by J. Jay Kamp
Chapter Twenty
Home. No sooner had Ravenna thought the word when a warm glow spread through her, making her shudder in the morning’s gale.
Captain Gray, who’d soon name the Columbia River after his ship, had sent word to Vancouver that the mouth of Juan de Fuca’s Straight lay only a few miles to the north. Hearing this news, the captain gave orders to make more sail. By the next evening they’d rounded Cape Flattery, dropped anchor near the native village at Neah Bay, and come within sight of everything Ravenna knew and loved.
She felt the full strength of her homesickness then. Glued to the rail the next morning, she watched as the rocky cliffs went by, the familiar foothills of the Olympic Mountains, the points and headlands she knew so well. Seeing it all again, her heart ached with memories—the countless hours she’d spent in Port Angeles working under the hulls of boats, the diving she’d done off Observatory Point, Green Point, every point between there and Port Townsend, all this came to mind when she saw it standing there in the distance—her island. Home.
By the time the helmsman guided the ship toward Dungeness, it was long past dark. She’d have to wait until morning, she realized, and in the interest of killing time until then, she let James badger her about the spit of land outside their gunport. What would Vancouver name it? And would the captain be forced to admit their position was indeed in the Strait of Juan de Fuca?
Out of weariness, she gave in. She told James everything, and soon she found herself questioned and requestioned about the names of the different first nations groups—the Haida and Kwakiutl, the Tlingit and Makah. The Royal Society would be indebted to Ravenna for the things she’d told him, James promised eagerly, but despite his words, she knew he was after just one more detail.
When at last he’d left, she could hear Vancouver’s voice come muffled through the great cabin’s wall. It was hours before she nodded off, but in the morning, she was up with the first crews, hoping she’d beaten Vancouver on deck. Stepping into her breeches, hurrying into a warmer shirt, she didn’t even bother with shoes and socks, for her head was spinning with anticipation.
Just let Vancouver try and keep me here, she thought, fumbling with her shirt buttons. I’ll steal the cutter, hijack the shore party, even swim if I have to.
Yet in scrambling out on deck, she didn’t see Vancouver anywhere. Christian stood quietly near the stern rail, gazing at the island; he seemed harmless enough in the morning sunshine, so she bustled over to stand at his side. “You’re up early,” she said, leaning on the taffrail.
He turned to her placidly. “For you, Beloved.”
Then Paul appeared across the deck, causing Ravenna to turn around. Instantly, she felt a surge of pride. Even with bed hair, he was handsome. Tugging at his shirt as if he’d only just pulled it on, he hesitated near the capstan, glanced around at the various men until his gaze came to rest upon hers. As scruffy as he looked, still her heart swelled with love. He staggered up to where she waited, and she turned her back on Christian in a hurry, her thoughts centering only on Paul’s square jaw, his unshaven cheek.
“I knocked at your door, but—” He drew nearer, and she noticed how his eyes were bleary, half-closed with sleep, “—But em, I guess I didn’t wake up early enough t’catch you. I was hopin’ to surprise you, y’know?”
“Surprise me about what?”
He pushed his hair back in an unthinking gesture, regarded her carefully. “You mean you haven’t been told?”
When she said that she hadn’t, Paul looked away. A grin seeped into his tired face. Clearing his throat, he obviously took his time before answering. “Well,” he began, tossing his arm around her neck in a pal-like manner, “you know yerself James was after you last night, asking you all those Indian questions?”
His arm was warm, distracting, and as Ravenna considered, he leaned closer still, enhancing the effect. “Yes,” she said finally, trying hard to think. “He wanted me to tell him about native culture. He wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“Y’see that’s because I asked him not to. I didn’t want you hearin’ me next door, having a row with Vancouver over who’s going ashore to hunt and who isn’t.”
She looked up at him, amazed by his words. “You mean…”
His eyes roved over her face with pleasure, taking in her excited reaction. We’re going to the island, she thought, and by the playfulness of his expression, she knew it’d be just Paul and her—isolated, unescorted, and completely alone. “But how?” she asked. “Doesn’t Vancouver think we’ll…that we won’t get any work done?”
“Oh, we’ll be gettin’ it done,” he said, and with eyes like a summer storm, savoring her, teasing her, he slipped his hand around her back and lower, to her hip where, caressing her with a silky firmness that made her quiver, his fingers curved intimately around her buttocks. He raised a brow. “Five days enough, d’ya think?”
Her pulses raced. With the heat in his eyes making her dizzy, she barely managed to shake her head.
“No?” he asked, snuggling closer.
Irresistible, that’s what he was, and drawing courage from his sudden smile, from the comfortable way he held her—as if they’d been together all of their lives—Ravenna put her arms around him. Forever, she thought, I want you forever, exactly like this.
“Then you’d best plan every moment for us, hadn’t you?” With devilry at the corners of his mouth, daring her infectiously, he drew nearer still until he was close enough to kiss. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe but for smelling his clean, earthy scent, and losing what control she had, she let her eyes wander the familiar contours of his face, his angular cheekbones, those strong, soft-looking lips as she imagined them doing unspeakable things.
“Lord Killiney, Sir!”
Ravenna jumped. Turning beneath the warmth of Paul’s hand, she scanned the deck for Captain Vancouver. Instead, she saw only a handful of sailors straining to hoist the pinnace from the gallows; they were obviously having trouble, and in the midst of the fight, Mr. Whidbey turned a scowl toward Paul. “Mightn’t you lend a hand, Sir?” he called, and when Paul didn’t move, “I say, look alive, my lord! Do you need askin’ twice?”
Without even a parting glance, Paul disengaged himself from her arms. He hurried to Whidbey’s side, and as he helped the men raise the pinnace, Ravenna was left on her own at the railing, struggling to recover from what he’d just said.
Had he meant it? Was he teasing her? Or did he really plan on making love at last?
As she stood there worrying, shaking in her shoes, at least ten minutes passed before she realized Christian had disappeared.
