A Captain and a Rogue (Mills & Boon Historical)

by Liz Tyner

  Gid’s head poked in the door. ‘And yer give the cabin boy yer new spyglass.’ Gid just stood there and blast if his bottom lip didn’t tremble, too. ‘And he just told me he’s leavin’. If that don’t cause me to turn into a waterin’ pot, nothing will. Don’t know how we’ll make it without the little fellow.’

  Ben jerked his brows up in a quick acknowledgement.

  ‘Since everyone’s back, we’ll leave with the tide,’ Benjamin said. ‘We don’t want to give Stubby a chance to change his mind.’

  ‘Yer doin’ the right thing, Capt’n.’ He took off his cap and used it to wipe his eyes. ‘The boy don’t need to be washed overboard. Yer givin’ him a chance to ruin his life right proper instead of bein’ swept out to sea like the rest of us.’

  ‘You should have had your own ship, Gid.’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Swore I’d never take on that chore. When storms hit, I start seeing death and worryin’ over my ever’ thought. Can’t think if I don’t have someone to give me a answer if my mind gets concerned. Couldn’t keep a journal. Don’t like snarlin’ at the men as much as yer do.’ He pulled at the sides of his cap as if he could put it in shape. His eyes stayed on the cloth. ‘‘Sides, seein’ you grow into a captain is better’n bein’ one myself.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Yer just like I would have wanted in a boy of my own.’ Then he raised his eyes and grinned at Ben, even though his eyes were moist. ‘Worthless as they come.’

  Ben looked at Gid. ‘I learned from the master.’

  Gid nodded. ‘Have to agree.’

  Gid turned and left the room, and Ben followed. In what seemed to be the mix of a lifetime and just a second, he gave Stubby a gentle shove from the ship and watched as the ship left the docks behind.

  The sea called him, but for the first time, he regretted his choices in life. And he knew he was no longer the infant son.

  The jagged edges he had inside were scars only a man could have.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Thessa touched the back of her neck, feeling the blunt ends of her hair. The straggling locks tickled, poking from her cap. Broomer should never again be let near a pair of scissors. As soon as she’d agreed he could cut her hair, he’d pulled out rickety shears and she’d not had time to open her mouth to stop him. She’d nearly cried. Never again.

  But the sailors had all seen her dressed in trousers. If she’d only tucked her hair under a cap, they might have recognised her.

  She gave a tug to the waistcoat and ran her fingers over the roughened texture, pleased with the contrast of the coarseness, and the softness of the shirt and crisp trousers. Broomer’s sister had fitted her well and these clothes were so different than the cast-offs she’d worn on the first voyage. She almost looked like a gentleman. Even the scrap of a cap was her own.

  The boots were feeling much better now. The sailors often went barefoot at sea, making it easier to feel the ropes under their feet when they climbed, but she’d insisted she wear the boots with the new clothing. She had fond memories of the footwear.

  Ducking her head, she walked past Gidley as he swore at one of the other men. Without even looking her way, he commanded, ‘Take in a sail.’

  She hardly knew what to do, but she watched one of the other seamen and followed his lead. She inhaled when the breeze brushed her cheeks—and for the first time ever out of the water, she felt the same freedom as she did when she swam.

  She gripped the rope, pulling, when something slammed into her shoulder. She’d stepped into another sailor without realising it. Hands still on the ropes, she stumbled to keep her footing. ‘Watch yourself,’ the sailor at her elbow said, his voice a harsh rasp.

  Planting her feet firm, she concentrated on her duties, but a wisp of her thoughts kept watching for the captain.

  She heard him before she saw him, the tight orders he gave little more than snaps in the wind, but easily heard from the bow to the stern.

  And Thessa couldn’t help herself, her eyes turned to him, and she could not move. Her whole body unfurled with warmth, spreading from the deepest part inside of her to heat the rope she held and to warm her to her boots.

  ‘Holy—’ His words were said with the same strength as his orders, yet with more emotion than could be packed into trinkets in a thousand sea trunks. Every man on the ship stopped moving. The captain’s eyes locked on her face.

  When she blinked, she became aware that all the sailors had followed the captain’s gaze and were staring at her.

  ‘Who brought her on board?’ the captain shouted, voice grinding.

  ‘Her?’ Gidley asked, eyes squinting.

  ‘Thessa.’ Benjamin took one step forward. ‘Thessa.’

  ‘Well, yer could slap me with an anchor.’ Gid stared and his cheeks plumped into a smile. ‘That man what yer brother’s servant had me hire don’t look like no Albert after all.’

  ‘No. She does not look like an Albert. She never did look like an Albert, and...’ Benjamin put his palm out flat. ‘...how? How could you not see that?’

  ‘Never looked real close as yer have, I s’pose. ’Cept she does have that pointy little nose.’ Gid smiled at her and tugged his cap. ‘Welcome back, miss.’

  ‘Gid. Take over.’ He spoke softly, keeping his eyes on her. ‘And you, Albert, will have a word with me in my cabin.’

  ‘It is the captain’s cabin, is it not?’ she asked, meeting his eyes and keeping her feet still.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you own half the ship, do you not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I suppose I will take part of the cabin as I own the other half.’ She dropped the rope and turned to his quarters. ‘Your brother gave me his share of Ascalon in exchange for my dowry.’ She shrugged. ‘I think it a good investment.’ She shrugged. ‘Assuming I keep the captain.’

  By the time she’d moved a step, he was at her side. ‘You will be returning to England,’ he said. ‘I don’t care if you own all of the seas.’

  When the door closed behind him, she took her cap off and put it on a peg, then dusted the hat a bit.

  ‘Your brother. I might like him—eventually.’ She slowly perused the room, noting the empty spot where the little artwork of a mermaid was once nailed.

  She smiled. ‘He did not even make me agree not to replace the captain.’

  ‘You, however, will not be allowed to sail with the ship.’

  She walked over and picked up the compass, examined it and put in back in place, then she looked at him and shook her head.

  ‘You have to go back, Thessa.’ His words were quiet. Unwavering.

  She saw the small mirror affixed to the wall, stepped in front of it and for a moment didn’t recognise herself. She’d expected the sight of her mop of hair, but had forgotten about the smudges of soot from the fireplace they’d added to increase her brows. How the captain recognised her, she had no idea. She brushed at the smudges of blackness where they’d tried to give her a moustache, but she only smeared the markings.

  ‘It’s a two-year voyage—at least.’ He put his hands behind his back, but otherwise he stood perfectly still.

  ‘I am not used to a gentle life.’ She examined her now sooty fingertips. ‘I realised when I talked to you that I have seen two men killed, have been chased by a pirate and bedded a sea captain. I am not the gentle miss I thought myself.’ She smiled. ‘I also know gestures I learned from the men on Melos.’

  ‘Could you not talk my brother out of a decent cap?’ Benjamin asked, his voice softening.

  She again looked in the mirror. ‘I like the one I found. A boy was selling them and I asked your brother to stop the carriage and he purchased it for me. He said I might need it for cold weather because he didn’t want my head any more muddled. He said I am already as daft as a certain captain he knows.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Careful,’ she cautioned. ‘You would not want to anger me. I might sink the ship.’

  He shrugged. ‘Thess
a. You are daft.’

  ‘I know. Your brother told me. My sister Melina told me. And Bellona asked if she could come with us. That convinced me I was not thinking as other people do. But Warrington wished me well and told Melina you could take care of me, not that it is needed.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So he gave you half the ship.’

  ‘For my dowry.’ She took a step forward and brushed a lock of Benjamin’s hair behind his ear. ‘I suppose you can choose whether you wish to stay as captain or not. But you cannot tell me not to sail on my own ship.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Thessa.’ He took her fingers from his hair and held them. ‘I can’t risk your life. You will not sail with us. No person in a right mind would sail—and to a man this crew would agree with you. It’s like Newgate without the comforts or chance of escape. I started when I was too young to understand death. I was fortunate just to stay alive.’ His hand tensed into a grasp. ‘I don’t care if you truly did own every stick of this ship, I will be depositing you at the first harbour we see. This ship is no place for you.’

  ‘Then Gidley will have to sail her because I will relieve you of your command.’

  ‘You cannot.’

  She could feel every inch of him without moving. ‘You cannot leave me at a harbour.’

  ‘Gidley will leave with you and transport you back to London.’

  She grimaced and didn’t know if he moved or she did, but there was no longer any space between them.

  ‘No.’ She put arms around him and rested her face on his shoulder, feeling the texture of skin roughened by the elements, and softness, created for her touch. ‘If I cannot relieve you of command, then you cannot remove me from the ship.’

  His tone changed, almost pleading. He pushed her away. ‘Thessa... You can’t. You’re going back where you’ll be safe if I have to put you in the longboat and row you there myself.’

  Her fingers latched around his waist. ‘I’m not leaving you. You might find a mermaid and need me to send her on her way. I will.’

  He grasped her hips, pulling her close. She felt her knees weaken, but her heart beat even stronger.

  ‘Thessa...please...’

  ‘If you’re asking me to stay, I agree.’

  ‘I’m asking you to leave.’

  ‘Not unless you leave with me.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Captain Benjamin. I have caught you.’ She tiptoed, putting her lips closer to his. ‘You just have not accepted it yet.’

  His head bent so close she could feel his breath. His hands tightened, pulling her into him. ‘You have caught me, or I have caught you?’

  ‘Do you really wish, Captain, to toss me back?’ She brushed her lips against his, feeling the tingle.

  His voice roughened. ‘I will deposit you at the second harbour we reach.’

  She kissed him again, letting her lips linger, and she only pulled back enough to speak. ‘Not even the third.’

  Another kiss. Another explosion of sensations.

  ‘The tenth?’ he asked against her lips.

  She shook her head slightly.

  ‘Well,’ he whispered, ‘we will decide upon a number we can agree on eventually.’

  She felt herself laugh on the inside, but knew she didn’t make a sound.

  His lips were at her cheek, her ear and his face pressed against hers. ‘Do you truly think you can live on a ship, Thessa? Because as soon as this voyage is over you will not sail on a second one.’

  ‘Perhaps I won’t sail again. Perhaps I will,’ she said. ‘I am at home here now more than anywhere else. More than on Melos. This is closer to the sea. And to you. Your being here makes it a home for me.’

  ‘Can a mermaid marry a sea captain?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘We can find out at the first harbour we reach,’ he said. ‘If you would like to.’

  ‘Perhaps...I mentioned to your brother that I might wish to marry you. He is not happy because away from England, he is not sure if it will be a proper marriage unless we marry by the laws. But my sisters and I have decided it is proper enough for us.’

  ‘Then I will see how persuasive I can be.’ The last words were spoken against her lips, and he only left her enough strength to say yes.

  Two-and-a-half years later

  Thessa locked herself in the cabin with her son, Albert, and put him on his pallet on the floor. She’d hardly seen him in days and he needed a nap.

  ‘Thessa,’ Ben rapped on the door. ‘Let me in.’

  She expelled a breath and unlatched the lock she’d had put on the door so the baby couldn’t get out without her knowing. Benjamin walked in and put his arm around her. ‘You can’t blame them for being attached to Albert. To Gid, he is a grandson. To the others, he’s like a son.’

  ‘But they are always taking him and walking him, and playing with him. I do not know why you let them shirk their duties so.’

  ‘They do their work. I can’t blame them for being fond of Albert.’ He looked at his son, pleased that Albert had inherited the dark eyes of his mother.

  ‘I am quite fond of him, too.’ Thessa buried herself in her husband’s arms. ‘But when we get to London, I am wondering if we should look for a bigger ship.’

  Ben held her close. ‘I think we should stay with the Ascalon. If we take on a larger ship, we’ll need to double our crew. And I hardly have enough time to spend with my family as it is.’

  But no matter how little time he had, if they docked in a place where the water was clear and he could find a secluded place to swim with Thessa, he always did. Those moments were too precious to miss.

  He rocked Thessa in his arms, still amazed she’d never had more than a few moments of seasickness at the beginning, and no illness during the whole of her...he could not exactly say confinement, as they’d all been confined together in some way of every day. The only problem had been that if he’d so much as sniffed wrong to either her or Gidley, he would see her whispering to Gidley and giving terse little snaps of her shoulders and shakes of her head, and glaring his direction while she tried to look as if she couldn’t see him.

  And occasionally she called him Captain and if she pretended she couldn’t see him for too long a time he called her Captain Thessa.

  And his son—he feared the boy would have to learn to walk twice. Once on the ship with ease and then on unmoving ground.

  Albert—the boy was too young to swim, but at the last port Thessa had put him in the water and he’d moved like a fish. He swam better than he walked. Thessa claimed her mother had done the same with all her daughters.

  And his son had a little mark on his shoulder. Thessa called it another splash of mud. Ben kept jesting with her that it was a trident.

  *

  Read on for an extract from OUTLAW HUNTER by Carol Arens.

  Chapter One

  The Badlands, Nebraska

  Hattie Travers had dreamed of her husband again last night. The fact that he had been dead for eight months didn’t make her any less fearful of him.

  Even in the cold light of morning, with the children safe in the buckboard with her, his ghost had the power to put her into a cold sweat.

  “Go away,” she whispered to the wicked-eyed vision haunting her mind.

  She focused her attention on the US marshal sitting tall on his rum-colored horse, leading her, her children and the ranch orphans away from the cindered ruins of the Broken Brand Ranch.

  The marshal’s carriage was straight, his shoulders broad and, from what she had seen so far, his honor incorruptible.

  She owed him a great deal...her life, really, and more than that, her children’s lives.

  If only she could take a deep cleansing breath and purge the stench of the outlaw ranch from her soul. If she could just relax and trust the marshal, but she had been wrong about a man before.

  The marshal turned his head, peering out from under his Stetson at the flat, dry land,
scanning it from horizon to horizon. His eyes were the only bit of green that she had seen in nearly three years.

  He held her gaze for a long moment then nodded and set his face toward the east...toward home. The regular clop of his horse’s hooves made the fringe on his buckskin shirt dance and sway.

  “You reckon he’s looking for stray Traverses?” Beside her, thirteen-year-old Joe Landon gripped the team’s reins in his fists. He sat tall, imitating the lawman’s erect posture.

  Joe had to be cold but he didn’t shiver. The marshal didn’t, so he wouldn’t, either. It was chilly, though, even with the sun coming up over the ragged land.

  “You shouldn’t worry, Joe.” She held her baby tighter, trying to follow her own advice. “Marshal Prentis will have us well away from here before any of them show up. The ranch is gone forever. Colt Wesson saw to that when he burned it down.”

  Joe touched something in the pocket of his pants, tracing its shape with his thumb.

  “There’s only Uncle Jack and Cousin Dwayne to worry about,” fifteen-year-old Libby said, clutching her little sister, Pansy, close for the warmth. She glanced toward the back of the wagon then suddenly lunged. “Come back here, you little wild man!”

  Libby latched on to Flynn’s collar and hauled the toddler back from the edge of the buckboard.

  “Noooo!” Flynn went limp-boned then kicked his heels. “Mama!”

  “I’ll trade you my sweet baby Seth for my wild thing, Libby.”

  “Are you sure your folks are going to welcome us?” Libby asked, taking the infant from Hattie.

  Flynn rushed to fill his little brother’s place. Hattie hugged him close and kissed his cold, red nose.

  Sometimes she wished she had never met Ram Travers. He had ruined her life. Without him, though, she would not have had her sweet babies. It was a trade she would make again in a heartbeat.

  “With open arms and a big, hearty meal,” she answered Libby. “My folks have a huge old house and too many empty rooms.”