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" He crouched and shook the lad's shoulder. "Alexander!" He was unconscious, poor landlubber. "All right, lad, let's get ye cleaned up." He scooped his arm under his shoulders to sit him up; his head lolled back and the cap fell off. To Liam's shock, a bundle of long dark hair uncoiled. His eyes flew to the face--pretty feminine features now obvious. What the devil? 'Twas a lass! He was stunned. His gaze passed down the small body in the lad's clothes, then back to her face. How had he been so deceived?

He was confounded. He had intended to be a good Samaritan to the lad-should he proceed even though she be a lass? Liam considered himself an honorable man; certainly he trusted that he would take no liberties in her defenseless state. Moreover, it was hardly chivalrous to let her stew in her own vomit. He shrugged-he didn't have time for further debate; he needed to get back on deck. He eased her head and shoulders back to the cabin sole. Leaning over, he unbuttoned her boots and pulled them off. She had already removed the jacket. He undid the buttons upon the trousers, opened the flap, and gingerly worked them down her hips, rolling her a little towards one side then the other to facilitate their removal. He bundled them up and tossed them towards the door. Now visible were the tails of a lad's shirt that reached nigh to her knees; below the bottom edge of this was some kind of feminine garment of delicate white cotton. Both had been bunched up inside the trousers. Her legs were clad in stockings of a curious blue color-like a robin's egg-- that were held up by embroidered garters encircling her thighs. Upon inspection, he found the shirttails to be soiled as well from the liquid that had soaked through the trousers. He unbuttoned the shirt and, lifting her torso, pulled it off one arm then the other, and tossed it on top of the trousers.

The remaining garments now exposed were all those of a lass. The garment he had glimpsed under the shirt proved to be a chemise; over it a white corset was tightly cinched. How had she been able to vomit wearing that? No wonder her distress had been so acute! The chemise would need to be cleaned as well, he saw. He knelt behind her and, lifting her under her arms, sat her up with her hips snugly braced between his thighs. With one arm supporting her torso round the front, he leaned her forward, and with his other hand unknotted and loosened the corset laces in the back. Leaning her back against him, both hands went to the front of the corset, pushing the edges of the busk together to release the hooks. Her head fell limply back against his chest; he felt her hair brushing against his neck. Looking down over her shoulder, he could not help but notice the swell of her breasts above the lace trimmed chemise. As he undid the top hooks of the corset, his knuckles pressed against the soft flesh; he swallowed hard, reminding himself of his mission of mercy. He placed the corset upon the berth.

Finally the chemise. He pulled the hem up over her thighs, trying to keep his eyes averted. Lifting her with his arm round her waist, he tugged the fabric out from under her, then up over her head, from whence it joined the pile by the door. Then, with one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees, he got to his feet, lifting her slight weight easily. Her head drooped over his arm. When he stood, the full light from the porthole illuminated her and he utterly forgot his honorable intentions-he gaped at the bonnie lass in his arms-naked-- save for the blue stockings. Her skin was like cream-smooth and unmarked. Her breasts, though not overly large, were full, round, and outthrust from her slender torso--even as he stared, they swayed with the motion of the boat. Her nipples were small and pink-his mouth started to water as he noticed them rising coyly in the chilly air of the cabin. Below the narrow waist, her hips curved into lithesome thighs. Like a compass to north his eyes went to the small patch of dark curls at their apex.

He felt himself aroused and could do

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