Love With an Improper Stranger

by Barbara Devlin

  However, for some odd reason she recalled her antagonist’s rich baritone, whispering suggestive promises in her ear, but she could not distinguish fact from fantasy, so she would take no offense. And never again would she consume rum. Yet Captain Elliott fascinated her, to her dismay.

  Tall, broad-shouldered, handsome beyond words, and possessed of a piercing stare, he unnerved her as no man had, and she shivered with gooseflesh every time he looked at her. Such a pity he had been so cruel to his unfortunate sister, and therein lay the crux of Lenore’s dilemma.

  How could she reconcile the callous blackguard, who forced the hapless Caroline into a loveless marriage, with the beneficent sailor who labored to save a woman with whom he shared naught more than a brief acquaintance? Propped on an elbow, she studied the devil’s chiseled cheekbones, angular nose, dimpled chin, and thick brown hair, just as he stirred.

  “Good morning, Miss Teversham.” Yawning, he rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Ooh.” With a sob, she collapsed to her pillow. “Must you speak so loud?”

  “Is someone feeling a tad under the weather this fine day?” Blake stood and stretched, and she groaned. “That will teach you not to overindulge with rum, but I am surprised, as never would I have figured such a refined young lady for a grog drinker.”

  “You are enjoying my suffering, are you not, foul beast?” When he bent over her, she retreated, but all he did was press his palm to her cheek and to her forehead. “What are you doing?”

  “Ah, your flesh is cool, which means no fever, and that is a blessing, given the gravity of your malaise.” Then he whisked a stray tendril behind her ear. “Are you hungry?”

  “Please, do not shout.” His question seemed to reverberate in her temples. “Can you not see I am in pain?”

  “Here.” To her astonishment, he offered the same vile potion that put her in her current miserable state. “The cure for what ails you is more rum, but do not guzzle so much, this time.”

  “You must be joking.” At the prospect, she blanched. “And I am starved.”

  “Then take a little, for me.” He brought the cup to her lips, and as she met his blue gaze, she wondered if anyone ever refused him anything. “But sip it slowly.”

  “I do not want it.” She grimaced. “Leave me alone.”

  “My dear Lenore, we can do this the easy way, or we can engage in a repeat performance of last night, as I am more than happy to oblige you.” Again, he thrust the mug at her. “A small amount of the liquor will ease your current symptoms. Now do as I command, else I will pour it down your throat and then, for defying me, I shall spank your bottom, which I will quite enjoy for reasons I believe are more than obvious to you.”

  To her confusion, he appeared almost as if he wanted her to disobey him.

  “I beg your pardon, Captain Elliott. There is no need to threaten me with violence.” Yes, there was the villain who showered her in mud and destroyed her favorite hat, and Lenore refused to yield her pride. Yet she was no recalcitrant child to rebel for the mere sake of mutiny, as she considered herself a remarkably prudent person. Thrusting her chin, she sniffed and did as he bade, but she coughed and sputtered on the bitter brew. “Had you explained your rationale, from the first, I would have abided your request, as I am neither daft nor illogical.”

  “Well, all right.” Blake opened his mouth and then sputtered. Then he scratched his cheek and shuffled his feet, and it was clear she had at last stumped him. “And you are to rest and remain below decks. We have sailed into a wicked snowstorm, and the sea ice has moved further south than I anticipated, given it is early October. I will not have you prancing about the boards and breaking your lovely neck.”

  “That will never happen, Captain Elliott.” And there she had him. “As I do not prance.”

  “Really?” A hint of a smile graced his lips, as he narrowed his stare, and so returned the confident naval man. “Trust me, the world is sadder for it.”

  “Lenny?” Lucilla peered into the stateroom. “Are you much improved, sister?”

  “I am.” Smiling, Lenore put on a brave face for her sibling. “But I am famished. Would you be a dear and fetch me something to eat?”

  “I will get your meal.” With an incoherent grumble, Blake stomped from the cabin.

  “Oh, Lenore, I was so worried.” Tears filled her eyes, as Lucy eased to the edge of the bunk. “You were in grave condition, and Dr. Avery feared you would not live through the night, but Cap’n promised to save you.”

  “Did he?” And yet she could not understand why. “Perhaps he feels some sense of responsibility for us, as he is tasked with our passage to London.”

  “That may be, but he fought for you, Lenny.” Lucilla clutched Lenore’s hand. “I was so scared, as I know not what I would do without you.”

  “Fret not, little one, as I am quite recovered, thanks to the captain’s unorthodox but efficacious treatment.” She squeezed her sister’s fingers. “Now wipe your nose, as it runs.”

  “So?” To Lenore’s displeasure, Lucy dragged her sleeve across her face and sniffed. “We are at sea, and we have not had a governess since we departed England.”

  “That is no excuse to abandon polite manners and everything you were taught.” Just then, Lenore checked her appearance and flinched. “Upon my word, I require a robe before Captain Elliott returns. Hurry, Lucy.”

  “Why?” Snickering, Lucy shrugged. “You sat in Cap’n’s lap wearing nothing but your nightgown, as Doc Avery forced you to drink the grog. You did not concern yourself with your garb then, so why should you worry now?”

  “Because I am on the mend and have no plausible excuse.” Tossing aside the blankets, Lenore scooted from the mattress, just as her surly antagonist threw open the door. Draped in sheer lawn, she shrieked and folded her arms about herself. “Captain, please, turn around, as I am not fit for mixed company.”

  “What are you doing out of bed?” Holding a tray, he cast a wicked scowl, until he scanned her from head to toe. To her embarrassment, his countenance transformed into something she would describe as predatory, and she shivered beneath his scrutiny. “On second thought, you may do whatever you wish, Miss Teversham, as you just made my day, and I am most definitely at your service.”

  “Captain, I must protest.” Despite her original intentions, Lenore jumped between the covers and pulled the sheet to her chin. “As our acquaintance is limited, you should not be here.”

  With a huff, he rolled his eyes. “My dear Lenore—”

  “—Miss Teversham.” Yes, she corrected her nemesis, even as she shuddered. “If you please.”

  “But you made me free with your name, last night, so I do not please.” When he approached, he nodded to Lucilla, who drew the chair for him to sit. “In fact, you shared quite a bit of intimate information, or do you not remember what you said?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Terror struck her heart, as he tucked a napkin about her throat. “How dare you make such spurious claims, when I was out of my wits with fever and sea sickness? No doubt it was the illness talking, and I would thank you not to mention it again.”

  “Oh, I will never forget your charming confession, sweetest and loveliest Lenore.” To her shame, he chuckled. “And your secrets are not so secret.”

  “What did she say, Cap’n?” Lucy joined in the mirth. “You simply must tell me.”

  “Traitor.” Lenore glanced at the spoonful of some sort of concoction and frowned. “What is that?”

  “Cook’s signature recipe porridge with nutmeg, which should do well to test the limits of your stomach, as I would not court a repeat performance of the wee hours.” With unchecked arrogance, he waggled his brows. “Unless you wish to pass another night in my arms.”

  “I do not.” The warm and creamy dish tasted delicious, and she hummed her appreciation. “You know, I am capable of feeding myself, Captain.”

  “Perhaps.” With a wink, he offered another mouthful, which she accepted. “But I am relishing
this more than I anticipated, so humor me, or I might—”

  “—Pour it down my throat and spank my bottom?” She stuck her tongue in her cheek, and he smiled, which made him altogether irresistible. “Which I must admit you will enjoy for reasons that are not so obvious to me as you think.”

  To her amazement, Blake simply stared at her and blinked. Interminable minutes passed, as Lucy glanced at Lenore, then the captain, and back to Lenore.

  “Touché, Lenore.” How she loved it when he said her name, but she would never tell him that. Little by little, he fed her with care, and she grew unusually hot when he lowered his chin and studied her lips. “How do you feel?”

  “Quite well, Captain.” She sipped the hot tea from the cup he held for her. “That is delicious, so I thank you. And my compliments to the cook.”

  “You are welcome.” As if she were a child, he wiped her mouth with the napkin. “And I preferred when you called me Blake.”

  “Without doubt, you are a most improper stranger, sir.” Yet it would be rude to refuse his elementary request, when he saved her life, and she was nothing if not courteous. “All right, Blake. As I am in your debt, you shall have it your way, though I really must ask you to honor our privacy and knock before entering our quarters.”

  “Since you ask, and do not command, I shall abide your reasonable entreaty, as I am no monster to assault your feminine sensibilities.” So why did his smirk irk her? “And now I should check our course and bearing, as the weather has turned against us.”

  “There does seem to be more snow than I expected.” Ice floated in the water beyond the window, and Lenore draped a blanket about her shoulders. “Is it normal for the Channel to be so cold in October?”

  “But we do not sail the Channel.” Lucilla skipped to the fore. “We travel the North Sea to Ritzebüttel, to transport some of our brave allies home, Lenny. Is that not exciting?”

  “Ritzebüttel?” Lenore pinned Blake with her stare. “But you promised to take us to London.”

  “And so I shall, after I fulfill my primary orders.” With that, Blake clicked his heels and bowed. “Until this evening, Lenore. I would have you rest and regain your strength, and I will see you at dinner.”

  “Thank you, Blake.” After he exited, Lenore peered at Lucy. “I know not what to make of that man. One minute he is all friendliness and easy manners, and the next he is threatening to beat me.”

  “Do not take him seriously, Lenny, as I believe he teases you.” To Lenore’s confusion, Lucy tiptoed to the door, which she propped ajar, peeked into the hall, and then set the oak panel shut. In a flash, she whirled about, ran to the bunk, and plopped at the end of the mattress. “Cap’n is not what he seems.”

  #

  Two days later, the sun dipped behind the clouds, and a blustering gale whipped the canvas, as Blake stood on the quarterdeck, while the helmsman negotiated a thick ice field. Although he remained on schedule, the weather tested his navigational skills every bit as much as the lovely Lenore challenged the limits of his self-control and his breeches, so he sought refuge in the brisk wind.

  “Two points southward, Bowden.” Blake assessed his charts and the depth of their present location. “Let us give that berg plenty of space, but we must watch the shoals near the shoreline.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” The helmsman nodded, turned the wheel, and made the course correction. “Two points southward.”

  Given what appeared to be another squall on the horizon, and the advancing flow, Blake searched the map for a safe haven, as they could not continue the journey after dark in such treacherous conditions. Not too far ahead, they should come upon a large inlet, in which they could shelter until dawn.

  “The morning’s sleet left us in a precarious position.” Blake studied the tacks and sheets and frowned. “Mr. Portman, send the men into the rigging to knock off the ice, as we are getting top-heavy, due to the accumulations.”

  “Aye, sir.” The first mate relayed the orders to the boatswain, and soon the whistle sounded and the crew scrambled into the ratlines.

  When the first heavy chunk of ice hit the deck, Blake retreated to the stern rail and monitored the progress. As the men worked, his thoughts returned to Lenore, and what had become their routine verbal jousting. Although she never yielded to his trumped up bombastic pomposity, as he could not resist teasing her, she never failed to take the bait, and he found her fascinating beyond words.

  “Good evening, Captain.” Ah, the source of his discomfit magically materialized on the companion ladder, and he came alert.

  “Miss Teversham.” With a dip of his chin, he acknowledged her presence. Given the strict discipline he enforced on the ship, he cautioned Lenore to observe the formalities when in the company of his men, a practice she adhered to without exception. And while all appeared calm on the outside, inside he fought the urge to throw over every proper precept and do something very improper with the lovely lady, as she worked on him in ways he could not defend against. “You are looking exceedingly beautiful today. Although ocean travel does not agree with you, the sea air suits you, as your cheeks blush a charming shade of pink, or have you nipped at the rum again?”

  “That is not fair.” In an adorable display of high dudgeon, she thrust her cute little nose on high and pouted. “I would have you know Dr. Avery prescribed a modest amount to stave off any recurrence of an unstable belly, so I only adhere to his commands.”

  “Admit it.” Heat poured into his loins, as he elbowed her. “You are a grog drinker, Miss Teversham.”

  “I am not.” At her valiant denial, he burst into laughter. “Oh, you impossible man.” With hands on hips, she glared at him and humphed, and he adored her fit of temper. “And here I planned to extend an olive branch, of sorts, and invite you to dine with Lucy and I, but perhaps I should reconsider.”

  “I think not.” As she made to depart, he caught her by the crook of her elbow. “Now do not run away, as I favor your companionship.”

  “I am not running away.” But her huff of unmasked frustration declared otherwise. “And I doubt that, as all you do is complain when I am in your presence.” Stiffening her spine, she folded her arms, gazed at the horizon, and sniffed. “One would think you detest me.”

  “Do you truly believe that?” He drew her close, in opposition to his personal pledge to honor social decorum. With his nose, he traced the crest of her ear. “As you could not be more wrong.”

  “Captain.” Lenore inhaled a shaky breath, and the innate predator within him emerged. “You take liberties that are not yours to own.”

  “Relax, my dear.” Yet he was anything but relaxed, as passion glimmered, spun its gossamer web, and ensorcelled him with its delicate but powerful embrace. The thrill of the hunt surged in his veins, charged his nerves, and pooled in a particular part of his anatomy. “I will not hurt you.”

  On previous occasions, when Blake prepared to strike a tantalizing target, he cared little for their feelings, as the connection he sought was of a decidedly physical nature. The women he chased knew what he wanted from them, what they wanted from him, and everyone won.

  But Lenore had no idea what he ultimately intended for their relationship.

  In fact, she remained blissfully unaware of the future he envisioned, of the connection he coveted, and of the permanence of a union, for which she comprised an equal portion and he had been born and bred, that would bind them for eternity. And despite the brevity of their acquaintance, with each passing day his certainty grew. It was just as his married brothers claimed.

  When he least expected it, fate struck. Without doubt, Miss Lenore Teversham was the one for whom he had waited his entire life.

  “Captain Elliott, I should retire to my cabin.” She covered his hand with hers and squeezed his fingers, and a shiver of recognition passed from her flesh to his. “Will you honor us with your attendance for dinner, in our stateroom? I know our accommodation is not as large or as grand as yours, but I baked my mother’s secr
et recipe rum cake, just for you.”

  “Did you?” The subtle hint of honeysuckle, her signature scent, teased his nose. “Then I should be delighted to join you.” And he could not stave off another harmless jab. “So is that how you developed a taste for grog?”

  With a shriek, she wrenched from his grasp, and he stuck his tongue in his cheek. “That does it.” Wrapped in high dudgeon, she gave him her back, and he admired the sway of her hips. “I shall return to my quarters.”

  Just then, a call came from atop the mainmast, and several large chunks of ice crashed into the boards. Soaring on a wave of righteous indignation, his lady did not notice the danger to her person. Without hesitation, Blake called to her. “Lenore, watch out.”

  As she turned to face him, he lunged. With his arms about her waist, he tackled her. And as they skidded on the boards, he shielded her from the falling debris. When they came to rest against the railing, he propped himself on an elbow and cradled her head.

  “Are you all right?” Caressing her cheek, he gave her a cursory survey. “Are you injured?”

  “No.” She swallowed hard as she met his gaze. For a while, she held his stare, and although the crew rushed to his aid, the commotion came to Blake as if from afar, because nothing could pierce the impenetrable lure of Lenore’s crystal blue eyes. And something in her regard, so fixed and true, hinted that she saw through the fancy garb and the jocular barbs to the man beneath the polished veneer.

  Time suspended, as it dawned on him that he rested between her thighs, albeit fully clothed. Yet like recognized like, as she licked her lips, and he realized she wanted him. She might not comprehend it, might not acknowledge it, but she desired him.

  “Oh, Blake.” Lenore framed his face. “You are bleeding.”

  A telltale trickle coursed his temple, and he rolled onto his side. “Portman, summon Avery to my cabin.”

  “Aye, sir.” The first mate shoved through the crowd.

  Standing, Blake helped Lenore to her feet and attempted to set her apart from him, but she clung as a second skin. “You are wounded, and it is my fault.”