Besides, what he said held a kernel of truth. Although he rarely spoke to her, she had gotten to know the captain. She knew how he liked his eggs, yolks still soft with lots of pepper. She knew how and when he liked his coffee, with breakfast and after supper but never in the middle of the day.
She might be the only person on earth fully aware of the captain’s little quirks. Cookie had been surprised when Amanda told him about the captain’s preference for black coffee over sugared and how he really didn’t care for haggis. Of course, she broke the latter news gently to avoid any perceived insult to Cookie’s revered Scottish grandmother.
There was more to it than just the captain’s moods and his preferences. She often stood in his quarters while he finished breakfast, studying him as he ate, waiting to see if he required anything else. When she shut her eyes at night, she could see every angle of his face, the way he stopped chewing when focused on a particular thought, the way he used his toast to clean his plate, and the way he sighed, a little satisfied sound, after swallowing the last bite.
She knew as much about the captain’s eating habits as his wife, should he ever decide to marry. Perhaps more than any future wife would, unless he gave up privateering or decided to break his cardinal rule and allow women on his ship. The thought of the captain bringing a wife on some future voyage made her stomach clench.
Could it be jealousy? She had little experience with the emotion, except perhaps when she was six and a friend had shown her a pretty piece of ribbon her mama gave her for her birthday.
Besides, jealousy would be completely irrational. First of all, the captain didn’t have a wife. Second, even if he did, he held so steadfastly to his rules, he wasn’t likely to break them for her. And thirdly, why should she be jealous in the first place? She was just another member of his crew. She had no claim on him.
“What’s gotten into you?” Neil asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
As a child, she had developed the tendency to speak her thoughts aloud. Had she reverted to old habits? Amanda felt herself pale.
Neil chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I would have thought the beam you are strangling had wronged you in some way.”
Amanda looked down at her white knuckled hands. She held the top of the bulwark in a vice-like grip and the muscles in her back screamed from being overstretched.
“What are you doing?” she asked Neil, straightening and changing the subject in an effort to distract herself from her tortured thoughts.
“Trying to figure out our position from the shape of the coastline and this book,” replied Neil.
“Where did you get that?” She peered over his arm. The rough pages of the small leather-bound notebook held what looked like nautical charts with handwritten notes and drawings in the margins. The penmanship looked familiar.
“It’s the captain’s,” he answered, confirming her suspicions.
Amanda narrowed her eyes at him. “Looks important. Does he know you have it?”
Neil held his finger skyward and traced the outline of a distant headland that jutted into the sea. Then he flipped a couple of pages in the book.
“I got it!” He thumped a page with his forefinger. In his excitement, he lost his hold on the book and it plopped over the edge and into the sea below. It landed, face up, floating on the surface of the calm water.
Amanda peered over the side in time to see the book ride a small wave, the breeze ruffling its open pages. It wouldn’t be long before the notebook became waterlogged and the captain’s charts were lost forever. Without another thought, she set one foot on the bulwark and dove over the side. With two short strokes, she traversed the distance and plucked the book from the water. It appeared largely undamaged, a little wet but only a few of the pages smudged.
“It’s all right. I have it!” she yelled up at Neil, holding the book aloft and waving it over her head in triumph.
As though she had forgotten how to tread water, her legs seized and she dipped beneath the surface. She inhaled a mouthful of brackish water then bobbed to the surface, sputtering and coughing, while trying to brush wet hair from her eyes with her free hand.
Captain Stoakes had joined Neil at the bulwark. He held the end of a rope for her to grab onto, his face like that of the hangman waiting for his next customer.
Chapter Seven
“Someone want to tell me what that was about?” Will sat at his desk, his finger tapping a random beat against the blotter.
Adam and Neil faced him from the other side.
Adam’s clothes dripped from his swim in the bay and formed a puddle at their feet. A shiver racked his narrow shoulders. In late spring, the Atlantic would still be frigid, but Will suspected the shudder was from more than just the boy’s impromptu swim.
The boy had the right to be afraid. Anger ate at Will. However, it warred with the panic that assailed him when he recalled the image of Adam diving off the bulwark. Sailors had an odd relationship with the sea. Many never learned to swim for fear it would tempt the fates. He had no way of knowing that Adam could swim like a dolphin, and the thought of losing him had given him a rare moment of terror. He rubbed his throat, the same constriction that had prevented him from calling out the boy’s name now made it difficult to breathe.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Adam offered. “It was my fault the book dropped into the water so I went in after it. I can swim.”
Will caught the fiery look Neil gave his brother. Clearly, he was not happy with Adam claiming responsibility.
“Yes, I could see that,” Will said. “But how was it your fault?”
He didn’t really care whose fault it was, so long as Adam was safe, but the question gave him an opportunity to regain his composure. He needed to behave as a captain should, not as a man given to emotional outbursts and inappropriate sentiments.
“I startled him, causing him to knock the book into the water.” Adam ignored Neil’s glare.
Will narrowed his eyes and regarded Adam. He had been watching them while they were together at the railing. He could see Neil had discovered their location, and in his excitement, he knocked the book off the railing.
He couldn’t believe one of his own crew would tell such a brazen lie. Any other captain would have Adam punished. Neil, too, for the disgrace of allowing his brother to take the blame.
“Is that what happened, Neil?” Will kept his tone formal, if only to prove to himself that he controlled his emotions.
“No, sir,” Neil replied, equally formal.
“Yes, it is.” Adam cut him off with a high-pitched denial. “If I hadn’t caught you unawares, the book would never have fallen in.” He spoke to Neil as though Will didn’t exist.
Neil swiveled his head to look at his brother. “Would you, for once in your life, just shut up! I don’t need you protecting me.”
Adam paled, and Will leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
Neil had given his brother a wide berth ever since the day they came aboard. This confrontation had been a long time coming, and he wanted to let it play out a bit. He would intervene when the time came, but for now the boys needed to work out whatever lay between them.
Then he could work out his own inner turmoil when it came to his highly competent but disconcerting cabin boy.
“But the book belongs to the captain!” Adam turned to Neil and placed his hands on his hips in a gesture that reminded Will of something he had seen his mother do long ago.
“Yes, and he loaned it to me. I know I should have been more careful with it, but that’s between him and me. I don’t need you sticking your nose into it.”
“If I hadn’t been there, it would be at the bottom of the ocean by now.” Adam’s voice trembled.
“Better to have it at the bottom of the ocean and me in irons for losing the book than to have you protecting me.”
“But I can swim!”
“So can I!” Neil turned fully away from the captain, his arm
s flailing as he railed at his brother. “What makes you think I wouldn’t have gone in after it? I would have if your fat arse hadn’t already been over the railing and in the water.”
“Fat arse!” yelled Adam, his voice rising in pitch.
Will stifled a chuckle. For an insult from a sailor, it was mild, but Adam’s chin quivered nonetheless. Things were getting out of control. He leaned forward to propose a cease-fire but stopped short when Neil turned to him.
“Captain, it is entirely my fault.” Neil’s dark eyes were determined and unafraid. “Even though I can’t take responsibility for my brother being an idiot, please don’t punish him.” Neil directed a pointed look at Adam, and Will wondered what silent communication exchanged between them.
“Neil, no—” Adam raised a hand to stop Neil from saying anything more.
“Why shouldn’t I punish Adam?” Will asked. “He seems eager to take responsibility.”
“Because he’s not my brother,” said Neil.
“Not your brother?” Will asked, one eyebrow raised in mock surprise.
There was nothing enlightening about that revelation. The boys looked nothing alike. He presumed they had grown up together, perhaps under the same roof, but it didn’t surprise him to learn they were not truly blood-relatives.
“He is actually my incredibly irritating, domineering, busy body sister.” Neil spat out the last word as though it were an accusation.
The breath escaped Will’s lungs in a rush as surely as if he had been punched in the gut. He tried to inhale, but his thundering heart seemed to leave no room for air
He took in “Adam” standing before his desk, wet clothes clinging to skin. Even a blind man could see the bindings underneath the loose folds of the sodden cotton shirt clinging to her chest. Her slender figure narrowed at the waist far more than a man’s and then flared out again at the hips. The cotton fabric of her men’s breeches clung to the mound at the juncture at her thighs, eliminating all doubt.
What’s more, she probably wasn’t even a girl. She had the willowy figure of a young woman, but the self-assured tilt of her chin and directness of her gaze spoke of a mature adult. He had seen this in the steely-eyed glare she gave him when they first met, but had put it down to that attitude of faux self-possession adolescent males, eager to be adults, sometimes adopted. How wrong he had been!
“I see.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.
He looked down at his desk, trying to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. The room spun and, for the first time in his life, words eluded him.
He should be angry at having been made the fool, but anger only flitted at the edge of his thoughts. He tried to grasp it, to hold onto it as an anchor against his whirling emotions, but each time he tried, it vanished like the ephemeral remnants of a recent dream. Will looked up again, expecting to see Adam, the boy who had served him so well these past weeks. The boy was gone.
In his place stood a young woman of such undeniable femininity that she assaulted his senses. Her appeal, even in her bedraggled state, overwhelmed him. Fighting to hold his wits about him, he searched for the right course of action.
He needed to get her off his ship!
Yet, with that conclusion, a sense of loss enveloped him. He had enjoyed having her at his side, cooking his breakfast, keeping him company while he ate, tidying up his quarters when he wasn’t around. He had never been so well-fed, and for the first time ever, his charts and logbooks stood in organized progression on his one bookshelf.
But there was more to it than just the allure of a full stomach and clean quarters. He had done his best to ignore her when she came into his quarters, but he liked having her nearby while he ate. He had even grown to enjoy her silly chatter when she tried to get him to speak. Although he hadn’t allowed himself to admit it at the time, he loved the sound of her voice, especially when she tried to deepen it to sound like a man. He had stayed strong, saying little, sensing that to give into his desire to talk with her would bring him closer to his cabin boy than was wise.
Perhaps he had been afraid to confront the evidence that was right in front of him.
“I don’t suppose your name is Adam, is it?” The question sounded inane.
“No, it’s Amanda.”
The reply, soft and feminine, brought him to his senses, and a wave of anger broke through his confusion. Had lying become a habit of hers? Did she have so little imagination she could only come up with the name of his ship?
Seemingly reading his thoughts, she added, “It really is. I won’t lie to you anymore.”
Will studied her face, green eyes beneath soft blonde brows that, for once, weren’t knit together in vexation, a sprinkle of freckles across otherwise flawless skin, and lips set in an uncertain smile. With her face, the ruse couldn’t have been easy to pull off.
Except she had, which either meant she had exceptional skill or he was the biggest dolt in America. That his men hadn’t figured it out either provided little consolation.
He forced himself to look into those sea-green eyes. “Although you are not his brother, is Neil really yours?”
“Yes, sir. Well…no, sir,” Amanda’s eyelids fluttered. “Yes, sir,” she finished, with a decided nod of her head.
“What she means, sir, is that we aren’t related by blood,” explained Neil with an exasperated sigh. “Her father took me in and raised me until he left for the fight. For the last couple of years, it’s been just Mandy and me. She’s every bit a sister to me even though we aren’t related. I’m sure the confusion in her response is because she couldn’t figure out which answer would seem less like a lie.” He laughed. “She’s not very good at deception.”
“Like hell she isn’t!”
Both Amanda and Neil jumped at his outburst. Will ran a hand through his hair while he fought to regain control. He centered his gaze on her face because every time he let his attention slip to her narrow waist and long shapely limbs, his concentration crumbled. If he could barely hold a thought with her in the room, his ship would be in chaos if he let her run loose among his men.
But what to do with her? He grimaced, recalling his conversation with Doctor Miller. He could hardly just drop her off at their next port of call and leave her to fend for herself. She couldn’t be more than, what? Seventeen? Eighteen?
“I suppose you’re not as young as you claimed, either?” He held his breath, waiting to see if she would reveal her true age.
“No, I’m twenty-one.” Defiance flashed in her eyes, and he couldn’t blame her. It had been a rather ill mannered question.
But twenty-one? He would never have guessed she could be past her teens. However, it had taken spirit and courage to do what she did, face what she faced in her short time aboard ship. The rebel in him admired her pluck, despite her deception. He sat back in his chair, staring at his two charges, not sure what course to take. He had never been so flummoxed in his life.
“Captain, lone ship off the port bow,” Buck said from the doorway.
Will stood, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. The English merchants were something he could handle, and he didn’t think he had ever been so grateful for their appearance. “I’m needed on deck,” he said to no one in particular. To Neil he added, “Get to your station.”
Neil flew out the door in a shot.
Amanda turned to follow, but Will grabbed her arm. “Not you.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, bewilderment reflected in her wide eyes. “The doctor won’t need me for awhile, but I should at least get out of these wet clothes.”
“I want you to stay in my quarters where it’s safe,” Will said, his voice making it clear it was a command not a request. “You can dry off with one of my towels and wrap yourself in a blanket until your clothes dry.” He tried to ignore the image of her lithe, naked body wrapped in his bed sheets.
“Safe? Why?” A red flush crept up from the base of Amanda’s neck to her temple. Had she been holding a similar imag
e?
Amanda tugged at her arm, but Will didn’t let go. Her stormy green eyes were only inches from his. Her blonde hair, curled about her cheeks and forehead, invited him to brush it back. How had this delicate creature survived on his ship for so long?
“Because women don’t belong in a fight,” he said without thinking, noting with some surprise that he didn’t say they didn’t belong on a ship. “It may be some time before we return to Baltimore. I will return you to your family, but in the meantime, it’s my duty to protect you.”
“Protect me? It’s your duty to protect all your crew. Why should I be any different?” She stared up at him, green eyes blazing, and issued what amounted to a challenge. “I am a member of your crew, aren’t I?”
Will ran his hand across the back of his neck. She had a point. She did the work of two men with her role as the doctor’s assistant and his personal cook, and her performance had been exemplary. But looking into her eyes, Will couldn’t block out the undeniable fact that she was female.
Amanda stretched to her full height, yet her forehead only came to the top of his collar. An attempt to intimidate him perhaps? His pulse quickened, but it wasn’t intimidation that stirred his blood.
The pressure proved too much for Will. He had a potential prize off the port bow. He really had no idea how far off, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care now that all the repressed desire of the last few weeks flooded his veins.
He struggled to refocus his thoughts. Did the English ship look low in the water, implying they were heavy with cargo? Did the Amanda have the advantage? Had the other ship struck her colors, or did they turn to fight? None of those concerns mattered anymore. If he was to have any hope of composing himself and taking charge of his ship, he needed to take action.
He lowered his face to hers and inhaled her soft scent. She smelled like a woman. How could he not have noticed that before? Mustering every ounce of self-control he still possessed, Will brushed his lips against Amanda’s. He couldn’t risk more than that. He would be needed on deck soon, and it would be all too easy to get carried away, to lose himself in her.
Caution to the Wind (American Heroes) Page 8
