Rowena started in surprise. Her heart gave a frantic leap and lodged in her throat as, with a growl, he came to his feet. His shout brought a quick grimace from her, but she had no time to pause in consideration of his injury before he roared,
‘You bumbling idiot! What the hell are you trying to do? Make a eunuch out of me?’
The stuff of his breeches was steaming, and he was in considerable discomfort. Unable to think of anything better, Rowena grabbed a jug of cold water and threw it where the coffee had spilled. It was a full moment before Tobias released his breath.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, shrugging lamely, careful to keep her head down.
‘Sorry isn’t good enough.’ His bark came with the sharp edge of fury as he glowered at the hunched figure of his cabin boy. ‘Get out and fetch some water here and now.’ Tearing off his shirt, he winced as he picked the wet fabric off his groin. ‘And some salve.’
Rowena’s cheeks had taken on a vivid red. She fled the cabin; when she returned with a pitcher of hot water, he had only a towel wrapped about his hips, casually unconcerned with his state of undress. Her face flamed. The sight of that broad, furred chest and brown shoulders increased her discomfiture, and she did not dare look lower than that. Nervously she put the pitcher on the table and without looking at her he poured the water into a bowl.
He soaped and rinsed his face, missing his cabin boy’s look of embarrassment. Rowena could hardly keep her eyes from that wide, lean, muscular expanse of naked flesh as she held the towel. Emotions raged through her so turbulently she feared he would see them in her face, but he carried on washing, heedless of her unease.
Picking up his razor and strap he began to shave, all the while talking of things to Mr Dexter that meant nothing to her. When he splashed water on to the back of his neck she kept her face averted and fidgeted with the towel. How was she to live with him in the confined space of the ship’s quarters and him not see through her disguise? Placing it within his reach, she decided to leave him to it and return to empty the bowl later.
Mark Dexter gave the youth a frown of bemusement as he turned to leave, thinking his behaviour strange, and the harder he looked the more he could not tear his eyes off him.
Rowena suddenly caught his eye and her heart fell. He knew who she was. She looked at him, her eyes wide and displaying worry as she gazed into his eyes and silently pleaded her case. Under his close scrutiny she blushed and went out quickly.
The deck was quiet, save for the murmur of the helmsman and bosun at the wheel and the odd sailor taking a moment’s respite now the ship was underway. Rowena went to the rail and waited, knowing Mr Dexter would follow. She didn’t have long to wait.
Coming to stand beside her, he coughed. ‘You were clumsy back there.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s my first time as a cabin boy. I—have much to learn.’
‘That is not the reason I sought you out. There is something I must say to you.’
Rowena felt a sudden chill creep through her. She waited, lacing her fingers together behind her back, trying to keep them from trembling.
Mark took her arm and drew her closer to his side so they would not be overheard from inquisitive crewmen. They stood facing the sea. ‘Forgive me, but I find it difficult to form the right words.’
Rowena raised her chin and turned her head and looked straight at him. ‘Throw away convention, Mr Dexter, and simply tell me what you have to say.’
His lips twitched. ‘Ah, youth—to be so impatient again.’ Sighing, he gripped the rail with both hands and looked into the distance. ‘I will say this, though you will not like my words.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I know who you are. I recognise you—Miss Golding.’
Inwardly she groaned, but she did not lose all hope, for perhaps she could brazen it out. Oh, what a clumsy fool she had been to drop the scalding coffee into Tobias’s lap.
‘So, the cat is out.’
He chuckled softly. ‘It’s obvious to any who has two eyes and a wit in his head. I cannot overlook it. I know that you are a young lady masquerading as a youth. Your reasons are your concern. I have no wish to know. Suffice it to say that is your business, not mine.’
‘You will not tell Mr Searle, will you?’ She looked beseechingly into his face.
He lifted his hat and scratched his head. ‘As captain of this vessel, it is my duty. I cannot keep a matter as serious as this from him—nor would I anything else that happens on board his ship.’
‘Please—do not. I beg of you—at least, not yet—not until it’s too late for him to put me ashore.’
‘Do you fear him?’
‘No, only what he might do. I have my reasons for the disguise. Good reasons. Please, do not tell him. Besides, what can it avail you to uncover me?’
All Mark saw was a youthful girl. Much against his will he felt his heart warm to the pleas of the plaintive girl. She was right. Tobias would not tolerate her aboard his ship and while they were still in sight of land there was every possibility he would put her ashore.
‘Very well—although I’m a fool to agree. Your secret will remain safe with me, for the time being, but it will not be long before Tobias sees for himself—and then all hell will break loose.’
‘Thank you. You will have no occasion to regret your decision.’
‘I hope not. Should he discover I have been party to your deception, you will not be the only one he puts ashore. But as soon as we lose sight of land your deception cannot continue. If you do not tell him, I shall—unless he opens his eyes and sees for himself.’
* * *
One of the galley boys, who gave her the name Boy, showed Rowena her duties. He also painted a picture of their master that shocked her to the core. Apparently Tobias Searle was a terrible rake, a womaniser, and behind that handsome man there was a trail of young women’s broken hearts and shattered aspirations that would make any respectable female shudder. She remembered how he had kissed her and flushed with outraged shame. She was terribly attracted to him, this she could not deny, but she was determined to keep tight rein on her heart. He was the last man in the entire world she wanted to show any interest in her.
* * *
Tobias spent most of his time on deck, and when he came to his cabin he was always in the company of Mr Dexter or another senior member of the crew and took little notice of his cabin boy. She was relieved enough to be left to her thoughts, her mind ranging free while her body dealt with the daily round of duties. She was anxious about Jane—wondering how her father had reacted when he had read her note—and Lord Tregowan. Dear Lord, let him understand why she had done this and not withdraw his offer of marriage.
And then there was Tobias! She had promised him one night if he found Jane. One night! Those two simple words held a whole world of meaning. His reputation as an arch seducer of women made her feel uncomfortable—and slightly jealous, which both surprised and annoyed her, and served as a reminder never to lose her heart to him.
Chapter Four
When the ship entered the turbulent waters of the Bay of Biscay a huge gale descended and the high seas turned into a fury. With the stomach-churning pitch and roll of the vessel, the world around Rowena was swaying and undulating and she had to hold on to whatever was at hand to remain upright. Her stomach lurched.
Staggering to her bunk, stretched out and suffering tortures every time the ship rolled, she lay feebly cursing as she battled nausea, living in the hideous nightmare of seasickness.
* * *
Returning to his cabin and hearing a feeble sound as he passed his cabin-boy’s door, Tobias stepped through it and found the wretched boy collapsed on his bunk, tossing fretfully.
‘Good Lord, boy. How long have you been like this?’
‘It came over me all of a sudden,’ Rowena mumbled wretchedly into the pillow, convinced she was going to die.
Tobias lit the lamp, which cast a dim orange glow around the small cabin. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulder and turned her ove
r. Her face was still facing to the wall. Cupping her chin with his hand, he turned her towards him. He could only stare in amazement.
‘By God! Rowena! What the hell… I should have known.’
The pressure of his touch was light, but to Rowena it felt like a steel trap. She opened her eyes and a face swam into view, seeming to descend from the wooden boards above her head.
‘Go away,’ she grumbled wretchedly, afraid to move her head, for movement of any kind only made her nausea worse.
‘You’d better explain what you’re doing on my ship when I strictly told you I would not allow it. How dare you disobey me? Explain, Rowena,’ he demanded harshly.
Rowena actually made herself smile at him, though it was a sarcastic smile. ‘If you knew me, you would know better than to command me to do anything—and that includes giving you an explanation for my own business. You know why I am here, so go away and leave me alone.’
Seeing her wretchedness and how she was trying to hold on to her defiance, to brave the sea and his wrath in her desperation to find her sister, touched a hidden spot in Tobias and his manner softened. In the dim light his eyes shone gently as he gazed down at her. The features were unmistakably Rowena’s. Her face was drawn and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes—but what in God’s name had she done to her hair? Had she been so desperate to get aboard his ship in the guise of his cabin boy that she’d had to resort to cutting her hair?
‘Your hair!’ he exclaimed, horrified. ‘Damnation, Rowena, who cut your hair?’
‘Me,’ she gasped. ‘It certainly wasn’t for the hell of it. Now go away,’ she hissed, shoving his hand away. ‘Go away and leave me alone. I feel so ill I think I’m going to die.’
‘No, you won’t.’
‘Yes, I will. I will never be well again. Not ever. I will never recover.’
‘Yes, you will—although I did tell you you weren’t cut out for life on the ocean wave. You aren’t the first to suffer seasickness. You’ll soon get your sea legs,’ he said, gentling his voice to what he hoped was a soothing tone.
She looked up at him narrowly, finding it particularly disgusting that having spent a large part of his life at sea—as had the majority of the men on the ship—Tobias Searle could stand up to any weather. ‘No, I won’t. I suppose you’re going to berate me some more now you know who I am.’
‘I’ll have plenty to say to you later. When I do, I want you to be in full possession of your wits.’
‘It came over me all of a sudden—when I went to the galley to fetch your meal. It must have been the smell of the meat…oh…’
The mere mention of cooking meat was enough to bring on another spasm. Tobias thrust a basin at her and held her head while she vomited. Then, exhausted, she fell back on to the bunk. Her body was trembling and she was breathing quickly.
Seeing how damp her shirt was, Tobias pulled it out of her trousers and began to raise it. In alarm she shoved his hands away.
‘Don’t touch me. Do you mean to torture me some more?’
‘You are ill and unable to look after yourself,’ he said in a no-nonsense voice. ‘Since there is no other woman on board ship, there is only me, so you will have to make the best of it.’
When his hands paused in their unbuttoning of her shirt, she peered up at him, wiping the hair from her eyes. With sudden realisation of where his eyes roamed, she glowered at him. He was looking at the binding wrapped about her chest to flatten her breasts. There was a strange, disbelieving look on his face.
‘Is this part of your disguise, Rowena—binding yourself tightly to conceal your sex?’
She coloured hotly, and, too ill to get up, turned away in sudden confusion.
‘Such severe restriction cannot help your cause. I think you will fare better without these bindings.’
His deep voice seemed to reverberate within Rowena’s very soul as his fingers began to pull at the offending cloth. She made a feeble attempt to shove them away but he would have none of it. He laughed softly, adding to her unease.
‘You’re in no condition to fight me, so be still.’
In that moment Rowena’s thoughts were far from the predicament she had got herself into and more on the tempest raging within herself. A sudden explosion of doubt blasted her confidence as her soft breasts were exposed to his bold eyes, and she was suddenly unsure of her own ability to deal with Tobias Searle.
Casting the binding aside, pulling down her shirt and straightening up, Tobias cursed when he banged his head on a low beam; looking around the cabin, he realised it was little more than a cupboard. Without more ado he picked her up and carried her to his own more spacious cabin and laid her on the bed. She moaned in her misery and again retched into the bowl he held beneath her chin, before falling on to the pillows, exhausted, to await the next bout of nausea.
Tobias wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth, and soothed her as best he could. She started to vomit and tried to sit up.
‘Lie back and close your eyes,’ a soothing voice said.
‘Yes—yes, I will.’ Her eyelids felt like lead weights as they fluttered closed and she collapsed on to the pillows, already half-unconscious. Cursing her own helplessness and the sickness that left her wholly dependent on Tobias, she sank into a dark void that was tugging at her and pulling her down. As weak and helpless as a kitten, she submitted herself to his ministrations.
Each time she vomited it weakened her some more. Each time the ship rushed up a particularly huge wave she held her breath, then as it plunged into a seemingly bottomless trough she felt as though she were leaving her insides behind. Her groans were smothered by the noise of the storm. The wind screamed through the rigging and the timbers creaked.
All at once she gave a convulsive shudder and suddenly the cabin seemed cold and she began to shiver, and when she did someone covered her with a warm blanket and she became warm.
* * *
Throughout the night Tobias sat in the chair beside the bed, watching her. He tended her as he would a child—holding the bowl while she wretched, sponging her face with a cool, damp cloth and doing what he could to take care of her—much to Mark Dexter’s amusement and his own chagrin, who said he had always known his talents were many, but he had never taken him for a nursemaid.
‘You know who she is,’ Tobias argued. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do? Hand her over to a member of the crew to look after her? Good Lord, man, they’d ravish her as soon as look at her.’ He narrowed his eyes at his captain. ‘Of course there is yourself, Mark. I know you can be quite a charmer when you have a mind, and that you are a dab hand when it comes to dealing with the female sex.’
In laughing good humour, Mark put his hands up, palms outwards, and backed away. ‘Oh, no. This is your problem, Tobias. You can look after your own cabin boy, while I look after your ship. Although it may raise a few eyebrows among the crew when they find their master is neglecting his ship to nurse his cabin boy. I told you when we left Falmouth that you were risking it, sailing without a ship’s surgeon.’
‘And I recall telling you that there was no time to find a replacement for the one who left.’
‘Then you will have to do your best. Don’t worry, Tobias. I’ll make sure you don’t starve. I’ll have one of the galley lads bring you your meals.’
And so Tobias continued to nurse Rowena. His heart went out to her in her misery.
* * *
On the second night she lay quite still. Her muscles were perfectly relaxed and she had no consciousness of him or her surroundings. Tobias wasn’t unduly worried—having seen people struck down with seasickness many times, he knew Rowena was over the worst of it and when she woke the nausea would have left her.
* * *
Bright sunlight was shining through the small window when Rowena opened her eyes. The first thing she became aware of was that the ship was no longer pitching and tossing. She wasn’t surprised to see Tobias seated in a chair beside the bed, fast asleep. He seemed to have been wi
th her constantly since she’d become ill, and there were times when she had been floating on the edge of darkness when she had heard his voice—deep, confident and incredibly soothing. Her mind could not grasp the image of the Tobias Searle she knew doing all the amazing things for her he had. It was just too incredible for words.
Some time in the night he’d removed his coat and neck linen. His face was towards her, and she cautiously turned her head further round on the pillow so she could see him better, breathing a sigh of relief when the slight movement didn’t set her stomach churning and unleash the dizziness that had so beset her from the start.
With nothing to hear but the creaking of the ship’s timbers and the gentle splash of the sea against the hull, in a peaceful doze she studied the man who had given up so much of his time to look after her, sleeping in that dreadfully uncomfortable position. There was something endearingly boyish about the way his swarthy, handsome face was relaxed in sleep, his spiky lashes resting against his cheeks and with the shadowy beginning of a dark beard. There was nothing boyish about the rest of him, however, which stirred a mixture of fascination and unease within her. The slash of his dark brows were drawn together in a scowl that boded ill for someone, even in his dreams.
The fine white linen of his shirt hung loosely over powerful shoulders and the sleeves were rolled back to reveal his tanned forearms. Buff-coloured knee breeches encased his muscular thighs and he wore white silk stockings above black buckled shoes. Her gaze wandered back to his face and rested on his chiselled jaw—stern and uncompromising, she decided—and he was handsome.
Yes, he was handsome, the most handsome man she had ever seen.
Mistress Below Deck Page 7
