by Dana Roquet
“Yes Monsieur, you do make a remarkably convincing cad. Years of practice I suppose?” she tilted her head, arching one brow and looking at him sidelong.
“Touché Ma Cherie.” He chuckled, drawing his legs up upon the steps and resting his forearms across his knees, allowing his hands to dangle loosely.
“English Monsieur. You don’t speak or understand French, remember?” she quipped.
“Perhaps a touch.” He lifted one hand and gestured a pinch with finger and thumb, “So what do you say—can we start anew? I am an awfully nice cad when you get to know me.”
She made no remark, going back to her reading and letting the question go unanswered.
“Well…” he slapped his thighs and rose, facing her with one foot upon the bottom step, “I hope Bridgett feels better soon Miss Chandelle and I wouldn’t stay up here on deck too long if I were you—you may end up with a terrible burn from the sun.” He reached out as if he was going to lightly touch the tip of her petite nose with his finger, chuckling as she pulled back from him.
“Thank you for your concern Captain. I will try and limit my outings on deck.” She said stiffly but with slightly less malice. He had apologized, that was at least something.
“Enjoy your book.”
He bounded up the steps and within moments Davison walked down to go about his other duties.
Desiree sat with the book open upon her lap, looking to anyone watching as if she were enthralled with its contents but she might as well have been staring at a blank page. She could not even attempt to read. She knew the captain was there, just above her and she could almost feel his eyes upon her back. After what seemed an eternity but actually had been only a few minutes, she closed her book and strolled off to the cabin below.
It had been with a great effort that she had managed to stay put for that length of time. She heaved a sigh of relief as she leaned against the wall of the companionway. Well at least he knew she would not go screaming below to safety when faced with his mere presence. Perhaps she would be able to hold her own against this Captain Colter.
Chapter Nine
Bridgett recovered from her sea sickness the third day out and with the abundance of time for talking, Desiree and she spent some of that excess, learning a few details that normal everyday life in France had not permitted. It was one such occasion, sitting at the small table in their cabin; that Desiree decided to broach the subject of Bridgett’s life prior to becoming her nurse. Desiree cupped her chin in her hand, watching Bridgett make intricate stitches in a complex needlework project.
“Bridgett what was it like for you, growing up in England?” she asked brightly.
Bridgett glanced up from her sewing, “Not nearly as pleasant as your life in France I’m sorry to say dear.”
“Why is that?” Desiree prodded.
Bridgett fastened the needle onto the cloth and lay aside her work. Her pale blue eyes held Desiree’s solemnly and Desiree sensed sadness upon the gentle face.
“Life in England when I was young was hard for all dear. It still is for that matter but is improving. The government was forever in conflicts—where these days; as in France, most of the population lives comfortably with few rich and few poor; in my early life we had the distinction of having few even comfortable, only the very rich and the very poor. Most fell into the second category. My own family fell into the second.” She finished softly.
“But Bridgett—you can read, you are well educated, you speak two languages and your French is flawless. How could you have learned such without attending schools?”
“Oh I found ways to attend dear. I will leave it at that—I don’t wish to discuss it further.” She stated flatly and by her tone of voice, Desiree could do nothing but let it drop.
“I’m sorry Bridgett, I shouldn’t have pried. I have no right.”
Bridgett reached for her hand and patted it gently, “Perhaps one day we can talk of it child. I didn’t mean to sound cross. You don’t want to hear of my troubled youth. I found my way to you and your family and have been happy ever since. That’s what matters to me. Now I would much rather hear of this marriage proposal you received from Rene'. Why didn’t you tell me of this sooner?” her face brightened and she leaned forward in her chair expectantly.
“I hadn’t told anyone.”
“What exactly did you tell him? Oh Desiree you couldn’t do much better than that young man. I think I have always enjoyed him most. His is so level headed, intelligent—handsome. He adores you, you know and always has. I’m not saying the others haven’t but Antoine is still a boy at heart and Honore’ has a wicked streak—I swear!” she said with a laugh.
“I suppose—Honore’ does love to use his fists,” Desiree conceded, “but he is quite gentle where women are concerned and I think Antoine has grown up much in the past year. They are all fine men and I love each of them.” She stated, quickly defending them, “But I could not marry Rene’ with clear conscience Bridgett. I fear I would ruin his life. I know him too well. We would probably be at each other’s throats before a fortnight passed…”
“You are too comfortable with men my dear!” Bridgett interrupted. “Don’t you see this? You need to hold yourself more in reserve. Act coyly and allow them to court you…”
“Please Bridgett! Not this again! I cannot be anything but what I am. And I will not be a conniving little twit like Nicole or Anna Marie. I can’t abide such behavior! I would not trade what I have with Rene’ or the others for anything. They care for me—they are my friends and they will be so, my entire life. I shall find a man someday—have no fear! But when I do find that man, it shall be an honest relationship, for eventually the façade must drop and I must be myself. I would rather be myself from the onset!”
Desiree rose from the table and snatched a book from her bed, returning to sit with it before her face, ending the conversation which had turned to that vein she had learned to avoid. Bridgett shook her head with a sigh and snatched up her needlework once more and the room was silent for quite some time.
***
After two weeks at sea, even talking had become monotonous and the two had exhausted their reading materials. They had brought several volumes at Madeleine Roche’s insistence and indeed they were thankful for them. By the beginning of the second week, they had read four weighty books between the two of them.
The days seemed to drag by endlessly and it was this endless boredom which provoked Desiree to become an eager companion to the first mate John Davison, Ham and even the captain himself. She had come to enjoy the captain immensely. Under his formidable facade he was really quite gentle and kind. She was never one to carry a grudge and so had decided to mend their rift and give him the benefit of the doubt, concerning their meeting.
Each day she would casually stroll about the ship, watching with interest as the men performed their daily duties. Often she could be found peering over someone’s shoulder, asking questions or the men would find themselves stopping during their day as she prodded them into light conversation about their families.
***
Bridgett fretted silently from the rail as she watched Desiree and the captain at the helm. Desiree stood before him, grasping the large wheel in her hands, while he instructed her on the handling of the ship. Bridgett feared what kind of impression Desiree might be giving this ship full of sailors. Most were not accustomed to a beautiful woman so full of questions and so at ease in the company of men.
Bridgett knew also, from her own encounters that they were all well mannered and she had not heard a foul word uttered in her presence or Desiree’s. No—she did not actually fear for Desiree. They were all respectful and treated her in a most honorable manner, but Bridgett was not so certain of the young captain. Oh—he was as decent as the next. He seemed to be a fine man but—she could not help but feel that Desiree might be headed for trouble where he was concerned although she kept telling herself she was being irrational and overprotective.
It seemed
to have always been Desiree’s nature. Inquisitive, trusting and comfortable with men from the onset; when given half a chance and her uncanny ability to turn men into her protectors had quickly become evident aboard ship.
It was as though before a man would sense it happening, he would be wrapped firmly about her finger and unable to flee. She could turn even the most ardent to one of two categories—father or brother. Bridgett had witnessed this occurrence more times than she could count over recent years. A young man bent on winning her hand would soon be turned to friend and confidant—looking to her well being against all who might cause her harm. And as each fell to the magic cast upon them, they would realize too late the folly, for their original goals seemed ridiculous to even entertain. But it had always been young men before—boys, and now she was watching her charge single-handedly take over an entire ship of full-grown men. The older men fell first, admiring her with a fatherly pride in their eyes but a few were within ten years of Desiree’s own age and even at that, the whole lot of them had become her trusted friends.
Somehow Desiree turned the tables so that the beauty and womanly allure which drew men to her as moths to a flame became secondary to her wit and charm and the friendly comradery she shared unselfishly with all.
Chapter Ten
Early morning soon became Desiree’s favorite time to be about. The crew was at a minimum, most still abed below in the crew quarters, making for a quiet, peaceful time to be alone and enjoy the sea. She had begun to feel as if she had never been anywhere but here. The sea, the wind and the rolling ship beneath her were familiar. More of a home than even thoughts of France and the people and places she had left behind.
She leaned against the rail, feeling the fresh cool wind upon her face. Her eyes were on the pink tinged clouds as the rising sun spilled upon them. As she watched, the small puffs drifted slowly across the sky and seemed to be swallowed up by the sea, at the horizon. But for one sailor seated near the main mast, repairing a coil of rope, Desiree was alone in her observance of the day dawning.
Footsteps along the deck caused her to glance around to see who might be intruding upon her solitude and Captain Colter strode by from the direction of the bow. With a bright smile and a salute, he passed her, heading for the helm. When he stopped briefly to speak with the sailor, Desiree took the opportunity to admire him unobserved and thought to herself that this was truly a fine man. He seemed to become more so, as the days progressed; the obvious attributes being enhanced by the fact that he was charming, witty, informative, a good conversationalist. He was very sure of himself and of his place on his ship—in control and at peace with the ocean world around him.
It had been two days ago now, on a cool gloomy afternoon, with the wind whipping up small whitecaps and the sky an ashen gray spitting a light mist, that Desiree had spotted an eerie sight off the starboard side of the ship; a column, reaching from the low hanging gray clouds, to the surface of the sea. Although a great distance away, it appeared huge, swirling in rotation.
“Dear God, what is it?” Bridgett had whispered, with terror evident upon her face.
Desiree had no idea herself. It seemed to be some kind of monster. The narrow end of the column was dipping wildly in and out of the sea. They looked about for someone who could explain and Captain Colter had been at their sides in an instant; his smile, dispelling her own fears at once, while Bridgett continued to quake.
“Ladies this is a rare treat indeed. That is what we call a spout. It is a wind phenomenon of some kind we have concluded. No one knows for sure. No one has encountered one at close range and lived to tell about it. I’ve heard of ships being ripped to shreds by one of those brutes!” He leaned against the rail, pointing out at the rotating gray monster, “See there? It appears to be growing smaller, more distant? It’s moving in the opposite direction of us. I made sure of that. All that can be done is try and move out of their way when you see one coming for you.”
“It looks like a living thing. It has mass or appears to.” She had commented.
He had looked at her thoughtfully and she had smiled softly at his warm regard. The deep brown eyes had a strange light to them, as if he were seeing her for the first time.
“It does appear so but it is an illusion. I once was able to watch the forming of one and it is wind, drawing water up from the ocean, which gives it consistency. The Puritans, of whom you will soon become familiar in the New World believed it to be a sign from God. They would have turned back for home had they been in control of their ships! They believed God was laying a finger down from the heavens to smite whoever dared to cross the sea. Of course that is total nonsense. It is a natural phenomenon. The world is full of nature’s wonders we have yet to understand.” He assured, with a wink.
“If not for your sensible explanation, I would be inclined to agree with the Puritans.” Bridgett had laughed self-consciously, embarrassed at being so quick to panic.
“Rest assured dear woman, at all costs I will see you both safely to your destination. Sea monsters or no sea monsters!” he had chuckled and went on his way.
His boldness and calm that day had done much for Desiree’s opinion of him. She felt at ease, knowing that he was in control of their well being.
She observed him now, as he spoke with his man. His tall lean body was clothed in a light blue linen shirt and gray knee breeches, which clung to narrow hips and long straight legs, above black boots. A strange stirring that had been coming alive in her lately, surfaced again. The handsome face, now familiar—almost endeared, brought a smile to her lips and she was becoming at odds with her feelings about this Stephen Colter—almost as if an infatuation. The captain concluded his conversation and went briskly down the ship toward the helm, while Desiree pulled her attention from him and went back to her solitude.
***
Standing at the helm, checking the course charted overnight by the terrestrial, Stephen’s gaze came up, finding Desiree where he had last seen her, at the rail, watching the morning dawning. He noticed the bright green ribbon intertwined in her hair, standing out stark against the raven. The emerald gown clung to her body at the waist, falling away to the lush layers of her skirt and his eyes raked her form, trying for the thousandth time to imagine how she must look unclad. Her tiny waist was made for a man’s hands and the slim well turned hips set fires to burning inside him.
She had warmed to him considerably during their weeks at sea. Enjoying his company and he had to admit, he too, enjoyed hers tremendously. Much more than rare beauty was part of Desiree Chandelle and he had found her to be a fascinating woman. She was well versed, intelligent and had her own opinion on topics, which he found refreshing—no empty-headed debutante was she! She had a very easy nature and the fact that he was a man, never seemed to enter into her mind. To watch the gentle swing of her hips or a hint of a smile playing about her exquisite mouth nearly brought him to his knees, but she thought of him as merely—a companion.
He had been raised to be a gentleman. Had never forced himself upon a woman—but then he had never been denied any woman he had desired. That had been fairly simple to attain but now this woman he wanted more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life—and he was being denied and his mind was becoming muddled—searching for the key that would unlock this treasure chest—short of simple rape. She flounced about him, as a child about her father, unknowingly becoming in danger of his full-blown passion being unbridled upon her. How could a woman of such beauty, such wit and intelligence, be so totally naïve? It was beyond him.
***
Desiree turned from the rail and walked along the deck, looking to Stephen’s gaze upon her. She sauntered playfully, hand riding along the rail as she mounted the steps, joining him at his helm.
“Where are we Stephen?” she asked, looking at the chart before him. She leaned over across from him and his breath caught in his throat, seeing a display of satiny white flesh from her décolletage. Her full breasts strained against the soft emerald
cloth, almost in danger of spilling out, it seemed.
“Stephen where are we on this map? That is the colonies, isn’t it?” she pointed to the likeness and smiled brightly but then tilted her head with a quizzical frown when he still gave no response.
“Yes—ah…by last night’s terrestrial, we are here.” He pointed out the location, “We still have well over two fort nights of sailing before us.” He rolled up the chart hastily—the effect of her unknowing display awesome! He could actually feel heat coming from his face. “My God—she has me blushing like a school boy!” he fumed silently.
“Tell me of the colonies Stephen. Have you been there often?” Desiree queried sweetly, oblivious to his unrest.
She was once again the student and he—her teacher. Somehow—just how he was not sure—he had allowed her to become unaware of him but for his mentoring abilities. Her form cried out that she was a woman and yet, in her mind, any man who took an interest in her would conveniently become her uncle or brother—or teacher. She had worked her magic on every man aboard. All aghast at her beauty and yet amazed by her naïve innocence. She was the most perplexing woman he had ever met, and the most desirable. She waited now for an answer, with her hand cupped beneath her chin and her arm resting atop the binnacle, gazing up into his eyes patiently.
“What would you like to know, my sweet?” he sighed heavily with resignation.
“Will it be much like France? Are there balls? Are the fashions of the women similar? Do they have theatres or opera houses?” she reeled off a string of questions with excitement.
“My dear Desiree, you are going to the colonies with much too high of expectations if you fancy yourself at balls and court life—performing arts and fine coaches to see you about. The colonies are little more than wilderness, even at this point. Oh—things have come along greatly but it will be possibly centuries before it can compare with the Old World. They have had many obstacles to overcome.” He chuckled at her expression of disgust and unable to resist, reached out, fingering a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. He pulled back from the silky tress, overwhelmed by guilt. Her eyes were blinking up at him innocently while his thoughts—were anything but innocent.
