But he saw things different, saw desire as natural. Was that because he felt it, too? Butterflies flew in her stomach again. Had he felt desire too as she'd leaned across him, as her eyes had lingered over him and as she'd so badly wanted to kiss him? Had he felt the same? Was that natural, but couldn't be acted upon, as he said?
A small voice challenged in her mind. Why couldn't it be? They were here, away from everyone, away from anyone who would care. Why could they not?
The first time had been interesting; she'd been so very curious, and it had answered some of her questions. But a new question sat in her mind: was it the same with someone else, would it be the same with him? The thought of a husband entered her mind, but she couldn't imagine that being someone with such smooth skin she'd want to run her fingers over it. Her husband would be old and the thoughts of him touching her made her stomach turn.
Her reactions were the opposite of what they should be. A husband she should welcome, a pirate she should spurn vehemently.
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled with the shudder. Things had become so complicated. She didn't know who she was anymore. There was a part of her that very much liked being like a hussy, wanted to dance on tables, to enjoy being the center of attention, and wanted to know what it would be like to be in that pirate's arms. To feel his body next to hers and to feel him being inside her. These were all things that shouldn’t come into her mind, but she couldn't help these thoughts.
Chapter 15
Joshua swore as he walked out of the inn into a bright morning. He knew exactly what her soft eyes promised and it was the one thing he could not entertain. He hadn't expected it either. There was danger in those soft eyes.
Miss Lancaster was no doubt changed by her experience, but she was also deeply curious—a trait he hadn't expected. Neither had he expected how beckoning her eyes would be, the quickening in his loins when she'd looked at him as she'd just done. It was trouble like nothing else. The last thing he could afford right now was to return the vice-admiral daughter with a child growing in her belly. He doubted the vice-admiral would receive her back in that state, which would put them in a serious quandary if it were too late. She could be with child now for all he knew, although he'd seen no signs of such a predicament.
Walking down the street, he surveyed the various shopkeepers opening their stores and displaying their wares. He was after a baker or a shop where he could buy bread. His nose led him to a small store where a woman, aged before her time was selling buns and bread. Buying a loaf, he inquired where he could find some cheese.
Apparently, there was a general merchant down the street that could provide cheese and even meat, if he chose. Following her direction, he found the general merchant and made his purchases for their breakfast. As he looked around, he wondered about the things they would need for the voyage. He had stolen her without a chance to take any of her things—if she had any—and her hair was beginning to show the neglect. He bought a comb for her and some soap. It was nice, French, and smelled like lavender. He could imagine that suited her.
They had all day to while away, and in some respects, Joshua wanted to spend time apart from her. The danger that had flowed between them like a current this morning was still there and he feared its return. Well, danger might be a bit strong. He wasn't a youth anymore, blindsided by his first flush of desire, but she was, more or less.
No, he would leave her alone for a few hours. No doubt she could use the rest. Her hangover looked burdensome and she would happily sleep the morning away. The image of her flushed with sleep crept into his mind, how her eyelashes would rest on her soft, pale cheeks. The feel of her body to his returned, unwelcome and unbidden, and he had to force his mind away from the tempting topic.
Today he would leave the Caribbean, to never return. He had mixed emotions about it, but the prevailing logic, and his long-standing desire, was to get back to his home and leave this chapter of his life behind him. He did understand her worry about returning, the worry she had changed as a result of the things that had happened to her, and the change that was occurring—perhaps awakening was a better word. Her innocent awakening was a lush and heady prospect, but it wasn't for him. Even if his body ached to respond to it.
When he returned home, he would pick a wife to his pleasing and settle down. The prospect of marital life was appealing. These years had made him a bit rough in his manner, but he would smooth out any rough edges that had developed. A wife and family would, no doubt, temper him greatly. These things were but a dream not so long ago and the idea that they were now within reach was humbling.
Moving down to the shore, he leaped up onto a boulder and sat down, looking out at the bright green sea.
By the time he returned to the inn, hopefully the girl's stomach would be settled enough to eat again. She really had drunk remarkably little, but she clearly had little experience with more inducing beverages. For a moment, he'd watched her dance, watched the joy on her face as she lost every care she'd had. But before long, the amusement in some of the men's faces had turned darker and covetous, and it had been time to remove her from there. She barely understood desire in herself, let alone in others. She didn't see the more lewd and lecherous glances along her body as she danced, but he had. It was his duty to protect her, even if she fought him the entire way.
*
She was asleep still when he returned to the room. He closed the door and sat down by the little table. The room was building heat and if she wasn't feeling ill, she would have woken by now. She snuffled slightly in her sleep, but it was probably best she woke now.
"I brought some bread if you're hungry," he said.
"Urg," she croaked. "I don't actually feel better."
"I suspect this jug of water I brought you will help immensely, but you actually have to drink it."
"Why does rum torture you so much? It was so much fun, but the price is steep."
"The question men through the ages have asked."
Grudgingly, she sat up and her legs dropped heavily off the side of the bed. He handed her the jug of water, which they had no cup for, so she had to drink out of the jug, taking deep drafts of it. When she was done, he handed her the remainder of the bread and some cheese and she nibbled on them, eating without gusto.
"The bread will soak up whatever's left in your belly, so try to eat more."
"What time is it?"
"It's midday."
"How could I possibly have slept so long?" she said with dismay.
He smiled. “Rum steals hours from you like nothing else."
"I shall never have any again."
"That is probably a good policy." It was also something unlikely to be served to her when she returned home. There were no appropriate situations where rum was an acceptable drink for a fine lady such as Miss Lancaster. Although he struggled to see that refinement now, looking disheveled as she was. She was still beautiful though, her cheeks rosy and her eyelids heavy as she fought tiredness.
"We should probably take our place on board the ship well before they sail," he said. "It will be very busy as they load the bulk of the cargo, so perhaps best we settle in early."
She nodded, but stopped as if the pain in her head had flared. He smiled, looking at her, remembering times in his youth when he'd done something very similar and had suffered greatly for it. He rarely let himself get in that state these days. It was a dangerous state to be in in these parts, unless you had someone watching over you or you had absolutely nothing to lose. There were plenty of those around.
"Come on, then. We'll stop by the tavern, perhaps consider getting a proper meal into you."
With a tight smile, she nodded and stood up. They walked out the room and continued downstairs, stepping out to the bright lights of the midday Caribbean. She covered her eyes against the piercing assault as her eyes tried to readjust.
"You can rest in the cabin when we find it. It could be quite cool, but it will be noisy."
She'd forgotten ab
out the tavern and was walking down to the water.
"This way, remember?" he said, leading her to the tavern. "The captain is likely to be there now, I would guess, having a drink before the work starts."
Sarah looked less than amused, but grudgingly she followed to the nondescript building as full as it had been the previous night with men drinking, eating and enjoying themselves. No doubt, some men lived in this tavern, and more would if they could manage it. Sarah didn't look quite as enthused to be there today as she had been the previous evening and she followed as he searched the room for their captain, finding him at a table, eating some roast meat with potatoes.
Joshua sat down at the spare seat beside him and again Sarah followed, taking the half seat next to him, looking joyless and miserable. The bar wench approached and he ordered two ales. A weak ale would revive her further.
"Mr. Havencourt, good to see you this morning. Getting ready to sail on the evening tide. The cabin's been made ready, you'll be pleased to know," the captain said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He wasn't the most refined of men, but these born and bred seafarers rarely took to the niceties.
"Two cabins will be preferable." Considering the energy that had flowed between them that morning, Joshua felt two cabins were near essential. He hadn't thought of it when he'd first asked for passage—it hadn't seemed important then, but it did now.
"Ah, that won't be possible, I'm afraid," the captain lamented, eyeing him directly. "There are no other cabins to be had, but you're welcome to sleep on deck if you must." His eyes shifting over to Sarah, probably wondering if it was some lover's tiff that drove him to seek quarters elsewhere. The truth would be more complicated to explain, not that he'd ever bother as it was none of this man's affair. The news that there was only one cabin was not welcome. His eyes darted over to Sarah and saw that she wasn't as distressed by the business as he hoped, which only proved that two cabins were most likely necessary.
Joshua smiled tightly, turning his attention back to the captain. "We will settle in the cabin quite soon, to be out of the way while you do your preparations."
"That would be much appreciated, Mr. Havencourt," the man said, taking another bite of his meal, eyeing them with curiosity. Perhaps they were a curiosity in a place like this. On his own, he was just another pirate, but with her in tow, he was something of an enigma to these men.
The journey would take about ten days if the winds were kind, but this was a time of year where there could be turbulent air slowing them down. It shouldn't be acutely cold in Boston, which was good because neither of them was dressed for inclement weather. The Atlantic was another story and likely they would face freezing cold along the way. This was something he would have to address in Boston, find a merchant to provide them with garments to keep the cold ocean air from their bones. The farther north they sailed, the chillier it would grow.
"Would you like a glass?" the captain asked, holding a bottle of rum, with his eyes firmly on Sarah.
She shook her head weakly. "No, thank you. I think I've had quite enough of rum," she said with strain.
"Is that so?" the captain said with a roaring laugh.
Joshua considered the man, wondering if in some way he posed a threat to her. That seemed to be his default assumption these days, questioning if anyone was seeking to hurt her. No, perhaps he was being oversensitive on this issue. The man was having a bit of fun at her expense, that was all. Still, he was not ready to leave her alone for long periods of time on a ship full of men who had been away from their wives for many long months. Perhaps it was best there was only one cabin, as difficult it would serve him.
Chapter 16
The cabin bordered on a little closet. It was hardly large enough for the both of them to be in at the same time, containing a cot and little more. How were they going to exist in this tiny cabin together, she wondered as she shifted out of the way to give him room. "It's a good thing we have nothing with us," she said. "Because nothing would fit in there."
"I really will have to sleep on the floor," he said. "Or we'll have to sleep in turns."
Sarah looked at the little cot. There wasn't room for two people. But at least the cabin was clean. They were going to be stuck in here for days. Part of her didn't mind, excited at the prospect, but it wasn't a part she let reign without some check.
Sitting down on the cot, she rearranged her skirt, unsure how she felt. Her head and stomach felt much improved from her ghastly state that morning. She was never drinking rum again; the price was all too steep and she had suffered near a full day for the consumption that had been all too easy.
Above their heads, a sharp scrape drew her attention. There was noise from every direction. From what she'd seen, most of the ship was delegated to cargo, leaving few spaces for passengers. In that context, this cabin was probably luxurious. Heavy steps sounded overhead and a man yelled orders.
"How long will it take them to load the cargo?" she asked.
"That depends," he said, clearly looking awkward as he leaned back against the wall. She wasn't entirely sure why he looked so uncomfortable. Perhaps he didn't like tiny spaces.
"So we sail north," she said with a sigh. "I'm sorry to leave the warmth behind. I suppose I was getting used to it."
"It should cool quite quickly. Three days, perhaps."
She nodded and bit her lips together, her eyes shifting over to him, taking in his form. He looked so large in their small cabin. Unlike before, she felt nervous around him now, felt guarded with her language and her words, even her thoughts. There had been a drastic shift, which had occurred quickly. She wasn't sure what this meant.
It was something that had happened without her intention or even permission, but it sat there like a heavy awkwardness. Was he aware of it? She wasn't sure. Could that be why he looked so uncomfortable, that her interest was unwanted? The thought struck her and made her feel ill. Was he suffering her interest in him? No, she had to do a better job hiding it.
And really, was he an appropriate person to have an interest in? Granted, he was one of the few people she'd met who was more or less a gentleman, although he didn't always act like it. While he was a gentleman, he wasn't quite of her standing. Back in England, nuance of stratification put them on different levels, but here, they were practically from the same standing.
Clearing her throat, she looked away and rolled back and forth slightly as she sat clasping her knees.
"I might see if I can assist," he said. “You should rest for a while, as much as you can with this noise. Lock the door."
She nodded and smiled, watching as he stepped out of the cabin and closed the door behind him. "Don't open it until I return," he ordered from outside the door.
Sarah grumbled at being ordered around, but knew he was waiting to hear the door lock. Grudgingly, she rose and turned the key, almost surprised he hadn't locked her in and taken the key with him.
She still didn't hear his footsteps as if he was waiting for her to do something.
"Trusting me not to run away?" she asked teasingly and she could just about hear his frown.
"Don't worry, I'll keep my eyes on you."
She felt a rush of heat creep up her body with the statement. For some reason that was a giddy notion, him watching her. Butterflies flared in her stomach again, sending a lightness along her limbs.
This time, she heard him walk away, his footsteps receding. They would be in this little cabin together, at such close quarters. There was a small upside of being stuck in a tiny little cabin. It was just the two of them and she didn't strictly mind.
Maybe she just had to get used to the fact that she was different now, and that she desired men. In one sense, it opened up a new world, a level underneath the etiquette, where things were felt more than thought. For her, desire would neither be acceptable or encouraged in any form. It was something she would have to hide away.
Lying down on the cot, she tucked her knees up, feeling the energy in her body again. Her hands
clasped together and released.
She would never again drink rum—not that she wanted to, as she was happy to feel healthy again. But once she arrived home, she would never get the chance. Or to dance like she had. She'd only really gotten one opportunity to do that.
Sleep was impossible with the racket over her head, but she lay on the cot and let her imagination take her thoughts away.
*
After an indeterminable amount of time, the noise changed. There was still shouting and men were running around, and she started to feel movement. The gentle bobbing of water shifted to a slight tug and the ship leaned. It was pulling away from port and preparing to sail. She was leaving the Caribbean, to never return. This strange period in her life was over. Tumultuous feelings crashed into her and she didn't know what to make of them. A malaise settled and refused to budge. For some reason, her heart started beating heavily, and she grew warm and uncomfortable. Sitting up, she tried to account for herself, but it made things worse. The walls were looming on her, threatening to crash down.
She had to escape, had to get out of there. It felt like something was coming for her, something that wanted to destroy her. The feeling of malice and malignancy pressed her down, compressed her lungs until she couldn't breathe. Standing up, she threw herself at the door, tugging on the handle, but it wouldn't give. The door refused to open and what was stalking her felt as if it was skirting just behind her. The lock. The door was locked, her mind screamed. With fumbling, shaking fingers, she tried to get the piece of metal to turn in the lock, but her fingers wouldn't work as she wanted them to.
Frantically, she fumbled with it until the doorknob finally gave way. The hallway outside was even narrower than the cabin and again the walls towered over her as she squeezed her way down. At the end of the hall, she saw daylight and ran toward it, taking the stairs on all fours until she reached open air.
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