A shudder passed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. The shock of being shoved from behind, falling… falling, desperately clawing the air, frightened cries ripped from her throat, cut off when chilly water closed over her head. She would be forever grateful to the trio of barking dogs who'd alerted a quick-witted crewman to the accident. Yet in spite of his fast thinking and her swimming ability, she'd nearly drowned.

The accident. Yes, that's what everyone was calling it. An improperly secured winch had swung around, catching her between the shoulders, propelling her over the side. Captain Whitstead had reprimanded the entire crew.

But was it really an accident? Or had someone purposely unfastened the winch and pushed it toward her?

Another tremor edged through her, and she sternly told herself it was merely due to the fact that her hair remained damp under her bonnet. Yet she could not ignore the fact that her near-tragic tumble into the sea was not the first strange incident to befall her on this voyage. First had been the inexplicable disappearance of her silver wedding band. Had she lost it-or had it been stolen? While the piece held no great monetary value, she sorely missed the sentimental token, as it was a physical reminder of what she'd had… and what she'd lost.

Then there was that headlong flight down the stairs, which thankfully had not resulted in any broken bones, although the painful bruises marking her skin had taken weeks to fade. She'd felt a shove… common sense told her it was merely an accidental jostle, yet she couldn't dismiss the feeling that she'd been pushed. And what of the mysterious stomach malady she'd suffered last week? No one else had been ill. Could someone have tampered with her food?