Lord of Devil Isle

by Connie Mason

  “If I’ve abused her?” Cap’n Scott laughed mirthlessly and shifted on the bunk with a wince. “You’ve got things backward, lad. I’m afraid the boot’s quite on the other leg.”

  “Then why did I find her in tears?” Higgs straightened to his full height, which was difficult since some of the ceiling beams were low. “And I ceased being a lad some time ago.”

  The captain arched a brow at him. “Aye, so you did. Tears, hmm. What did she tell you?”

  “That you’re well enough so she no longer needs to remain in your cabin to tend you.” Privately, Higgs thought the captain’s color was a little off. He looked ready to cast up his accounts, but surely Miss Upshall knew best. After all, she’d been right to keep Higgs from attempting that trepanation. “She wishes to see if the secret hold will do for her during the remainder of the voyage.”

  “And how in thunder did she learn about that hold?” he bellowed.

  Higgs swallowed hard. Captain Scott had intimidated better men than he. But none as determined to champion a lady’s cause as Peregrine Higgs.

  “She guessed we might have done a bit of smuggling over the years,” he admitted. “And I confirmed that we had such a spot. All she wants is a bit of privacy. It seems a simple enough request. If you’d seen her weeping…”

  “Are you daft, man? Women use tears like the Royal Navy uses nine pounders.” Nicholas dragged a hand over his face. “They soften you up and then when you least expect it, it’s ‘prepare to be boarded.’ And let me tell you, Higgs, brigands and privateers may parley, but women give no quarter.”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

  “What the devil have you been doing?” the captain asked with indignation. Then he shrugged and waved a hand. “Permission granted.”

  “I’ve sailed under your colors for more seasons than I can remember and I’ve always supported you.” Higgs set his face. Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “But you’ve gone too far this time.”

  The captain narrowed his eyes. “Explain yourself.”

  “When you rescued the women overboard the Molly Harper, every man jack of us was proud to serve under you. When you took the ladies into your home and treated them with proper respect, we saw you for what we all believed you truly are, sir, a gentleman at heart.”

  “You, of all people, should know better than that, Higgs.” The captain’s eyes flashed a warning, but Higgs pressed on.

  “Then you brought Miss Upshall on board against her will. You put to sea and sailed ahead of a storm when any prudent seaman would have stayed in port,” Higgs said. “To say your judgment has been cloudy of late is to be charitable indeed.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No. I’ll not have you bringing Miss Upshall to tears again,” Higgs said, squaring his shoulders.

  “You’ll not have it?” The captain rose, still clutching the sheet around his middle. “Blast it all, Higgs, what right have you to interfere? Never say you fancy her!”

  “No, nothing like that,” Higgs said. His heart was still in the keeping of the delicious Miss Sally Munroe, whether that lady knew it or not. “But it’s not only my right to interfere. It’s my duty.”

  “Your duty?”

  “Miss Upshall is not like Magdalen Frith and the others, sir. She is a lady. I mean to see she is treated like one. She deserves the privacy of her own cabin on board.”

  “What if I say she’ll remain with me anyway?”

  Higgs shifted his weight. “Then sir, I would have to challenge you, though it gives me no pleasure to do so.”

  Nicholas Scott threw his head back and laughed, though there was no joy in the sound. Then he sank back onto the bunk.

  “So, it’s come to this. I swear, that woman’s worse than a nor’easter. Who’d have thought anything could drive a wedge between you and me?”

  Higgs knew what he meant. When Higgs first went to sea as cabin boy, Nicholas Scott took him under his wing. He was like the older brother Higgs never had. He didn’t let Higgs’s speech impediment keep him from promotion, and gradually Higgs lost the stammer completely each time they set sail. Everything Peregrine knew about the sea, the captain had taught him. He devoutly believed there was no greater sailing man on the seven seas than Nicholas Scott.

  But Peregrine had no desire to learn what the captain knew about women. When a petticoat was involved, Nicholas Scott sowed nothing but grief all around. His disastrous marriage had been tempestuous, at best. His riotous affairs were like skimming a vessel over a shallow shoal. Eventually the bottom of the hull would always be ripped out.

  And Higgs wanted to spare Miss Upshall, if he could. At least until he could make sure she was with the captain of her own accord. After that, he could wash his hands of the situation with a clear conscience.

  “Very well, Higgs,” the captain said wearily. “Miss Upshall will have her private quarters. Where is she?”

  “I left her near the bowsprit.”

  “Go back and make sure she stays there, till I come for her.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” Higgs straightened smartly and turned to the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “There’s one more thing, sir.”

  “What is it?”

  “At the end of this voyage, I’m resigning as your first officer.” Higgs didn’t dare tear his gaze from the brass doorknob. “It gives me no pleasure to do it, but I think it for the best.”

  “A man must make his own decisions,” the captain said slowly. “Do as you will.”

  Higgs closed the door behind him softly. The captain had finally called him a man.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Nick dressed with care, making sure every button was fastened, every seam on his breeches straight. His balls still ached, but the pain had subsided to a manageable discomfort. The nausea had passed. He pulled his hair back into a queue and bound it with a leather thong. Finally, he cocked his tricorne on his head at a rakish angle.

  After all, a gentleman had to be at his best to do a lady the honor she “deserved.” Satisfied, he took a final look around the cabin. He’d made the bunk and tidied the small space. There was fresh water in the ewer and a clean towel hanging from the peg.

  She’d have no cause for complaint now.

  He made his way to the prow where Higgs and Eve were involved in a heated, but whispered conversation. He listened for a few seconds, but couldn’t make out any of the words. She sounded upset and off balance. Every few seconds, she knocked her fist on the rail.

  Miss Upshall was discomfited. That was something at least.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said as he came around a large coil of rope. “Thank you, Mr. Higgs. Relieve Mr. Tatem at the wheel, if you please. I’ll stand the rest of your watch. That’ll be all.”

  Higgs saluted smartly and turned on his heel as if the great divide that now yawned between them was but a figment of Nick’s imagination.

  “But, Captain—” Eve began.

  “Nicholas,” he corrected. “I rather think it’s too late to return to formalities between you and me, Eve. Don’t you agree?”

  She turned and rested both forearms on the gunwale. “Nevertheless, I would prefer that we observe them.”

  “Oh, aye, I’ve heard a great deal about your preferences this night.” He settled against the rail beside her, turned so he could watch the moonlight silver her features. “In this instance, I fear you’ll just have to bear the disappointment. I shall continue to call you Eve and I insist you call me Nicholas.”

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  “It would be inappropriate not to. For good or ill, we are no longer mere acquaintances whom bad luck and the sea have tossed together.” He noticed her hands were trembling. “My dear Eve, we are ‘intimates’ and the sooner you come to terms with it, the better off you’ll be.”

  “You mean the better off you’ll be.” She clutched her hands together to still them. “After all, it would mean you have a mistress to swive whenever you’
ve a mind to.”

  He made a tsking sound, though her earthy tongue amused more than shocked him.

  “Did I say anything more about you becoming my mistress?” He covered her hands with one of his. They were icy cold. She pulled them away and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “No, I just pointed out the obvious. You can’t unring a bell. You can’t undo a deed.”

  “And it’s much easier for a man to take advantage of a woman he’s already ruined and insist she become his mistress,” she hissed at him. “What a very convenient philosophy.”

  “No, it’s more an acknowledgment of the facts.” He grinned down at her. “We have been lovers, Eve. No amount of formal language can change that. But evidently you’re still thinking about becoming my mistress since you keep bringing it up.”

  She whipped back her arm to strike him, but he caught her hand and held it fast.

  “I think there’s been enough violence done between us this night, don’t you?” he asked softly, his gaze never wavering from hers. The fire went out of her eyes and she bit her lower lip.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she said, tears trembling on her lower lashes.

  “And I you.”

  Where did that come from?

  Apologies were for weaklings. All he’d done was offer to provide her with a life of luxury and shared pleasure at his side. Why was he apologizing for that?

  He cleared his throat. “I believe you want your own accommodations.”

  “Mr. Higgs mentioned your smuggler’s hold as a possibility.”

  “And I should have the turncoat flogged for it,” he said with a snort.

  Her eyes flared wide and he could have kicked his own arse.

  “No! Please, Mr. Higgs didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault. I—”

  He grasped her shoulders. Christ, why did I mention flogging to her of all people? “Steady on, Eve. I’m not such a monster as that. Mr. Higgs is in no danger from me.” He loosened his grip but didn’t release her. “And neither are you. If you’ll come with me, I have a private cabin prepared for you.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Where?”

  “If I’m not in it with you, what does it matter?” He offered her his arm. “My absence seems to be your main requirement, after all.”

  She hooked a hand around his elbow. “You make it sound as if I’m being unreasonable.”

  Aren’t you? he wanted to ask, but he bit back his frustration.

  He’d never had a woman refuse him. None of them had even led him much of a chase. It was enough for him to crook a little finger and they’d come running. And once he bedded them, they always seemed ready for more of his brand of bedplay. Eve had certainly enjoyed it if her body-bucking climax was any measure. He couldn’t decide if he was bewildered or hurt by her aversion to him now.

  “I think you’ll find this arrangement to your liking,” he said, trying to keep his tone even as he walked her across the open deck.

  She cast him a sidelong glance. “I don’t know. I wasn’t terribly receptive to your last offer of an ‘arrangement.’ My opinion has not altered since our last conversation. I will not be your kept woman.”

  “There you go, bringing up being my mistress again,” he said with a wry grin. “Have I said aught more about the proposition?”

  “No,” she admitted with a frown. “But you were thinking about it.”

  He chuckled. “You’re right. However, no man may be held accountable for his thoughts, Eve.” His smile faded, as he chased those libidinous ideas. “No matter how pleasurable, how forbidden those thoughts may be.”

  Nicholas stopped and gazed down at her. Lust flared in him again. Her lips parted slightly and he remembered how she’d looked when she came beneath him, slack-mouthed, passion-spent and gasping. He could still taste her salty-sweet slit.

  “Nicholas…” Her lids drooped and he sensed she, too, was reliving their lovemaking. It felt so right between them, this fiery connection, this instant surge of heat.

  If she were any other woman, he’d scoop her up then and there and carry her back to his bed. He’d take her hard and fast and make her body remember she wanted him, even if her lips claimed she didn’t.

  He’d prove her a liar.

  But she wasn’t any other woman. She was Eve. And he wanted more than a good hard swive from her. Much more.

  He just wasn’t sure how to get it. Or even what “it” was.

  Love?

  He batted that notion away. His last bout with love had ended with heartache all around. Love was loss. Love was pain. It was pure folly to even consider taking to those murky waters again.

  And yet, here was Eve Upshall standing before him, doe-eyed and ripe for the taking.

  But not if the price was love.

  He cupped her cheek. “No woman may be held accountable for her thoughts either.” Her skin was like satin under his hand and he sensed her leaning slightly into his touch. “Unless she wants to act on them of her own free will.”

  That broke the spell. Eve turned her eyes away. “Please take me to my new accommodations.”

  “You’ll find them rather like your old ones,” he said as he led her back down the companionway.

  “No, Nick.” She stopped dead in the narrow space. “I’ll not share a cabin with you.”

  “I’m not expecting you to.” He opened the cabin door and waved her in. “Please accept my quarters as your own for the duration of our voyage.” When she didn’t budge, he propped the door open and strode in by himself. He unhooked his hammock from the low ceiling beams. “I’ll string my bed with the men belowdecks for now.”

  “You would do this for me?” she said softly.

  Christ, he’d battled a shark for her, hadn’t he? When would the woman learn he’d do anything for her? But he only said, “Aye, lass. It’s a small matter.”

  “Not to me.” Eve stepped back into the cabin. The space still held the musk of their lovemaking, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, Nicholas.”

  She stood on tiptoe and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Her tremulous smile warmed him clear to his toes.

  Nick beat a hasty retreat. He sensed he’d won a strategic victory of some sort. Staying any longer might tempt him beyond bearing and he didn’t want to give back the slight advantage he’d gained.

  Once he closed the cabin door behind him, he sagged against it, shaking his head. He’d never been so off balance. His life had always been about setting goals and achieving them. Since it was clear Eve wouldn’t be his mistress, he wasn’t even sure what outcome to hope for in this romantic skirmish.

  He only knew that he had made her happy.

  And even though he’d spend the rest of the voyage swinging in a hammock alongside his sweaty, farting, snoring crew, he was strangely happy, too.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The trip from St. Georges to the Turks should have taken them five days, owing to a favorable current. Since the storm blew the Susan Bell well out of that invisible path in the sea, it took nine days instead.

  Eve stood at the gunwale and peered into the distance. The color of the sea had lightened from deep indigo to delicate turquoise, so she knew the ocean floor was rushing up to meet the Susan B’s hull. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of sun on the water. At the edge of the earth, she saw faint blue and white smudges.

  “Is that Turks?” she asked Nick, who was standing beside her with his spyglass at one eye while he scanned the horizon.

  “Aye, lass.” He handed her the glass so she could see a hint of palm trees rising from the blur of land. “’Tis the second point on our little triangle.”

  “Triangle?” Eve frowned, trying to pick out anything that resembled one on the distant shore.

  “Our trade triangle.”

  Nick had removed himself from his cabin, but his instruments and charts were still stored there. Eve had been privy to his navigational calculations and was amazed by his mathematical abilities. When she
expressed her admiration, he merely said, “It’s all just lines and angles, basic geometry really.”

  Now she realized he often thought in the shapes of navigation as well.

  “Bermuda and Turks,” she said. “And the third corner of your triangle is…?”

  “Charleston,” he admitted, then hurried on. “Think of it as a triangle with all sides the same length. We have more cedar than we need in Bermuda, but there’s no lumber to speak of on Turks or Caicos. Those little islands are dotted with natural salinas where seawater collects through the rocks and leaves behind a thick brine. The Colonies are always desperate for more salt. We need foodstuffs from the Colonies and so the triangle is complete.”

  “And you profit at every corner of the triangle,” she said, but all she was thinking was Charleston. He was going to take her to Charleston, after all. And by rights, she should be thrilled, but for some unaccountable reason, her belly spiraled downward.

  “Aye, lass, but don’t sound so doubtful about it. There’s no harm in profit,” he said with a grin. “After all, it’s my ship and crew taking the risks. It’s only fair we should reap some benefits.”

  He hadn’t even tried to reap anything from her for the last few days. Eve sighed and mentally cursed herself. She should be grateful he stayed away. It saved her from having to shove him aside if he was still intent on making her his mistress instead of offering marriage as a gentleman should.

  But in the meantime, she noticed him intently at every turn. The crisp dark hairs peeping from the deep vee in his shirt, the way his eyes met hers at unguarded moments, his strong hands on the ship’s wheel—they all made her squirm inside her clothes. Even keeping his distance, the man had the power to seduce.

  “Look sharp, lads,” Nick called out. He gave the order to drop some of the ship’s canvas in order to slow their approach. “The sandbars shift from time to time and we don’t want to end up like those poor bastards.”

  He pointed down into the crystalline water to the wavering remnants of a ship whose back was broken over the coral on the steeply rising ocean floor. A long barracuda floated over the sunken prow.