“Aye, Cap’n.”
The bosun went to the upper decks, keeping his voice low as he rounded up men to assist with replacing the broken boards of the hull with fresh ones. His hand still in hers, he started to follow, but Merial refused to move. Christopher glanced at her, then at the pirate ship that quickly receded into the distance. “Merial?”
“That man died, did he not?” Her voice sounded dull, dispirited.
Christopher took the single pace back to her. “Yes, he did.”
“We did nothing to help him.” In the darkness, she sounded near tears. “We let him run, all in flames, to die. We did nothing.”
“Merial, listen to me.”
He pulled her close to him, holding her tightly to his chest. Hating the brutality of what he had to say, Christopher nonetheless needed to say it. “He was dead the instant he caught fire,” he said, as gently as possible. “There was no saving him. We did what we had to do to save the ship.”
“The ship,” she repeated.
“Had the fire spread, out of control,” he continued softly, “we would all have burned to death. Or drowned when she sank. We could not have helped him, Merial. If there was a chance, Mayhew and the crew topside would have done what was needed to save him. By chasing him up there, we would have left the ship to burn, and that is the only thing that keeps us alive.”
She nodded against his chest. “I understand what you are saying. Now I fully understand the brutality of life at sea.”
“It is indeed brutal,” he agreed quietly, stroking her hair. “He died so the rest of us might survive.”
“What was his name?”
“Cooper.”
“One of the ones who snubbed me?”
“Yes.”
She barked a short laugh. “I started to feel slightly better until you said his name. Now I feel terrible that he died.”
“Why? Had it been Johns, or one of the crew who adore you, would that have made it better?”
Merial sniffled, and was silent for a few moments. “No,” she admitted at last. “One of them dying would have been just as bad.”
Pushing her gently from him, Christopher still kept his arm over her shoulder. “We need to go topside, Merial. I must see to any damage, and get a better idea of what the other ship is doing.”
“I know.”
Taking her with him, Christopher went up to the main deck, and joined Mayhew at the gunwale as he squinted intently through it. “Well?” he asked, impatient.
“She be not sinking, M’lord,” Mayhew answered. “Her fires are out, but I cannot see if she is pursuing us.”
Christopher took the glass from him, and peered through it at the location where the pirate ship had last been seen. “What is our heading?”
“Running east by northeast, M’lord, the wind behind us.”
Seeing nothing in the absolute darkness of the sea, Christopher lowered the glass, then turned to examine the sails, the rigging, listening to the creaking of the masts. As before, the sails bellied out, the Valkyrie running before the strong and powerful wind.
“That is too much sail for the strength of the wind,” he muttered. “Yet, we must lose them if we are being pursued.”
“May I make a recommendation, M’lord?”
“Yes, of course.”
“The masts be strong, M’lord, they will hold. The rigging be in good repair, the men ready. I say we maintain this course and speed, and outrun them bastards.”
Christopher gazed around at the men, none idle, all working hard at their posts. One again, he glanced at the huge sails that propelled the Valkyrie at such speed, and remembered why he built her this way. “I agree, Mayhew. Maintain course and speed. No one sleeps this night, not even me. No lights, no noise.”
“Very good, M’lord.”
Making his way to where Merial stood in the bow, her arms crossed over her bosom as though she were cold, he stood beside her. “Are you all right?”
“I think so,” she replied, her voice soft. “Cooper is dead, and I just cannot help but feel I should have done something.”
“You did. You helped save the ship. In doing so, you saved the lives of every man on board.”
“But—he died, Christopher. Do you not feel something?”
“Of course I do, Merial,” he answered, a trifle angry. “I regret his loss as much as you do. He sailed with me for many voyages, and was always a trusted sailor, one you can count on to act with courage. He was well-liked on board, and will be missed.”
Merial stayed silent, and in the faint light, he saw her pale, oval face staring forward.
“Come dawn,” he continued, moderating his voice, “we will hold a service for him. He will not go to God without our prayers.”
* * *
Opening his Bible, Christopher read prayers from it, observing from the corner of his eye as Merial wiped tears from her cheeks. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” he intoned, “may our brother be absolved of all his earthly sins, and rejoice in Heaven. Amen.”
Closing his Bible, Christopher crossed himself, as did Merial, and the crew. Shuffling their feet, they placed their caps back on their heads and dispersed, no few glancing at Merial’s tears. Gauthier headed toward his galley to begin breakfast, and Merial started to follow.
Christopher put his hand on her arm. “Merial.”
She stopped, and gazed up at him, her eyes still damp. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he said, “Cooper would be pleased you wept for him.”
Dashing her sleeve across her eyes and cheeks, she snorted a small laugh. “How could I not? He helped save my life, too.”
“He did indeed. And somehow, I think he would be glad he saved you.”
“Do you really think so?”
Christopher smiled. “I do. The business with the albatross may have sent his superstitions to governing his good sense, but he was a good man, through and through.”
“That is nice to know, Christopher.”
He released her to cross the deck and go down to assist Gauthier with breakfast as Henry bumped against his shins. “You scoundrel,” he said, picking the cat up. “You earned your bacon this morning.”
Holding the purring cat in his hand, he scratched Henry’s ears and neck while studying the southern horizon. Through the night and into the daylight hours, there had been no sign of the pirate ship. Christopher knew his cannon shots were not enough to cripple the big vessel, yet he could not help but wonder why they had not pursued.
He mentioned his concerns to Mayhew. The first mate nodded. “Your shot struck them amidships, M’lord,” Mayhew told him. “Though I cannot swear to it in the dark, it appeared you damaged their mainmast.”
Frowning, Christopher tried to remember where the fires had been on the pirate vessel from his angle closer to the water line. “Are you certain?”
“Nay. It were too dark to be, M’lord. But that is what I believe happened from what I saw before they put the fires out.”
“Lord in Heaven let it be true,” Christopher said with a grin. “Damage to their mainmast, well—”
“They will not be chasing anyone for a long while, M’lord.”
With the calmer winds, Christopher ordered the table set up again on the poop deck, and when Merial joined him for breakfast, he saw the shadows of her grief for Cooper had vanished. “You look lovely this morning, My Lady.”
“Along with your lecture,” she said, offering bacon to Henry, “Maurice also set me straight on death, as well as life, at sea.”
Christopher glowered while munching his own bacon. “I did not lecture you.”
“You did so lecture me.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
Breaking into chuckles, Christopher hungrily ate his meal while keeping an eye on his ship and crew. “The hole in the hull has been patched, and I estimate we are six days from London. Though we are slightly off course, we should still be able to make up for lost time if the wind holds.”
Merial sig
hed. “Six days until we part company.”
He eyed her indignantly. “Who said anything about parting ways?”
“Well, I expect that you will unload your cargo, then take on another and sail away again.” Merial’s abashed expression made him chuckle again.
“Not quite,” he told her. “I have a wish to see my family, and the crew is always given time ashore to visit theirs, get drunk in taverns, spend their pay should they wish it. I must spend time with my father going over accounts, cargos, plan the next trip. It is not done in a mere matter of hours.”
Merial stared at Henry, her breakfast forgotten. “What will become of me?”
Reaching across the table, Christopher took her hand. “I wish for you to come to my family home upon our arrival in London,” he said quietly. “From there, we will locate any relatives you have. I will not abandon you, Merial.”
She offered him a tentative smile while squeezing his fingers. “What your mother will think of me, I cannot imagine.”
“Once she knows your story,” he replied, “she will see to it you are given anything you desire, and will care for you as though you were her own daughter.”
“I should like that.”
“Now you need to eat, my sweet lady. You are still far too thin. My mother will think I abused you while you were on board my ship.”
Clearly cheered by his words and his assurances, Merial picked up her fork again, and ate. “What is your family like?”
Christopher shrugged. “A family, I suppose, like any other. We have quarrels, especially between my brother and I. My father, the Duke, is yet vigorous and not given to old age. In truth, I do not see him as old. My mother is very kind, ever thoughtful of others. You will love her. And my brother—”
He stopped, horrified by the thought that crossed his mind. The chunk of potato he had eaten stuck in his throat, and refused to go down. Merial eyed him with amusement and concern as he struggled to wash it down with water.
“Your brother what?”
He swallowed hard. “May take a liking to you, and as you are of high blood, may wish to marry you.”
“Your brother, the future Duke, is unmarried?”
He observed the mischievous gleam in her hazel eyes, and his worry grew. “He has not yet been betrothed.”
Merial leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands. “Your brother is handsome, then?”
“Well, yes, I suppose he is.” Christopher nearly choked on his despair.
How can she love me, choose me, when she could easily choose Henry? My brother will see her for what she is, beautiful, a probable heiress, and marry her before I can look twice.
“I should be interested in meeting him.”
Christopher could not look at her. His heart in shreds, he dared not, for surely her ambition to wed a future Duke would glow from her eyes. Seeing that would shatter his heart, for now beyond a doubt, he loved Merial beyond his own life.
Hearing her sudden laughter, the high, lovely tinkling sound, made him wish he had died the previous night, not Cooper.
“You are a proper fool,” she said.
The tone of her voice made him glance at her, see her smile at him, witness the look in her eyes he could not truly believe he saw. “What?”
“For an intelligent man, a captain of men,” Merial commented dryly, “I certainly made you look foolish.”
“How so?” He dared not look too hard into her eyes.
“Do you think any man can turn me from you?” she asked. “I have fallen in love with you, Christopher. If you do not feel the same, then tell me now.”
“You.” He choked off, unable to believe what she had just said. “You are in love with me?”
She stared at the cat. “If you do not feel the same, then I just made a proper fool of myself.”
Christopher seized her hand. “You have not, Merial. For I have fallen deeply in love with you.”
Turning toward him, her smile put the sun to shame. “Truly?”
“Truly.” He felt his heart swell with joy and happiness. “You had me there, Merial. I thought you would rather have a Duke than a ship’s captain.”
She waved her free hand negligently. “Oh, Dukes are so droll. Sitting in the study and looking at paperwork, arranging parties and balls, worried about what society will say about their taste in cravats.”
Christopher laughed. “Is that what Dukes do? I had no idea.”
“Actually, I have no idea,” she admitted with a grin. “I haven’t met many Dukes.”
He sobered, squeezing her hand. “We must also find a way to get your memories back.”
“I hope so.” Merial gazed out at the sea. “I must know who I am, Christopher. I must know what happened to my family.”
“Do you still have the nightmares?” he asked.
Merial nodded. “Nearly every night. Some are clearer than others, some less so. Always the same—fire, leaving someone behind to die, galloping away on a horse.”
“Perhaps upon our return to London,” Christopher suggested, “the familiar sights and sounds around you may bring you to recall them.”
By her startled expression, he suspected Merial had not thought of such. “That would seem almost too easy,” she murmured. “Splendid, nonetheless.”
“I just hope that upon recovering your memories,” he went on, half jesting, half fearful, “that you will not forget about me.”
Chapter 24
Fire bloomed in the darkness. Grief. Pain. “No, Papa, no.” The horrible, tearing sense of loss. “They cannot get out. We must go.” A man’s voice shouting over and over, his voice an echo in her soul—we must go, we must go, we must go.
Weeping, her heart aching even as it pounded in her chest, Merial woke in the darkness. Tears wet her cheeks, she tasted the salt of them on her lips. “I am so sorry,” she cried into her pillow, clutching it tightly to her. “I am so sorry.”
As all her nightmares had before, they fragmented and vanished, leaving behind only the emotion, the heartbreak, the loss and the grief. Blinking her tears away, she stared at the tiny flame of the lamp, feeling her racing pulse slow. “Lord, help me,” she whispered. “Help me to remember, please.”
The porthole above her showed the black of night receding to the coming dawn. Merial stiffly rose from her bunk, dislodging Henry, and washed and dressed for the day. With the cat at her heels, she strode up to the deck, the night watch pausing on his rounds to stare at her.
With a jolt, she recognized John Benson, as well as the malevolence in his eyes. Refusing to be intimidated by him, or be the first to look away, she met his gaze with a calm defiance until he continued on his rounds with no acknowledgment of her presence, much less her rank.
Annoyed, but determined to not make an issue of it, Merial stood near the bow on the starboard side, gazing ahead at the pink and purple horizon, the new dawn casting its array of colors over the calm sea. Like most everything she had experienced on board the Valkyrie, the simple sunrise stunned her with its magnificence.
“You are up early.”
Merial glanced around at the sound of Christopher’s voice. “Is the sunrise not beautiful?” she asked, smiling up at him.
“Yes, indeed. Sometimes I rise early just so I can watch the sun come up.”
He leaned on the gunwale beside her, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I am looking forward to introducing you to my family.”
At his words, her grief and pain shadowed her heart once more, but Merial tried to banish them with happier thoughts. “It will be lovely to meet them as well, and wear nice dresses again.”
“And sleep in a real bed.” Christopher chuckled. “I look forward to sleeping on something that is not constantly moving.”
“That as well,” Merial agreed, gazing back at the rising sun. “Think, the dawn is coming up over England right now. London will be waking up, people going about their business, even as we sail ever closer to home.”
“You soun
d as though you are homesick,” he observed.
“Perhaps I am,” Merial replied, still feeling the grief that lay over her heart despite her attempts to escape it. “I do not even know how long I have been gone. Months, maybe even years.”
“I do not think it has been that long, Merial,” Christopher said, resting his arm over her shoulder. “I think it has only been a matter of weeks since you sailed from London.”
Merial nestled closer to him. “How do you know for certain?”
The Lost Countess That Counted Stars (Historical Regency Romance) Page 22
