Capture The Night

by Geralyn Dawson

  “Do what?”

  “Look at me like that.”

  The sheen of tears sparkled in her eyes. “Like what?”

  Brazos raked his fingers through his hair. “Never mind.” She’d retied the ribbon at the neck of her nightgown, and above the lace collar her skin shone a light pink. Brazos shook his head, chasing away the mental image of other rose-color body parts. “Look, Maddie, we can’t…I don’t…aw, hell.” Leaning against the cabin wall opposite the bed, Brazos slowly slid down to sit on the floor. Propping an elbow on a knee, he held his palm to his forehead and repeated, “Aw, hell.”

  For a long moment, Madeline stared at him. Then she plopped down onto the mattress and said vehemently, “Bloody hell.”

  Brazos looked up, shocked.

  She darted him a sheepish glance. “Oops.”

  He felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. He saw amusement kindle in her eyes. Their gazes locked, and suddenly, they both began to laugh.

  “My word, Maddie, you certainly know how to surprise a fella.”

  She rolled over to her side and propped her head on her elbow. “You’ve a few surprises of your own. I’d never have guessed—” She stopped abruptly, and he saw her gaze focus upon the scar on his chest. “What happened to you, Brazos?”

  Automatically, his hand lifted to touch the band around his arm. “It’s nothing.”

  “You’re doing it again,” she said. “You kept touching that armband last night.” Madeline paused before hesitantly asking, “What was it all about? What happened last night?”

  He barely heard her question because the look in her eyes filled him with such…shame. He pushed roughly to his feet. Damn the woman. I won’t be pitied.

  “Brazos?”

  “What?” he snapped, glaring at her.

  She frowned with annoyance and said, “Well, you needn’t use that tone. All I did was ask you a question, which, under the circumstances, I believe I have every right to ask.”

  He ground his teeth together. “Don’t fool yourself. If you’re thinking that what happened in that bunk a few minutes ago gives you any rights at all, you prove the point I was arguing yesterday.”

  “What point?”

  “That women don’t have any more sense than an armadillo.”

  She sat up. “And what, dare I ask, is an armadillo?”

  “An armadillo is one of the dumbest critters the good Lord put on this earth.”

  Madeline’s mouth fell open. “I don’t believe you’re saying something like that to me.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin, and her fiery beauty rekindled the desire that had continued to smolder inside him.

  Shame and desire create a volatile mixture. With the two emotions whipping around inside him, Brazos resorted to a defense he seldom used. He lied. “Honey, you’re a perfect example. You fell for my story last night like deadwood in a gale.” Shoulders squared, a cocky expression in place, Brazos said, “I thought to get in out of the cold for a bit last night, that’s all,” he said with a shrug. “I figured I’d best do something peculiar so that you’d leave me the hell alone. That’s why I put on that little act of being crazy.”

  He swept her with a contemptuous gaze. “And I was right, wasn’t I? Soon as my eyes are shut, you up and bare your breasts, hoping to catch me unaware.”

  Her mouth rounded in a silent “Oh.” Then she crossed her arms and glared at him. “I did not. When I went to sleep, my gown was securely fastened. You’re the one with wandering fingers.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He scooped his shirt from the floor. “You almost pulled off your scheme, didn’t you?” Shoving his arms through the shirtsleeves, he added, “Thank God I didn’t let my pecker do my thinking for me, or you’d have well me and truly leg-shackled this minute. For the last time, Maddie, my dear, I’m not gonna be your stud.”

  She waited a moment, then said softly, “You’ve a nasty mouth on you, Brazos Sinclair.”

  Lord, he knew it was true. Never in his life had he talked to a woman the way he’d spoken to Madeline. He lifted his gaze toward heaven and asked, Dear God, what am I becoming?

  That’s when he noticed the ceiling—the very low ceiling. Against his will, his stare slowly traveled the wooden planks to the wall and then to the floorboards. The room shrank. Anxiety replaced all emotion, and he muttered hoarsely, “I’ve gotta get out of here.”

  “Don’t you dare leave now, you contemptible cur. I’m not through…”

  But Brazos fled the cabin, barefoot and embarrassed. He was halfway up the companionway stairs when the door to Madeline’s room flew open and his boots came sailing out to thump against the opposite wall.

  Inside the cabin, Madeline started to slam the door shut, but then remembered the babies asleep in the next room. So with deliberate movements, she grasped the handle and quietly closed the door. Emotion threatened to choke her, and she blinked her eyes rapidly as her gaze wandered aimlessly around the room. Then she noticed his hat hanging on a hook on the wall.

  Madeline’s imagination ran wild as she used bare feet to stomp the hat into an unrecognizable form, heedless of the tears that coursed down her cheeks. Then she crawled back into her bunk and curled into a ball beneath the sheets.

  Brazos was right, she was a fool. How else could she explain allowing him the liberties he’d taken this morning? “Hah,” she scoffed. “At least be honest with yourself, Madeline. Liberties you offered.”

  Madeline was baffled by her own behavior. Never had she acted so free with a man before. It wasn’t like her at all! She replayed the morning’s events in her mind. Still, answers eluded her. She was thinking of men in general, Brazos specifically, when she murmured, “Why do I allow them to hurt me?”

  It wasn’t as if Brazos was the man of her dreams. Far from it. The man Madeline fantasized sharing her life with would recognize and respect her intelligence and abilities. He’d understand the reasons behind her more unsavory actions, and if not approve of them, he’d at least forgive her for having committed the deeds.

  Most of all, he’d love her.

  Never in her life had Madeline known a man’s love—not a true, abiding love, anyway. She’d never known her father, and Gentleman Jack, the man who’d taught her how to steal, had rejected her once her developing body proved her a girl, not the boy he’d believed.

  Madeline threw back the covers, leaned over the bunk, and yanked open a drawer of the chest built beneath the bed. She fumbled through her clothes for a handkerchief. “I’ll find my man,” she said, tugging a cloth from the drawer and sitting up. “I will.” She blew her nose. “He’s out there somewhere, and I simply have to look around a bit to meet him.”

  Then she’d show Brazos Sinclair. She’d prove to him just how wrong he was. The man of her dreams would propose to her. He’d be drowning in desire to have her in his bed. He wouldn’t flee it as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. He’d…

  She stopped. Lowering the handkerchief to her lap, Madeline stared through the porthole at the white-capped sea. Faced with the sting of Brazos’s rejection, she had forgotten his conduct during the previous night. “The hounds of hell were after him,” Madeline murmured.

  Slowly, she climbed from her bed, thinking past this morning’s incident to the events of the previous evening. As she dressed, she made a decision. She’d be magnanimous. She would remember that he, too, had a cross of some sort to bear, and she’d forget the hurtful words he’d spoken to her this morning.

  But a lingering ache made her realize she still had some memories to lose. Where Brazos Sinclair was concerned, some things were easier to forget than others.

  TWO DAYS later, Brazos searched the deck of the Urielwith a package in his hand and a notion in his mind. It was time to apologize to his wife. His behavior the other morning had been deplorable. The cruel, dishonest words he had spoken had hurt someone who’d been more than kind to him during his hour of need. Although he’d numerous excuses, he’d allow himself none. H
e considered himself an honorable man, and he’d acted with dishonor. So, the only option he had was to apologize.

  Then he planned to go after what he really wanted.

  Sleep. Warm, comfortable, uninterrupted sleep. The type he’d enjoyed before boarding the Uriel, the kind he’d known only one night since—the night he’d spent in Madeline Christophe Sinclair’s bed.

  He’d talked his way right out of that pleasant little heaven, and he felt ashamed as he remembered the words he’d hurled. He’d mean every word of this apology when he offered it. But that didn’t suggest he wouldn’t use every available resource to move right back into Madeline’s bed.

  Platonically, of course.

  True, he had every right to demand a place in her cabin. She’d offered him the floor when she first mentioned the idea of this marriage. But Brazos had given the idea careful consideration, and he’d decided that any attempt how to strong-arm his way in would undoubtedly lead to war. A man didn’t get much rest when he was fighting battles.

  Brazos was tired, exhausted. A bedroll and blanket simply weren’t enough protection against North Atlantic nights, and the nightmares he’d suffered since the storm weren’t helping the situation. Neither were the memories of how he’d made a fool of himself in Madeline’s cabin.

  So he pondered a bit and arrived at what he believed to be a foolproof plan for talking his way back into the beauty’s bed. At least, he hoped it was a good plan. He had based his ideas on a concept every man with any sense held close to heart. If you want something from a woman, you tell her what she wants to hear first.

  Brazos had been exposed to the idea at an early age, watching his father with his mother, his uncles with his aunts. He’d employed it for the first time at the age of eleven when he’d been intent on stealing a kiss off of Sarah Jane Davis. Today he planned to tell Madeline what he figured she wanted to hear:

  “Let’s hope I’ve got it figured right,” he muttered, stepping over a coil or rope.

  It was shortly after eight bells, twelve o’clock, when he found her playing with Rose on a blanket spread atop an out-of-the-way section of the deck. The baby lay on her back, arms and legs all in the air as she tugged on a knitted green bootie. “You do have a problem with shoes, don’t you Miss Magic,” Brazos said, sitting down beside them. “Afternoon, Maddie.”

  She turned her head, looked at him, and nodded.

  The woman can say more with her eyes than anyone I’ve met before, Brazos acknowledged. Right then, she was telling him to go to hell. “It’s kinda nice having the wind fall away for a day, isn’t it? The sea looks like a sheet of glass. Funny how it can change. The last couple of days, it was downright angry—roaring surges, the ridges of the waves all roughened and broken into foam. Now, today the mood’s gone calm and peaceful. Nice to know things can change, right?”

  The look in her eyes clearly proclaimed him a fool, but she chose not to answer him aloud. Ease into it, man, he told himself. She’d been just as close-mouthed that first day, and everything had worked out all right. Sort of.

  “Did you see the whale that swam with us a bit today?” he asked. “Simply fascinating. I’ve never seen such a magnificent animal. And the porpoises are always fun to watch. A sailor told me they’re attracted by the Uriel’s copper sheathing. You think that’s true?”

  She didn’t even bother to look at him. Watching as she lifted the baby into her lap, Brazos allowed himself a frustrated sigh. “I swear, Maddie. I’ve never met a woman so accomplished at ignoring a man.”

  Dryly, she replied, “And I’ve never met a man more deserving of being ignored.”

  He couldn’t stop the grin, rueful though it was. “I’ve a far piece to travel, don’t I?”

  She lifted an eyebrow.

  “I’m here to apologize, Madeline. I didn’t mean those things I said to you the other morning. They were ugly and mean-spirited. You deserve to be treated better than that.”

  He paused, gauging her reaction. Well, he’d known it wasn’t going to be easy.

  “I’m here with my hat in my hand—or I would be if I still had a hat—to beg your forgiveness. I brought a little something for Rose as a way of saying I’m sorry.” He held out the burlap-wrapped package.

  Madeline looked at the gift, then looked at him, then looked at the gift again. Brazos could tell she wanted it. He also figured she wasn’t ready to let bygones be. He tried flashing her a winsome smile.

  She wrinkled her nose at him, and Brazos laughed. “Ah, Maddie, you’re an all-standing tough old gal.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “That’s high praise for a woman in Texas.” He motioned with the gift. “Here, Beauty, open it. Let me have Rose. My arms have been aching to hold her these last few days.”

  That one worked, he told himself, observing the softening of Madeline’s eyes. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? And it was nothing more than the truth. Rose, with her smiles and charming little giggles, had wiggled her way right into his heart. “Come here, Miss Magic,” he said, trading the package for the child. “Wait till you get a gander at what your Mama’s unwrapping.”

  While Rose busied herself with pulling at the lobe of his ear, Brazos watched Madeline’s suspicious delight as she turned the gift this way and that, sniffing and measuring and guessing. The lady liked presents, he noted, satisfied he’d chosen well in this next step of his strategy.

  He’d figured Madeline would cotton to a gift for her baby. The saying went that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Personally, Brazos had always felt it was lower than that. Anyway, the counterpart to that adage was, in his theory, that the way to a woman’s bed was through kindness to her children.

  He’d never put the idea into practice before—in truth he’d thought of it only yesterday. But as Madeline slowly unwrapped the twine from around the gift, he decided he was right on target.

  “It’s something wooden,” Madeline said, nodding with certainty.

  “Come on, Maddie. At the rate you’re going, we’ll hit Galveston before you get it open.” Her answering smile was a burst of sunshine that packed a wallop to his gut. Think platonic, Sinclair. Only platonic. A warm place to sleep for eight hours straight.

  Madeline finally removed the cloth. “Why, it’s a puzzle,” she said, her expression beaming with delight as she traced the pieces with her finger. Five rectangles were carved from the wood, their edges smoothed, and each one large enough not to be a danger to Rose. The shapes were painted in bright, eye-catching colors and designs.

  “They’re flags!” Madeline exclaimed.

  “Yep. The five national flags that have flown over Texas. See?” He lifted one out and displayed it before Rose. “This is the flag of France—the old one with the fleur-de-lis. But listen, Rose, don’t get too excited about it. France’s claim on Texas was the most doubtful of the lot.”

  Shaking her head, Madeline laughed, “Really, Brazos, a history lesson for a seven-month-old?”

  “Hey, now,” he faked a frown. “Texans are proud folks. Miss Magic’s got to learn that from the git go.”

  Madeline sent him a sharp, knowing glance. “Yes, Texans are complicated people, aren’t they?”

  Brazos’s false frown became genuine. Damn, but the woman looked right into a man.

  Uneasy now, Brazos moved to lay the baby on her back so she could freely wave the flags she held in both hands. Madeline placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Wait,” she said. “Let me have her. I want you to see what she has learned.”

  “Madeline,” he began, but he lost the thought. His gaze snagged on the swell of her bosom as she leaned over and set Rose in front of her. Slowly, Madeline removed her hands from around the child’s waist. Finally, Rose’s birdlike trill distracted Brazos from the delectable display before his eyes. He turned his attention to the baby, and a delighted smile spread across his face. “Why, look at that!” he exclaimed. “She can sit by herself. When did she learn that little trick?”


  “She’s been trying for a while, but today is the first time she’s managed not to fall over after a few minutes,” Madeline answered, glowing with pride.

  Rose listed to port, and Brazos caught her before she fell. Lifting the baby up, he made faces at her and said, “Aren’t you something special, Miss Magic.” He looked at Madeline and added, “Just like your mother.”

  Madeline offered him a hesitant smile. He sat Rose on the blanket and took her mother’s hand. “I am sorry, Madeline.”

  She nodded. “Would you tell me about it?”

  Brazos considered it. Telling her about Perote would undoubtedly further his cause, but as he released her hand to retrieve a puzzle piece Rose had tossed out of reach, he knew he wouldn’t do it. A man could swallow only so much pride before he choked. He’d stick with the scheme he’d concocted. “I made a mistake. Let’s leave it at that, all right? Look at Miss Magic, she’s having a fine time with her toy.”

  Madeline allowed the question to drop, glancing over at Rose, whose little hands busily banged rectangular flags against their slots on the board. “The poor child has skin just like mine,” she said regretfully. “I must remain on constant guard to ensure that she avoids unattractive spots.”

  “I think your freckles are cute, Maddie,” Brazos said, deciding that a little flattery wouldn’t hurt before he launched the next stage of his plan. Besides, he was telling the truth about that, too.

  After a few moments of silence, Madeline said, “Thank you for the gift, Brazos. At times, you are a fine man.”

  He couldn’t ask for a more perfect opening. “I’m glad you think so. In fact, I want you to keep that in mind. You see, I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”

  The wooden puzzle piece in Madeline’s hand dropped to the ground. In a flat voice, she asked, “What offer?”

  Brazos took one look at the hard glint in her eyes and realized her mind was on the other morning. Bad choice of words, Sinclair. He hurried to cover his mistake. “I guess it wasn’t actually an offer; but I’ve been thinking’ about that conversation we had the other day. The one about La Réunion—remember it?”