The ship was rocking back and forth with the waves. She stared at him, wondering how he could eat during this kind of motion. He pulled apart a piece of chicken leg with his fork and stuffed a juicy piece of meat into his mouth. Under normal circumstances, the food would smell delicious, but right now it only aggravated her.

How could he eat?

He swallowed and she stared at his Adam’s apple then flicked her gaze back up at him. He was saying something, “…the bed might be more comfortable if you are not feeling well.”

He was right. She wasn’t feeling well. She was staring at his plate of food and unconsciously licked her lips. Pushing away from the table, her chair scraped across the wood floor and she stood still for a moment, readying herself for the walk over to the bed.

Letting go of the table, she made it three steps before the ship lurched and sent her tumbling into him. He had been sitting at the table, ready to take a sip of wine. Now he sat with his back shoved against the chair and his hands out in shock. She was sprawled across his lap and red wine was sinking into the fabric of her dress.

She was pushing off the chair and shoving her elbow into his leg in an attempt to get up. Instead he wrapped an arm around her waist and positioned her better on his lap.

She was pushing away from him saying, “No, now I’m a mess. I have to…”

She didn’t have to do anything. He interrupted her and said, “My drink is all over you.”

She was staring at him like he’d grown horns. He was staring at a lock of wine drenched hair that was curling over her forehead. She stopped shoving at him to say, “Yes, I know. I want to get up and go to bed.”

He shook his head and said, “You can’t get in bed with red wine all over you.