My Lord Beaumont

by Unknown

  It began to look very doubtful that they would, particularly since the winds, which had been sadly unpredictable of late, seemed to favor the Spanish above them. On the third day after the Spanish were first spotted, however, dark, scudding clouds gathered to the Northeast and by noon the wind had picked up, bringing the storm clouds with it; roiling, threatening clouds that churned angrily just above the tops of the masts, darkening the sky till it seemed more like dusk than mid-day. The wind buffeted them almost constantly, whipping up the ocean until it was a boiling, frothy menace. By dusk, the storm that had threatened, unleashed its full fury upon them, and the ship bobbed up and down on the roiling sea like a cork in a bottle. Rain pelted them, driven by the wind so that it stung like sharp needles against the skin. Huge waves lifted the ship high into the air, then dropped it into deep troughs, washing over the decks and taking with them everything that had not been battened down, tossing the ship from side to side till it seemed in imminent danger of floundering, and everyone who could scurried to the dubious safety below decks.

  The Spanish fleet had disappeared from sight, though whether they had been swept away by the storm or were simply obscured by the churning sea, no one could be certain. None were particularly interested at the moment, either, since the sea now posed the most imminent threat, and it was the storm that now became their enemy.

  Two sailors were plucked from the rigging and plunged to their deaths as they scurried aloft to secure flapping sails that had been ripped loose by the howling wind and beaten to tatters, and others scrambled up the slippery rigging to take their places. Five others were lost in as many hours, swept overboard by the huge waves that battered the ship like enormous fists, rising up like monstrous hands to slap their feet from under them and sweep them from the decks as they scrambled about the rolling, heaving decks trying to secure cargo and flapping lines that had broken loose, and the captain belatedly ordered safety lines.

  They were of little help for all that, for once a sailor had been swept from the deck, he rarely survived the sea long enough to be hauled to safety. By the third day of the storm, the crew had been depleted by near a score of men, and Adrian ordered Danielle to remain below while he went above to offer his services.

  Danielle was sorely tempted to simply ignore his curt order. She couldn't bear the thought of being trapped below decks should the ship sink. Besides, she was seized by the morbid conviction the instant Adrian left her that he, too, would be swept overboard. She knew, however, that she would be useless at best, a hindrance at worst, if they were stupid enough to accept her help, and so she remained where she was, huddled in her favorite corner and praying for the first time in years while she did her best to block the sounds of the raging storm from her mind.

  She couldn't forebear creeping up the companionway from time to time to reassure herself that Lord Beaumont hadn't been lost to her however. She felt somehow, regardless of the absurdity of such reasoning, that as long as she could see him, he wouldn't come to harm.

  Lord Beaumont squelched that bit of bravado on her fourth trip above decks. Having spotted her clinging to the rail at the top of the companionway while she peered around the sea swept decks in search of him, he removed her bodily. Jerking her up, he flung her over his shoulder and hauled her back to the cabin where he dropped her unceremoniously on his bunk. He glared at her then in furious silence for several moments before favoring her with such a cold lecture regarding her intelligence (or lack of it). He outlined in such detail what he intended to do to her if he caught her creeping up the companionway again that she lost all desire to venture forth again. Instead, she promptly retreated to her cubbyhole when he had left her, where she indulged herself in a bout of tears and bitterly muttered recriminations concerning idiots who thought they were sailors when they didn't know the first thing about it and had no business above decks where they were liable to be swept into the sea or killed by falling debris at any moment. When she'd exhausted her considerable supply of expletives and invectives, she dried her tears and returned to her prayers.

  Terror sent her scurrying from the cabin after a while. That and the certainty that if she didn't find something to occupy her hands, she would loose her fragile grip on sanity and run screaming to the deck and fling herself overboard to end the agony of waiting. But one look at the pandemonium in Lavinia Johnson's cabin sent her hurriedly back to her own, choking back the bile that rose up to burn her throat at the smell of stale vomit that permeated the other cabin. For Lavinia hadn't endured the storm at all well, and Yvette, whom Danielle had accepted in a rather wary friendship, wasn't doing much better.

  She was immensely sorry for Yvette, who was trying to attend her mistress despite her own sea sickness, and ashamed to withhold even moral support from her new friend. But she simply couldn't endure that sort of thing and knew she would be useless to her in present circumstances. Finally, despite her terror, she slipped into an exhausted slumber.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She was huddled in the corner when Adrian returned, shaking like a leaf, her eyes large as saucers in her pale face. He studied her for several moments and finally moved across the room and began stripping off his sodden clothing, steadying himself with some difficulty against the pitching, rolling bulkhead to shuck the clinging fabric when he'd pried off his ruined boots. Deciding he was too exhausted at the moment to contemplate dressing again under such adverse conditions, he pulled his robe from his portmanteau and donned it. He collapsed on his bunk then, realizing only after he'd done so that it would be difficult to remain there with the ship bucking like a wild thing. He sat up then, propping his back against the bulkhead and wedging his feet against the siderail of the bunk. Danielle hadn't spoken since he entered the cabin, and his gaze moved to her of its own accord. "Danny?" he said gently.

  Her head came up, and she gazed at him, waiting.

  "Would you like to sit with me?" he asked. "It's perfectly safe, I assure you," he added with a touch of amusement, fully expecting either a scathing remark calculated to put him in his place or suspicions concerning his motive. She surprised him when she offered neither. Instead, she rose and moved unsteadily in his direction, halting in uncertainty beside the bunk.

  He patted the spot between himself and the bulkhead in invitation, and she climbed into the corner, settling herself with her back against the bulkhead beside him. Neither spoke, and Adrian was so exhausted that he astonished himself by falling asleep. He awoke some time later, disoriented, and discovered Danielle's arm around his waist. He gazed down at her in bemusement, and Danielle, sensing his eyes on her, withdrew guiltily.

  "It was to keep you from falling," she explained stiffly.

  He smiled faintly but said nothing, listening instead to the roar of the wind and the creaking of straining timbers. He wondered idly if there was any chance the ship would manage to ride out the storm and how far they'd been swept off course.

  "I've been thinking," Danielle said presently, and he turned to gaze down at her bowed head. "Do you think the ship will sink?"

  He shrugged. "It seems to be holding its own for now. We lost the missenmast, but the hull seems sound enough at this point, and the wind has dropped somewhat." He doubted they would reach land, but he saw no reason to frighten Danielle more by telling her so.

  She nodded acceptance, swallowing convulsively, for, despite his words, she heard his doubts. Perhaps because she had the same doubts. She glanced up at him searchingly, then averted her face again nervously, wondering a little wildly if she could prompt him to seduce her now that she'd decided she wished to be seduced.

  She'd had hours to consider that her life, everyone's aboard ship, was hanging by a thread and that they all faced the possibility of never seeing another tomorrow. In considering eternity, she'd looked for her life's blessings and found few. And one, of that scant handful, was Adrian. It wasn't just that she wanted to give something of herself for the good life she'd had these last few weeks becau
se of him, though she rather liked the notion. She wanted something for herself, too, something memorable.

  She was scared, scared silly. But she didn't think she would mind going half so bad if she had something, so that she could think to herself before she died, ‘it was worth it. Once in my whole miserable life, I had something special.' It didn't even matter, much, that he wouldn't see it in the same light at all. It would be enough. She would make it be enough.

  The problem was, he didn't seem to be in an amorous frame of mind at the moment. Not that that was particularly surprising, all things considered. But it made her worry, since they'd been cozied up for a while now, and he hadn't made the least push to set things in motion, that he wasn't interested any more.

  She would have much preferred that it have the appearance, at least, of having been his idea. It wouldn't seem quite so brazen then, if she could just pretend he'd broken down her resistance. However, since it looked like he had no intention of taking the initiative, she saw that she would have to do it.

  She considered for several moments whether or not she could seduce him into seducing her, so that he'd think it had been his idea, but finally decided she didn't. She'd already tried her best imitation of a 'come hither' look, and he'd told her that if she was that sleepy, she must take a nap. He'd see that she didn't fall. She'd cozied up real chummy with him too, and he'd slept through it and then awakened and looked at her like he didn't know who she was or where he was. Obviously, it was going to take pure brazenness and no tact, and, while she was a little nervous about the first part, she could be as tactless as anyone.

  "I was wonder. I mean, things don't really look very good right now, and I thought . . . that is, I was wondering . . . ," she got out disjointedly and sent him a pleading look to help her out. He gave her a look that was annoyingly uncomprehending, patted her shoulder consolingly ,and told her he thought they'd come about.

  "Jiminey!" she exclaimed, torn between exasperation and vexation. Didn't he feel threatened with extinction too? Didn't he want something to think about besides feeding the fishys?

  She brooded over it for a while, but she'd made up her mind, and she wasn't going to change it just because he was being uncooperative. Surely he wouldn't turn her down. Even if he didn't much want to. She studied the worn knees of her breeches, took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "What I meant while ago, I figure you and I are bound to come to a partin' of the ways pretty soon, one way or another, and, what you wanted to do before . . . . Well, it's all right by me. If you still want to . . . ?"

  She waited a full minute, not daring to look at him. When he said nothing at all, she tried another tact. "What I mean to say is, I'd like for you to, if you will . . . . Teach me the man/woman thing, you know. See, Yvette told me you knew how, that you could make it special. And I figure she's probably right, and you can make it special if anyone could. Because I'd really like for it to be special, you know, the first time and all. The man/woman thing, that is . . . ," she trailed off, unwilling to call it love-making since she knew darned well that wasn't what it was. Unable to think of anything 'delicate' she could call it besides the man/woman thing, and, fearful that, if she hedged about too much, he wouldn't get the point at all.

  For all her bluntness, she began to worry that she hadn't gotten the idea across. He remained maddeningly silent, and she finally decided that he either hadn't grasped what she had thought she was making blatantly clear. Or he was asleep again.

  She sent him a cautious look and discovered that he was awake and watching her, but his expression was perfectly unreadable. Regardless, she felt certain he meant to spurn her offer and was just trying to think of a gentle way to do it. She considered withdrawing the offer, but, the plain fact was, she was just too miserable to think up some way to save face. She doubted there was one anyway, considering she'd left herself wide open.

  She felt like crying or hitting him for allowing her to make a complete ass of herself. She chewed her lower lip a moment, conquering the first urge, then sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. She dropped her chin to her knees. "I don't suppose you want me any more," she said finally, trying to sound indifferent. "I know I'm not appeal . . . ."

  "Don't!" he interrupted sharply, and she glanced up at him in wide-eyed surprise at the sharpness of his voice. He brushed the damp hair from his forehead, closing his eyes and dropping his head back against the bulkhead, resolutely ignoring the tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach.

  Why was it, he wondered with wry amusement, that women always decided they were interested when a man was least capable of obliging? Hadn't it occurred to her that he was exhausted from battling the storm? Or was she so naive that she thought, half-dead or not, a man could always perform on request? What the devil had Yvette told her anyway? he thought irritably. And how the hell would she know? Christ! Couldn't a man have any privacy?

  "This is hardly the time for such a thing, Danny," he said finally. "I don't know what Yvette told you or how she came by the knowledge she professes. But I very much fear that this bucking ship would strain anyone's resources," he finished dryly.

  "Oh," she said, chewing her lip. She wondered if he meant it or if it was just a nice way of saying no. She supposed it might be difficult, since the ship was doing a hasty jig around the Atlantic. On the other hand, it was because of that very thing that she was beginning to think she'd missed all chance of ever learning what it was like to be a woman. She pointed that out, tentatively, to Adrian.

  "And there is a very good chance you've got your whole lifetime ahead of you," he said gently. "I'd be taking unfair advantage of your fears if I did such a thing. You must see that."

  He fell silent for so long Danny might have thought he’d dozed once more except that she could see that he hadn’t, could see his brow furrowed in thoughts that were not, apparently, at all pleasing to him. Which led her to suspect that his introspection was following along much the same lines hers had earlier.

  Regardless, she didn’t doubt that his thoughts pertained to her in some way, for she felt his eyes touch her more than once with such intensity that when he finally reached up and traced a slow path across her cheek with his finger, she held her breath then, afraid to move for fear he would withdraw from her once more into his thoughts, relishing the sensations he evoked in her with no more than that casual touch.

  "What of your dreams?" he asked. "What of that special someone you're waiting for?"

  She shrugged with feigned indifference. "They was just dreams, just like stories I made up to help when things were really bad. Somethin' I could pretend would happen that was good, so I'd have somethin' to look forward to. Sort of like Christmas time was in the home," she answered, swallowing past the sudden tightness in her throat. Didn't he know that he was probably the most special person she'd ever have the chance to know? But, of course, he didn't. Hadn't she worked to keep it that way? She had her pride, after all, even if people thought she didn't have any right to a sense of pride.

  On the other hand, she wasn't one for cutting off her nose to spite her face either. She wasn't about to give him the chance to feel sorry for her, or worse, laugh at her, by letting him know how very important he was to her. But she wasn't going to miss what might be her last opportunity to be with him if all she need do was swallow just a little of her pride.

  "I understand. I know what I'm askin'," she said after a moment. "And I won't make a nuisance out of myself later on, if that's what's botherin' you."

  "Don't do that!" Adrian snapped in sudden anger.

  Danielle looked at him in wide-eyed incomprehension. "What?"

  "Belittle yourself like that," Adrian said angrily.

  Danielle blushed fierily with humiliation. "Well! I beg your pardon, your lordship! Only it's hard to figure what you want outta me. First you bite my head off for gettin' above my place and bein' impertinent, and then you bite my head off for belittin' myself! An' I bloody well can't figure no middle g
round!"

  Adrian felt his own color heighten, both from anger and chagrin. He could've denied the accusation, but, unfortunately, there was a good bit of truth in it. He certainly couldn't explain it. He didn't really understand it himself. He decided not to try. Instead, he fell back on another line of defense: attack. "And, why do you persist in torturing the King's English, when you can speak perfectly cultured English whenever you wish?"

  "Maybe," Danny snarled, "because I don't like people tryin' to make out like I'm somethin' I'm not! Or, maybe I just don't want to be changed to suit somebody else's notions of what I should be!"

  "I can see no reason whatever for you to take the notion that an attempt to improve you is an attempt to change you," he said stiffly. "An education doesn't change a person. It merely improves upon the person that they already are."

  "Well, maybe I don't figure I need it! The way I see it, once you sell my papers, likely as not, I'll be makin' my livin' flat of my back, regardless of what else they expect me to do. Masters have a way of figurin' any females belongs to them happens to be their own private harem! An' I don't figure they're gonna care much one way or another if I torture the King's bleedin' English!" Danielle snapped and slid to the edge of the bunk.

  "Where do you think you're going?"

  "I'm goin' back to my bed, that's where!" Danielle snapped.

  "You presume, Danny. I did not dismiss you," Adrian said coolly, grasping her arm and dragging her back.

  She shook his arm off and turned to glare at him. "There you go again! Now I'm presumin' again!"