by Merry Farmer
Yes, she believed him now: their kiss was merely a momentary lapse of reason. The problem was—and despite her best efforts not to—Calliope yearned for more of those lapses.
Because when she’d been in Captain Townsend’s strong arms, when his mouth had commanded hers, she hadn’t felt like an afterthought or a shadow anymore. She’d felt fully formed.
Alive.
She might want another amorous encounter, but reason told her it would be foolhardy in the extreme to seek one. She certainly should never, ever entertain the idea that she and Captain Townsend could have something more.
Why, it would never work, she told herself sternly for the thousandth time. And Captain Townsend’s past history all but confirms it too. So stop mooning after him. Because before you know it, you’ll fall in love with him. And then you’ll be in more strife than you’ve ever been in before.
The problem was, Calliope suspected that she was already in deep trouble.
Why else did she suddenly miss Captain Townsend, even his teasing? Why did she worry about him when he wasn’t near?
Dear Lord above, she was turning into an absolute peagoose over a man.
Calliope closed her notebook with a disgruntled sigh and gazed out over the ruffled waters of the lagoon and its beach of pale white sand. On the opposite shore, she could see dense thickets of verdant jungle and in the far distance, Lion Mountain rose like a slumbering, ancient beast. Dark gray clouds gathered on the horizon. She suspected a shower of rain was headed Belle Mer’s way.
One thing she couldn’t fault Captain Townsend on, was his generosity. The day following the banquet at Le Reduit, the captain had sailed Uncle Theo, Mr. Lucas and her back to Mahébourg, and once they were comfortably installed at Belle Mer, he’d promptly departed the very next day ‘to conduct patrols in the area’.
Of course, Uncle Theo was beyond excited to hear there may be fossilized dodo remains somewhere on, or at least very near, the Belle Mer plantation. He was also suitably grateful to Captain Townsend for offering them all a place to stay as well as a small team of men to help with the search.
Indeed, since they’d arrived, Uncle Theo, Mr. Lucas, and Belle Mer’s workers had spent each and every day at the north-west end of the plantation, carefully dredging through the thick mud of Mare aux Songes, the shallow swamp where Benoit’s father had found a dodo beak all those years ago. But so far, nothing significant had been unearthed.
Calliope had spent long hours at the excavation site too, either helping to catalogue any finds—there were a good deal of bat, tortoise, and other sorts of bird remains—or sketching and painting the unique scenery. However, yesterday she’d got a touch too much sun. She’d found a lovely cove to paint and she’d stayed on the beach far too long, so now her arms were tinged pink and the tip of her nose was quite red. As a result, Uncle Theo had suggested that she should stay at the house today and continue to document Nelson’s vocabulary instead.
“Excusez-moi, my lady. Here is your afternoon tea. Would you like to take it out here on the veranda?”
Calliope smiled at the young Mauritian housemaid bearing a large wooden try loaded with a silver coffee pot, fine china, and a whole cinnamon cake. “Thank you, Didi. That would be lovely.”
After the maid placed everything out on the linen draped wicker table, she straightened and bit her lip uncertainly. “My lady, I hope you can forgive me for being so forward, but I also wondered if you might like to try this ointment”—she pulled out a small earthenware pot from the pocket of her white cotton pinafore—“to help with your sunburn. My grandmère swore by it.”
“Oh… Why thank you, Didi. And you’re not being forward at all. I appreciate your assistance.” Since arriving at Belle Mer, Didi had also become Calliope’s unofficial lady’s maid. She took the pot from the young woman and removed the lid. Inside was a thick, colorless, jelly-like substance. She sniffed at it but couldn’t detect any particular scent. “What is it?”
Didi gave a shy smile. “I believe it’s called aloe. It comes from the aloe vera plant which grows here on Isle de France… I mean Mauritius, my lady. It will soothe any type of burn.”
Calliope smiled back. “As soon as I’ve finished my coffee and cake, Didi, I shall apply it straightaway. Thank you again.”
Didi bobbed a curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to serve you, my lady.”
Calliope was just pouring her second cup of coffee when a heavy shower scudded across the lagoon. Beneath the veranda’s wide roof, she was nicely protected. However, she suspected Uncle Theo, Mr. Lucas and anyone else outside would be soaked to the skin.
She imagined Uncle Theo would return to the house soon. So, when she heard heavy footsteps echoing on the wooden floorboards of the veranda, she didn’t think anything of it.
Until she heard a rich baritone voice calling her name. And it didn’t belong to her uncle or Mr. Lucas.
Captain Townsend.
Her pulse fluttering like a trapped hummingbird, she rose from her seat and curtsied. “Captain. You’re back,” she said then winced for stating something so obvious.
He removed his sodden hat and flicked water from his brow. “Yes, I am,” he said, with a wide smile. “The Andromeda’s docked in Grand Port Bay. The crew need rest and my ship needs some routine repairs and maintenance.”
“Oh… I see.” Alarm spiked through Calliope. Captain Townsend’s return was affecting her in ways that she didn’t like at all. Good heavens, the man had only been gone for two weeks and she had to quell the absurd urge to throw her arms about his neck. To kiss his bronzed cheek and bury her face in his neck so she could inhale his intoxicating masculine scent.
This wouldn’t do at all. Lifting her chin, she made herself don a polite smile, hoping it would hide her unease. “Welcome home then.”
But it seemed Captain Townsend was not the sort of man who was easily fooled. “So sorry to disappoint you, my lady,” he said with an arch of one black brow. “But not to worry. I’ll be gone again in a few days.”
“No. I… I didn’t mean to imply...” Heavens she sounded flustered. She inhaled a calming breath and tried again. “I’m glad you’re back safe and sound. I’ll tell Cook to lay another place for dinner.”
His mouth lifted into a sardonic smile as he tossed his hat onto a nearby chair. “It’s nice to see you’ve made yourself at home at Belle Mer.”
“My apologies, Captain. I’m coming across as one of those horrid managing females, aren’t I? And I shouldn’t have assumed that you would wish to dine with me. And Uncle Theo and Mr. Lucas as well. We can take trays in our rooms if you would prefer to be alone. Or vice versa. Whatever suits…” She clamped her lips shut to stop her nervous babbling.
He gave a snort. “Don’t be silly, Lady Calliope. Of course I’d like to dine with you.” He shrugged off his soaked coat and then raked a hand through his dripping hair. The wet, sheer fabric of his cambric shirt clung to the taut, well-defined muscles of his upper arm and wide chest—he wasn’t wearing a waistcoat—and Calliope was helplessly transfixed by the awe-inspiring sight.
“Is dinner still at seven?” he asked.
Calliope started and her gaze collided with Captain Townsend’s. He was regarding her with a knowing smile and she promptly blushed all the way to the roots of her hair. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“Good.” He stepped closer and sliced off a large hunk of cinnamon cake. Then with damp fingers, he popped the whole thing in his mouth and chewed ferociously. Picking up her coffee, he asked, “Do you mind?’ and when Calliope shook her head, he drained the cup. “As you can see, I’m quite famished,” he said.
“Can I have Cook prepare something else for you, Captain? A fresh pot of coffee perhaps?”
“No. This should do me until dinner. But thank you all the same.” His gaze traced over her and he frowned. “Tsk, tsk, Lady Calliope. You’ve had too much sun.”
Heat scalded her face again and her sunburnt nose grew even hotter. “Yes. I suppose that’s one
of the hazards associated with zoological excavations. But I also sat painting on the beach for far too long yesterday. So that’s entirely my fault.”
“Hmph. How goes the search?”
At that moment, Nelson flew out to the veranda and landed on his master’s shoulder. “How do you do? How do you do?” he crowed then nipped at the captain’s ear.
“How do you do? What the deuce?” Captain Townsend turned his incredulous gaze on Calliope. “Have you been trying to teach Nelson some manners?”
Calliope lifted her chin. “Yes, I have. There are only so many times a young woman can tolerate the flirtatious remarks of an overly familiar parrot. Or his colorful seaman’s jibes.”
At that, Captain Townsend let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll give you that, Lady Calliope.”
“And to answer your earlier question,” she continued, “the search is not going particularly well I’m afraid. There hasn’t been any noteworthy find yet. But Uncle Theo should be back soon.” She nodded at the rain beyond the veranda, “and he can tell you all about it himself.”
“Then I should change.” Captain Townsend bowed. “I shall see you anon, my fair lady. And do try Didi’s aloe ointment.” He winked. “It works.”
How did he—? Calliope’s gaze fell to the small pot right between her notebook and the coffee pot.
One thing was certain, nothing really escaped the notice of Captain Jonathon Townsend, Viscount Sandford.
Calliope prayed he hadn’t noticed that she actually did like him, or worse, had begun to care for him. But she feared that he just might.
Chapter 9
With a post-prandial glass of cognac in hand, Jonathon sat back in his favorite wingchair in Belle Mer’s library-cum-study and stretched out his booted feet toward the dancing flames of the fire. Outside, a strong south-westerly raged about the house, rattling the windows and French doors. In the distance, the surf hurling itself against the coral reef at the mouth of the lagoon, sounded just like rolling thunder.
All was still and quiet inside though. Lady Calliope, Dr. Bell, and Mr. Lucas had all retired for the evening some time ago. Belle Mer’s staff too. Even Nelson was asleep on his perch in the corner of the room by a potted palm.
Jonathon took a long pull of his drink, hoping it would soothe his unsettled state of mind and Lady Calliope Banks was to blame. Despite the fact he kept telling himself that she must be the most troublesome chit in Christendom, he couldn’t seem to get her out of his. Or out of his head.
It was true that he’d invited her, her bird-obsessed eccentric uncle, and his assistant to stay at Belle Mer while they scoured the property for those damnably elusive dodo bones. And it certainly wasn’t Calliope’s fault that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Or that surprisingly passionate kiss they’d shared.
God help him, he so wanted to kiss her again. And more…
He’d told Calliope that he’d kissed her on impulse, but that wasn’t entirely true. He’d been thinking about kissing her since the very first time he’d laid eyes on her. When she’d stood dripping and shivering on the deck of the Andromeda with a defiant glare in her enormous blue eyes. When he’d bumped into her in the dimly lit hallway of The Crown and Anchor Inn. When he’d almost kissed her beneath the willow tree at Le Reduit.
Yes, he wanted her in a physical sense. But he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge that his fascination with her went beyond that. Not only did he enjoy her company, he admired her compassion and intelligence and wit. Her abolitionist views that aligned with his own. Her strength and resilience in the face of all the rubbish she’d put up with back in England. To think she’d not only been snubbed by Society, but most of her family because of a ridiculous curse made his blood boil.
Try as he might, he also couldn’t account for his reaction when he arrived back at Belle Mer this afternoon and discovered her on his veranda. His heart had given an excited jolt at the nonsensical thought that she’d been waiting there, just for him. He’d liked it when her clearly admiring gaze had fixated on his upper body, clad as it was in near transparent linen. He liked the fact that she’d organized dinner. He even liked it that she’d been teaching Nelson some manners.
He liked her too much.
Which could only mean one thing: he was beginning to care for her. And hence the source of his unease. Because after his duplicitous fiancée, Miss Marianne Seymour, Baron Trowbridge’s fair-weather daughter left him for another man, he swore he would never, ever care for another woman again.
But somehow, Lady Calliope Banks had hooked his interest and he couldn’t seem to escape her thrall.
The creak of the library door opening and a soft footfall on the teak floorboards behind him had Jonathon turning in his seat.
“Lady Calliope,” he said in surprise and rose to his feet. “Is everything all right?”
She stopped in the middle of the Persian rug and nervously tucked a loose coppery curl behind one of her ears. Even in the low light he could easily see that a deep flush had begun to wash over her face. She was so easy to read, this young woman. Unlike Marianne.
He supposed that was one of the other things he genuinely liked about Calliope.
Despite the fact she was clearly uneasy about being alone with him while the rest of the house slept, Calliope stood her ground. “My apologies for disturbing you, but I couldn’t sleep. The wind…” She gestured toward the French doors. “I wanted to find something to read. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No need to apologize, my lady.” Glass still in hand, Jonathon gestured at the well-stocked bookshelves of carved ebony. “Help yourself. Take whatever you’d like. Forget I’m even here.”
She tilted her head and offered a shy smile. “Thank you.”
There was no way on earth Jonathon could ignore Calliope’s presence though. Because he couldn’t help himself, he tracked her progress across the room. Perhaps because she’d expected the library to be deserted at this hour, she’d dressed somewhat carelessly in a simple gown of white muslin and a pale blue shawl. Her glorious hair was unbound and tumbled down her back like a cascading fiery waterfall. To Jonathon’s astonishment and delight, it also seemed that Calliope had foregone donning any undergarments whatsoever. The light of the fire shone straight through the thin fabric of her skirts as she passed by and he could clearly see the outline of her long shapely legs and delicious derriere.
The sight of her thus, heated his blood and he sat down again, hoping to hide the fact his cock had begun to stir. How many months had he now been without a woman?
He’d lost count. The problem was, it seemed he didn’t wish to lie with any other woman but Calliope Banks. But as she’d said at Le Reduit, they were chartering entirely different courses in life. And she was right.
Frustration burned in his belly and his fingers tightened around his tumbler of cognac. If only he could catch bloody Michael Flint. Then his mission would be over and he could return to England and start to properly manage his long-neglected estate in Dorset. At long last, he could happily take up the reins of his viscountcy.
He could finally stop wandering the globe and establish a true home. Marry. Have children…
Is that what Calliope wanted too? Did she really wish to remain a spinster with nothing better to do than follow her uncle about? She’d been a debutante seven years ago and had probably harbored hopes of making a match with an eligible ton bachelor back then.
He watched Calliope select one book after another but she couldn’t seem to settle on anything.
“Do you have any particular reading preferences, my lady?” he asked. He’d briefly thought about offering to assist with her search, but then he’d be standing too close to her. He didn’t trust himself not to reach out and seek another sweetly passionate kiss.
She wrinkled her sunburnt, freckled nose. “You’ll no doubt laugh at me when I tell you I enjoy novels that have no literary or intellectual value at all. I’m afraid I’m one of those awful females who likes to
read for pleasure.”
“There’s nothing awful about that. I enjoy reading for pleasure too. Actually, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with doing something for the sheer pleasure of it. Life’s far too short to deny oneself, don’t you think?” Christ, he was a total cad to tease her with his flirtatious words and make her blush a third time. But he couldn’t resist the temptation, God help him.
“Not everyone can afford to subscribe to the Cyrenaic school of philosophy and be a hedonist like you, Captain Townsend,” she replied stiffly as she selected a book without even looking at it and wrapped it in her arms.
Casting aside his glass, he climbed to his feet and at last approached her. “You think I’m a devotee of hedonism?” he said, leaning a shoulder against the bookcase.
She shrugged. “You yourself admitted you tend to act on impulse. Taking what you want from life without thinking of the consequences strikes me as a trifle hedonic, yes. But forgive me, I shouldn’t judge you. Given how demanding and dangerous your life must be a good deal of the time, I can understand your need to enjoy the peaceful, quieter moments to the fullest.”
“I could say the same about you and your life Lady Calamity.”
She laughed then and he was pleased she hadn’t taken offence. “I hardly think the handful of mishaps that have befallen me could compare to the constant danger you face every day in your quest to catch ruthless pirates.”
“Yet when we first met, I virtually saved you from the clutches of a ruthless pirate. I’d hardly call that incident a mishap.”
A fine line appeared between her delicate brows. “Yes… You mentioned at dinner that you’ve not had much luck tracking down Captain Flint, despite the fact there’s been several sightings of the Orpheus by the navy of late. That must be terribly frustrating for you.”
