by Mary Campisi
“I…had a rather restless night, I guess.” Emily propped herself up, suddenly awkward with the intimacy of the moment.
His strong hands spread strawberry jam on a biscuit. “I doubt you’ve ever slept on a ship before.”
Or in the same room with a man. “No, this is a whole new experience for me.” One I’d just as soon forget.
He poured a steaming brew from an old metal pot and said, “My crew’s not English and none of them are tea drinkers. I brought you coffee, but it may not be to your liking.”
What was he up to now? He was being too polite. She inched away until her back hit the front of the bed.
“Coffee is fine, thank you.” She reached for the mug. Their fingers touched, a feather light brushing, nothing more. He pulled his hand away and snatched a biscuit from the tray, tearing into it with a vengeance. They ate the rest of their meal in silence, save the occasional clatter of silverware and the muted voices of the crew.
When Emily could stand the tension no longer, she ventured to speak, “Would it be possible to get a little sunshine today?”
“Maybe,” Noah replied, spearing a piece of bacon.
“Thank you.”
His head shot up, his eyes narrowing on her face. “Stop acting like a damn scared rabbit!” He threw down his napkin and stood. “I’m not going to throw you to the wolves!” Muttering an oath under his breath, he strode to the door. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to take you on deck.”
Once he’d left, she scurried out of bed and performed her morning ablutions as best she could. It only took ten minutes to don a blue day gown as she was minus most of her undergarments. What a difference it made not to have to worry about petticoats and the like. Thankfully, packing had prohibited such items. She’d wondered what American women wore and prayed the encumbrances were less and not more.
America. She closed her eyes to recreate the pictures she’d seen in her books. She must continue to believe that one way or another, she was going to America. Even if it was by way of the West Indies. Her eyes flew open. The note she left Ian said she was sailing with Noah to America, but he knew Noah was headed for the West Indies. Oh dear lord, would he follow her and attempt to force her back to England?
A brisk rap on the door brought her out of her dark reverie.
“Come in.”
The key rattled in the lock, and the heavy wooden door opened. Noah’s presence filled the room.
His eyes raked her body. “Where are the rest of your clothes?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your undergarments,” he said impatiently. “I can see the entire shape of your legs and your—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyeing her bosom.
“And the rest of your person. It’s indecent.”
“It’s all I have except for a few pair of breeches.”
“Worse yet,” he muttered in disgust. “I’ve seen you in breeches and let me assure you, they leave little to the imagination.” He strode past her to the armoire. Flinging open the doors, he pulled out a pale pink sateen gown with black, frilly lace and handed it to her. “Put this on.”
“I will not.”
“Emily,” he warned.
“I refuse to wear that gown,” she said peevishly. “It will make me look like a courtesan.”
“Which is a step up,” Noah ground out. “Because right now you look like a street-side doxy.”
“I will not wear that gown. Besides, it’s too big.” There, she’d see what he had to say about that. She sounded petty, but the very idea of wearing a gown that belonged to one of Noah’s mistresses was just too much.
“I see what you mean,” he commented, his eyes trained on her breasts. “You are rather small.”
“Why you crude—”
“Time to go,” Noah said, grabbing her arm. “And remember, my sweet Emily, you love me more than the air you breathe.”
****
“Will you ’ave another bowl ’a soup, Miss Em’ly?”
“Why thank you, Amos, but I couldn’t eat another bite.” She smiled at the grizzly old man, her gaze drawn to his half-toothless grin. He reminded her of the color gray—gray hair, gray eyes, a gray beard, gray complexion, gray shirt, and breeches. Even the five teeth left in his mouth were gray.
“More ale, Miss Emily?” Jeremy asked, his face turning as red as the ruffled mop of hair on his head. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. How had he landed aboard The Falcon? Perhaps she could talk to him later but first, she had to get him past blushing every time he looked her way.
“I’ve had one and that’s really my limit, Jeremy. But thank you for asking.”
“Where’d ya’ say ya’ come from?” Big Tom bellowed, ripping off a hunk of bread and stuffing half of it into his mouth.
“That’s wot I’d like ta’ know,” Amos chimed in. “Us men sees all the capn’s visit’rs, ’specially the women.” He scrunched up his faded gray eyes and scratched his head. “But we nev’r seen the likes ’a you.”
Emily ignored the heat rushing to her face. “Well, no, you might not have seen me,” she hesitated. “Or rather, recognized me, because, you see”—she let out a nervous laugh—“I didn’t look exactly like I do now. As a matter of fact—”
“She was with me in my cabin, and hardly wearing appropriate attire to greet my men,” Noah cut in. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”
Emily wished she could sink through the wooden planks into the deep, dark waters of anonymity, never to be seen again. Noah had just confirmed their suspicions. She was his whore. It was one thing for them to speculate they were lovers and quite another to hear their captain admit to the liaison in such a crude manner.
“Emily?” Noah’s deep drawl pushed through her thoughts, pulling her back. How she wanted to jump from her seat and claw that smug look off his face. She balled her hands into fists and raised her head to meet his intense gaze.
The table fell silent as all eyes settled on their captain. The wooden floorboards creaked back and forth in rhythmic cadence with the waves beating against the ship. “Well, now, it doesn’t matter how Miss Emily got aboard or that none of you sorry men saw her,” John Judson said, breaking the silence. His blue eyes twinkled with sympathy and encouragement as he smiled at Emily. “I for one am just happy we’ll be sharing company with such a beautiful, charming young woman. Makes for a much shorter trip.”
Amos lifted his mug. “Hear, hear. Miss Emily’s a might bett’r look’n than any ’a you old cusses.”
“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Jeremy said, blushing.
“She sure is purty,” Big Tom grinned, making the scar on his forehead crinkle.
Noah slammed his fist on the wooden table. “Enough!”
“Captain?” John Judson asked. “Is something wrong? The men were just trying to make your guest feel welcome, like you always tell them to do when you have a visitor aboard.”
Emily lowered her head to hide her smile. Noah was not pleased that his men had come to her rescue and saved her from further humiliation. Her heart warmed to all of them, for despite their outward appearances and obvious lack of manners, they possessed good intentions and kind hearts—unlike their captain, who was nothing more than a blackguard and a boor.
Yet, he’d led her to believe they were not to be trusted where a woman was concerned. In truth, she was probably safer with these men than with their captain.
The meal proceeded with the entire crew, minus Noah, exchanging delightful antics about life at sea and travelling the world. Emily listened with an eager ear as she heard tales of Istanbul, Greece, and Peking.
With the meal finished, the men scurried off, leaving Emily alone. Noah stood in the distance, gazing out to sea, his chestnut hair windblown and tousled from the steady breeze, his dark features set against the brilliant backdrop of the afternoon sun, like a fierce warrior returning from battle. He seemed troubled, and it surprised her she could discern that fact. When two people spent vast quantities of
time together, wasn’t it to be expected they would learn each other’s likes and dislikes? The notion seemed plausible but it was the very knowing that disturbed her.
She’d begun to sense his moods from a look or word, even the quirk of an eyebrow. It scared her to acknowledge she might be interested in scratching the surface of that hard exterior to find the real man beneath. And, Emily knew there was a very different man behind the cold façade Noah showed her. Unfortunately, only a fool would open herself up to the pain and heartache of loving Noah Sandleton, and she was no fool.
“Miss Emily, if ye’ don’t go below deck or put a hat on soon, ye’ll be as red as a lobster come sunset.”
Emily turned to the old, grizzled sailor who’d just spoken. “Why thank you for reminding me, Amos. I was so enjoying this fine weather I didn’t even consider my skin.” She frowned. “Unfortunately, I find myself without a hat or bonnet, which means I suppose I should return to the cabin until the sun sets.”
“But the cap’n has one o’ them big straw ’uns he wears in the Indies,” Amos said.
“The captain’s not in a mood to be disturbed right now,” John Judson said, casting a look in Noah’s direction. “We’d best call it a day for now. I’ll escort Miss Emily to her cabin.”
She hazarded another glance at Noah. He was staring straight at her, and the fierceness of his expression frightened her. She turned quickly, clasped John Judson’s arm and followed him below deck.
“Is he always like that?” she whispered as they reached the cabin door.
John shook his head, smiling. “He’s never like that, Miss Emily. Leastwise, not unless the subject of his family comes up, which it rarely does.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Noah’s as carefree and easygoing as they come. He’s always had a way with the ladies, a real charmer that one, with his sweet words and that big smile. Women go crazy over him.”
Emily snorted indelicately. “Pardon my rudeness, Mr. Judson, but that description does not fit the man on the deck. That man is crude and overbearing.”
John grinned down at her. “I’m seeing that, Miss Emily, and I couldn’t agree with you more.” He paused a moment, before adding, “If I were a betting man, I’d say he’s got it bad, real bad and it’s about time.”
“Got what bad, Mr. Judson?” Emily stared at him.
John’s smile only deepened as he pushed open the door for her. “You’ll find out soon enough. Rest assured, you’ll find out soon enough.”
Chapter 6
No one seemed to notice Noah was silent through supper the next evening. He and Emily were sitting among his crew, eating barley soup and hard rolls with chunks of ham. He’d had to get out of that damned cabin. She was too close, too accessible, insinuating herself upon him minute by minute, hour by hour, making him crazy with wanting her.
Wherever he turned, he saw her fresh beauty, her tantalizing smile. The sound of her voice called to him with whispered promises as he listened to the velvety notes of soft humming or God pardon his sick mind, her little moans, and sighs of sleep. Even her anger drew him in, the spark in her soulful gray eyes, captivating him as no other woman had. He dared not think of that luscious body, though, even the thought of not thinking about it made him hard as a rock.
Dammit, why her? Why did just the thought of her make him ache? She drove him crazy, and he didn’t even think he liked her, with her waspish tongue and shrewish ways. Oh, but he wanted her, there was no denying that any longer. He bit into a chunk of hard bread and tried to convince himself it was because he hadn’t bedded her yet, and once he had, she’d be relegated to the scores of other women who'd come before. But there was this gnawing feeling deep in his gut that told him she might just be different from all the rest. That angered him most of all.
“Noah, tell Miss Emily about the silks we brought back from the Orient,” Jeremy said, interrupting Noah’s dark musings.
“I doubt Miss Emily has much to do with silks,” he responded, his gaze settling on the plain muslin gown she wore.
Emily gasped. His men fell silent. Noah cursed his foolish behavior. Even loud, burly men like these knew a direct cut when they heard one. What was the matter with him? He’d always had a reputation with the ladies, young and old alike. They all loved him, loved his carefree, debonair style and rakish grin. But not this one. She would just as soon throw daggers at him if the opportunity presented itself.
He glanced at her. She had a smile pasted on her face, but he didn’t miss the flaring nostrils or the wide-eyed stare. He’d bet she wanted to strangle him for his rude behavior, and he couldn’t blame her. He had been ill-mannered and inconsiderate toward her. He just wished to hell he knew why.
She was looking at him now, her gray gaze intent on his mouth. Noah’s cock stiffened when she leaned toward him, her pink lips stopping a breath from his own. He stared in stunned silence as she placed the softest of kisses on his lips.
Though he expected the contact, even yearned for it, when her warm mouth touched his, the union startled him, sending shards of raw sensation through his body. He jerked away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Jesus, Emily, what did you go and do that for?” he demanded.
The smile she gave him was sweet and innocent, and totally unlike the Emily Barry he knew. Damn her, but she was taking great pleasure making a fool out of him in front of his men. She leaned closer, whispering in his ear, “You told me specifically, that I was to show you great affection in front of your men.” Her small teeth nipped his earlobe. “That’s all I’m trying to do, Noah. Honestly.” She touched the curls at the nape of his neck.
“Damn you!” he whispered through clenched teeth as he hastily rose from the table. He turned on his heel and stalked off, muttering a string of oaths under his breath.
All eyes followed their captain’s retreating back. When he was out of sight, they turned back to their bowls in silence, sopping up broth with chunks of bread. Several minutes passed without a word. Jeremy snickered first, a low snorting sound, followed by Amos’ high pitched howl. It matched the piercing cry of the sea gulls overhead. Within seconds, the whole lot of them broke into gales of laughter, deep, full-bellied laughs that started and ended with hoots and hollers.
Emily laughed too, though she really didn’t know why. The last few days had proved more than a little trying, but she refused to examine the motive behind her sudden giddiness, other than to acknowledge that Noah Sandleton was nowhere to be found and she was relieved, almost weightless.
A large ruddy hand covered hers and squeezed gently. Emily turned to look into the twinkling blue eyes of John Judson. She liked this kindly man with his shock of white hair and even disposition. He smiled as though he’d sensed her false bravado and was proud of it, nonetheless. “Care to take a walk in the setting sun with an old man?”
“I’d be honored, John.”
They made their way to the stern of The Falcon and stood side by side gazing out over the dark, endless water. There was not even a hint of land in sight and Emily marveled again at the wonder of these men who could find chartered lands with only a map and compass. Brave, fearless souls with passion in their veins and purpose in their hearts. Men like John Judson, and Ian and—she hesitated only a moment—Noah. They sought and found their destiny with a single-mindedness she admired. Thinking about them renewed her determination to see her destiny fulfilled.
“Don’t be too harsh on Noah, Miss Emily,” John said, breaking into her thoughts. “He’ll come around soon enough.”
Emily leaned close to the older man. “No, he won’t.” Wisps of hair escaped from her braid and whipped across her face. She brushed them aside and said, “He’s not happy I’m here.” She paused then added, “I stowed away in his cabin.”
John winked at her and grinned. “That’s what I heard. Well done, young lady,” he commended her. “Well done indeed.”
“Did you hear what I said John? I stowed away, hidden in his armoire.”
“I
heard you well enough, Miss Emily, and I applaud you. Noah needs a woman who will stand up to him instead of those frilly, gushy, dress-ups that swoon when he looks their way and would never dare let him know they have an opinion.”
“But you have it all wrong, John. I’m not his woman.”
John raised a bushy white brow but said nothing.
“Truly, I’m not. He just wants us to act like a couple for appearance sake. He said it would ruin his image if I didn’t fawn all over him,” she finished, rolling her eyes to show him what she thought of the whole idea.
John let out another laugh. “The truth will come out soon enough, Miss Emily. It always does, whether we like it or not.”
She wanted to argue the point further, but held her tongue. John would believe what he wished, no matter how strongly she and Noah denied it.
“Noah told me you were headed for America,” John said.
Emily nodded. “John,” she began, choosing her next words with great care. “Why doesn’t he consider America his home?”
“Now what do you know about that?” John asked, a small frown playing about his usually cheerful face.
“He said he considers the West Indies his home.” She pressed on. “Did something happen in America?”
John sighed, and leaned back against the ship’s railing. He crossed his arms over his rounded middle and studied Emily. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, soft as the gentle swaying of the ship. “I’ve been sailing the seas for some thirty plus years.” His bushy eyebrows pulled down in thought. “Met a lot of men in my day—most of them running from something—usually their past.” He paused and stroked his white beard.
“Noah’s a good sort. It was his father’s doing. The old man drove him away. Noah comes from a long line of Sandleton’s, each one of them prouder than the one before. They own hundreds of acres of tobacco and cotton in Virginia. As the oldest son, his father expected him to remain at Willow Oaks and carry on the family tradition. Of course, Noah wanted none of it, not even the little rich girl his father picked out for him. He couldn’t ignore the wanderlust in his blood but his father would hear none of it, threatened to disown him if he left. That didn’t stop Noah; he took off anyway, barely sixteen at the time.”
