Sea of Desire

by Christine Dorsey

  She could barely see Captain Blackstone and his friends, though she could hear them. They were discussing the light that now glowed from the ship in the channel. The beacon appeared as the fire on shore went out.

  “We best be hurryin’, Cap’n. Caught sight of a ship a the line before sunset. Wouldn’t do for them to get a bead on us.”

  “You’ve got the right of it there, Mr. Simpson. Let’s be shoving off, then.”

  They were leaving. He had forgotten her. Merideth shut her eyes and held her breath, a silent prayer floating round in her head. But when she heard footfalls in the sand, and felt his presence, Merideth realized it had been a foolish hope.

  “Come along, your Ladyship.” His words were mocking.

  “What ye got there, Cap’n?”

  “The sum total of my accomplishments here. A very lovely traitor.” His hand closed around Merideth’s arm.

  “I am not a traitor.” The yank she gave her arm had no more effect than her denial. He simply hauled her to her feet.

  “But she be a woman.”

  This remark from one of his men made Jared chuckle. “Aye, she is.” His head bent toward her till Merideth could feel the whisper of his breath on her cheek. “But then some of the best spies are.” His voice was silky smooth and meant only for her ears.

  “I don’t know anything. Please, don’t take me away from here.” She was reduced to begging, but she didn’t care.

  Neither did he. Without another word he pulled her toward the longboat. When they neared the shore, he lifted her high against his chest and walked into the water, depositing her on a hard wooden seat near the back of the boat.

  Merideth clutched the seat as the men pushed off from the shore, taking the longboat into the dark waters of the channel. Taking Merideth into the unknown.

  Little was said on the way to the ship. It was too dark to see more than vague shadows of anyone, but Merideth felt as if three sets of eyes studied her, and she had to force herself not to tremble. When they reached the ship, the captain’s large hands guided her to a rope ladder, and she could sense his heat behind her as she climbed.

  It was dark on deck—apparently the captain was serious about not letting his presence known to the British ships that patrolled the channel. He led the way below, where tallow candles sputtering on iron holders protruding from the bulwarks offered some light. Merideth swiped tangled hair from her eyes and followed.

  At the bottom of the ladder the captain threw a hasty order over his shoulder before striding down the companionway. “Take her to my cabin.”

  She had no time to protest before a beefy hand clamped around her arm. “This way, wench,” the man said, hauling her toward the ship’s aft. He didn’t seem to care when she tripped on her torn skirt; he simply yanked her along. If she ever thought to solicit help from any of the crew on this ship, it certainly wouldn’t be this tattooed giant.

  Merideth feared what he might do when they reached the cabin, but he only shoved her inside and slammed the door... him on the outside. She heard the turn of a key and sank to the deck, her skirts billowing out around her.

  The cabin was dark and confining, with only a feeble glow from the moon to cast eerie shadows on the furnishings. Merideth reached for her locket, rubbing the smooth surface with her thumb, trying to calm her panic. The wall seemed to press in upon her, and she tried to think of something else to help her fight the feeling.

  Once her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Merideth could make out a cot, a desk covered with piles of ledgers, and two trunks. Windows lined one wall of the cramped room, but unless she planned to swim to shore—a feat she knew was beyond her—they offered no escape.

  Her head lolled back against the bulwark, and tears burned her eyes. No one—not even she—knew where she was bound. She had no one to turn to for help. Merideth sniffed and impatiently scrubbed at the moisture on her cheeks. She would not become a sniveling whine. She could overcome this problem. She could!

  But the cabin walls pressed closer. And then she thought about what Captain Blackstone wanted from her. The name of a traitor. A name she didn’t know.

  And he would likely kill her if she didn’t give him what he wanted... perhaps even if she did. After all, he had killed her father.

  Merideth clenched her fists and tried to come up with a plan. But all she could think of was the gleam in Jared Blackstone’s eyes as she and he lay entwined on the cliff.

  “So you were to have your neck stretched,” Padriac Delany said with a chuckle.

  “I’m glad you find it so amusing.” Jared backhanded rum from his mouth and grinned at his friend. He’d met Padriac in France the year before, after the Irishman had escaped from a British prison. Since then the lighthearted Delany had served on the Carolina as first officer.

  “Well, now, I think every man needs such a brush with death,” Padriac offered. “It makes one appreciate life all the more.”

  “I appreciate life just fine. And your brush with death, unlike mine, was caused by something you actually did.”

  “Smuggling,” Padriac said with a snort. “Hardly something to lose your life for.”

  “The British Admiralty seems to think it is.”

  “They find privateering and spying equally offensive.”

  “True enough,” Jared admitted. “But I was to be hanged for murder. A murder I didn’t commit,” he added after noticing the widening of Padriac’s eyes.

  Delany leaned back against the bulwark, mirroring Jared’s pose. “Any idea who did do it?”

  Jared’s pause was brief as he recalled the blur of crimson before pain had exploded through his head. “Nay.” She was a traitor, but Jared couldn’t bring himself to believe Merideth Banistar had killed her father.

  Padriac took another swig from the pewter mug. “I thought perhaps that pretty baggage you brought aboard had something to do with it. Or is she just here to warm your bed till we reach France?”

  “Hardly.” Jared straightened. “She’s Lady Merideth Banistar. Lord Alfred’s daughter. And apparently his fellow traitor.”

  “I caught but a glimpse of her, and admittedly the light was poor, but she seems a comely wench.”

  Delany’s blue eyes shone with a sparkle Jared knew well. He shook his head and grinned. “She’s a beauty all right, but not for the likes of you, Paddy.”

  “ ‘Tis no need to pull rank on me. You did see her first.”

  “ ‘Tisn’t rank but friendship I’m offering. She’s not to be trusted.” Jared’s green eyes narrowed. “She’s but someone else willing to sell out their country for gold.”

  “They make our job easier.”

  “They’re despicable.” Jared jumped to his feet and paced the small wardroom. The cabin, often crowded with officers, was empty now except for Padriac and himself. They’d outstayed the others, who had either sought their hammocks or taken up their watch.

  Delany leaned back in his chair and let Jared stride the length of the room several times before he spoke. “This has nothing to do with John, you know.”

  Jared turned abruptly. His hands fisted and he speared his friend with an icy stare. But a moment later his broad shoulders slumped and he swiped relaxed fingers down over his face. “I just can’t help thinking if John hadn’t gotten mixed up with this whole intrigue business...”

  “He’d be alive today,” Padriac finished. “But it was an accident. He was thrown from his horse. Besides, your brother knew what he was about. ‘Twas his choice to become a spy.”

  “Well, it isn’t mine.” Jared leaned toward Padriac, his palms planted firmly on the scarred table separating them. “I’ve no taste for secrets and subterfuge. I’ve a wish to wash my hands of it once and for all.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting one small thing?” Paddy’s dark brow arched questioningly.

  “I’m not forgetting her, if Lady Merideth is whom you’re alluding to. Nor am I forgetting that someone knocked me out and killed Lord Alfred. And,”—Jared rai
sed his hand for emphasis—“stole the gold I planned to use as payment.”

  “Lady Merideth?”

  “ ‘Tis possible. She was certainly there.” Jared gave an exaggerated sigh. “Unfortunately there seems to be naught I can do about it now.” He paused. “Not unless I can convince the lovely Lady Merideth to talk.”

  “If she’s an informer, that shouldn’t be difficult.”

  “She insists she knows nothing.”

  “But then perhaps she’s telling the truth.” Paddy lifted his palms in question.

  “Before he was killed, her father told me a different tale. I think perhaps the lady is trying to control who she tells her information to and for how much.”

  “And you...?”

  “Want her to tell me what she knows... and for payment most likely already received.”

  Padriac held up his mug in salute, then downed the contents in one gulp. “Good luck to you, then.”

  Jared shrugged. “If she doesn’t answer to me, I’ll turn her over to Daniel when we get to France.” But he didn’t want to. He was the one who had been sent to get the name of the traitor. He was the one who had been lied to and robbed and very nearly hanged. And, by God, he should be the one to discover the truth. Jared splashed rum into his mug.

  Delany held up his hand when Jared reached to fill his. “I’ve had enough, and think it past time I seek me bed. Good night, good friend.” Paddy pushed himself to his feet, only a bit unsteadily. “I’m glad you’re back among us, safe and sound.”

  “And I’m glad you decided to stay around Land’s End. Even though it was against my orders.”

  “Now as I recall, your orders only said something about not getting the Carolina captured by some damn English cruiser. To that I followed them precisely.”

  Jared’s deep laughter filled the cabin. “Remind me to write my orders down in the future, for that’s not at all as I remember them. Still”—Jared clasped his friend’s shoulder—“I’m grateful that you stayed.”

  “ ‘Twas nothing you wouldn’t do for me.” With those words Padriac left the wardroom, and Jared sat down to finish his rum.

  A half-dozen mugs later, he was still in the wardroom, more sprawled than sitting on the wooden chair. Memories wouldn’t let him seek the oblivion of sleep.

  John.

  His twin brother, older than Jared by mere minutes.

  On the surface they’d been as different as two people could be, but underneath, where it counted, they were close.

  They seemed as different as two sides of the same coin. John was fair and slight, where Jared was tall and dark. John was the thinker, the reader of books, where Jared was the doer, the impetuous one who rushed into things without thinking them through.

  “Except for that one time,” Jared whispered, closing his eyes. “Why did you have to pick then to rashly follow the cause?”

  Because John was also passionate and good. Jared was the cynic, John the believer. A man committed to the ideals of Adams and Jefferson. A man who knew his effectiveness wouldn’t be at the helm of a ship or in the heat of battle.

  “I can do this, Jared,” he’d said that last time they were together. “We Americans need information, and I can see that we receive it.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” argued Jared, the selfish brother. The brother who wanted to keep his twin safe. “You’re needed here at Royal Oak now more than ever.”

  “So you can go off on one of your ships? I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t mean that. I know what you do is important. You cause havoc with the British navy as few can. But I must do this.” His face had split into a grin. “I can’t have you being the only Blackstone to gain all the glory, now can I? Besides, Daniel is going to France with the delegation from Congress, and he wants me to go also. It’s something I can do to help us win our freedom.”

  In the end nothing Jared had said persuaded John to stay at home. John sailed for France. The next thing Jared heard, his brother was dead. His cousin, Daniel, gave him the full account. How John had gone to England to meet with an informant. How he had fallen from a horse and died.

  It should have been me.

  Jared leaned his forehead on his balled fists as that thought echoed in his mind. He was the daredevil, the wild one who took chances. The less-than-perfect brother. If one of them had had to die, it should have been he.

  Jared slammed the mug down, spilling rum that pooled, then quickly became a rivulet, dripping off the scarred tabletop with the next pitch of the ship. This was doing no good. Thoughts of John only filled him with impotent anger. That’s why he tried to fill his mind with other things.

  That’s why he shouldn’t have listened to Daniel’s plea that he act as courier for a traitor.

  She couldn’t sleep.

  Merideth clutched her locket and paced to the other end of the cabin. It was a mess, and prudence dictated she try and restore it to some order before her captor returned. Mr. Blackstone—no, apparently it was Captain Blackstone—wouldn’t like it that she had ransacked his quarters. But she couldn’t make herself straighten up his things.

  If only she knew what was happening. Why her father had been killed. What she was supposed to know about a traitor. And where they were taking her.

  The cabin’s contents gave no clue. After lighting the lantern hanging over the desk, she searched carefully. Though she could decipher some of the writing, the charts were no help. The captain’s papers dealt more with cargo, captured and otherwise, than with anything resembling espionage.

  And the only weapon to be found was an ancient sword. Though it shone from careful preservation, and seemed sharp enough, Merideth didn’t think she could use it effectively. But she intended to try.

  Kicking aside a pair of breeches—pulled from one of the trunks—Merideth walked to the windows. Her hand closed over her mother’s locket in an unconscious gesture. The worn gold felt warm and familiar... soothing. But in the next instant Merideth lifted the ribbon from around her neck and buried the locket deep in her pocket. It was the only thing of value she had. She hated the thought of parting with it, but if the need arose, she would. But she didn’t want it stolen by some murdering colonial.

  Merideth was so deep in thought she failed to hear the key turning in the lock. She whirled around, her hand spread beneath her throat, as the door flew open.

  “Good Lord, what have you done?” Charts and papers were scattered everywhere, as was every article of clothing from his sea chests.

  Merideth raised her chin, refusing to show how intimidated she was by his tall broad-shouldered form. He nearly took up the entire doorway, and she was certain his booming voice could be heard all over the ship.

  Captain Blackstone stepped into the cabin, kicking aside a tangled shirt, and slammed the door. “Answer my question, woman. What were you about?”

  “I should think that obvious. I was searching your cabin.”

  Jared looked around in amazement. “And what, pray tell, did you hope to find? I’m not in possession of any state secrets.”

  “So I noted.” Merideth stood her ground, though his green gaze seemed to slice through her.

  “If this is your usual method of spying, I should think you aren’t too successful.”

  “I was looking for a weapon.” As one, their eyes slid to the sword lying on the window seat beside her.

  “I would think a pistol more your style,” Jared said.

  “I have no style where weapons are concerned.”

  “My mistake.” He bowed, his gaze never leaving her. “Now, may I suggest you repair the damage you’ve done?” His voice was low, like smooth silk encasing solid steel. But it did nothing to disguise his intensity.

  Merideth swallowed. Helplessness was not a feeling she enjoyed. She’d felt it too much during the last year not to recognize it With all her being she wished to toss back her hair and send him a look filled with disdain. To tell him he was free to do with this mess what he chose, but she would do naught.


  In the end she bent and in an angry motion swept up a rumpled shirt. A slightly musky scent she recognized as Captain Blackstone’s drifted from the linen. To salvage her pride, she balled the shirt and tossed it toward the open chest. It caught on the lid.

  Jared could barely keep from laughing. At that moment she reminded him of his younger sister, Betsy. She was a stubborn child, woman now, and used to getting her way. Then Lady Merideth spoke and her words erased that image from his mind, reminding him that their business together was serious—deadly serious.

  “I want to know where you’re taking me... and why.”

  Her chin was set at a defiant angle, and though she swept up a chart rolling near her feet, Jared didn’t think she planned to do much more toward cleaning his cabin, regardless of his implied threats.

  “I thought I made myself clear as to the why.” Jared crossed his arms and studied her face. She still had the look of an angel about her. But a fallen angel to be sure.

  “And I think I’ve made myself clear that I don’t know the information you seek.”

  “Your father indicated differently.”

  “Before you killed him.” Merideth watched a dull-red stain his bronzed face. “Is that why you did it, because you thought me easier to coerce?”

  “If I thought that, I most certainly was wrong. Your father was willing to traitor himself for mere coin—”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “You, on the other hand,” Jared continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “have yet to name your price.”

  “There is no price because there is no information.” She didn’t know why she took the effort to dispute him. His smirk made it obvious he didn’t believe her. But she didn’t care what he thought. She knew. Knew her father wouldn’t be a party to treason, no matter what the rewards. He wouldn’t.

  Perhaps he had let their finances get out of hand. And he did have a weakness for gaming tables and drink, but he was a loyal Englishman. He was!

  “I’ve had enough of this.” Before she could back away, the captain’s grip, iron hard, shackled her arm. Merideth yanked but it did no good. He held her still. His eyes burned into her, and his hot breath wafted across her cheek as he spoke.