It was strange to think how quickly she had become accustomed to the rocking of the ship, Olivia mused as she lay in her hammock, staring up at the wooden beams of the cabin ceiling. Every night, the soothing rhythm lulled her to sleep despite her anxiousness about sleeping so near to Captain Warble.

But it had been nearly a week, and he had shown no signs of seeing through her disguise and so she had relaxed slightly in his company. He still kept her from some of the most arduous tasks on the ship, expecting her to stay near him most of the time, should he need her to run a message to one of his officers or do anything else for him.

She couldn't complain, even if it left her bored at times. Fortunately, the captain's cabin had several books available to her and she'd spent a lot of her time reading. Which is what she had been doing just now, until her thoughts started drifting, the book resting on her midriff.

After the first few days, she'd found her sea legs, as Captain Warble called it, and she was now able to move confidently around the ship and even knew her way around the narrow passageways and steep stairwells. There was a certain freedom in pretending to be a boy, even if she always had to remember to affect a deeper voice and move with a little bit of a swagger. No one paid her much attention as she moved around, and she was coming to at least somewhat enjoy her time aboard.

If she was honest with herself, the times she enjoyed the most were the hours spent with the captain in his cabin. Each evening, after the day's work was done, she would join him for a game of chess as they traded moves and stories, or they would read books in companionable silence.

Captain Warble was an interesting man with his combination of swashbuckling handsomeness and a proper man of the ton. After the first day, he had switched his gentleman's clothes for a loose white shirt with a deep V at the neck, breeches, and boots. If cold enough, usually out on the deck, he would don a jacket, but in the privacy of his cabin, he usually went without, and Olivia had found herself (more than once) staring at that tantalising piece of skin shown off by his shirt.

It didn't mean anything, of course. Her heart was still fully Dash's.

But she wasn't blind.

The sound of the cabin door closing startled her enough that she nearly fell out of the hammock. She'd been getting better at navigating the hanging death trap, but there were still moments—far too many—when she lost her equilibrium and the blasted thing twisted around her in an effort to eject her.

Sliding down, she nearly stepped on Ignacio who had taken to napping underneath her when she used the hammock.

"Sorry, boy," she mumbled before hurrying into the day cabin to find Captain Warble waiting for her. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal strong, tanned forearms and his dark hair was dishevelled by the wind. Her steps faltered as her heart skipped a beat. "Cap...Captain. Can I help you with anything?"

"Ah yes." He rolled his shoulders. "I'd like a bath drawn up, if you please. It's been a long day, and I'm in need of a good soak."

"You can take baths on a ship?" She couldn't help but stare, and there was a small part of her that yearned for a bath. Since boarding the ship, she'd had to make do with quickly washing herself off with a cloth and a water basin, while making sure the captain wasn't returning to the cabin.

"Not commonly, but I'm still a creature of comfort even after years at sea." Captain Warble offered her a lopsided smile, and she was certain the way something somersaulted inside her stomach was entirely because of the thought of a bath. "We're lucky to have enough storage space for fresh water."

"There's a copper bath stowed in the back of the quarter gallery. I'll need it out here as there's more space, but I'll bring it out myself. It'll be far too heavy for you."

She bit back her automatic retort that she'd be fine because she wasn't sure how well she'd actually manage lugging a copper tub through the cabin.

"Cook is already heating water," the captain continued. "I suggest you start carrying buckets. It will take several to fill the tub."

"Of course, Captain." She hurried from the cabin, already dreading carrying the heavy buckets from the galley to the cabin. At least it seemed someone else had already done the even more arduous task of getting the fresh water from the stored barrels. It was a daunting task, but she was determined to prove herself capable. A regular cabin boy wouldn't baulk at being asked to do this.

As she lugged the first bucket up the narrow staircase, her arms straining with the effort, she heard a voice call out behind her. "Need a hand there, Oliver?"

Tom, the young sailor who had been so kind to her in her first days aboard, was striding towards her with a smile on his face. His mane of ginger hair was a mass of tangles after another day in the brisk winds carrying them across the Atlantic. "I remember how much the captain loved his baths. Takes bloody forever to carry them all. Let me give you a hand so it's quicker."

Pride warred with the knowledge her hands were already hurting, but finally, she nodded. "Yes, please. I really appreciate it."

Together, they hauled bucket after bucket of water to the cabin, the steam rising as they poured it into the copper tub. Annoyed by her own weakness, Olivia glared at the offending water. She hated how her arms trembled with each load. It was embarrassing. She was meant to be a strong, capable boy, not some delicate flower who needed coddling.

But as they finished filling the tub, Tom clapped her on the shoulder, a grin spreading across his face. "There you go, Oliver," he said, his voice warm. "One bath ready for the captain. And don't you worry about the heavy lifting. We all had to start somewhere, and you're doing just fine."

A surge of gratitude heated her cheeks. She appreciated his kind words and the easy acceptance in his tone. Mumbling her thanks, she followed him outside to cool her red face. As she watched Tom cross the deck, she sent a grateful prayer to the universe that no one had seen through her charade yet, despite her constant failures. She suspected they assumed she was too young to be much stronger, which worked to her benefit.

She remained outside for a few more moments, enjoying the slight bite in the air as it whipped across her face and cooled her cheeks. The sun was already dipping towards the horizon and she suspected Captain Warble would want his dinner after his bath.

His bath... He didn't expect her to attend to him during it, did he? She swallowed with some difficulty. Certainly not?

It was not with a little trepidation she re-entered the cabin to tell the captain his bath was ready. Only he was already there. Undressing. He was just pulling his shirt over his head as she stepped over the threshold and she immediately froze in place as she took in the wide expanse of his bare chest and the way his muscles played beneath his skin.

Why was it suddenly so difficult to breathe?

And why couldn't she stop staring? It was incredibly improper. But she couldn't tear her gaze from the sight; the way the shadows cast by the lamplight moved across his skin like a caress. Her heart pounded in her ears, and a small whimper escaped her lips.

Captain Warble glanced up, and seeing her, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Something the matter, Oliver?" he asked, his tone amused, and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd realised she'd been staying out of the cabin every night until she was certain he was safely hidden under the covers in his bed.

Shaking her head frantically, she prayed her cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "No, sir," she said quickly, finally able to avert her gaze. "I just...your bath is ready."

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Yes, I can see that, lad."

Busying herself with staring at a slightly different colour plank in the floor, she could hear the soft swoosh of fabric falling to the floor. The man was literally getting naked in front of her! No force in the world could have made her lift her gaze right then...even if a small part of her was definitely tempted. She'd never seen a naked man before.

And I won't see one today either. Surely that would spell my ruin?

"Sir..." she ventured hesitantly. "Do you...do you need me for anything else tonight?"

The sound of water splashing answered her query, and Captain Warble let out a pleasured moan as he no doubt enjoyed the hot bath. That soft moan nearly undid her. Something in her abdomen did an awkward somersault.

"Sir?" Was that squeak her voice?

She dared a quick glance over to where she knew the tub was and instantly regretted it. Captain Warble was lounging in the bath, his shoulders and chest rising above the hot water. Fortunately, he had his back towards her and couldn't see her open-mouthed stare.

"I will manage on my own, Oliver," he said, startling her for the second time that evening. "You may go take your supper."

"Yes, sir!" She was out of the cabin quicker than ever before, slamming the door shut behind her and leaning her back against it. The cool sea breeze was a balm to her heated skin as she took deep, steadying breaths. What was wrong with her?

This would not do. She couldn't allow herself to be distracted. Couldn't let her guard down for even a moment. What must Captain Warble think of his cabin boy's inability to see him disrobed? Surely men had no qualms about seeing each other naked. Especially on a ship with limited privacy.

Groaning inwardly, she made her way to the galley to get some food. She took her sweet time eating the bowl of salty stew and the stale biscuit, wanting to make sure the captain had finished his bath by the time she returned. There had been enough undressed male in her life today.

When she finally returned to the cabin, carefully balancing a tray with the captain's supper, she was relieved to find the captain fully dressed and seated at the table. With a glass of brandy in his hand, he watched her silently as she came inside. The rich, amber liquid caught the light as he swirled it.

His dark hair was still damp, falling across his forehead, and she had to fight the ridiculous urge to smooth it back. As she set the tray down, scents tickled her nose. Soap, brandy, and something uniquely the captain. A pleasant, masculine blend that set her nerves ablaze, leaving her strangely warm and flustered.

"Thank you, Oliver." The captain's voice was smooth and relaxed in a way she was not. "Why don't you sit down and join me for a bit? I don't want to dine alone."

She hesitated, surprised by the invitation. It was the first time he'd invited her to sit down with him for his meal. Sitting down across from him, she tried to ignore the way her heart seemed to beat a little faster in his presence.

"Why don't you dine with your officers?" she asked.

"I enjoy it, but it's nice with a change." A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Why? Are you unhappy with my invitation?"

"No, sir. Just surprised."

As he began to eat, she drummed her fingers against the wooden table, trying to decide what to talk about.

"Do you miss London?" she finally asked, not only to make conversation but because she was actually curious. "I mean, the Season. You're the second son of a duke... I imagine you would have been quite popular."

He must have left sometime before she attended her first Season since she couldn't remember ever having crossed paths with him, and she had a suspicion she would not have forgotten if they had been introduced.

Pausing, he set his fork down as he considered the question. "That's a complicated one," he said after a moment. "In some ways, yes, I do miss it. The energy of the city, the intellectual stimulation of conversing with learned men and women. And there is a certain thrill of the Season, I suppose—the balls, the concerts, the fact that there is always something to do."

He took a sip of his brandy, his eyes growing distant. "But in other ways...no, I don't miss it at all. The endless rounds of small talk, the posturing and pretence. Being trapped in a role, having to conform to society's expectations. Out here, on the open sea...I feel free. To be myself. To chase my own dreams and desires."

A dark chuckle escaped him. "And no meddling mamas or young ladies trying to trap me into marriage out here."

"I bet you were quite the rake." She wasn't sure where she got the courage to tease him like that, and she nearly regretted it when his warm, brown eyes fastened upon her. There was a twinkle of something in their depths she couldn't quite decipher and it made her jittery.

"What makes you say that, Oliver?" he asked smoothly, his voice like a dark caress, dangerous and compelling.

"I..." She should learn to keep her mouth shut.

"Well..." The captain took another sip of his drink before leaning a little closer and putting his arm around her as if he was about to impart a great secret. He was so close she could smell the brandy on his breath and suddenly her lungs felt constricted again.

"Tell you what, Oliver," he said with a slow wink that made her insides somersault again, "I will leave that for you to think about. Was your captain a rake or not?"

When he leaned back with a wicked grin, Olivia had no doubts he had been a rake. Right then, she was as good as a puddle on the floor and she could easily imagine women falling at his feet.

"What of you?" he asked after another sip of his drink. "Do you miss the Season?"

Still dazed from having him so close a moment ago—and winking at her—she mumbled, "Well, I always enjoyed the—" She caught herself just in time. As a young man of Oliver's age, she wouldn't have been part of the Season's festivities. "I mean, I imagine it must be quite something," she amended quickly. "All those balls and events and such."

A strange expression flickered across the captain's face, gone too quickly to properly register. "Yes, I suppose it is," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Though it does get rather tedious after a while."

She nodded, trying to cover her confusion. For a moment, it had almost seemed like Captain Warble was speaking to her as if she were a part of that world. But that was impossible...wasn't it?

The captain, perhaps sensing her unease, quickly changed the subject, regaling her with a humorous anecdote about a particularly disastrous ball he'd attended in his youth. She laughed along, but a small seed of doubt had taken root in her mind.

Did Captain Warble suspect her true identity? Had he seen through her disguise? Maybe she was just imagining things. Surely he would have confronted her if he knew?

~~~~~~