by Dana Roquet
“Of course not.” Bridgett assured.
“We’ll be leaving on the morning tide, so you will want to retire early I expect.” He added from the corridor.
“Thank you Mister Cunningham.” Bridgett called, closing the door behind him. She turned to face Desiree, “Very friendly don’t you agree?”
Desiree made no comment.
“My goodness but the Captain is a fine looking man—so handsome and young!” Bridgett marveled, noting the straightening of Desiree’s posture.
Desiree’s dark brows shot up with surprise, “That man—is completely repulsive! So arrogant! So vain!—oh—a pompous oaf!” she sputtered, “Talk no more of him! That—that—man!” She flung her hat off her head, tossing it to a bunk.
***
Captain Anderson reclined at his desk with the light of a single candle upon his desktop, throwing a glow across the charts before him. Pouring himself another Applejack, he savored the slightly tart brandy and leaned back in his chair to enjoy the libation.
He chuckled to himself, “That Stephen!” he thought, “Ornery devil.” The retelling of Stephen’s episode with Miss Chandelle was made almost as vivid by recount as the actual event must have been. For a woman to have struck the great Captain Colter seemed almost impossible but to have decked him! Preposterous!
Stephen Colter was accustomed to having women fall into his lap like ripe fruit. He had never been refused to Anderson’s knowledge, for women were Colter’s best subject. He had an almost irresistible charm about him and he had a dozen different women waiting anxiously for a proposal of marriage or at least a permanent arrangement which would never come. He was a man who enjoyed the company of many women and could not seem to limit himself to just one. The young captain should have an interesting voyage with that French beauty aboard; he mused, finishing his drink. Cupping his hand around the candle, he extinguished the flame, retiring for the night.
***
Stephen Colter was deep in thought as he drank from his tankard of ale, then rested it upon his stomach, leaning back in his chair with legs loosely crossed at the ankles before him. A young woman approached, stopping across the table from him, pulling his thoughts back into the room and he became aware of the boisterous laughter of sailors and the tittering of the waterfront women in the Le Havre Inn common room. Stephen lifted his brow inquiringly, fixing her with an even stare.
Her stomach fluttered as the dark brown eyes locked with hers—her heart melting at the prospect of being possessed by such a man as this. His looks, the like of which she had never seen before. She trembled under his scrutiny and could not deny the slight fear of him that gnawed at her courage.
She had first seen him a week ago, when he had been caught in the midst of a brawl in this very room. He had been an outsider in the conflict but soon had become drawn in, as had most of the crowd and she had watched him spring into action, giving out and receiving brutal blows. She had stood near the back of the room, away from the battleground and was in awe of his poise. When a full flask of rum had come swooshing toward his head as he turned from dealing out a flattening blow to one man, he had ducked and the flask had shattered against the mirror behind the counter. Leaving the mirror intact but cracked in shards. He had dove at the guilty party with a whoop, catching the man in the midsection and the two had fallen across a table and onto the floor.
Moments later he had leapt to his feet, grasping the man by the collar. The man’s senses had been dimmed by the assault and this blond giant had relieved him of his purse, and after heaving the weighty pouch to the innkeeper, had run the man out to the street.
He had returned to the door of the common room moments later, with his white silk shirt in tatters, the result of the sailor clutching at him to avoid being expelled. He had stripped away the useless garment and with a wide grin and a battle cry, jumped back into the fray. Her breath had caught, when she had seen the sinewy muscled body, darkly bronzed by the sun, lean and rippling with power.
He seemed to enjoy using his fists and he along with the rest, appeared to have had a rousing good time at it. Then afterward, totally exhausted, he had sat with his fellow combatants as they slapped each other upon the back good-naturedly and applauded each other’s prowess with fists as if they were fast friends.
After a time, his eyes had surveyed the women moving amid them, filling their cups and he had grasp Gretchen as she passed, pulling her onto his lap. With a few soft words spoken in her ear, they rose and took their leave up the stairs and Gretchen had had a look of excited anticipation upon her face as she led the way for the handsome foreigner.
He was virile, more extremely masculine than any man she had ever seen. He seemed to fear no man and from what she had heard of him, could have any woman he desired. He was magnificent. With sun lightened blond hair and finely chiseled features. Even with his display of brute strength, she knew Gretchen had lain beneath him and found pleasure there. This was a rare occurrence in the life of a prostitute.
“Monsieur, might I interest you in a bit of entertainment?” she began hesitantly, in English, “For a mere pittance I will make it well worth your time and investment.” She smiled demurely across at him, trying to hide her trepidation.
Stephen smiled slowly at the girl. Her delivery of a proposition could stand some improvement, he mused. She was obviously a newcomer to the profession and if she expected to compete with the lusty women at the inn, she would have to work on her execution.
Looking into the pale green eyes, to the hope they held, he couldn’t help but be moved; and he did find her mildly interesting. She possessed a full, voluptuous bosom; but the waistline was a bit broad and although she might have served to alleviate his momentary needs, this night he was not in the mood for her grade of entertainment. His mind was on the lovely woman he had met this day. Her face and figure had left him wanting, as he had never known before. Her spirit and fight impressed him no small amount either. Throughout the afternoon, she had crept into his mind until he could think of nothing else. He had busied himself on deck, catching himself looking aft in hopes of getting another glimpse of her. There would be time he had consoled himself. She would be with him for nearly two entire months and the ship was small enough to afford plenty of opportunity.
The woman sat across from him, tensely awaiting his answer. She watched his face as he pondered the transaction. If he agreed, it would mean a meal this night and enough left over for breakfast on the morrow.
Stephen took another brace from his tankard, looking at her across the candle flame, “I am afraid I must decline my dear. This night my mind is too troubled to think of such sport.” he smiled gently.
Her face sank and her shoulders slumped as she rose, looking about the crowded common room for another.
“But here,” Stephen beckoned her back as he dipped into the pouch at the waist of his breeches. He laid several coins in her palm, “Have your sup on me and keep the change.”
She gazed at him in surprise and looked down at the francs’ she held, “Thank you Monsieur. You are most generous.” She blushed with gratitude.
“Just see you don’t let that bit of knowledge get around to the rest.” he warned without a trace of a smile.
“No Monsieur.” She shook her head emphatically and with a curtsy, flounced off, leaving Stephen to his drink.
Downing it in one swig, Stephen rose and made his way from the crowded common room. Walking leisurely along the docks, his mind was once more on the French girl, now residing on his ship.
***
It was a little past midnight, when Desiree heard heavy footfalls in the passageway. They slowed just outside her door and then continued on around the corner. She heard a door close and all was quiet but for the creaking of the ship. Presuming it to have been the captain checking to see all was well, she relaxed and tried to drift back to sleep but the visions of the scene today on deck came back to haunt her.
What a beast of a man that Captain Colter was, and
now she would have to endure his presence for months to come. Had their initial meeting been different, she might well be enjoying the prospect, for he was a most handsome man. She remembered the measured strength of his hands about her—the muscles of his chest and how they had flexed beneath his open shirt. He had a way about him and she had felt his effect.
“Lord Desiree!” she chided herself within her mind, “You are a virgin for goodness sake. How can you even entertain such thoughts?”
It was some time later that she finally drifted back into a sound, if not peaceful sleep.
Chapter Eight
It seemed but a moment later that Desiree awoke to a light tapping at her door. She looked about the bed and floor for her dressing gown and paused until Bridgett had donned hers also before unlocking the door and opening it slightly. She peeked out and was greeted by Cunningham’s broad smile.
“Morning Miss. I’ve brought your morning fare. We’ll be shoving off soon. Sorry for the early hour.”
Desiree opened the door, admitting him and glanced around to the small window, where the first gray hues of dawn were appearing, “What time is it?” she inquired.
“Half past five. We will be launching in an hour or so. We must make the most of the morning breeze.” he explained with a smile, placing the tray upon the table, “I’ll leave you to your meal.” He gave a slight bow and closed the door as he left.
Desiree and Bridgett dressed quickly and sat down to their meal. Sipping the hot, strong coffee, Desiree was thankful for the touch of sugar, which had been thoughtfully added. She could not abide the brew and the thought of abstaining from tea for two months was unpleasant indeed. She would have to see about the possibility of having tea in the future, she decided.
Within a short time, they were hurrying out of the cabin and climbing the steps to the deck, to watch the launching. They were immediately surrounded by a flurry of activity. Men were dashing about, stowing the last of the cargo, while others were making last minute inspections of riggings and sails. The air still held a chill and Desiree pulled the hood of her cloak over her head for added warmth, then finding a spot near the rail where they seemed to be out of the way and had a good vantage, they took in the activity with much interest.
Desiree heard the captain’s voice and turning in that direction, she saw him standing at the helm, giving orders to his men. A chart was spread across the spokes of the tall wheel and he appeared to be discussing the day’s goals with his first mate. He stood to the side of the wheel and Desiree could see his entire frame and she found herself studying him, as he bent to his work.
He could not be much more than in his early thirties, if that, she decided. He was clean shaven, which was odd for a man of the sea. A growth of beard might have lent to disguising his years, as he was younger, obviously, than his first mate and many of his crew. But he did have a power and strength about him, which demanded respect, and he appeared to have that from his men.
His handsome face darkly bronzed by the sun was striking, framed with his collar length hair. Soft curls gleamed white blond in the early morning brilliance, contrasting attractively with dark brows that arched neatly around those deep brown eyes. His nose was straight; the lips strong—firm and those slight dimples that she knew were rakish and well defined when he smiled. He was ridiculously handsome, nearly flawless, she decided with ire.
Her eyes moved lower, noting the uncomplicated style of his clothing, without frills or ruffles. Instead, the sleeves of his tan linen shirt were rolled up to the middle of his forearms. The shirt was buttoned but she was well aware of the muscular chest, lightly furred, hidden from view. Her eyes lowered to the trim hips caught in dark brown knee breeches that fit very well, she decided. Brown knee boots completed the swashbuckling effect.
Desiree became aware of the fact that she seemed to be studying him much too intently and would have turned away, until she found the captain’s amused gaze was upon her. Once having her attention, he grinned roguishly, throwing his arms open toward her in a welcoming gesture. She felt the heat coming from her face, realizing she had been observed and attempting to save what little pride she had left, she lifted her nose in the air and turned away; looking down to the docks below.
Shocked by her own abandon at scrutinizing an almost total stranger so closely, her eyes turned to Bridgett but she had missed the entire occurrence. She was busy watching below as the dock workers released the huge lines from massive cleats and men aboard ship, began heaving them up, coiling them upon the deck.
“Mister Davison, Harper—let’s be about the sails men.” Colter shouted from his helm.
The men hurried about the task of raising the foresails and the morning breeze caught the snowy white sheets and the ship began to hale away from the pier. As they moved past the Dalton, Desiree saw Captain Anderson at his helm, saluting the ship as it passed. Following the train of his eyes, she saw Captain Colter returning the gesture to his friend, as they moved out into the Baie de la Seine.
Looking back to her homeland, Desiree sighed heavily, “I can’t believe we are really leaving Bridgett. I shall miss my home.”
Bridgett put a comforting arm about her shoulders, “There now my dear—we shall be fine. Think of the adventure we have before us! We shall have so much to do, learning the ways of a new land—you’ll see. You won’t be missing France for long.”
“You are right of course. I should be excited. It is not often that one has a chance like this.” Desiree smiled courageously.
After leaving the protection of the bay, under full sail, the ship cleaved the rolling waves, moving down the channel toward open sea and Desiree stayed at the rail most of the morning; watching the coast of France pass by.
***
The preoccupation of the young woman with watching the land gave Stephen Colter ample opportunity to take in her loveliness from his vantage point at the helm. He could see the side of her delicately featured face and just the hint of her figure under the long cloak she held close about her. As he watched, the wind caught in her hood, pulling it from her head and strands of her hair flew free and his breath ceased as he stood in awe of her. The ebony tresses, caught in a mass of loose ringlets cascaded down her back and bluish highlights shimmered amid the raven in the brilliant morning sun. Her face was finely featured, with ebony brows arched gently from those violet blue eyes that had enthralled him yesterday. Her cheeks were blooming with healthy color; her full lips seemed to beckon him to sample their sweetness.
He had admitted to himself, through the course of the long sleepless night he had experienced that she had awakened in him a desire he had not felt for a very long time, if ever. He had tossed and turned upon his pallet while the bewitching woman with the unusual eyes danced before him. In his mind he had tried to imagine what treasures lay beneath the rich clothing, hidden from view. But even his imaginings could not compare, he felt sure.
***
At noon Bridgett came above deck to retrieve her charge and grudgingly Desiree left the rail and the wonderful sea breeze, with a last look at the green line on the horizon that was France and went below for the midday meal.
It was during the meal that Bridgett felt the first qualms of seasickness. She had been unable to finish her portion and lay down upon her bunk, as the room seemed to spin about her.
“Will you be all right?” Desiree asked with concern, while devouring her own fare. Her appetite had improved, if possible, with the fresh air she had received during her morning.
“I shall be fine dear. It is something I have become accustomed to. On my journey from England, just across the channel, I became ill. With a longer voyage it lasts a day or two, or so I have heard. Don’t worry about me. I will just try to sleep a bit. Please go up in the sun and enjoy yourself.”
Bridgett smiled but Desiree noted an ashen tinge about her lips. Desiree would have argued the point but knew Bridgett would only make herself feel worse, trying to convince her to go. “Can I get you anything
? Anything at all?”
“No nothing. I’ll be fine. Enjoy your afternoon.” Bridgett closed her eyes, to stop the whirling of the room about her.
Desiree took a book from a small valise near her bunk and closing the door gently, returned to the deck.
She was unable to find a place out of the way to sit and read but looking toward the quarterdeck, she saw that the first mate Davison, had assumed the captain’s place and taking a seat on the staircase leading to the helm, she opened her book upon her lap. Davison seemed unaware of her presence and she relaxed.
“I see you have taken well to the sea. No sickness?”
Desiree nearly jumped out of her skin, hearing the words spoken so close to her ear. The captain peered at her through the spindle supports of the banister.
“Please Captain, don’t sneak up on me. I would appreciate some warning of your presence!” Desiree sneered, looking back to her book, dismissing him.
“Miss Chandelle, I hardly sneaked.” He chuckled, walking around the banister and reclining beside her on the steps.
Desiree fought an urge to jump up and flee. No—she would not back down, although she did slightly adjust her position on the stairs, avoiding contact. The captain seemed not to notice.
“Where is your companion? Won’t she be joining you?” he inquired.
Desiree turned the page, without looking up to meet his eyes, “She is a bit ill. She is resting.” She offered softly.
“I am sorry about our first meeting yesterday but I couldn’t resist teasing you. I hope you will forgive me.”
“Captain Colter that was not mere teasing, you behaved…” Desiree shook her head, unable to continue.
“Like a cad?” he offered helpfully, “Yes I fear I played the part rather well didn’t I?” he grinned at her and Desiree looked up into dancing brown eyes; then admired a flash of dimples and white teeth.
