Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast)

by Devlin, Barbara

  “Morning, sweet.” Determined to make amends, he waited on her, for a change, setting a tray loaded with covered dishes on the table. “Breakfast is served.”

  A feminine sniff was her only response.

  Such intestinal fortitude should be confined to the male species.

  After inhaling a plate of fruit, bacon, and toast, he gathered his charts and glanced at her motionless form. The damn difficult demirep was causing him no end of torment. Then again, she was a woman. Making a mental note to break for lunch, he decided he would coax her into eating that afternoon.

  But despite his good intentions, things did not work out as planned. The winds picked up, and the sails needed to be reefed, so Trevor lunched with the first mate and the helmsman on the quarterdeck. They discussed their current course and the time it would take to reach London. Once they reached their destination, he would put the beautiful courtesan ashore and never see her again.

  “Cap’n, a word.”

  “Aye, George, what is it?”

  “I passed young Billy in the galley.” The first mate scratched his head. “He tells me yer lady hasn’t been eatin’. She did not break her fast, and her noon meal went untouched as well. Is she ill, Cap’n?”

  Trevor frowned. If he let her, Mistress Caroline would be his downfall. Lovely or not, the ladybird could not maintain her tack, and she had not eaten since the previous morning. Why he cared he was not sure.

  “She is not ill, George, she is just being a woman. Take over here, I am going below.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Had he the time, he would have taken issue with the broad smile on George’s face. But he was determined to remain focused on the task at hand. In his mind, he formed a suitable argument he was certain would bring the demirep around--until he found himself before the door to his quarters.

  Caroline was as predictable as the weather.

  Upon entering his cabin, Trevor noticed the lamps had not been lit. It was a menial chore she had assumed and performed with unfailing efficiency. A check of the bunk confirmed his suspicions. The small female form hadn’t budged. At the knock on the door, he flinched. “Come.”

  “Cap’n, I have your dinner.”

  “Set it on the table and light the candles. We will serve ourselves.” Hell would freeze before Trevor allowed anyone to witness what he knew must be done. “That will be all, Billy.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  At the washstand, Trevor splashed cold water on his face, stalling until his cabin boy exited. He had never dealt with an angry woman. In the past, whenever a lady got fussy with him, he simply took his leave. As they were at sea, that was not an option.

  Once he was alone with his quarry, he sat on the bed. “Caroline.”

  “Go away.” Her voice was curt, her body tense.

  Rubbing his temples, he summoned every ounce of patience within him. Willing himself to remain calm, he tried again.

  “Please hear me out.”

  Silence followed, but he was not sure that was a good sign. There ought to be a codebook to decipher such behavior.

  “When I disciplined you, my intent was neither to hurt nor embarrass you. Seeing you in the rigging...you could have been injured or...” He could not say it. “I swear you took ten years off my life.”

  Staring at the ceiling, Trevor raked a hand through his hair and wondered if this could be any more difficult. “I am sorry I struck you.” He swallowed hard; uttering the words left a bad taste in his mouth. It was hell being a gentleman.

  But Caroline did not move.

  It appeared his concession was getting him nowhere. “Believe me when I say I sincerely regret what happened on deck.” Resting a palm on her hip, he leaned near. “Caroline, please look at me.”

  All of a sudden, she rolled on her back and stared him straight in the eyes. Remorse tore through Trevor in direct proportion to the pain he spied in her blue depths. Inside him, something fractured.

  He had done this.

  But he could make it right.

  “I am sorry.” He cupped her cheek, as the heartfelt apology fell from his lips without hesitation. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Then why did you hit me?”

  That was an excellent question for which he still had no explanation.

  “As God is my witness, I do not know.”

  “You gave me permission to help the watch.”

  “To mend a sail, yes.” Tapping a finger to the tip of her nose, Trevor smiled. “Not to climb the rigging.”

  “But you did not forbid it.”

  “Because I did not think I had to.”

  Caroline furrowed her brow. “So you thought I was in peril?”

  “Aye.” He should have guessed that she would not be appeased by a mere expression of regret. “And if something were to happen to you, I could not live with myself. You must understand, I am the captain, and the men rely on me to lead. This ship and her crew are my responsibility. I must maintain control if I am to maintain discipline. But when I thought you were in danger, I lost composure. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

  “Yes.” Caroline dipped her chin. “I think I do.”

  Her too-satisfied countenance gave him the chills. It was as if she knew the answer to a riddle he could not solve. Against his better judgment, he studied her lips. How he ached to claim her mouth. But Trevor knew he would not be satisfied with a simple kiss. “Am I forgiven?”

  Again, she nodded once.

  Standing, he sketched his most elegant bow. “I would be honored if you would consent to dine with me, my lady.”

  To her credit, Caroline devoured every morsel he put before her--and that was no small feat. He was determined to have her consume something akin to the four meals she had skipped. Teasing and cajoling, he plied her with wine until she pushed her plate away and begged for mercy.

  “I have a surprise for you.” Trevor walked to the door. Holding it open, he hailed two of his crewmen, who carried in steaming buckets and began filling the bath.

  “Saltwater is so harsh.” Caroline wrinkled her nose and rubbed her forearms. Once they were alone, she crossed to the bathing area, dipped a hand, withdrew it and touched a finger to her tongue. In an instant, her eyes grew wide.

  “How did you--”

  “From the storm, though I cannot take credit. It was George’s idea.” Rocking on his heels, he folded his arms and delighted in her look of wonder. Pleasing her pleased him. “He had the men lash a barrel to the railing. As hard as you have worked, you have earned a treat. Were we in London, I would find a more suitable gift, one worthy of your contributions. At sea, I am afraid a freshwater bath is all I can offer.”

  Caroline rewarded him with a radiant smile that left him breathless. Rising on her toes, she wrapped her arms around him and favored him with a delicate kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”

  And he just stood there, like a giddy schoolboy, painfully aroused with his Jolly Roger at full sail. Mortified by the burn of a blush in his cheeks, Trevor shuddered and cleared his throat. “I will be back in half an hour. We will share a brandy.”

  But not my bed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  True to his word, Trevor returned to the cabin precisely half an hour later. Anticipation swelled in his veins, as did the unholy serpent in his breeches, when he entered the chamber. Despite the internal dialogue in which he had engaged, while prowling the decks, as a reminder not to seduce the courtesan, he was ready to devour a dish of chestnut-haired mistress. It required every ounce of his heretofore-vaunted self-control to restrict his appetite to the standard fare on the table.

  After dinner, they shared bits of conversation and a bottle of his best brandy. Trevor was amazed by Caroline’s knowledge of the ship and life at sea. Endeavoring to gain more insight to her past, why he was interested he could not say, he probed her history with the stealth of a spy.

  In less than two blinks of an eye, he confirmed her father had been in
the Navy and died in battle at sea. Her mother and brother were still alive, and she intimated he was currently on a voyage. Trevor wondered if her sibling was aware of her situation. Of the circumstances, whatever they were, that had led her to become a paramour. In secret, he cursed a family that, regardless of how dire their plight, would allow a diamond of the first water to undertake such an occupation.

  To his surprise and delight, he discovered Caroline was educated. Well-versed in current affairs, she had opinions on everything from war tactics to the social and moral strictures placed on women. What he took particular delight in, however, was her fervent belief in her right to voice her opinion.

  In silence, he mused it would take an indulgent man to marry the spirited woman. Just as quick, he corrected himself. Men did not marry their mistresses--not men of his stature. And then he pondered what made him think of marriage in the first place.

  “Tell me something.” Trevor shifted in his chair and studied the contents of his glass. “How did you come to be in the company of Dalton Randolph? What twist of fate placed you aboard his ship?”

  Fidgeting in her seat, tugging at the folds of her robe, Caroline gazed into the flickering flame of the candle on the table. Myriad emotions danced across her face. Pain. Sadness. He realized he had touched on a sensitive topic and was about to change the subject when she spoke.

  “I was trying to escape.” Her voice matched her melancholy expression. “I wanted to run away.”

  That was interesting. Trevor leaned forward in his chair.

  “What were you running from?”

  “The past.”

  Various images danced in his head. Was Mistress Caroline a thief or a criminal of some sort? What a ridiculous notion. He propped an elbow on the table. “What did you do?”

  “I fell in love.”

  Punch to the gut, completely unexpected.

  Cupping his chin in his hand, he opened his mouth, and then closed it. Though this was not the confession he anticipated, it was no less arresting.

  “Who was he?”

  “A man,” she said, with a ghost of a quiver. “Just a man, but I thought he was special. He courted me without reserve, led me to believe he was in love, and wished to marry. So I gave him my heart, I had such high hopes.” Caroline choked on a sob. Her hand shook as she lifted her balloon of brandy and sipped.

  As she set the glass down, Trevor reached for her hand, clasped her fingers, and squeezed a reassurance. She did not look at him, but he spied tears pooling, glittering in her blue eyes.

  “And?”

  Still, she stared unseeing. “As I awaited a proposal, he announced his engagement to another.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Do you not? He used me to gain the attention and acquiescence of another.” Caroline impaled him with a steely gaze simmering with anguish. “He never wanted me.”

  “Good God,” Trevor exclaimed in disbelief. “What of your brother? Surely he called the blackguard out?”

  “He was at sea.”

  “He bloody well should have demanded satisfaction when he returned.”

  “He wanted to, but I would not let him.”

  “Why the devil not?”

  “Because it would have only prolonged my shame.”

  “So your family did nothing? The bastard should have been forced to wed you.”

  “I would not have him marry what he did not love. And my family settled with his. My brother’s broken knuckles and my former suitor’s black eye attested to it. Polite explanations were made to cover my affront. A rumor circulated to the gossipmongers that I had conspired with my friend to bring his chosen lady to the altar, and suddenly I was a veritable saint.”

  “And that made it all right?”

  “No.”

  “Because you were in love?”

  “Actually, I’m no longer certain it was love.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “I suppose it was the possibility that, at last, someone could want me.”

  “Forgive my confusion, but you think yourself unattractive?” Positive the charming paramour was fishing for compliments, he vented a snort of skepticism. “My dear, you are beautiful.”

  “I know what I am, I know how I look, and I make no apologies.” Caroline shot out of her chair, and it fell backward to the floor with a thud. “My face is not fair, I stand too tall--I am neither petite nor graceful, and I have opinions, which I can, will, and do share. I will not lie to myself, or anyone else, and pretend to be something I am not. Now, if you will excuse me, I should like to go to bed.”

  Stunned by the revelation, by the force of her estimable declaration, Trevor remained in his seat, unable to move, as she marched to the bunk they shared and eased to her side. If it were anyone else, he would have questioned the sincerity behind the bold affirmation. But the ladybird’s trembling shoulders and soft sobs she tried, but failed, to stifle told him her emotional distress was genuine. It appeared Mistress Caroline carried wounds as deep as his own, a fact that unnerved him for reasons he understood too well. And in that instant, she earned from him something no woman had ever claimed.

  Respect.

  #

  Oh, why had she told him so much of her past?

  It was almost evening, and Caroline had not left the comfort and refuge of the bunk. So much had transpired, and she was reeling. After her embarrassing confession the previous night, she’d hid in the cabin all day, wanting nothing more than to avoid Trevor’s sympathetic stare.

  She did not want his pity.

  Something else nagged her conscience. She had not told him everything; she had held something back. If she was going to give her captain her most intimate gift, she wanted him to know the whole, complicated truth of her circumstances. She had to, really, because she cared for him. Of late she compared what she’d felt for Lord Darwith, her errant suitor, with what she now felt for Trevor. In all honesty, there simply was no comparison, so her choice was made. And, if he would have her, if only on a temporary basis, she would surrender.

  “Still in bed, my lady?”

  Holding a tray of covered dishes, the green-eyed dragon kicked the door shut and smiled in that boyishly sweet expression that never failed to give her gooseflesh.

  “I did not sleep well.”

  “Believe I already knew that.”

  “Did I disturb you?”

  “Not much,” he said, setting the tray on the table.

  “I am sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  “Only if you consent to have dinner with me.”

  Oh, he was in a playful mood, and she was in a mood to play. But as Caroline eased into her chair, she second-guessed her plan. Picking at her food, moving vegetables from one side of her plate to the other, she searched for some way to broach the subject foremost on her mind.

  “What can I do?” Trevor asked, his forehead a mass of furrows.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “How can I make it better?”

  Cursing her suddenly absent courage, she considered his question, then said, “I want to know about you.”

  As her host studied his clasped hands, Caroline reconsidered her request. “Perhaps--”

  “I suppose I should begin with what I love most.” Trevor inclined his head and smiled. “Sailing.”

  Intent on learning all she could about the handsome captain, before she divulged her last secret, she gave him her full attention.

  In a few short minutes, Caroline realized Trevor was a man very much like her brother. He hired experienced seamen, no landsmen, he cared for his crew, and his men respected him. Possessing knowledge of sailing that would rival her elder sibling’s, he had made the rank of captain in the Royal Navy at the ripe old age of six and twenty.

  “Tell me about the sword.” She motioned with her hand. “The one hanging on the wall. I noticed it the night you brought me here, and if I recall correctly, you said it has been in your family for years. Does it have a history?”


  “Indeed, it does, and it has a mate.” Balancing the heavy decanter, he refilled their glasses. “But for you to understand the significance, we must journey to another time.” Trevor tapped his fingertips together. “The weapon dates to the eighth century. It was a gift in observance of a marriage arranged to solidify ties between two warring factions.”

  “Your ancestors?” Fascinated, Caroline itched to press for more details, but something in his expression warned her she was treading dangerous waters.

  “Exactly.” He nodded once. “The images engraved on the hilt, Adam and Eve, were meant to symbolize a new beginning. A land of peace. The original pair were handed down from one generation to the next.”

  “But you said there were two. What of the other?”

  “Ah, yes. Eve.” His face took on a harsh, hardened appearance. “Look closely, and you will notice the figure etched at the base of the hilt is male. The sword I have is Adam. When I was five, my mother took Eve and fled to France with her lover. I presume she needed money, because once on the Continent, she sold it. I have tried to recover the heirloom, but my solicitor has never been able to locate the weapon.”

  “Excuse me.” Caroline blinked. “Did you say your mother abandoned you and your father?”

  “Bear with me, because I was very young when it happened, but it began with another arranged marriage. There were no treaties signed or wars to be averted. It was the wish of a couple of old men, one being my grandfather, to unite their families, so they betrothed their eldest at birth.”

  “Your parents?”

  “Eventually.” He dipped his chin. “My father loved my mother, of that I am sure, but I do not believe she returned his affection. As it was their duty, they wed, and I was conceived. About five years later, a distant relative came to stay with my parents. Whoever he was, I do not know.” Trevor shrugged. “My mother fell in love with the man, and they engaged in an affair. When my father found out, he confronted them, and they sailed to France.”

  “Your poor father.” Caroline rose from her chair and walked to him. “And you were only five, just a babe.”

  “I was sent away shortly thereafter to distance me from the humiliation and disgrace.” Trevor quirked one corner of his mouth. “As for my sire, he drowned his sorrows in a bottle. I was at sea when he died. I hardly knew the man.”