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

by Arlem Hawks

  “Captain.” A soggy Mr. Talbert appeared at the foot of his cot, voice clipped. “Did you wish to take the next watch?”

  No, not in the slightest. Collin closed his eyes, gathering the energy to push himself up.

  “I’ll take the watch.” Marah was already out of bed and straightening her skirts.

  “Oh, no.” He couldn’t dump his duties on her shoulders. She had enough as it was. He motioned to the deck above. “My bedding is wet from the leak. I might as well go.”

  “You can take my hammock, if it’s more comfortable.” The corners of her mouth curled as she hurried away with her irritable brother.

  Collin lay back, the desire for sleep fleeing. Drip, drip, drip came the leak over his head. Each droplet shimmered in the heartening light.

  He’d do what he could to make sure the Teaspoon knew who her commander was, but on the subject of his bosun, it had become undeniably clear that she was commander of his heart.

  Chapter 9

  Marah twisted her head this way and that as she regarded her reflection in the little mirror. The curls around her face had never set this well. Of course, she wasn’t as hurried this morning. The last several nights since the storm she hadn’t been able to sleep. It had resulted in rising early to ready herself for the day. She felt like she was in school again, making her appearance just so to avoid Mrs. Vernal’s censure. Only these days she had a much better reason.

  She set down the mirror and crawled on hands and knees to her trunk to retrieve the little packet from Lavinia. It wasn’t safe to wear the bracelet very often while attending to the Teaspoon’s needs. How horrible if she lost it or crushed the coral beads against something. There were a thousand things on board that could harm it.

  Collin was above on watch, and she intended to find him as soon as she’d finished her primping. There couldn’t be any harm in wearing it just for conversation. The bracelet added a feminine touch to her appearance, and heaven knew she could use help in that quarter. She would come back down and stow it safely away after. Marah draped it around her wrist and slid the gold fastening together. Even without wearing the bracelet often, this little token had brought her tremendous luck. Perhaps even…love?

  Marah picked up the mirror again to examine the curls. The last time she’d worn her hair this way before this voyage had been on her wedding day. A sad smile touched her face. Daphne had been there, the only one of her friends who’d been able to attend. She and her friend had slipped away before the ceremony while Mama attempted to entertain Daphne’s condescending mother.

  Marah, you look so beautiful, Daphne had sighed, adjusting Marah’s curls. She’d nearly let the truth of the situation slide at that moment. She was on her way to betray the promise. To think you, of all of us, would find true love first. Daphne had hugged her then, and she’d fought back the tears. You see? Isn’t love worth fighting for, Marah? She hadn’t responded, a glaring admission to her guilt.

  Finally, after years of believing the opposite, Marah was beginning to think her dear friend was right. That there was something more to love than polished words and heart-stopping chivalry. Had her friends always seen it, behind their giggles and exaggerated swooning?

  Marah brought the bracelet to her lips and kissed it. She still wasn’t certain she could trust her heart, but she wanted to, and that was a start. She blew out the candle in her lantern, made sure her bosun’s call was securely around her neck, and quietly let herself out of her cabin. She tiptoed past Eliab’s cabin and up the ladder.

  Then she scurried through the hatchway into the thick dawn air. Silvery mist wound through the rigging and curled around the mast like a cat looking for someone to scratch her ears. Marah glanced around in the silence until she spotted the strapping form of the commander standing at the bow. The sunrise, diffused by fog, turned the blue of his coat a deep sapphire.

  The rest of the deck was still, most sailors dozing on their watch. Marah made her way through them to stand at Collin’s side.

  “There’s a sight to brighten any morning,” he said, eyes twinkling as they swept over her.

  Marah blushed. “Most seamen dislike fog.”

  “You know that isn’t what I meant.” The feathery greyness pushed in around them, obscuring everything past a dozen yards. Even the watchman at the top of the mainmast was barely more than a blur in the mist. It was almost as though they were alone in this ethereal world. She placed her hands on the rail just beside his.

  They stood without speaking, simply enjoying each other’s company, for several minutes before he spoke. “I had a question to ask you.”

  A question? Marah stiffened. Stephen had said something very similar just before he’d proposed nearly four years ago.

  Collin blanched and quickly glanced at her. “Not… Not that question. But rather if you could ever again see yourself answering that question in the affirmative.”

  Could she marry again?

  Waves lapped against the Teaspoon’s hull. The faintest breeze played with her curls, pulling one across her brow. He gently caught it and smoothed the lock back into place. Though he barely touched her, a little shiver flew across her skin.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I was not fit for the task the last time the question was presented.”

  Collin tilted his head. “I would think you are a very different person now than you were then.”

  This was certainly true. She’d only been seventeen at the time Stephen proposed and hadn’t the smallest idea what marriage should be. “I am not the sort of young lady families wish their sons to marry. I climb rigging and fire guns and wear trousers.”

  “Yes, the throngs of my family members who take such keen interest in my life would be horrified.”

  She laughed softly, then let the laughter trail off into the fog. Her hesitancy wasn’t because of Collin. He was one of the kindest and most courageous men of her acquaintance. But how could she trust herself to be the woman he needed? “I thought you weren’t asking that question.”

  “I haven’t.” He leaned his elbows against the rail. “Yet.”

  Marah wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted so badly to tell him she’d consider it, especially if he were the one to ask. “I’ve always believed love was a luxury I could never hope to afford. That was why I married Stephen. It was as good a situation as I thought I would find in such a cruel world.”

  Collin straightened and turned toward her. “Is love a luxury? Or is it a gift?” Slowly he took her hands, head bowed. His hands trembled around hers, shifting the cool beads of the coral bracelet. When he lifted his head, incertitude glistened in his rich mahogany eyes. “The most precious gift a person can give to another.”

  Her breath hitched. How she wanted to throw open the door. Let the regret and cynicism she’d harbored so many years escape. “I never thought myself worthy of it.”

  He stepped closer, bringing with him a physical warmth that permeated to her core. “Love isn’t something you have to earn, Marah.”

  He tugged gently on her hands to pull her forward, and suddenly the arch of his lip brushed the edge of hers. She closed her eyes as his lips traced along. Her heartbeat roared in her ears with the force of a raging sea. The energy swept through every part of her, exhilarating and intoxicating on its way. What had she done to deserve this dream? Her skin tingled as he pulled back, pausing a breath away as though seeing if she would retreat.

  But Marah wasn’t about to leave, and as he bent again for the real kiss, her lips parted to welcome him. He touched lightly, hesitantly at first.

  “Ship! There’s a ship!”

  Marah’s heart leaped into her throat. Now?

  Collin tore away, the kiss’s spell shattered. “Where is it?”

  “Three points off the port bow!”

  She half expected Eliab to appear with a guilty scowl. What a way to destroy a wondrous moment. Her chest heaved against her stays.

  Collin whipped
a telescope from his pocket and extended it in the direction indicated. “It’s the brig we saw before. She’s making a run for it.” He gaped at her, eyes flicking to her lips.

  “What’s the order, sir?” she asked. Why couldn’t the watchman have been sixty seconds slower?

  The commander drew a breath. “Pipe to quarters.”

  Pipe to quarters. Marah brought the bosun’s call to her lips and dashed away before letting out a shrill whistle that pierced the silent air, calling the crew to battle.

  Chapter 10

  Collin called for all the sails to be unfurled and Marah relayed the instructions to his men. He bit his tongue before he could order her below with Emmerson and Talbert. The crew needed her, even though the thought of keeping her above sent a chill through his body. Cyrus couldn’t guide them with the skill his sister did.

  Please, keep her safe. The heavens didn’t seem to answer many of his prayers, but today of all days he needed it.

  The fog had thinned just enough to see the shadow of the other ship, much closer than it should have been without their notice. All her sails were set as well, trying to catch every wisp of the breeze. She wouldn’t outrun them this time. If only the navy hadn’t removed Teaspoon’s swivel guns, they could fire before getting alongside.

  He gave the call to load, and those not tied up with sails raced for the cannons. Collin brought the telescope to his eye again. Fourteen guns on the French boat. Teaspoon would be outnumbered, but she’d have speed on her side. Already she was gaining.

  Orange light flickered at the stern of the other brig. Fog muffled the crack of cannon fire. The Teaspoon shuddered as a shot tore through her port side, narrowly missing one of the guns and sending its crew in all directions. Shards of wood sprang into the air and rained over the deck.

  They had a chase gun. Collin swore and rammed the telescope into his pocket. “Aim for the masts! Fire at will!”

  The message was relayed, but he didn’t catch Marah’s voice in the echo, only Cyrus’s and Mr. Riley’s. Where was she? He bounded down the starboard side of the deck, scanning the gun crews on the port side.

  A white cap moved through the group that had taken the hit. Praise the skies. He darted into the midst of the crew. Mates helped several men who’d gone down clamber back to their feet. A few were bleeding from wounds to the head and legs, but none looked in serious condition.

  “Get them below. The rest of you, run her out!” Marah seized the rope, ready to pull the gun into position. With several going below, this crew didn’t have the manpower it needed. Collin dashed to her side and grabbed the rope behind her.

  They pulled in line with the other vessel, and cannons began to fire down the length of the Teaspoon, all aimed for the enemy’s mainmast. Chain shot spun, catching rigging and yards. The other boat’s guns answered back with round shot, but most missed above the deck.

  “Run out!” Marah cried. The gun crew’s captain must have been among the wounded. Together with other seamen, Collin and Marah heaved on the ropes to get the gun in place. Once the cannon was set, Marah scurried back to get out of the way.

  Collin wasn’t quick enough. Marah tripped over his shoes and fell backward into him. He threw his arms around her and dragged her a safe distance back. They crouched with the rest of the crew, Marah pressed against him. Her face was streaked with dust and angry scrapes ran up her arms under her rolled-up sleeves. She’d been close to the hit. Collin’s stomach leaped into his throat. A foot to the side and she might have taken the shot directly. That’s how it always was in battle, but the thought of her wounded or worse…

  “Fire!” They covered their ears as a crewman held the linstock to the touch hole. The gun kicked and roared, smoke billowing from its muzzle. Collin raised his head in time to see the shot hit the side of the mainmast. He jumped to his feet. They’d have to readjust the sails, come around—

  Marah let out a strained gasp and lurched forward, hands slamming the deck.

  “Marah.” She’d been hit. Mercy, she’d been hit!

  Collin dropped to his knees and tried to gather her to him. She resisted. “Let me help you, love,” he pleaded. What had it been? A musket shot? A shard of wood?

  She turned to him with wide eyes. “The ensign.”

  He pulled at her dress, trying to find blood. Bile rose in his throat. Why hadn’t he forced her below? Because he loved her, that was why. And he respected her ability. The sturdy linen of her dress, coated in ash and splinters, slid through his fingers. On land, Talbert would have shot him for taking such liberties, but he had to be certain and she wasn’t responding. If she didn’t survive this, he’d never forgive himself.

  She halted him, fingers digging into his arms.

  “The Red Ensign.” She gestured at the other brig.

  She hadn’t been wounded. He let his head drop, uttering a prayer of gratitude. Shouts sprang up along the length of the Teaspoon, and he turned his head to regard the enemy. The mast was tilting dangerously to one side. His crew’s aim had been true.

  Flapping behind the brig, its brightness dampened by the stubborn fog, was a red flag with a Union Jack in the top corner.

  “It can’t be.” He tightened his hold on Marah as ice flooded his veins.

  “That’s a British brig,” Marah choked out.

  Not a French smuggler or scout. Their brothers-in-arms.

  They knelt frozen to the deck as a horrible screeching sound reverberated across the water. Screams of warning deafened his ears, despite their distance. The proud mast keeled, picking up speed until it plunged into the sea, dragging rigging and sails and all Collin’s hopes of success down with it.

  Idiot. Dunce. Acrid white clouds wafted across the decks, fogging his brain. Collin couldn’t breathe. What had he done?

  The force of the mast’s fall turned the brig around, giving them a clear view of the lettering across its stern that had heretofore been blurred by fog. His stomach dropped. It was the Manly.

  Harsh voices carried through the door of the captain’s cabin, and Marah paused just outside. The commander of the Manly had every right to be upset, but to lay all the blame on Collin’s shoulders was preposterous. The Manly hadn’t posted her colors until the last moment, and even if she had, it would have been difficult to see. Not to mention the Manly had fired first. But the young man shouting at Collin seemed to believe himself entirely innocent.

  “We will return to Chatham, and you will be clapped in irons, sir. Mark my words. Your jealousy and feigned ignorance will be your undoing.” Something about the nasally voice grated against her memory.

  Marah peeked through the crack between the door and frame. The other captain, a master and commander just like Collin, could not be much older. The way he carried on, in near hysterics over the loss of his mast, suggested a lack of sense and overabundance of entitlement.

  Collin stood behind his desk, eyes vacant. “I hope they will see reason.”

  “Do you think my father will stand for this for one moment? I can assure you, he will not.”

  One of those whose father, rather than his seamanship, pulled him up through the ranks. Marah wrinkled her nose.

  “No one was seriously wounded,” Collin said, voice jaded. Marah rubbed at her wrist, which had been aching since Adam had pushed her out of the way of Manly’s broadside. “Your brig is still seaworthy.”

  The rankled captain shoved a finger in Collin’s face. “You’re through with the navy, Boyd. My father won’t rest until you are irreparably humiliated in every naval circle.”

  Marah ground her teeth and threw open the door. “You dog.”

  The skinny man pivoted. A familiar smirk rose to his sharp features. “Who is this, Boyd? Your hired wench?”

  “You fired first,” she hissed, fingernails digging into her palms.

  “Anyone could see it was a warning shot.”

  She fought the urge to pull back under his beady stare. “It hit rather true for a warning.” This was the lieutena
nt who’d come to Josias’s rooms the day she’d received word of the Teaspoon’s new assignment. The whining one who’d complained about her brother’s suggestions.

  “Some captains train their crews to fire with precision.” The man sniffed. “I cannot fault my men for having superior training.”

  She stormed toward him, fists clenched. Bite your tongue, Marah. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. “Blaming our captain won’t make up for your incompetency.” Eliab would hit him. Might knock some sense into his tiny brain. “The Admiralty aren’t simpletons enough to be fooled by an—”

  “Greetham, This is my…bosun’s wife.” Collin didn’t look at her. “I will trust in the judgement of our superiors. They will make a fair ruling.”

  “I think you should fear more than you do,” the pompous commander said. “Your illegitimacy gives you no allies.”

  Collin flinched, eyes dropping to the floor. Greetham crossed his arms. “They know an imbecile when they see one.”

  Marah’s hands shook. “Get off my brig, you good-for-nothing bilge rat!” She spat at his too-shiny shoes.

  He glanced at Marah, taking her in from cap to boots. With a wink, he turned on his heel and made for the door. “Like father like son,” he said over his shoulder.

  Marah launched herself at him, the simmering in her gut threatening boil out in a scream of rage. How dare he insinuate, about them and about Collin’s parents. A hand on her arm stopped her from following, and her momentum swung her around sharply.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Collin’s haunted, weary expression dampened her fury.

  “He had no right to say those things. He’s as much at fault as anyone.” She grasped his coat. Beneath it, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

  “No, he isn’t.” Collin ran a hand through his hair, which looked dark in the faint light coming through the lingering fog. “He has every right to be angry. I was preoccupied. Before and during the encounter. I should have been keeping a weather eye—if I had, I would have recognized the brig—but instead I was…”