“What of me?” Garrett teased Caroline. “Didn’t I save your life as well? Admit it, I was as bold as any—”
“Braggart!” Caroline retorted with a chuckle. “You fled the sloop at the first opportunity. I don’t see how you can place yourself in the same category as Mr. Walker.”
Noah laughed. “It’s time my good qualities were recognized.”
“Ungrateful baggage,” Garrett admonished, and they all laughed together. “You and Amanda get some sleep now. It’s the only Christmas gift I can give you tonight. I’ll keep watch for our host and any friends he might have.”
Raindrops began to spatter against the glass windowpane. Noah took a long-stemmed clay pipe from the mantel, filled it with tobacco he found in a tin can, and settled down to watch Amanda. Caroline spread her wool cloak to dry in front of the fire and nibbled at the corn bread the woman passed around.
Garrett absently rubbed at the engraving on his pistol barrel and tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong. He’d been forced into marriage with a woman he hadn’t wanted. And now—now he was afraid everything had changed.
The war with England was what counted. It was his fight as much as any man’s. He had no close family alive, no children, no wife to care for—at least he hadn’t until a few weeks ago. Wars were meant to be fought by young men without ties. Men who loved were afraid to take chances, and sometimes that made all the difference between living and dying.
He tried to tell himself he’d made that jump onto the wrecker’s boat because it made sense, but he knew it was a lie. He’d tried to carry the battle to the enemy—to keep them away from Caroline.
Sweet Jesus! He’d not even slept with the woman. He’d barely kissed her. So why did his arms ache to hold her? Why did his heartbeat quicken at the thought of burying his face in her long red hair?
It had nothing to do with lust. Hell, he was too bone-tired to get it up. He just wanted to hold her . . . to go to sleep with his arms and legs wrapped around her . . . to open his eyes and see her hair spread across his pillow.
Caroline Talbot. She was the last woman he’d ever expect to be love-struck by. Wes’s highborn wife . . .
Garrett sighed and brought his palms together thoughtfully He’d come close to making a clean getaway. He’d had it all figured out. He’d take the conniving wench to her island plantation, get the money for his boat, and go back to the war where he belonged. Now . . .
Caroline caught his eye and smiled at him. He lifted the mug of weak homemade beer in a salute. I suppose a man could do worse if he was to go looking for trouble, he thought. Then again, maybe he couldn’t.
Chapter 10
Charleston, South Carolina
January 1778
Caroline sighed with pleasure as Garrett cupped her breast in his hand and teased her love-swollen nipple with the tip of his moist, hot tongue. He slipped one hand down over her bare midriff and stroked her skin with slow, tantalizing caresses. She squirmed under his touch, arching her back, and lifting her aching breasts to be kissed and sucked until she moaned with delight. She tore at his linen shirt, exposing a wide expanse of coiled, hard muscle, and he lifted her in his powerful arms and carried her to the bed.
“You’re mine,” he said huskily. “You belong to me. I’m going to love to you as no man has ever loved you. I’m going to drive my hard cock into your sweet, tight sheath until you—”
His words were drowned in the heated passion of their kiss as he pushed her back against the heaped pillows and filled her mouth with his tongue. Her arms were around his neck, her body moving against his as he touched her in places that she had not dared to—
“Caroline. Caroline, wake up. Will you lie abed until noon?”
Her eyelids flickered. She opened them wide and saw Amanda’s brown face looming over her.
“Caroline?”
Her cheeks flamed as she remembered the dream. Shocked, she pulled the blankets over her head and turned over to keep her sister from seeing her face. Was it only a dream? Her breath came in quick gasps. How could she have dreamed such scandalous things about Garrett Faulkner?
Amanda yanked the covers back. “Lazybones. Get up. You’ve missed breakfast. I brought you up a tray, but your tea is growing cold. Poor stuff it is too, some sort of Indian herbs mixed with old coarse leaves. Our hostess, I fear, is an ardent rebel.”
“You always did prefer chocolate.”
Amanda laughed. “With lots of sugar. You know I have a sweet tooth. And speaking of teeth, Jeremy’s getting a second. On the top right. One bottom and one top; he’ll look like a dragon.”
Caroline slid her feet over the edge of the bed and began to pull on her stockings. They were heavy wool, not as fine as she was accustomed to, but they’d brought little clothing with them and most of that had been lost with the sinking of the Gillian. They’d been forced to buy additional clothes, but since money was scarce, Caroline had to be content with garments that a tradesman’s wife might wear, rather than those of her own class.
Amanda had warmed her petticoats and brocade corset in front of the small hearth. She gathered them up and tossed them to her.
“You’re not very good at this,” Caroline teased, trying to put Garrett and her disturbing dream out of her mind. “Lady’s maids don’t throw garments at their mistresses.” She put her arms through the corset and tugged at the lacing until it was tight enough to suit her, then tied it.
They had found lodging in a widow’s private home. She would not accept gentlemen boarders, so Garrett, Noah, and Eli were forced to sleep elsewhere. Garrett had told the Widow Gordon that Amanda was his wife’s serving woman. Caroline had been furious at first, but then reason had prevailed. No white woman would give them a room if she knew the truth of Caroline and Amanda’s relationship.
Amanda hadn’t complained, but then Amanda never did. Sometimes, Caroline wished her sister would get angry at the injustice shown people of her color. It galled her now to see Amanda in a servant’s plain wool skirt and bodice. “I didn’t mean that,” she apologized. “It was in poor taste.”
“Umm-hmmm,” her sister replied, shaking the wrinkles out of Caroline’s blue chintz gown. “Sometimes I think that Papa would have done me more good had he taught me useful skills instead of French and the harpsichord. At least I could have made a living for myself and my son.”
“Don’t say that,” Caroline protested. “You know you always have a home with us. You will have a handsome dowry when you marry.”
Amanda’s eyes met hers. She was smiling, but the smile didn’t hide the pain there. “Who will I marry, sister? Who will have a black woman raised above her station?”
“Any man with good sense.”
Amanda sighed. “Well, I’ve seen few of them. And fewer yet I’d have for husband.”
“Noah likes you. I’ve seen him watching you.”
Amanda wrinkled her nose. “He likes me no better than I like him.”
“Garrett told me he’s a shipbuilder. He had his own shipyard before the British burned it last year.”
“Hmmpt.” Amanda took a scone off the tray. “Jeremy, look what Mama has for you.” She scooped up the baby, put him in the center of the bed, and made a wall with the quilt to hold him in.
Jeremy grinned and reached for the scone. Caroline saw the gleam of a new tooth as he opened his little pink mouth for the sweet biscuit.
“He’ll need a father, Amanda.”
“He’ll have an uncle when Reed comes home from prison.”
Caroline began to brush the tangles out of her hair. The bright room with its wide windows opening onto the busy street, Jeremy’s precious face, Amanda’s sorrows—nothing could make her forget her dream.
Just thinking of being intimate with Garrett made her a little dizzy. The dream had seemed so real. She averted her eyes so that Amanda couldn’t read her thoughts.
Perhaps it was true—what people said about widows—that they were all desperate to get a man into their lo
nely beds. The wrinkled face of Mistress Gordon popped up in her mind and she barely suppressed a giggle. Not all widows, perhaps . . .
. . . I’m going to love you as no man has ever loved you.
Caroline’s mouth felt parched. She shifted restlessly. With a little imagination, she could feel his lips against her bare skin . . . feel his hot tongue—
“Caroline! Are you paying attention to me?” Amanda demanded.
“Oh, yes . . . of course I am.”
“He thinks I’m loose because of Jeremy,” Amanda said.
“Who does? Garrett?”
“Not Garrett. Who’s talking about Garrett? Noah.”
Does Garrett think I’m loose? Caroline wondered. He would, if he knew what I’m thinking now. He is my husband, after all. Husbands and wives—
“What are you daydreaming about?”
“Nothing . . . nothing,” Caroline assured her. “You mean—because of Jeremy. You’re afraid Noah will think the worst of you because of Jeremy’s light coloring.”
“Not that—that I have a child and I’m unmarried. I’m no lightskirts. You know that.”
Caroline smiled. “No one who spent an hour with you would believe it. You are the most modest woman I—”
“Now you’re teasing me again.”
“I’m not. You are simply very—”
“Very what?” Amanda’s eyes narrowed and she rested her hands on her hips.
“Very ladylike,” Caroline answered. “Who wouldn’t ever swim with Reed and me, when we were children, without a shift? And who refused to have the physician from Oxford when Jeremy was born? If I went through what you did to birth him, I’d have wanted a room full of doctors.”
“You never blamed me for Jeremy, did you?” Amanda asked.
“No, and I never will.”
“And you never pressed for . . .” Her sister blushed. “The details.”
“I thought you’d tell me when you were ready.”
Amanda nodded. “Someday, maybe I will.” She went to the window and looked out. “Will they find a ship soon, do you think? I don’t know how long I can play the part of your maid. I was never very good at games.”
“Garrett said a Dutch ship anchored in the harbor yesterday. He was going to inquire if they had room for more passengers. We have to be very careful. You know the British navy is boarding ships off the coast and impressing Americans into service. The Widow Gordon said her brother’s son was taken in the fall.”
Amanda glanced back at the baby, who was happily devouring the last of the scone. “What will happen when we do get to Arawak? Garrett will expect the money you promised him. What will you tell him?”
“The gold is there, Amanda. I know it’s there.”
“Just as I know a Moorish prince will come and whisk Jeremy and me off to his palace on the hill.”
“You make me sound like a child.”
“Sometimes, big sister, I think you are. You expect life to have happy endings, just like fairy tales. And most of the time it doesn’t”
“You’re wrong,” Caroline said softly. “I’ll find the treasure. We’ll ransom Reed from prison, Garrett will have his boat, and we’ll all go home and live happily ever after.” And I’ll stop having such foolish fancies, she thought. Fancies about a man who can only bring me trouble.
“If only you were right. If only it could happen just that way. But sometimes . . .” Tears formed in the comers of Amanda’s eyes. “Sometimes . . . I think of Reed and I have this awful feeling that we’re never going to see him again.”
“Don’t say that! Don’t even think of it! I’ll find the treasure. I’ll find so much gold that Jeremy can build his own palace—right there on Arawak Island.”
As if on cue, the baby giggled and crawled over the wall of blankets and straight for the edge of the bed. Both women leaped to catch him, and Amanda’s face lightened as she kissed Jeremy’s nose and wiped the crumbs off his chubby little chin. “Will you build Mama a castle, sweet’ums? Will you?”
“He will,” Caroline promised, laughing with them. “He will.” And once more—to her chagrin—she found her thoughts straying back to Garrett’s hard body pressing hers against the bed and his lips whispering forbidden words in her ears.
“Christ, man, but you’re in a foul mood,” Noah said to Garrett as they walked back from the dockside tavern and their meeting with the captain of the Kaatje. “He agreed to take us to Jamaica, didn’t he?”
Garrett’s mouth flattened into a thin line and he took longer strides. Noah was right. He wanted Caroline—wanted her so badly that it made him hard just thinking about her
“I’ve not seen you in such a state since they stripped you of your letters of marque. She’s your wife, for God’s sake. Bed her and get it over with.”
“God has nothing to do with this.”
Noah rubbed his close-shaven head. “Since when have you ever had trouble getting any woman between the sheets?”
“We had an agreement, Caroline and me. My name and protection in exchange for a ship.”
“So? You wouldn’t be the first man to take a rich wife.”
“There was nothing in the agreement about becoming involved with each other. A simple marriage of convenience, and after we win our independence from England, a simple annulment.”
Noah grinned. “On what grounds? Insanity on the part of the bridegroom?”
“It was her idea. She threatened to tell Major Whitehead that I’d come into her room the night the powder magazine was blown. I’d have had a hard time explaining the sword wound in my thigh.” Garrett stretched his leg cautiously. The injury still ached when he walked, but the stitches had long since been removed and there was no infection.
“That was bad luck, losing the mare. I would have helped you out, but I sort of had my hands full. I never did get back to my horse. I took to the woods like a rabbit with a fox on its tail.”
“But we did take out the powder store.”
“Aye, right enough. That night cost the Brits plenty. But it’s not the same as having a ship under you.”
“No, it’s not. That’s why I accepted Caroline’s offer.”
“Don’t expect that I’ll have time to build you a ship in the islands.”
“Build, hell,” Garrett said. “We’ll buy one and a crew. I need you to tell me if she’s seaworthy, how much speed we can demand of her, and how many cannon she can carry.”
“You’ve a head on your shoulders—for a white man. It’s not like you’ve never navigated around Kent Island in gale-force winds.”
“Some things I know, but I’m not an engineer. You’ve caulking instead of blood in your veins, Noah. I don’t want just any ship—I want a schooner or a sloop that will carry at least eight cannon and four swivel guns. I need a shallow draft to maneuver in shoals and enough speed to outrun a man-of-war.”
Noah swore softly. “You don’t want much, do you?”
“That’s what I want, but I’ll take what I can get. The ship and the men to sail her are what’s important. I’d have wed the devil’s handmaiden to get another command.”
“Forced into marriage by a redheaded woman.” Noah slapped his leather-clad leg and laughed. “I knew you’d have to marry some woman, but I always thought it would be at the end of an angry father’s musket barrel.”
“I was waiting for you to get married first.”
“I never met the right woman.”
“Amanda’s been watching you.”
Noah’s face hardened. “She’s not for me,” he said. “Too white.”
Garrett shrugged. “It’s not a statement I’d expect from you.”
“Because we’re friends?” He shook his head. “Our friendship is one thing. We’ve known each other since we were in Mama’s cradle together. But your granddaddy came from England. Mine came from Africa. He hunted lions with nothing but a spear. My grandmammy on the other side was pure Injun and wild as Eastern Shore whiskey. I’m as American as you, Garrett
—maybe more—but I’m no white man. When I marry and raise sons, I want them to be black and to be proud of it. I don’t want them to have a mother who thinks she’s white.”
Garrett looked up at his friend. Noah topped him by three inches and his shoulders were wide enough to make him turn sideways going through narrow doorways. Noah’s hands were as big as hams and he could lift a yearling steer. He was fearless in battle and as shrewd as Washington himself. But for the tint of his skin, Noah would have been an officer in the Continental Army. Instead, he wore a common seaman’s striped shirt and baggy trousers and had to be content with serving under lesser men. Still, Garrett mused, Noah had never been one to complain about his lot in life. Usually, he was the most cheerful man Garrett knew. “I never thought you to sound so much like your brother.”
“Eli.” Noah made a sound of derision. “That fire-eater! He’s half the reason I haven’t taken a wife yet. Twenty-seven and not settled down. He likes to blame white folks for all his failures. Eli’s got good stuff in him, but he wants the easy way—the quick money. You know I’ve always been more father to him than brother. He’s all I’ve got left in the way of family—besides you. But I see Eli’s faults. It would be hard to find a woman who would be willing to put up with him coming home drunk at night or getting into one fix after another.”
“Maybe it’s time you let Eli go his own way.”
Noah’s brow furrowed. “I promised Mama I’d look after him. You know how she was. He was her last chick, and she always babied him after he caught that fever when he was six.”
“I’ve got no extra money to bail Eli out of jail if he gets himself in trouble and locked up. The Dutch ship sails in two days, and we all need to be on it. I’m depending on you to keep a close eye on him until then.”
Noah grinned. “I’ll try, but you know Eli. Trouble naturally finds him.”
“And you naturally get him out of it.”
“I promised Mama.”
“And I promised Caroline I’d let her know about passage on the Kaatje.” Garrett stopped at the comer of two intersecting streets as a wagon loaded with kegs rumbled by, followed closely by a woman driving a flock of sheep.
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