Her Master and Commander

by Karen Hawkins

  “Yes, you did. And I agree. It will take all of our combined efforts to gain that blasted fortune.”

  “I do not think that true. As a whole, your manners are perfectly acceptable. If you would but learn a few rules of comportment…that is all you need.”

  He smiled. “Like…do not kiss your tutor?”

  “Exactly.” She ignored the heat rising up her neck to her cheeks. She’d never been one to flush so quickly, but it happened every time the earl cast his pale green gaze her way. She wondered if perhaps she was taking the ague. Yes. That was the problem—she was developing an illness of some sort, one that would end the moment she was no longer in close contact with the man who was watching her even now.

  It was a pity he was so ineligible. She almost grimaced at the word—“ineligible” didn’t begin to describe the earl. He was handsome and attractive and capable of caring, as evidenced by the way he worried about his men. But he was also forceful and rough and possessed a restless spirit. He was a man who would take his pleasure when and where he found it, then leave. She knew instinctively that if he hadn’t been injured in battle, he would not now be standing beside her.

  The thought was sobering. She pressed the uncomfortable thoughts away and managed a smile. “Shall we begin?”

  “Do your worst, madam.”

  Prudence thought a moment. From the corner of her eye, she caught him shifting heavily from one foot to the other. “It cannot be good for you to stand so long. Why don’t you take the chair and I’ll sit here.” She moved as she spoke and perched on the edge of the settee. There. That was a nice, safe distance.

  He hesitated, then made his way to the chair. “I am not an invalid, you know.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I merely said you might be more comfortable sitting. I know I will be.”

  He glowered a bit, but sat. He stretched his stiff leg before him and placed his cane to one side.

  Prudence watched him from beneath her lashes. “Let us begin with something simple. Titles are very simple, once you learn their order. At dinner parties, guests are seated by rank and—”

  “Why did you agree to tutor me?”

  She paused. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. You know why I am here; it is only fair that I ask the same question.”

  He was right, blast it. “It is a sad fact of life that food and shelter costs money.”

  “Money is a satisfying reason for many things.”

  “At times, yes. I am glad you and I are able to assist each other. Perhaps soon, both of our wishes may come true and we’ll gain our fortunes.”

  His look of complacency disappeared behind a scowl. “I never wished for the fortune or the title. I didn’t wish for a damn thing but to be left alone.”

  “Come now! You have been given a wonderful opportunity—a fortune, in fact, and all you have to do is learn a little polish. Yet you are far from happy about such a fortuitous happenstance.”

  “Aye, I receive a fortune. A fortune from a man who was never the father he should have been. A man who never once, in all the days of my childhood, bothered to visit either me or my brother one single time. A man who did everything he could to have legitimate heirs so that I wouldn’t see a farthing of his, not to mention the title and lands.”

  Prudence bit her lip. “I didn’t know.”

  He shrugged, though his gaze remained hard. “My father abandoned me and my brother when we were born and was nowhere to be found when Mother was taken to prison falsely charged with treason.”

  Prudence didn’t know what to say.

  “My mother died in a dank cell. Only later was she cleared of all wrongdoing.” His smile was mirthless. “A classic case of too little, too late.”

  Prudence’s throat tightened at the thought of how dear her own mother was to her. “I am sorry. How…how did you end up being a sea captain?”

  “I was impressed upon a ship and I found the sea.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten.”

  Good God. He’d been but a child.

  His hand curled about the knob of his cane and he regarded his outstretched foot with unseeing eyes. “I came to love the sea, but only after we were captured by pirates.”

  Prudence’s eyes widened. “Pirates? Goodness! That must have been frightening.”

  “There is very little about the sea that is not frightening.” He watched her narrowly, as if judging the effect his words were having on her. “Pirates or no, they were good to us. Better, in fact, than my captain had been. So, when they asked us to join their crew, I did so.”

  Prudence choked. “I beg your pardon! Did you say that you joined the pirate crew?”

  “I did. If you are to do this thing for me—the tutoring—you shall know all. I attacked ships and stole their cargo.” His expression darkened. “Do not look so shocked. The work was not so different from what we were doing under the king’s flag when we were scouring the seas for French frigates for the very same reason—overtake them and empty their holds, lives be damned.”

  “I—I see.”

  “I doubt it. The difference between being in the Royal Navy and being a pirate is not as far apart as you might think. One is fueled by the desire for power, the other fueled by the desire for gold.”

  “Did you have to kill anyone?”

  “I killed far fewer men when I was a pirate. The pay was better, too, as was the treatment—But there was a cost.” He shifted in his seat, stretching his legs before him. “I became a wanted man. I could not come home. I didn’t think that would bother me, but I was wrong.”

  The words were softly spoken, the earl’s voice deep. Prudence had to blink tears from her eyes. “That is horrid.”

  “It was. For eight years I never touched foot on English soil. Then I met Admiral Nelson. I captured his ship during a horrid squall. He was so impressed with my abilities that he offered to secure a pardon if I would but sail with him. I agreed. He secured my pardon and I came home.” The earl lifted his cane and tapped the end of his boot. “I can still remember how lovely it felt, that first moment I put my foot back on English soil.”

  “I daresay it was.” Prudence found herself looking at the captain’s foot. “How did—”

  He shrugged. “I took a ball at Trafalgar, fighting beside Lord Nelson.”

  “He was killed during the battle.”

  The earl’s jaw set. “I saw it. Held him as—”

  Prudence saw the wetness of his eyes. Her heart ached, but she wisely did not say a word.

  After a long moment, the earl took a breath. His eyes had darkened a bit, his mouth lined with tension. An indefinable air of sadness enveloped him, reminding Prudence of the heavy fog that shrouded the sea each morning. “I can no longer sail,” he said. “My life is over.”

  “Nonsense,” Prudence said briskly, though she wanted nothing more than to stand and hug the man before her. It seemed he’d had so little care in his life. So little gentleness. “You have been very successful so far, despite the troubles you’ve faced.”

  He slanted her a hard look, his green eyes shadowed and distant. “More than anything, I miss being at sea, being free.” Her gaze dropped to his leg and he grimaced. “And now, this. I’d rather be shot in my good leg than take anything my father touched, but I have no choice.”

  “Then do not take the money. Find another way.”

  His gaze locked on hers. “There is no demand for crippled sea captains. And that, my dear, little, meddlesome but tasty neighbor, is all I know how to do.”

  “If you are committed to helping your men, you will find a way. Even if your father’s money is not it.”

  He looked at her a moment, his lids lowered over his eyes, his expression intent. “Perhaps.”

  Prudence bit back a sigh. He would not accept solace of any kind, that much was obvious. “Well, Captain—or rather, I should say Rochester. We should begin with some basic tenets on manners.”

  “Do your worst, my love
.” He sprawled in his chair, one arm now slung over the back.

  Prudence ignored him. “Captain—I mean, Lord Rochester—”

  “Tristan.”

  “Lord Rochester,” she continued. “From now on, you must watch your language for vulgar phrases—”

  His eyes gleamed with humor. “What vulgar phrases?”

  “I am not going to say them, if that’s what you wish. Instead, every time you use a vulgar phrase, I shall cough, like this.” She coughed gently against her fingers. “That way you will know you are using a potentially lowering phrase.”

  He crossed his arms, his booted legs thrust before him, looking dangerous and all too masculine. “Anything else, my beautiful tutor?”

  “We will also have to work on your air. You are a bit surly at times.”

  He opened his eyes wide. “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” she said, hard-pressed not to grin.

  The earl gave a crack of laughter. “Do not hide your light in the fog. Say what you really mean.”

  “There are times you act like a complete jackanapes.”

  He did laugh then, long and loud, his eyes crinkled in the most engaging manner. “I cannot see the problem with that. I’ve known plenty of supposed gentlemen who were jackanapes.”

  “So have I. But none of them came under the scrutiny of a board of trustees.” She paused, thinking. “Do you happen to know who the gentlemen are? Perhaps I might recognize their names, or at least might have heard of their character enough to give us a small advantage.”

  He stood and took up his cane, then limped to the desk and found some papers. He carried them back to his chair and flipped through the heavily written sheets. “Here it is. The trustees will consist of Viscount Southland, the duke of Eddington, Mr. Poole-Biddly, and the earl of Ware.”

  Prudence pressed a hand to her temple as the names rang through her mind. Southland and Ware. Southland had been furious at what he thought was Phillip’s deception. And Ware…she closed her eyes.

  Ware had been the one who’d insisted she’d been a conspirator with Phillip. That she’d used her “wiles” to attract new investors in a scheme destined for failure. His last conversation with her had been horrid and he’d barely stopped short of calling her a common prostitute. It had been one of the most humiliating and horrid moments of her life.

  “Prudence?”

  The earl’s deep voice broke in on her thoughts. She took a steadying breath. “I am sorry. I was just thinking. I know some of those men. They are leaders of fashion, quite haughty in their ways.”

  “Then we will be just as haughty in return.”

  If only it was that easy. Memory of her humiliation rose and she hastily stood. “We should plan how we are to spend our time. We’ve none to waste.” She walked past him and to his desk. There, she sat down, pulled forward a piece of foolscap, and uncapped his inkwell.

  He turned slightly so that he was facing her once again. “I feel I am not going to like this.”

  She selected a pen, examined the nib and, satisfied it was sharpened enough to write without blotting, she dipped it in ink. “I am setting a schedule. It will keep us on task.”

  No list, no matter how well thought out or executed, would reduce the attraction she felt for the man across from her. Yet she harbored the vague hope that a paper and ink reminder of her purpose for being in the earl’s lair might give her the strength to hang onto the last vestiges of her pride. That was the one thing she could count on—her pride. And she intended to cling to it with both hands no matter what passionate storms or furious waves he might send her way.

  “Tell me the truth, my lovely Prudence—”

  She coughed gently.

  “I cannot say ‘lovely?’”

  “No. Nor can you call me by my Christian name.”

  “Not even here, in the privacy of my own library?”

  “You would be wise to practice good habits at all times.”

  “Prudence—” he ignored her cough “—do you truly believe you can turn a sea captain into a gentleman in only four short weeks?”

  “Why not?” she asked, smiling a little. “I am only glad my task is not the reverse.”

  He seemed amused at that. “You could perhaps teach a man to sail in such a short time. Not well, of course. But it could be done.”

  “But not to lead. Not to command. Not to understand the seas. That is something that would take much more practice.”

  He chuckled a little. He gained his feet and found his cane, then made his way to the desk.

  She tried not to watch. And failed miserably. He was dressed in smooth well-fitted breeches, his white shirt tight across his chest and shoulders. His clothes hugged him with a closeness that left little to the imagination and certainly sent hers spinning wildly out of control.

  He came to her side and leaned a hip against the desk, resting the cane head against his thigh. He was now positioned to read over her shoulder, his hip just brushing her arm.

  If she leaned to her right…her gaze slid in that direction and found his muscular thigh, right at eye level. The thought of her fingers on his leg sent a flash of heat through her so strong that it sucked the breath from her.

  Her stomach tightened, her skin heated. With fingers that trembled ever so slightly, she smoothed the paper and collected her thoughts. “First, we must ascertain what you already know. And what you do not.”

  “Know? About being a gentleman?”

  “About general comportment. Gentlemen have perfected the art of politeness, but all people use some rules of comportment in some form or another. I daresay you know more than you realize.”

  His lip curled slightly, not a smile, but almost. “Oh I know all sorts of things about comportment, my love.”

  My love. She coughed against her fingers, sending him a warning glance that only earned her a smug, masculine smile. She quickly returned her gaze to the paper, curling her fingers tighter about the pen. “What areas of comportment are you already versed in?”

  He leaned forward and she suddenly realized that not only was he within reach of her fingers, but she was within reach of his.

  The earl placed his hands flat on the desk, looming above her. “My dearest Prudence—”

  She coughed again, sending him a determined stare.

  He grinned. “My dear—”

  She coughed a little louder.

  “Pru—”

  She coughed so loudly she thought she might lose a lung.

  The earl laughed and threw up a hand. “Pray do not hurt yourself on my account!”

  Prudence wrote Proper address. “Do you know how to greet an earl?”

  “If it was my father, I would just call him—”

  “Don’t!”

  He shrugged. “I shall not burn your tender ears.”

  She wrote Titles of nobility. “What about dinner conversation?”

  “Here? Now?”

  “What topics would you consider of merit if you were having dinner with the trustees?” At the earl’s raised brows, she said, “What do you and your men discuss when you eat together?”

  “Ah! Many things. The tides and fish we’ve seen. Last week, Little Petey told us about his first wife and how she dropped children like a dog whelps a pup—”

  Dinner conversation.

  He scowled at the phrase, his humor evaporating. “I know how to make dinner conversation.”

  “Not if you’re talking about whelping, you don’t.” She nibbled on the end of the pen for a moment. “We don’t have any reason to worry about dancing. But what about escorting a lady into a room? Or a carriage. How do you do that?”

  The earl looked down at her a moment. He set his cane against the desk. Leaning down, he scooped her out of her chair and into his arms.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, swinging her feet. She still held the pen, though she’d left the paper on the desk. His skin felt warm through the thinness of his shirt. “Put me down!”

&nbs
p; “I’m holding you. Very gently. Isn’t that gentlemanly?”

  “No! Now release me!”

  He put her back in her seat, smiling at her as he did so.

  “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” Companionable skills. She hoped he didn’t notice how her hand trembled over the letters.

  He placed the back of his hand against her cheek. His skin warmed her own. A slow, sensual shiver traveled down her spine at the simple contact. Prudence closed her eyes, pressing against his large warm palm. The air about them grew thick.

  “Prudence.”

  His voice rose smoky and pure. Prudence stared up at Tristan, at his mouth. He had gorgeous lips, firm and masculine. A heated flush crept through her, prickling across her skin in the most sensual fashion.

  Tristan saw every emotion, every thought as it flickered over Prudence’s expressive face. He could see the desire growing in her wide brown eyes, could read the rising passion that softened her mouth and made her lips part ever so sweetly. God, but she was a beauty, this fiery neighbor of his.

  His body heated yet more and he found himself leaning down, toward her mouth, ever closer, their lips drawn to each other as a compass needle to the north.

  Tristan knew he should stop this madness. Prudence was not the sort of woman to partake in an empty dalliance. He knew it, knew the danger of pursuing this storm-strewn course. Yet all of the raw emotion he’d carried inside of him since being wounded, pressed him forward. Prudence was an uncharted course, an unpredictable adventure on her own. And his adventure-starved soul longed to touch her, to quench his thirst for excitement on the uncharted shores of her lushness. But more than that, there was something wanton about the woman before him, something untamed and untrammeled, that spoke directly to his own restless soul.

  A faint sigh slipped from her lips, her eyes half closing as she lifted her face to his. He sank a hand into her hair and he covered her lips with his—

  “There you are, my lord.” Reeves’s smooth voice ripped the silence like a storm wind in a too tightly drawn sail.

  Prudence whirled away. Tristan straightened, ready to order the butler out of the room, but one look at Prudence’s pink face made him pause. Perhaps it was a good thing Reeves had entered the room when he did. To give her time to recover her composure, Tristan moved so that he blocked her from the butler’s view. “Reeves. Did you need something?”