Commander of His Heart (Promise of Forever After Book 4)

by Arlem Hawks

  “Only to talk with a friend.”

  Her breathing skipped, and she had to wait a moment to respond lest she giggle like a girl at school. “When you forbade my flirting with the men, did you exclude yourself?”

  He cocked his head. “Were you flirting?”

  What a ridiculous thing to say aloud! She could practically feel Mrs. Vernal’s disapproving scowl boring into her.

  “If so, then yes. I would make that exception.” He gave his sun-filled grin, and though she still hadn’t uncovered the specifics of his past that drove her to distraction, she could not help returning the smile. She hadn’t expected to find a friend on this assignment, especially not one so pleasing to look at and easy to talk to as Captain Boyd.

  Life was so full of the unexpected.

  The commander’s eyes lingered on Marah’s as he bid them all good evening before making his way to the forecastle. The steady beat of his shoes on the deck kept rhythm for the melody of waves washing gently across the Teaspoon’s hull. Their conversation aloft that morning still played through her mind, adding a line of harmony to the night’s symphony and drowning out her brothers’ chatting with Adam.

  Captain Boyd halted at the port rail, his strong form outlined by a marquee of glistening stars. Surely her brothers wouldn’t mind if she left them for a few moments. Under the veil of darkness, perhaps the commander would be more willing to speak.

  Orphaned at seven years old. Marah pushed herself to her feet. Even hours after he’d confided that, she still wanted to take him in her arms like she did with her younger brothers. Only he was much larger than they were. With a nicely built frame and powerful arms she had not gawked at while they were aloft earlier. The thought of wrapping him in her embrace, his head nestled against hers, enlivened her pulse.

  “Marah, what are you doing?” Eliab stood slowly, a dark look in his eyes. He must have been exhausted. The leaks in the hull had been particularly bad this voyage, keeping him occupied at all hours. If they ever hit more than a gentle rain, the messdeck would be a bog of damp hammocks and miserable sailors.

  “I was retiring.” In the wrong direction to the hatch.

  Eliab lowered his voice. “You’ve never been a silly girl.”

  Marah scowled. “What do you mean by that?” Something in his disapproving tone told her he knew exactly what she’d been about.

  “Your head is in the clouds, and every last man on this brig can see it.”

  Marah bridled at his suggestion. Head in the clouds? As though she hadn’t fulfilled her duty every day to this brig and its crew. Beside him, Cyrus locked eyes on the deck, but he wore an expression similar to Eliab’s. Adam shifted uncomfortably, and Josias’s jaw was clenched. Were they all upset with her?

  “Come off it, Eli,” Josias said.

  Eliab whirled on him. “Come off it? It hasn’t been nine months, and she’s setting her sights elsewhere.”

  Marah fell back a step. He might as well have struck her. Rather than stinging skin from a slap, the sting pierced her core. She didn’t deserve happiness, not when she hadn’t been able to give it to Stephen.

  Josias bounded from his seat. They rarely fought, especially not now that they were well into manhood. Josias was too keen on dispelling arguments before they arose. But tonight she saw none of the peacemaker. “Who influenced her to set her sights on Stephen in the first place? You were the one singing his praises in her ear and filling her head with the pragmatism of a match with Stephen Kinsley.”

  Marah pulled her blanket, the now-tattered one Papa had given her, tight around her shoulders. Josias was painting this to be Eliab’s fault. Though she appreciated Josias’s loyalty, she could hardly blame Eliab for her unhappiness.

  “Are you suggesting I pushed her into it?” he said through his teeth. Cyrus scooted back into the shadows.

  “I am only suggesting you should let her make her own decisions for once in her life.”

  With a growl, Eliab leaped at their half-brother. Marah cried out as they hit the deck, Eliab swinging and Josias trying to shove him off.

  Imbeciles! Marah dropped the blanket and strode to her squabbling brothers. They’d draw the attention of all the crew, which would put the captain in a terrible situation. Fighting such as this among officers would only make it permissible for the seamen. She knew he didn’t want that, not on his first voyage in command.

  Marah seized Eliab by the back of the collar and neckcloth and yanked. He gasped and released Josias, and she let him tumble to the deck. “Stop it. Both of you.” Josias scrambled away, disheveled but unharmed. “This is ridiculous. The captain should have you flogged.” Though officers were technically exempt from such punishments.

  Eliab lay on his back, breathing hard. “And who would do it? It’s the bosun’s job to dole out punishment.” The challenge in his eyes made her want to spit in his face. She hadn’t been this furious with him since their childhood.

  “Do not test me.” She needed to put this argument to rest. Josias was loyal to the end, but he could not keep reopening the old wounds. “Yes, it was your encouragement that influenced me to consider Stephen’s offer.” Eliab’s nostrils flared as she swung her head toward Josias. “But in the end, I made the decision. I decided that it would be a relief to Mama and the both of you, the entire family, if I accepted him. I did not want to be a burden.”

  But she had turned into one, hadn’t she? A burden on Stephen, when she could not return his growing affection. A burden on Mama, who worried about her daughter’s happiness. A burden on her brothers, who now blamed each other for her distress. A burden on Captain Boyd, who only wanted a successful first command and did not sign on for the surprise of a female bosun.

  “And I must deal with the consequences.” She glanced to the forecastle. Captain Boyd was moving toward them, faint lantern light illuminating his concerned face. How had she so easily forgotten? She couldn’t afford to hope. What sort of wife would she make to Captain Boyd, to anyone, if she hadn’t been able to open her heart to Stephen? She didn’t deserve that love—Stephen’s or the commander’s.

  “Are you well, Mrs. Kinsley?” Captain Boyd asked.

  Marah retrieved her blanket and squeezed it against her chest. “Quite.”

  “What has happened?” His fingers wound gently, almost reverently, around her arm. He cast his eyes toward her brothers, who had snapped to attention.

  “I have only announced I wished to retire,” she said with a shaking voice. Hot tears gathered at her eyelashes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  And then she ran for the hatchway before the tears could fall.

  Chapter 8

  The Teaspoon swayed, and Collin grabbed the ladder to keep from pitching into Mr. Talbert. The carpenter had been more reserved than usual around him the last few days. The whole family had, even the sister.

  Water streamed down the stiles and over the rungs, making it hard to keep his grip. “It’s a fine bit of—”

  Above him, the hatch heaved open, sending down a torrent of seawater followed by the pattering of rain. Collin sputtered, wiping the damp from his face.

  “—weather,” he finished.

  “It is like I said before,” Talbert said. “The leaks have sprung up and everyone in the area is soaked by the continuous drip.”

  This blasted boat. Half his crew would catch cold. “Take your thirty minutes above. We’ll bring the seamen most affected up to the great cabin for the remainder of the night.” There wasn’t much “great” about the captain’s cabin, being smaller than those on most ships, but it was drier than the rest of the Teaspoon. Giving up his own privacy was worth it to allow the soaked crewmen a little rest, even if the night was mostly over and grey dawn had touched the sky.

  Collin went below to determine who’d been affected the worst and bid them come above. They set about hanging hammocks as best they could, some opting to simply huddle on the floor. When the commotion had calmed, Collin slid through the narrow gaps to get back to h
is hanging cot. He should get a few minutes of sleep before relieving Mr. Talbert.

  He bumped the hammock next to him as he pulled himself into the cot and mumbled a “Terribly sorry.”

  A white cap popped up from the hammock, and his heart bounced with it. “Mrs. Kinsley?”

  “I apologize. My cabin flooded, and my brother insisted on setting up a hammock for me above.”

  Collin propped himself up on his elbow. “Talbert?” He’d seemed almost angry at Collin the last three days. Something must have happened after he left the circle that night. Every night since, a tension had marred those usually friendly gatherings.

  “No, Josias.”

  Ah, yes. That made more sense. But even Emmerson had seemed to be forcing his lightheartedness.

  “Are you comfortable?” He really should offer to trade her hammocks. She was used to roomier sleeping arrangements than a standard seaman’s hammock, what with her now-soaked hanging cot below.

  She gave a mirthless laugh. “As much as anyone on this brig.”

  “You could sleep in my cot. It’s far more comfortable than the hammock.” He leaned over, trying to see her face. “And more what you are used to.”

  “I hardly think that appropriate, Captain,” she finally said.

  Collin went rigid. “No, no! That isn’t… I meant without me in it. You could sleep in my cot by yourself. Alone. And I…” Would go directly above and jump off the bowsprit.

  The sounds of men all around them attempting to get comfortable filled the silence as Collin fought to think of something to say. Here she was lying beside him… But he shouldn’t think that way, especially after such a blunder. Despite the damp chill, heat rose across his skin. He could talk about something safe, like the weather. No, what a stupid thing to bring up in the middle of storm. Society’s conversational crutches didn’t work well on board.

  “That’s very kind of you,” she said softly. “But as I have said before, I am not a fine lady. A hammock suits me fine.”

  “Are you suggesting I am a fine lady?” This was hardly the time to tease. What an oaf. He clearly should have tried harder to practice his skills at conversation when on land.

  Mrs. Kinsley snorted and rolled to her side to peek at him over the edge of her hammock. Faint grey light coming through the stern windows twinkled in her eyes. “Only that you need not cater to the comfort of your bosun.”

  “Are you well?” he whispered. She’d been so quiet since their time checking the gaskets. Speaking with her now felt like breathing in a gust of fresh, morning air after a gale.

  “Are you?”

  At the moment, with her so near, he was quite well. “You haven’t seemed yourself.”

  Her mouth twisted. “I suppose I haven’t been.”

  Her hammock tapped against his as the Teaspoon leaned to starboard. The winds seemed to be slackening, but they still had time until the rains and waves died down completely. For once he wouldn’t mind a slow-passing storm.

  “Is it too bold of me to ask the cause?”

  She regarded him, fingers playing with the edge of her hammock. “It’s my brother.” She gave a laugh that sounded forced. “He thinks something is developing between you and me, and he doesn’t like it. Mr. Kinsley was his friend, after all.”

  A little thrill raced up Collin’s spine. Was there something developing between them? “He thinks that?”

  “Ridiculous, isn’t it?” Her voice wobbled uncertainly.

  Collin shifted closer to the side of his cot. “Preposterous.” The ghost of a smile slipped across her lips. He wondered if he could lean over and kiss them without the crew seeing. “A captain couldn’t marry his bosun.” But at that moment he found the idea more enticing than he should have.

  “That would lead to many awkward questions,” she agreed. “Especially with the navy believing Mr. Kinsley is still your bosun.”

  He chuckled. There would be many things needing explanation, but it helped that he didn’t have a family he’d need to explain them to. The thought sobered him. “Do you miss him?”

  A long sigh mixed with the sound of rushing water outside. She was quiet for a long time, her fingers moving agitatedly across the canvas of her hammock. “If I am being truthful, yes. I do. I did not enter into the marriage with any feelings of love, but he became a dear friend. Almost a brother, though that sounds so odd.”

  He hadn’t heard many marriages like that, to be sure. “Many women enter into much worse situations.”

  “Yes, I was very lucky in my choice. But he did start to love me at the end, and I couldn’t return it the way he wished.”

  He tucked his free hand under him to keep from reaching out to her. The guilt in her voice tore at his soul. “Perhaps you would have come to in time.”

  “We’ll never know.” She rolled to her back, and Collin’s spirits sank. He shouldn’t have asked. Now she was done with conversation. Just as well, as he needed to go above to relieve Talbert soon.

  “I made a promise to my friends to only marry for love.”

  Collin fought a grin. She wasn’t finished. “Did you?”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to tell them I broke the promise.”

  Why was his heart pounding? “It would appear you still have a chance to make good on your word.” Dare he hope he could contribute to fulfilling that promise? With no home or wealth, he’d given little thought over his life to such an idea as marriage.

  She sat up and adjusted her bedding, then lay back down facing him again. “Do you miss your parents?”

  Collin’s throat tightened. Even aboard the Andersen, with its happy assembly of lieutenants and midshipmen, he hadn’t spoken to anyone of his family. “I hardly knew them.”

  She reached out to grip the side of his cot. And she waited.

  “My father was a lieutenant on the Agamemnon under Lord Nelson. He died in the Battle of the Hyères Islands when I was seven years old.” Why did it hurt to say those words? He pulled his hand out from its prison, surrendering. He traced the tips of her fingers with his. The touch drowned out some of the pain with sparks of excitement pulsing through his limbs. “Nelson paid for my schooling and found me a place on the Caledonian when I was old enough.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She died soon after I was born.” His eyes burned. From lack of sleep, of course. “I don’t even know her name.”

  Mrs. Kinsley caught his fingers between hers and the canvas, and he stilled. “How do you not know?”

  His chest rose and fell, but he could not catch his breath. He’d never told anyone so much. He’d never had someone who wanted to know his story so much. “I was passed around to various relations of my father while he was at sea. They wouldn’t answer my questions and scolded me for asking. My father, the few times I saw him, only told me that she had died. I was left to conjecture, though it wasn’t difficult to conclude my origins. Especially once I entered the orphan asylum.” Did it matter if she was a lowly woman of the streets or a gentleman’s daughter? He was illegitimate either way.

  “Your father’s family didn’t take you in?”

  “They didn’t want me when he was alive. They couldn’t be bothered when he was gone.” Collin didn’t know when their hands had intertwined or who had instigated the connection. Letting the words spill out had left him empty and exhausted. But when she squeezed his hand, something seeped inside, filling the emptiness. He recognized the sensation, though he hadn’t felt its caress so intensely before.

  Hope. That’s what it was.

  He tightened his hand around hers.

  “Look how far you’ve come, despite it all,” she said. Her whisper tickled his ears in a delightful way. “A captain in His Majesty’s navy.”

  “I’m practically still a lieutenant.” Being in command of a vessel, the crew had to call him captain. But he wasn’t a real one in rank. Once he left the Teaspoon, he’d vacate the title until he convinced his superiors to recommend him for post-captain.
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br />   “But you’ll rise in the ranks soon enough. Someone with such optimism as you have cannot be held back.”

  She believed in him. He’d had to fight for the respect of everyone around him for so long. The small smile on her lips nearly broke his resolve not to kiss her, there in the middle of a dozen crewmen.

  “Mrs. Kinsley…”

  “I think…” She hesitated, eyes dropped to their hands. “I think I should prefer you to call me Marah, rather than Mrs. Kinsley. At least in private conversation.”

  “Marah.” He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “And I suppose you must call me Collin. In private conversation. I—”

  Cold water splattered his forehead, and he flinched. Another drip, and another. Collin groaned, releasing her hand to swipe his face before the water poured into his eyes. The drips did not relent, forcing him to scoot farther back into his cot and away from Marah. A fine vessel, the Teaspoon. “Where did the navy find this brig?” he groaned.

  “She was the American privateer Sea Eagle, taken in the war with the colonies,” Marah said. Marah. He liked that name. “They renamed her the Teaspoon.”

  “Perhaps more fitting.” She definitely wasn’t a very fearsome boat. “If she belonged to the colonies, no wonder she’s so defiant of anyone who tries to sail her.”

  Marah cocked her head. “She isn’t defiant, so long as her commander understands her.”

  Were they talking about the Teaspoon or Marah? He couldn’t tell by the steady look in her eyes. “Is he really the commander, then, or is she?”

  She didn’t answer but nestled back into her hammock. The Teaspoon creaked around them, rain still plinking against the windows. Quiet voices hummed about the cabin as the light increased. They’d all need to rise soon. The insufferable drip continued its plopping onto his bedding. Collin’s eyes drooped. What an exhausting, wonderful night.