April Moon

by Merline Lovelace

  Impressment was a way of life in England, had been for more than four hundred years. Press gangs were organized into districts and placed under the supervision of a naval captain. They roamed the slums and waterfront districts and snatched men right off the streets. Only those essential to the British maritime industry—sailmakers, shipwrights, riggers and such—were protected from being pressed, and they’d best not be caught out without their exemption papers or they, too, would find themselves at sea.

  In the past decade the press gangs had been forced to double their efforts. The long years of war with Napoleon had cost many casualties and left naval vessels seriously undermanned. The only way to replace the dead or injured was to take them wherever they could be found. And to reclaim deserters who attempted to escape.

  Unfortunately, desertion ran rampant in the Royal Navy. The same harsh conditions that made men fight to avoid sea duty also made them jump ship once pressed. American vessels, particularly, seemed to attract British sailors. Perhaps because the crews spoke the same language. Or because the American government dangled the inducement of higher wages to attract experienced sailors to its fledgling navy.

  Whatever the reason, British ships regularly stopped American vessels at sea to reclaim deserters. Lately, officers from British ships docked at American ports had taken to going into houses and taverns and yanking suspected deserters right from their tables. Naturally, the Americans protested. The issue had become a matter of increasingly heated political debate between the two nations in recent years. Sarah cared little for politics, but was quick to defend her country’s actions.

  “If you Americans didn’t lure away British sailors with the promise of higher wages,” she said icily, “they wouldn’t have to be reclaimed at gun-point.”

  “If you British didn’t feed your seamen raw hemp instead of ship’s biscuit,” Blake shot back, “perhaps they wouldn’t jump ship at every opportunity.”

  She had no answer for that. This voyage had demonstrated beyond any doubt how frequently naval officers resorted to the lash to enforce discipline. Or rather, how frequently one particular naval officer resorted to it.

  “And just to keep the log straight…”

  Leaning forward, the American planted a hand on the bulkhead beside her head. Sarah’s breath caught at his nearness. She could count the white squint lines at the corners of his eyes. See the bulge of muscle under the blue broadcloth of his coat.

  “The men Sir James took off my ship were American citizens. They had the papers to prove it.”

  “Ha!” She refused to let his powerful presence intimidate her. “Such papers are simple enough to obtain. For a few pennies, a scribe will pen anything.”

  “Theses papers carried the seal of the Commonwealth of Virginia.”

  “Then your seamen should have lodged a complaint with the British Admiralty.”

  He gave snort of derision. “Do you know how many Americans have been pressed into service by you Britons in the past ten years?”

  “No, and I—”

  “More than eight thousand. Experienced, hardworking seamen all. Of those, not one has been returned to their families after lodging a complaint with the Admiralty.”

  “We’ve been at war those ten years and more. You must understand that.”

  “It was your war, not ours.”

  “So it was.” Scorn dripped from every syllable. “You Americans tried so hard to remain neutral, did you not? Allowing ships of all nations to enter your ports. Supplying arms and cotton and foodstuffs to both Britain and France. It’s a wonder Sir James merely stopped your ship on the high sea. I’m surprised he didn’t sink it!”

  “He tried.”

  The reply was blade-sharp. The look in the man’s eyes just as deadly.

  “Lowell hailed us on the open sea,” Blake continued, his jaw taut. “When I refused to set sails and allow his men to come aboard to check my crew for deserters, the bastard ran up the gun-ports and fired in clear violation of the sovereignty of an American ship at sea.”

  “He would not do such a thing!”

  Even as she uttered the protest, Sarah suspected the man spoke the truth. If James had suffered losses to his crew, he’d take whatever measures necessary to replace them.

  “Lowell impressed twelve of my men. He also left the Seahawk crippled and adrift against all the rules of the sea.”

  His eyes blazed down at her. Sarah flattened her palms against the bulkhead, but held her head high. She would not cower before this man. She would not!

  “It’s taken me all this time to repair my ship and track the Linx.” Satisfaction added a savage edge to his voice. “Now I have her. And her captain.”

  “What…?” Gulping, she swallowed the lump that insisted on forming in her throat. “What do you intend to do with them?”

  “I was of a mind to hang Lowell from his own yardarm. But now…”

  He stared down at her with an intensity that made Sarah’s heart thump painfully against her ribs.

  “Now,” he murmured, dipping his head until their breath mingled, “I may have stumbled on a better way to exact vengeance.”

  She curled her fingers into claws and was fully prepared to rake them across his face when his mouth closed over hers.

  Sarah had been kissed by a good number of men, both before and after her brief marriage. She’d had a reputation to live up to, after all.

  A detached corner of her mind made note of the fact that the American was skilled. Very skilled! His hand was still planted against the bulkhead. His body still leaned over hers, not touching but close enough for Sarah to feel his heat. His mouth…

  His mouth covered hers, promising dark, delicious delights she’d never experienced before. Sarah had never felt her blood race at the press of a man’s lips, never felt her senses stir so swiftly.

  Nor had the muscles low in her belly ever clenched with such sudden, shocking desire. For all her wild ways, Sarah had bedded only with Ceddie. Dear, fumbling Ceddie, who’d been so enamored of his beautiful young bride he’d spilled himself before he’d untied the laces of his drawers more often than not.

  Sarah sensed this man wouldn’t fumble. She longed to unclench her jaw and taste him fully, to abandon the restraints most of her acquaintances thought she’d left behind years ago.

  Disgusted by the traitorous urge, she brought up her arms to shove him away. She’d just wedged her palms against his hard chest when Maude gathered her courage.

  “Ye’ll not maul my lady, ye scurvy sea dog!”

  Snatching an unlit lantern from its overhead hook, she rushed across the cabin.

  The American whirled and threw up an arm just in time to deflect her attack. The quick thrust loosened Maude’s grip on the heavy brass lantern. Spraying oil in a wide arc, it flew threw the air and crashed against the bulkhead.

  Her attack foiled, Maude’s brief spurt of bravado died. She pressed both hands to her cheeks. Her eyes wide, she threw her mistress a look of sheer terror.

  “Lordamercy!” she wailed. “We’ll both walk the plank for sure.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Quickly, Sarah placed herself between her maid and the American. “Not even Americans resort to such barbaric measures any longer.”

  Not nearly as confident as Sarah about the matter, Maude sought assurance from the lieutenant himself. “Be that true?” she asked fearfully.

  Laughter rumbled deep in his broad chest. “You may rest easy, Mistress Maude. We rarely feed tender morsels like you to the sharks these days.”

  The laughter astounded Sarah as much as it did Maude. If anyone had dared to attack Sir James, he would have responded instantly with the whip or a primed pistol. This man, this American, seemed to consider such matters trivial. She stared at him, thrown completely off balance by the glint of white teeth in his tanned face and the blue lights dancing in his eyes.

  “Besides,” he added, turning to Sarah, “I have more important matters to attend to at the moment.”
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br />   The laughter faded from his eyes. She felt the weight of his gaze on every inch of her, considering, calculating. Her heart began to pound again. Great, unsteady thumps that knocked painfully against her ribs.

  “Ah, yes,” she replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. “This vengeance you spoke of.”

  After the way he’d just kissed her, she had little doubt of his intentions. She squared her shoulders. Lifted her chin. And waited for him to order Maude from the cabin so he might take his revenge on James.

  CHAPTER TWO

  RICHARD WAS TEMPTED.

  Christ’s bones, he was tempted!

  The flame-haired beauty stood with shoulders back, chin tipped, a martyr fully expecting to be sent into the arena for the lions to feast on.

  And what a feast it would be. He’d had one taste of her, just one, and already he lusted for another. Her fiery hair, high cheekbones and green cat’s eyes alone could set a man’s blood racing. Add those creamy breasts and the curve of her hips under that thin emerald silk to the mix and it became explosive.

  Yet he found himself admiring her proud spirit almost as much as her luscious curves. And wondering why the devil this glorious creature had agreed to marry a rancid bit of shark bait like Captain Sir James Lowell. Richard’s brief encounter with the man had been sufficient to take a fix on his nature. Surely this woman had done the same. She must know Lowell would do his damndest to crush her spirit the first time she dared oppose his wishes.

  Ah, well, it was no business of his.

  With a shake of his head, he reminded himself why he’d chased after the Linx. Why he’d planned this boarding in precise detail, right down to the doxie he’d hired when the Linx stopped in Bermuda to take on fresh water. The woman had gone aboard with the rest of the whores who serviced sailors, carrying a message to his impressed crewmen. They were to break into the ship’s store of medicines and drug the watch tonight, when the moon was at its fullest.

  Since the Seahawk was a brig and mounted only sixteen guns against the frigate’s thirty-two, such stealth had been necessary. And successful! Richard had bagged his prey and fully intended to make him squirm. Impatient now to attend to the Linx and Sir James, he wrapped a fist around the woman’s smooth, bare arm.

  “Come with me. You, as well,” he said to the maid.

  He’d intended to steer the lady toward the door. She declined to be steered. With a twitch of her elegant shoulders, she freed her arm and preceded him.

  “Where, may I ask, do we go?”

  “The captain’s mess.”

  She gave a regal nod and ducked under the low lintel. Her maid scrambled after her. Richard followed them through the door, his appreciative gaze on the maid’s plump backside and the lady’s willowy form.

  The narrow passageway running the length of the gun deck was dimly lit with smoking lanterns and swarming with men. A good number of the Britons still lay below, snoring. Heavily armed Americans herded to the upper deck those of the crew who’d begun to shake off the sleeping draught’s effects. The tall, rawboned third lieutenant from the Seahawk was in charge of the prisoner detail. Catching sight of his superior, McDougal stemmed the tide of groggy sailors and marines.

  “Hold where you are, men, and let the lieutenant pass.”

  The sailors’ glances darted past Richard and fixed on the American women with him. More than one jaw went slack as Lady Stanton and her maid navigated the dim passageway and paused at the door to the captain’s quarters. Even the grizzled petty officer Richard had posted to guard the prisoner within goggled at the vision that appeared before him.

  “Look sharp, Mr. North.”

  The drawled command brought the non-com jumping to attention. “Aye, sir!”

  “Unlock the door.”

  The sailor fumbled the key into the lock and Richard ushered the women into the officers’ mess. It was outfitted with the lavish attention to detail found aboard all British ships of the line. Bolts secured a table of polished mahogany to the white-painted floor. China plate embossed with HMS Linx in gold lettering was racked in felt-lined cabinets. Another rack contained a collection of brandy and wine bottles, held in place by a padded wooden yoke with holes cut for the necks. Brass lanterns swung from hooks and added their glow to the moonlight streaming through the skylight cut in the poop deck above.

  The mess had been thoroughly searched for weapons before Richard had ordered the master of the ship confined to it. Lowell now stood square-shouldered against the far bulkhead, his face set in tight lines of fury. At their entrance, his gaze skewered Richard before whipping to his fiancée.

  “Sarah! Are you all right?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  The cool reply raised the lady another notch in Richard’s estimation. He’d expected her to voice outrage at the kiss he’d stolen, had anticipated Lowell’s reaction when she did. She must have guessed as much. The haughty arch of her brow told Richard she refused to become a pawn in his game.

  The maid was not as restrained as the mistress. Scurrying across the mess, she poured out her indignation. “This bluidy pirate tried to ’ave ’is way with m’lady. I misdoubt he would have ravished ’er on the spot if I hadn’t laid into him with a lantern.”

  Sir James balled his fists. A muscle jumped at the side of his jaw. His eyes hot with fury, he raked Richard with a scathing glance. “I would have supposed such conduct to be below that of an officer, even one wearing the uniform of such a sorry excuse for a navy.”

  “If we’re to speak of conduct,” Richard drawled, “perhaps we should discuss that of an officer who would leave a crippled ship adrift on the high seas.”

  The British captain stiffened. “My assessment was that you could bring your ship safely into port. Obviously, I was correct.”

  “Obviously,” Richard echoed sardonically.

  He was damned if he’d give this bastard the satisfaction of knowing the torment the Seahawk’s crew had endured during the days and nights they’d drifted. Short of water, low on supplies, they’d struggled to make repairs under a hot, unrelenting sun. More than one man had gone crazy with thirst and had to be forcibly restrained from guzzling down seawater before the Seahawk limped into port.

  “We must hope the Linx is not too crippled to do the same,” he said to Lowell. “Unlike you, however, I’ll make sure of her condition before I abandon her. If you’ll give me your parole, you may accompany me above decks to inspect her yourself.”

  Lowell’s lip curled. “A captain of the Royal Navy does not parole himself aboard his own ship.”

  Richard had expected no less. He wouldn’t voluntarily surrender himself or his vessel, either. Shrugging, he turned to the woman at his side. Sheer devilment had led him to toy with her before. She’d been so haughty, and he still fired with the thrill of having captured his prey.

  His touch was more deliberate this time, intended solely to stoke the fury of the man watching from across the mess. She recognized his game. Scorn filled her eyes as Richard tipped her face to his.

  Despite his every intent, he found he couldn’t use her this way. His fight was with Lowell, not the lady. He contented himself with stroking his thumb along the line of her jaw.

  “As much as I’d like to steal another kiss, I will forebear.”

  “You cannot imagine how that relieves my mind.”

  Chuckling at the icy reply, Richard made her a small bow and withdrew.

  When the door thudded shut behind him, Sarah should have experienced nothing but relief. Instead, she felt the oddest sensation, as if a powerful force had swept out and left the cabin bereft of some vital energy. She had to summon all her resources to face the taut, angry man who stalked across the mess.

  “Blake kissed you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I did not think even the Notorious Lady S. would allow such liberties.”

  Sarah supposed she deserved that. She’d played her role to such perfection over the years.

  “I did not ‘a
llow’ him anything,” she replied coldly. “May I remind you the man is in a position of some power…as you, it appears, are not.”

  Spots of fury darkened James’s cheeks. She knew she shouldn’t taunt him with the fact he’d lost his sword and his ship to the American. The look in his eyes promised retribution for that later.

  “Did you enjoy the kiss?” James asked with a sneer. “It’s apparent he did.”

  “Really, this is hardly the time to dwell on something so trivial.”

  “The matter is hardly trivial, my dear. I saw how Blake looked at you. You stirred his lust, intentionally or otherwise. Now you must employ the same wiles you used to seduce me into marriage and—”

  “I? Seduced you? As best I recall, you were the one who insisted on marriage. You knew you could not have me otherwise.”

  His mouth curved in a cruel smile. “Any man could have had you.”

  Sarah’s breath left on a hiss. Without thinking, she reacted to the vicious insult. Her hand flew up, palm open and aimed for his cheek. James whipped out an arm and caught her wrist in a brutal grip.

  “Do you think me a fool? I’d heard tales of the Notorious Lady S. long before we met. Half the officers in the fleet claimed to have enjoyed your favors. I’d fully intended to add my name to the list, but decided there was more satisfaction to be had in a wedding than in a bedding. I rather liked the idea of being known as the one who brought you to heel.”

  “And to do that,” she said in biting scorn, “you required legal control over me.”

  “Exactly.”

  His grip tightened. She knew she would wear a bracelet of bruises later, but refused to flinch.

  “You were so very extravagant, m’dear. Practically wallowing in debt. As were your fool of a father and that irresponsible pup you call brother. I still hold so many of their notes I could send them both to debtors’ prison were I to call them in.”