by Chloe Harris
“That sums it up nicely, yes.”
His hand snapped from his forehead as fast as a whip and, with an awkward shrug, he flicked his wrist, palm up. “But you don’t want to become my mistress.” His eyes were literally glittering with animosity. “Why? I seem to be missing something.”
“Not at all.” It seemed Captain O’Driscoll didn’t like taking no for an answer. “I just think it wouldn’t be proper,” Jaidyn said, letting her eyes wander to the fruit bowl. Her upbringing had taught her not to blush when lying. But she’d never mastered the fine art of looking somebody in the eye when doing so.
“Proper?” Sputtering and snorting a laugh at the same time, he pointed an accusing finger at her. “You’re … well, suffice it to say that I believe you’re in no position to lecture anybody on what’s good and proper.”
Oh! That insufferable, tenacious, mulish man! “Why, thank you. Let me return that compliment. What I meant is that I won’t be here for long. If you insist, we can keep the arrangements we have now for a while longer, but as soon as I can afford it, I’ll book a passage to the Colonies.”
“You need to get north?”
He could be awfully dim at times. “Yes. Didn’t I just say that?”
“Hmm.” With one hand on his hip, he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “I’ve got a ship.”
Yes, she knew that. “And?”
“I could get you wherever you need to go.”
“You could.” It wasn’t a question; Jaidyn made no pretense to hide the doubt in her voice.
“Mm-hmm.” He nodded, the bud of a small smile forming on his lips. Why did Jaidyn suddenly feel like a mouse staring at a snake?
“The catch?”
“What?” His reply came too quick to show genuine surprise.
“Captain O’Driscoll.” She tried to sound patient but she wanted to make it clear that he shouldn’t regard her as completely naïve. “I’m fairly certain you don’t offer that passage out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Well,” he drawled, fingering those strange chains in that transparent glass bowl that the Madame had insisted be there. Their use Jaidyn could only imagine.
“I suppose I’d take you north if we kept to the same arrangement but exchanged our bed sport for passage instead of coin.” He flicked his wrist as if it were nothing. “To keep things strictly business.”
That cunning man dangled that passage like a carrot in front of a donkey’s nose. Picking at a lint on the thick, square embroidery of the Roman-style bedspread wrapped around her, Jaidyn considered it.
He’d take her north and he’d have his fun with her on the way there. No strings attached ever. When they finally parted, she supposed it wouldn’t take long for him to move on. It was an ideal solution for him.
And for her? Oh, she’d enjoy the ride. No pun intended. He’d make sure. No doubt about that.
But she had to be very careful. She couldn’t let her feelings for him grow any deeper. She’d have to keep her distance even when he’d try to lure her in with his sensuality–which, to be honest, was a great experience every time. But at what cost?
True, she’d get to the Carolinas sooner than expected, but she’d spend more time with him along the way. She knew she couldn’t tell him any more of the whole truth. Part of her still found it hard to trust anyone after having been betrayed so badly. And part of her knew that if he did care for her like he said, the whole truth would just be too painful.
Could she resist the temptation to finally be on her way and still continue her arrangement with him?
He was obnoxious and infuriating, and she should say no and end it here and now.
But how much longer would it take to make it to her new home if she did that?
When they parted in Georgetown, could she readily move on and not waste one more thought on him? Could she put that dark chapter in her life behind her? Go back to a mundane existence, just enjoy having tea in her own parlor and not look back? Or perhaps she’d look back and smile upon the fading memories of Captain O’Driscoll and Grenada, secrets she’d take to her grave.
If she could do that, it could be an ideal situation for her as well.
“We have a deal, Captain O’Driscoll.”
On the other hand, spinning such an enormous cobweb of lies could become enormously tricky.
The smile on his face grew into a full-blown grin. “Capital!”
He reached for his shirt and coat so fast, her forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Stay here and rest. I’m afraid the bed in the captain’s cabin isn’t as spacious or comfortable as this one. I need to get everything ready. We can set sail with the morning tide if you want–or if that’s too soon …”
Once again Jaidyn had an inkling her life was being pushed into a different direction; a feeling she’d had too often lately for her taste.
“No.” Jaidyn cut off the strange sentiment with a curt shake of her head. “Tomorrow will be fine.”
“I’ll be back later,” he promised and was out the door, his coat sloppily dangling from one arm.
Rolling up on the bed, Jaidyn was sure she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep any time soon. The uncertainty of what was to come, admonishing dread mingled with tentative joy, was unsettling.
But she was wrong. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was adrift in hazy dreams.
Sometime later, she felt the coverlet being lifted. The gentle fragrance of small roses and sandalwood lulled her back into sleep. Connor had come back, she thought with a smile. He smelled a little of the cool night sea. Underneath that fresh, salty scent the heavy aroma of burnt pipe tobacco hummed.
The last thing she noticed was that he wrapped his arm around her, his hand cupping her naked breast. Then he kissed the crown of her head and Jaidyn was sucked into the abyssal void of obscure dreams.
7
_____________________________
Like most days in the port of St. George’s, the day dawned fair with a good breeze. The sailing should be swift. Connor couldn’t wait to get started; Jaidyn seemed to be just as eager. She’d dressed quickly and had her few belongings gathered in a satchel and one small trunk equally fast.
Madame Poivre hadn’t protested when he’d told her he was taking Jaidyn with him. Quite the contrary. She’d smiled effulgently, dabbing a stray tear from the corner of one eye with her white handkerchief–the same one she’d used to wave at them as they ascended the coach that would take them to the Carenage, the inner harbor area of St. George’s.
She’d also thanked him repeatedly. Not for wrenching Jaidyn out of her grasp, Connor assumed, but more for what he’d accomplished last night at the Jolie Rouge.
Now Connor and Jaidyn were on their way to the port and he couldn’t have felt better. Soon they’d be aboard his ship, the place where he felt most at home. That was just the upper hand he needed. It wouldn’t be long now until Jaidyn was clay in his hands and all her thoughts of keeping it strictly business washed overboard.
Jaidyn was eerily silent, but Connor was content that he’d found the perfect way to keep her by his side, however temporary it might be. But the temporary part would be remedied soon enough. Whether she was here or someplace north, she would eventually agree. There were many subtle ways in which he meant to persuade her into giving in.
The Coraal was a merchant’s ship, and as risky as it was, he’d agreed to take the northern routes henceforth so that Reinier could spend as much time as possible with his wife Emiline. So it didn’t really make any difference whether Jaidyn would welcome him here on Grenada, or en route–where?
What was wrong with him? How could he have overlooked something so crucial? In his haste to grab at the chance to gain the advantage over Jaidyn, he’d forgotten to ask her exactly where in the Colonies he was taking her. What was she doing to his common sense!
“Jaidyn, darling.” His voice was a smooth drawl. “To which Colonial port am I taking you?” Connor was hoping for New York or per
haps Boston. The farther north, the longer the journey, the better as far as he was concerned.
Turning her head from the hustle and bustle of the port, Jaidyn blinked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Georgetown in the Carolinas. Do you know it?”
“Pardon?” He must have heard her wrong. There was no way.
“I’m told it’s a small port just north of Charleston. Surely you’ve been to Charleston if you’ve not been to Georgetown.”
Steely claws slashed into his chest. “Are you sure that was it?”
“What do you mean, am I sure? I think I remember where I was going.” She lifted her chin, every bit the slighted lady.
Still, he had to ask one more time so he would believe it. “So you expect me to take you to Georgetown in the Carolinas?”
“Has your hearing gone all of a sudden? Yes, Georgetown. Is there a problem?”
There might be a slight problem, yes. He’d been to Charleston, of course, and he’d been to Georgetown too. He’d barely gotten out alive.
“No, of course not,” Connor assured her, never letting his voice betray his concern. “Your wish is my command, given the price is right.”
The price, however, for landing in Georgetown was his neck, but Connor wasn’t going to tell her that. Good God! How stupidly lovesick had he been agreeing to take her without knowing where they were going?
Jaidyn wasn’t worth his head on a pike–not yet at least. Then again, who knew what might happen in a week or so with her in his cabin every night?
They arrived dockside in no time at all. The coach jerked to a halt. Connor jumped down, giving her a slight bow and a quick wink to cover his apprehension. Jaidyn didn’t really respond, just raised that damned sexy eyebrow again before accepting his proffered hand to help her descend from the vehicle. One of his deckhands scurried to get her things while he and Jaidyn boarded the Coraal.
The all hands on deck whistle sounded and sailors scrambled to gather in neat rows on the deck in anticipation of the captain boarding. Under different circumstances it was all Connor needed to feel at ease.
Maxfield Parrish, his first mate, and the new pilot, Winston Matthews, stood by the plank to greet them. The surprise in Jaidyn’s eyes when she saw Winston was almost enough to make Connor forget they were sailing to his doom. Almost.
“Mr. Parrish.” He tipped his hat to the younger man, who responded in kind. “Has everything been made ready?”
“Yes, sir. All is ready to sail north. We’re just waiting for you to inform us of the exact course.”
“Soon, Mr. Parrish.” His first mate knew about his past, and Connor couldn’t chance his reaction giving away that anything was amiss. “It’ll be nor by noreast to start with.”
“Aye, sir.”
Connor turned to Jaidyn, then back to Maxfield, making introductions. “Miss Donnelly, this is Mr. Maxfield Parrish, first mate of the Coraal. Mr. Parrish, may I present Miss Donnelly.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Parrish.” Jaidyn gave a small curtsy.
“Likewise, Miss Donnelly.” Maxfield responded with a small bow.
Next, Connor looked at Winston to find him and Jaidyn shyly smiling at each other. “I believe you know Mr. Matthews.”
They both nodded to each other and Connor added, “Mr. Matthews, why don’t you show our guest that special piece of cargo we have on board.”
Winston beamed, which looked a little awkward with his fading black eye. He’d hidden his long white-blond hair under a bandana that looked very much like the cloth that his aunt had worn as a turban the evening before. “My pleasure, sir.”
Jaidyn eyed Connor with a certain suspicion but followed Black Eye Winston Matthews all the same.
The instant they disappeared below deck, Connor barked, “Mr. Parrish, give your orders and follow me, please.”
Maxfield turned to the crew, cupping his hands around his mouth to carry his voice. “Hands to quarters, look lively now, boys! Finch, make ready to pull the anchor. Stiles, sling the topsail yard, and Coleridge, haul out the foresail. It’s nor by noreast.”
As soon as Maxfield finished, Connor made his way below deck to the captain’s cabin at the stern. Maxfield entered on his heel, remaining standing by the table that served for both dining and charting. Connor moved through the open set of folding doors that separated his sleeping quarters from the rest of the cabin. He hung his hat and coat on a hook behind the washstand before joining Mr. Parrish at the table. Reluctantly, Connor sat down.
“We sail for Georgetown.”
Maxfield’s eyes bulged. “Pardon me for saying so, but is that wise?”
With a low harrumph, Connor set one elbow on the table while his other hand ran through his hair. “No, I am positive it is not.”
“May I speak freely, sir?” Maxfield’s expression was now more worried than shocked. Connor knew the feeling.
“You usually do.” He waved at Maxfield, who sat down next to him.
His whole body tense, Maxfield wiggled a little on the edge of the seat. “What were you thinking?” His voice was a razor-sharp hiss. “You could be killed if you return.”
“I am aware of that.” Connor stared at the map on the table next to him, his gaze unblinking until his vision blurred.
The mate’s voice rose in frustration. “Then why do it?”
“The lady paid for passage north and I agreed.” Technically, she was still going to pay–and pay dearly, much to his enjoyment–but Maxfield didn’t need to know that.
“You agreed to sail into the one port where they want to hang you?” Maxfield was bold enough to bring his fist down onto the table, shaking the instruments out of place.
“No.” Connor gave him a stern look of warning. “I agreed to take her to the Colonies. I didn’t realize it was Georgetown at the time.” Of all the large seaports she could want to go, how was he supposed to know it was the one small spot he needed to avoid?
Maxfield folded his arms over his chest. “You should have asked.”
“I am aware of that.” Connor made sure his glare conveyed that Maxfield was close to pushing him too far. “I wasn’t thinking all that clearly at the time.”
“I wonder what could have had you so distracted that you didn’t think all that clearly.” Maxfield sniffed. “It’s not like you to be so careless.”
After a pause, his first mate searched his face. “It’s the woman, isn’t it?” At least his tone was quieter now and less impertinent.
“Yes.”
“What is she to you, then?”
“That, Mr. Parrish, is my business.” Connor looked down his nose at Maxfield. It was his own fault he’d indulged Maxfield too much. “Careful, now. She is a guest on my ship and a lady. That is all you need to know.”
Still, Maxfield persisted. “You can’t expect me to sit back and let her sail us into your death.”
“I have not lost all my senses yet.” Connor narrowed his eyes at Maxfield. “I will think of something. I do not plan to go to the devil any time soon, even if we are sailing toward hell.”
At that, Maxfield sat back, avoiding Connor’s glare in a sign of defeat. Silence stretched between them; silence so charged with unspoken words and hidden import that Connor could almost touch it, cut it into slices, and feast on it.
“I would not want to lose you, sir,” the young man whispered at last.
There was more meaning in that than Connor wanted to deal with at the moment. He had too much on his mind to worry about Maxfield’s moodiness right now. In Maxfield he’d found a complementary spirit. Connor had helped him understand who he was, and in the process their relationship went beyond what was normal for a captain and his closest officer. The young man was nosing around where he shouldn’t be. Hell, those were recesses of Connor’s mind even he himself didn’t dare to tread right now.
“And how is Drusilla? Did you have a letter while we’ve been docked?” At the mention of his fiancée, Maxfield blushed. Connor knew the guilt associat
ed with what she didn’t know about her would-be husband served to stop the mate’s previous thoughts in their tracks.
“She is well.”
“Good. Well, back to your duties, Mr. Parrish. I don’t want one bad word about our guest and our destination from you or the crew. Is that clear?”
Maxfield rose from the table and bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
Connor also stood and they made their way back to the deck.
As they walked past Black, one of the older crew members checking the rigging to the mizzenmast, Connor heard a slightly disgruntled murmur. He couldn’t make it all out, but the words “woman,” “bode ill,” and “you’ll see” were clear.
Connor just shook his head. He should be stern with him. But the man was in his last years and still refused to leave the sea. So Connor tried another tack first. “Mr. Black, a word, if you please.”
“Yes, Capt’n.” The older sailor turned and stepped closer.
“Did you see my guest come aboard?”
“Aye, Capt’n. May I say, she’s very lovely, sir.”
Connor waved that aside and instead wrapped his arm around the wiry older man as if he was imparting a great confidence. “Keep an eye out for me, will you? She is so lovely that I think she might just be a selkie. I’ve a mind to find her seal skin and keep her.” Acting surprised now, Connor leaned back, regarding Black with exaggerated suspicion. “Now don’t you go trying to beat me to it.”
The wizened sailor looked at him as if he’d gone insane.
“What? You don’t believe in legends like selkies, Mr. Black?”
The old man stepped from one foot to the other, reluctantly shaking his head in the end.
“Well, I do suppose selkies and all those other superstitions about women and the sea are really just rubbish to talented, dedicated sailors like us.” Connor gave him a friendly slap on the back as he stepped away.
“Aye, Capt’n.” Black nodded quickly and went back to work.
Mr. Parrish was standing by the wheel when Connor joined him. Watching the flurry of activity, he followed Maxfield’s gaze and saw both Winston and Jaidyn walking their way. “How is Mr. Matthews fitting in?”
