarters, nearly falling flat on her face.

“Cam!” Curtis whirled, grabbing her about the waist and hauling her against his side. “Try to walk on the deck and not my heels.” He dragged her bodily down the narrow passage into his cabin where he set her on unsteady feet and peeled the wet sweater from his glistening torso. He chucked it against a bulkhead as she stumbled forward and pitched against his naked back. He spun her around, until her cheek pressed against the broad expanse of his rain slicked chest. She was unable to form any sort of coherent thought or statement.

“Dry clothes,” he barked and she jumped backward to land heavily upon a wide backed chair and stared in wide-eyed wonder, horror, and fascination as the object of her only romantic interest proceeded to strip the remaining water-logged  garments from his body until he stood in naked glory before her.

Oh, my God, she thought, unable to tear her innocent gaze from his glistening male form. If it was a sin for him to look so good fully clothed then it must be blasphemy to look so good without them. She took in every robust swell of his incredible body, the bronzed skin… the muscles… the scars… He positively sparkled in the pale glow of the lanterns, and she knew an intense desire to run her hands over that oh so trimly muscular body.

Her cheeks burned so hot even the poor lighting in the cabin couldn’t mask her embarrassment. Her salvation was in that Curtis was far too busy barking orders to note her shock. If he’d looked into her eyes at that precise moment he would have seen the innocent countenance Cadence Jamison not ‘Cam.’

She dove forward, jerking open one of the drawers under his bunk. After a moment of rifling, she hauled out a thick sweater, a heavy pair of trousers, and a brown slicker. She tossed them at him.

“I don’t want this,” he said, and tossed the brown oilskin back to her. “You wear it.”

She pulled the garment over her shoulders and followed him across the cabin. She bashed into the bulkhead, fighting a roiling of fear as the sea threatened to overwhelm the ship. Water crashed down the companion-way as she struggled to reach the deck, nearly washing her back down the stairs and onto the flat of her back. Gritting her teeth in growing determination she held fast to the wooden railing and dragged herself up and out. The heavens had unleashed fury upon the small ship’s crew and Cadence shrank away from the walls of water crashing over the deck. She watched Curtis cling to the rigging as he yelled briefly into the mate’s ear before turning back to her.