Chapter 8
Harriet awoke with a start, disoriented. The last thing she remembered was trying to understand longitudinal shifts the farther one ventured from the equator, seated at the table. Now she was stretched out in an unfamiliar bed.
She squinted. Familiar cabin, though. Just the scent was unfamiliar.
On second thought, she knew this scent … sandalwood soap, underlain with just a hint of salty hemp, masculine sweat, and something indefinable.
Sheffield.
She twisted to see behind her, but she was alone in the bunk. Alone in the cabin.
The hammock was hanging from a different hook, though.
He must have risen from his nap and gone topside for the midnight fix of their position, then come back down and slept in the hammock.
How did she get from sitting at the table to lying in the
