The Captain's Pearl by Jo Ann Ferguson

Bryce for now. I’m tired of you trying to say my name correctly.” He laughed quietly. “Not that you have yet.”
    â€œIt is a queer name.”
    Again he laughed. “It’s queer only to a half-breed Chinese woman, blue eyes. Trevarian is a good Cornish name.”
    â€œCornish?”
    â€œCornwall. A part of England.”
    In a whisper, she asked, “How is Davis?”
    â€œHe is still alive. Barely.”
    His grief brought her eyes open again. Her fingers stroked his rough cheek. She wanted to offer him comfort and help him believe there might be a miracle.
    His mustache tilted in a weary smile. “I’m afraid there’s no relief for you , blue eyes, except becoming accustomed to the ship’s motion.”
    â€œI cannot.” Tightness cramped her stomach.
    With a short laugh, he stood. “You’ll have to. It is going to take months to reach Massachusetts.”
    â€œBryce, I—” Looking past his broad shoulder as she heard a moan, she forgot her own anguish.
    â€œHe has not regained consciousness.” Bryce sighed. “Maybe it is for the best.”
    As he went to the bed, she thought of a dozen questions she wanted to ask. Her mind refused to work as it drew her into sleep. She knew Bryce would be watching over Davis and—reluctantly—her.
    The groan was filled with pain. Lian fought the sickness and rose. She could see nothing through the darkness, but she recognized the sound. Davis.
    She took a single step and fell to the floor. It pitched like something in as much agony as she was. Another moan urged her to her knees. Somehow she crawled to her brother’s bed.
    â€œDavis?” she whispered, holding her hand close to her mouth. At any moment, her stomach might explode again. Leaning on the bed, she looked up at him. His face had the grayish tinge of death.
    His eyes opened and slowly focused. “Lian. Little sister.” He added nothing else, as if the few words had drained him.
    For the first time, she wondered how old he was. She guessed near thirty, which seemed ancient. “How do you feel?” she murmured.
    â€œLike hell.” He winced as he turned his head. His brow rutted. “As bad as you look, little sister. What’s wrong with you?”
    â€œShe’s seasick,” came Bryce’s voice from behind her.
    Before Lian could react, he picked her up and dropped her on the pallet. She could not snarl an insult at Bryce when sickness rocked her.
    â€œStay there,” he ordered. “I’ll tend to the captain.”
    â€œYou were not here!” she shot back.
    â€œI am now.”
    When she offered to help, Bryce started to refuse. He was interrupted by Davis’s pain-thinned voice. “Don’t deny me my last hours with my sister, Bryce. Lian, come here, if you wish.”
    Fighting the temptation to flash Bryce a victorious smile, she tried to stand. With a thump, she fell. Bryce held out his hand and brought her to her feet.
    â€œThank you,” she whispered, as she knelt by her brother’s bed again.
    â€œAm I that unusual?” Davis asked, with a hint of a grin. “You’re staring as if I were a creature from the stars.”
    Placing her trembling fingertips on the mattress, she did not dare to touch him. Anything might add to his agony. She was aware of Bryce standing behind her, ready to pounce on her if she did something wrong. “I am not accustomed to looking at eyes like my own.”
    â€œFather has blue eyes as well. A Catherwood trait. How they will love you!”
    â€œReally?” Hearing a grumble, she knew Bryce did not want her questioning his captain.
    Davis’s glazed eyes held hers. “Father has spoken often of my other sister, who died at birth along with my mother. He will be thrilled to learn that his line won’t come to an end.”
    â€œDavis, don’t—” Bryce’s heavy hand on her shoulder