* * *
Morning dawned gray, humid and brooding, with lightning flickering in the dark clouds off to the west and the distant roll of thunder moving over the water. The air was dead-still, and the entire bay felt expectant. Heavy. Waiting.
Rosalie had spent the night in Kieran’s cabin. Stephen had come up on deck while they were still holding each other near the rail and had made it clear with much conspicuous throat-clearing that he was not at all happy about the two of them standing alone together in the darkness. Ever sensitive to the situation, Kieran had gently sent her below, saving both her honor and any obligation her brother might feel to defend it.
It had been a long night, filled with vivid dreams that even now, caused her cheeks to flame red.
Dreams of what those talented hands, so able to coax music from an old violin, a song from a ship, and longing from her heart, would feel like on her skin. On her intimate places.
In her intimate places.
She shuddered and quickly went to the wash basin, her body throbbing, her face hot as she washed it. Yes, she was blushing. Her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed. It was the look of a woman in love.
Now, she came up on deck and found the object of those dreams and imaginings standing with Liam Doherty at the rail, both of them watching the clouds boiling up on the southwestern horizon while Stephen, tucking into a bowl of oatmeal and leaning against a gun, offered commentary on the weather. The captain was drinking coffee from a tin mug, his eyes thoughtful as he gazed at the ominous bank of black cloud. He turned his head and looked at her, and his sudden, all-encompassing smile made something inside her melt, made her feel as though she was the most gorgeous and glorious creature that God had ever made. She blushed again, felt a quick jolt of sensation rock through her body and center itself between her legs, and gave him a secretive little smile of her own.
“Good morning, lass,” Liam said, grinning.
Oh, dear…did he know? Her blush deepened.
Good morning, Miss McCormack,” said Kieran, deferring to formality in what she suspected was an attempt to make it look as though nothing had changed between them with the kiss and conversation of just hours before.
“Good morning, Liam. Captain Merrick.” She peered up at the clouds, whose turbulent, unsettled mood mirrored her own. Cats’ paws suddenly ruffled across the water toward them and a moment later she felt the wind against her cheek. “I’m guessing we’ll be sheltering here until the storm is past.”
“Not like we’ve got enough wind to send us anywhere. It’ll likely fill in after the squall passes.”
“I hope there’ll be cool air behind it, too,” Liam said, scratching at his neck. “This humidity is unbearable.”
Rosalie snorted. “Don’t bet on it.”
Beneath them Sandpiper moved uneasily, and a few fat drops began to plop like swollen grapes onto the deck.
“Here it comes,” said Kieran, taking off his hat, and a moment later the skies opened up. Stephen, leaning over his bowl of oatmeal to protect it from the deluge, swore and scurried down the hatch, Liam in as hot pursuit as he could be given his age and aches and pains. His head dropped below the coaming and a moment later he yanked the hatch shut as rain exploded onto the deck, water bouncing off the planking, racing toward the scuppers, and wind slamming across the bay. The sloop rocked at her anchor. Rosalie turned to head toward the hatch herself—but then she caught sight of Kieran still leaning casually against the rail, his face upturned to the heavens above while water streamed down his face, soaking his hair, plastering his shirt to his arms, his shoulders, his chest. He was grinning in what looked like bliss, and clearly enjoying himself.
The roar of the rain hitting the deck became deafening. Lightning flashed in the distance and thunder rolled over the bay.
She moved close to him and slid her hand into his own, feeling the rain beating against her head, her face, sluicing down her back, bouncing off her hands and wrists and cooling her hot flesh. Her clothes were stuck to her, her braided hair a thick wet tail that hung, dripping, down her back. The sound of the rain hitting the deck sounded like a million hammers. She looked at Kieran; he glanced over at her, his eyes merry, and suddenly he laughed, though she could barely hear it over the roar of the deluge. A moment later she was in his arms, the rain pounding on them from above, washing against their eager, seeking lips as their mouths came together with desperate hunger and delight.
Lightning cracked over the bay, shook the deck beneath their feet, and the water poured out of the sky.
And neither one noticed.
Chapter 21
Journal of Captain Kieran Merrick, 25 May 1814
Baltimore, today. I think I’ll make this a short entry; a quick wash, a shave, and a change of clothes into something clean and dry are in order before I present myself to the McCormacks.
Rosalie felt a deep sense of pride as Kieran skillfully brought his gorgeous ship up to the dock under minimal sail, swung her into the wind, and let the tide push her the remaining few feet as the crew put out fenders. It was neatly done. On the dock, old Ebenezer Dearborn stood waiting for Liam and the sloop’s crew to hurl mooring lines over to him; Sandpiper was hauled up close to the dock and made fast, finally coming to rest.
Ebenezer was gazing at the young captain from beneath a wide-brimmed hat, an appreciative little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “That was a nice piece of seamanship,” he called out. “Most folks ask for a pilot.”
“She’s easy enough to handle,” Kieran called back with a grin, dismissing the praise, “and my crew deserves any accolades, not me.” He turned away to order the jib to be furled and Rosalie could see by the expressions on each face—the McKay brothers, Joel, even Stephen—that they were pleased. Kieran may not be a man of many words, but a bit of praise from him went a long way and even in these few short days, Rosalie could see that he had won the respect, admiration and liking of these men she had known all of her life.
She could not wait for her parents to meet him. He was not quite hers to share or show off but she felt pride in him all the same, and the fact that he had agreed to stay a few days in Baltimore meant countless opportunities to spend time together. Would anything come of his asking Father to court her? Could she dare hope for a future with Kieran?
A quick flutter of her heart and suddenly sweaty palms, and she sobered. For Rosalie had a secret, and the closer she and the New England captain became, the more their friendship developed into a romance, the more it weighed on her.
Because if Captain Merrick knew the truth about her….
No, best not to think of that just yet. It wasn’t as if he’d offered for her and deserved to know. If he did—then she would tell him.
In the meantime, she told herself, it didn’t matter.
And perhaps it never would.
* * *
The McCormack mansion was within walking distance of the waterfront, set back from the street on a grassy knoll and built of fine red brick that seemed to soak up the re-emerging sun as the clouds filed out before a breeze that soon raised whitecaps in the harbor. But the heat had broken, even if only for a short time.
It was a small group, the four of them. Joel had chosen to stay aboard Sandpiper, but Liam Doherty had accepted the invitation to dine with them this evening. Now, he and Stephen walked ahead, chatting about the benefits of raked masts versus straight, and their talk faded into the distance as Rosalie all but skipped along beside Kieran, happier than she’d been in longer than she could remember, excited by the idea of bringing such a worthy and handsome man home to her parents even if it was directly on the heels of her ending her betrothal to James.
Yes, she wanted to skip with happiness as she adjusted to the feel of solid ground beneath her feet, her senses assailed by the smells of land: mud and brine, smoke from cooking fires, tar, varnish and freshly-sawn wood from a nearby shipyard, horse dung in the streets, salt from the sea, the smells of home. And why wouldn’t she be h
appy? Kieran Merrick was here; here, in Baltimore!
If her feet weren’t skipping, her heart most certainly was.
And there was the house, waiting for them. Father’s two foxhounds raced toward them as they walked up the drive, both barking furiously at sight of the two strangers, hackles up and tails stiff.
Liam froze, but before Rosalie or Stephen could grab the two dogs, Kieran, unafraid, was setting down his ditty bag and putting out a closed hand, allowing them to sniff him. For a tense moment, Rosalie held her breath; Jack and Jill had bitten before, and she had grown too fond of Kieran to see him suffer any more injury.
Her fears were unfounded. A moment later tails began to wag, Jack was licking his hand, and the New Englander had knelt and was scratching him behind the ears. Jill pushed against his bent knee and sat on his foot, tongue lolling. Jack tried to crowd her out, placing a possessive paw over Kieran’s thigh. This man of such a serious, reflective nature hadn’t smiled much since Rosalie had first met him, but now his face lit up with merriment as the dog pushed herself against him, wiggling madly, tail thumping, tongue swiping at his newly-shaven cheeks.
Rosalie stood looking on with a wistful smile. When Kieran Merrick was happy, his eyes sparkled with warmth, his grin was infectious, and there was a radiance about him that drew her like a flower to the sun.
“Stop, Jill,” said Stephen, trying to pull the dog away. “You’re getting poor Captain Merrick all muddy.”
“Poor Captain Merrick doesn’t mind.” Kieran was grinning from ear to ear as Jack climbed up into his lap and, tail whipping madly, tried to lick his chin. “It’s been months since I’ve played with a dog.” He laughed as the dog’s tongue connected with his ear. “Not quite so tough now, are you, my fine fellow?”
“He’s bitten two people,” Rosalie said hopelessly.
“Maybe he had a reason.”
“Aye, he did,” Stephen chimed in as Liam, towering over them all, stood nearby with arms crossed, shaking his head and looking at the mud stains on his captain’s clean white breeches. “One of them insulted my sister here. The other was trying to steal a chicken.”
Rosalie saw Kieran’s smile fade and his dark brows draw together at Stephen’s first statement, and hastily waved it off. “Stephen’s right—you’ve got muddy paw-prints all over your trousers.”
“Aye, ye look a sight, Kieran,” said Liam, grinning.
He simply shrugged, ruffled the dog’s ears, and stood up. Both canines stared expectantly up at him, tails beating the air, tongues lolling and eyes happy. It seemed, Rosalie thought, that Kieran Merrick’s charms extended to more than just herself, the Baltimoreans that had helped sail Sandpiper home, and his sloop that was as obedient and willing as any vessel could be. Even the family dogs were under his spell.
What would Mother and Father think of him?
She found out the moment Stephen pushed open the door and they emerged into the coolness of the foyer.
“Rosalie! Stephen!” Mother came hurrying from out of the parlor, her eyes alight with joy, her brown hair worn short and curly and small pearls bobbing at her ears. She quickly embraced her two eldest children, much to Stephen’s obvious embarrassment. “Oh, it is so good to have you home, so very good to have you home! I’ve missed you both terribly. When did you get in? How is your uncle? And who are these two handsome gentlemen you’ve brought with you? Oh, I see our dogs have gotten to you, young man, I hope you weren’t bitten, they’ve gained something of a reputation I’m afraid but since Jill has her nose pressed into your hand I’m assuming you’ve made friends. I’m Susannah McCormack—and you both are?”
Kieran executed a fine bow, his height dwarfing the petite, round woman as he straightened up. He smiled. “Kieran Merrick, madam, and this is my friend and lieutenant, Liam Doherty,” he said as Liam did the same. “We’re honored to make your acquaintance.”
“My goodness, you have a funny accent. Please don’t tell me you’re English—”
“Mother,” Stephen began.
“Captain Merrick is from New England,” said Rosalie, hastily. “He’s a privateer. And if it weren’t for him, both Stephen and I would likely be dead right now.” She filled her mother in on the highlights of their ordeal, carefully omitting the more horrifying details including their capture by pirates; her mother was a worrier, full of imagination and “what-ifs,” and there was no sense upsetting her. “He went out of his way to bring us both safely home.”
Susannah McCormack was studying Kieran with eyes that didn’t miss a thing beneath her ebullient manner and bright smile; eyes that didn’t miss the bruising near his temple that faded into his hairline, nor the healing gash on the point of his cheek. “And you Captain, what did you do to yourself? You poor man, those bruises and that cut look awfully sore. Can I get you some liniment? A cold compress? Please don’t tell me you’re one to brawl. Did you get into a fight, Captain?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with unflinching seriousness. “With a mast, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure I can forgive you for being clumsy, I’m not a seafarer but heaven knows it’s hard to keep one’s balance on a ship during heavy seas.” She beckoned to a servant. “Clara, please set out tea and biscuits for our guests. Better yet, a luncheon. Have you eaten, Rosalie? You’ve lost weight, I can see your cheekbones and that worries me. And you, Stephen, you really must learn to wear a hat while at sea, you inherited your father’s Scottish complexion and it doesn’t mix with sun. Shame on you for allowing yourself to burn like that! Angus! Oh, where is your father? He must be told that you’re safely home, and I know he’d like to meet your handsome beau here, too. He is your beau, isn’t he? I can tell just by the way you two are looking at each other and thinking I don’t notice. Angus? Angus!” Sighing in exasperation, she excused herself and hurried up an elegant, curving staircase, still calling for her absent husband.
Liam burst out laughing.
And Rosalie went nearly as red as her brother’s sunburned face at her mother’s words: handsome beau. Mortified, she shot a glance at Kieran, who only grinned, shrugged, and watched this tiny force-of-nature that was Rosalie’s mother disappear around the landing in a busy swirl of skirts.
“I am so sorry,” Rosalie whispered fiercely, wishing she had a fan to cool her face. “My mother comes out with the most embarrassing things….”
“She’s delightful. Reminds me of my own mother, really. Frank, outspoken, and honest.”
“Aye, she does a bit,” Liam put in. “Kieran, can ye do something about the mud? God almighty, ye look a sight.”
“No, Liam, and I’m not going to. Stop worrying about it, would you?”
“Our parents take people as they are,” Stephen said. “They’ll like him better if the dogs approve.”
“Anybody who disapproves of our Kieran doesn’t know a good man when they see him,” Liam said. “In fact—”
“Liam, enough.”
“But Kieran—”
“Liam, I said enough.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell her about the pirates!” Rosalie whispered fiercely to Kieran. “It’ll only upset her.”
He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “My lips are sealed.”
“Well, I’m telling her,” Stephen said. “She deserves to know.”
“Tell Father instead,” Rosalie shot back. “After all, it’s his ship that was lost. Let him decide whether Mother should know any of the grim details of our ordeal.”
“She’s got other things on her mind,” Stephen said slyly.
“What do you mean?”
“Mother is observant.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Handsome beau, eh?” Stephen teased, with a sideways glance at Kieran. “My, how things are progressing.”
“Stop it, Stephen! You’re embarrassing Kieran.”
But Kieran, watching this exchange, was anything but embarrassed. Several days ago he would have been mortified to be at t
he center of such a discussion, especially as it was conducted, in part, by a woman with whom he could no longer deny that he was falling in love. Now, seeing the easy banter between the siblings, the warmth of this family and their teasing acceptance of each other, he found himself relaxing and taking it all in stride.
“I don’t know about the handsome part,” he murmured, with a private glance at Rosalie, “but the role of ‘beau’ is one I’m quite happy to occupy.”
She flushed, and at that moment Susannah came hurrying back down the stairs, a frazzled looking gentleman with thick red sideburns and short, wildly curling hair in her wake. He yanked a pipe out of his mouth. “Och, Suzie, how’s a mon supposed to earn a living and calculate figures with constant interruption? Ye ken how I can’t think—”
“Then you should shut the door, Angus. If the door is shut, then people know not to bother you, but you had it open so no need to protest and in front of guests as well. These fine men brought our Stephen and Rosalie home to us and will be dining with us tonight, is that not so, Captain? Angus, this is Captain Karen Merrick from New England and his friend and lieutenant, Mr. Liam Doherty.”
“It’s Kieran, Mother.”
“That’s what I said, Karen. Stop correcting me, Rosalie.”
“That is not how his name is pronounced, Mother, it’s—”
“Why thank you, madam,” Kieran cut in, “I’m sure both Lieutenant Doherty and I would be delighted.”
Angus was embracing both of his children in a fierce bear hug, setting them back to examine them, and hugging them a second time. He turned to the two strangers.
“’Tis pleased I am t’ make yer acquaintance, lads,” he boomed, putting out a huge hand, the back of which was covered with red hair. “But what’s this about ye bringing our wee ones home to us? I sent ’em off on Penelope and expected Penelope to carry ’em home, not two perfect strangers. Where’s my ship?”
Heir To The Sea Page 17
