The Captain's Kidnapped Beauty

by Mary Nichols

  * * *

  Charlotte woke when a young midshipman of about twelve brought her a tray of food, but refused to speak to her. Guessing he had been ordered not to talk to her, she did not press him. She doubted he knew anything anyway. He doused the lantern, making her realise the night was at an end and here was the dawn of a new day. Could anything be done to get her off this ship and back on the shore?

  There was fresh beef, peas and new-baked bread, much better than the fare offered by Molly, and she was hungry enough to eat it with relish. Above her she could hear orders being given and feet pounding across the deck. The vessel seemed to groan and shake and then she saw the other craft slide away past the porthole and realised they were moving. She jumped up and tried the door but it was locked. She hammered on it, but no one came to her. The crew were all on deck going about the business of setting sail.

  * * *

  It seemed hours later when the door was unlocked and a seaman entered. ‘I’m sent to escort you up to the quarterdeck,’ he said. ‘The captain wants a word with you.’

  ‘I want more than a word with him,’ she snapped. ‘You have drowned my father and taken his money and I want to know why I’m being held prisoner.’

  ‘I know nothing of that,’ he said, following her up the companionway. ‘And I did not drown your father.’

  ‘No, Mr Grosswaite did. It is all one who actually did the deed.’

  ‘We are not all like Mr Grosswaite,’ he said, as they climbed the second ladder and emerged on deck. Above them the sails billowed as they made their way downstream on the ebbing tide. She could just make out the outline of the shore on either side as the Thames widened towards the sea. ‘And your father did not drown.’

  She turned sharply towards him. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I saw someone pull him out. He was alive then.’

  ‘Truly? He was saved?’ Her spirits rose suddenly and then fell again. ‘How could you have seen him? This ship was moored some way from the spot where he went in.’

  ‘I came on board late and was on shore to witness what happened.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ She turned to look more closely at him. He was dressed as an ordinary seaman, but he was cleaner and smarter than the others she could see working on the deck and among the shrouds. They were all in rough slops and barefoot. ‘What is this ship?’ she asked.

  ‘It is called the Vixen, an old East Indiaman.’

  ‘I’m surely not being taken to India.’

  ‘I have no idea where you are being taken, but I have been ordered to look after you.’

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Davy Locke, ma’am.’

  ‘Well, Davy Locke, what do you have to do to look after me? Stop me from throwing myself overboard?’

  ‘I hope you will not do that, ma’am.’

  She managed a wry smile. ‘No, I am not of a suicidal bent. But neither am I cowed.’

  ‘Good. You will need your courage, methinks.’

  They had been walking along the deck towards the captain’s cabin when she stopped suddenly at the sight of a tall figure talking to another officer on the quarterdeck. He was dressed in a blue coat, white breeches and wore a white wig topped by a bicorne hat. ‘I could have sworn that’s...’ She shook her head as if to shake away the vision confronting her. ‘Surely it can’t be.’

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, what’s bothering you?’ Davy asked.

  ‘That man, the tall one. Is he the captain?’

  ‘No, he’s the second lieutenant. The other is Captain Brookside.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Why? Know him, do you?’

  ‘I thought for a minute it was Captain Alexander Carstairs, but it couldn’t be, could it?’

  ‘Captain Carstairs is a naval man, Miss Gilpin, this is an East Indiaman and in any case, a captain would never sail as a second mate.’

  ‘No, I suppose not, but he’s uncommonly like him, even to the shape of his mouth. We are not near enough to see his eyes, but I’ll wager they are a mixture of brown and green.’

  ‘As to that, I couldn’t say, but perhaps he is a relation of Captain Carstairs. They are a well-known seafaring family.’

  ‘That must be it.’ As she spoke the officer turned towards her. He seemed to spend a long time looking her up and down, as if taking in every feature. He was so like Captain Carstairs she found herself holding her breath and only letting it out when he turned away. He spoke to the captain, saluted and then clattered down the steps and hurried along the deck away from her.

  She was still puzzling over it when Davy gave her a little push towards the steps and she climbed them to come face to face with the captain, who, in contrast to the long length of his second mate, was short and plump. His stomach strained against the buttons of his waistcoat. She did not wait for him to speak, but went at once into the attack.

  ‘Captain, I wish to know why you have brought me to this? I have done you no wrong and neither has my father. He was prepared to pay the ransom demanded for my release and you reneged on that. It was dishonourable to say the least.’

  He lips twitched in a smile at her vehemence. ‘I know nothing of a ransom, ma’am. As far as I am concerned you are a passenger on your way to join your betrothed...’

  ‘Betrothed!’ she spluttered in disbelief. ‘I am not betrothed to anyone. You have the wrong passenger, Captain, and I require you to send me back at once.’

  ‘You are Miss Charlotte Gilpin, are you not?’

  ‘You know I am.’

  ‘Then I do not have the wrong passenger. Your passage has been booked to Calcutta.’

  ‘Calcutta! If you think I am going all that way on the whim of someone who calls himself my betrothed, whoever that might be, then you are wrong...’

  ‘I should not protest too strongly.’ The voice came from behind her and she whirled round to find herself confronted by the second lieutenant.

  Chapter Five

  He was even more like Alex at close quarters. The same upright bearing, the same half-brown, half-green eyes, with the laughter lines on either side, the same strong mouth. She could not see his hair because it was hidden under a white wig. He swept off his hat and bowed to her. ‘Lieutenant Duncan Fox, at your service, ma’am.’

  She could not help staring at him, hoping he would give himself away, but he returned her gaze coolly and impersonally. ‘You really have no choice in the matter,’ he added. ‘We are at sea and until we make land there is nothing you can do. I advise you to submit and enjoy the voyage.’

  ‘Enjoy it! This is no more than a slave ship and I am being taken into slavery. I can buy my freedom if only I could be put ashore.’

  ‘I am afraid that is not possible,’ the captain put in, although she had been addressing the lieutenant. ‘We do not expect to make landfall before Lisbon and then only to take on water and more cargo and another passenger.’

  ‘You could send me ashore if you chose. We are not so very far from land and there are boats.’ She indicated a jolly boat suspended on its davit over the stern and the barge now on its cradle amidships.

  ‘Madam, I am being paid to carry you to India and carry you I shall.’

  ‘How long will that take?’

  ‘Sixteen weeks if the weather holds fair.’

  ‘Sixteen weeks!’ Her voice rose in indignation. ‘I will not endure it.’

  ‘Oh, I think you will. You are well and strong and you will soon find your sea legs.’

  ‘I was not speaking of illness, but my treatment.’

  ‘Have you been ill treated by any of my people? If you have, then tell me who they are and they shall be punished.’

  ‘Then punish yourself, for I consider it ill treatment to take a lady by force and convey her goodness knows
where against her will.’

  He gave her a twisted smile. ‘I was told you had a fiery temper, but to pay it no heed, you would obey your father in the matter of a husband...’

  ‘Obey my father!’ she exclaimed. ‘Papa has never so much as mentioned a betrothal and he certainly would not try to marry me off against my will. It is all a dastardly trick and I wish I knew the reason for it.’

  He shrugged and went to turn away to watch the helmsman. It infuriated her even further. ‘And would a loving father and a fiancé leave me without my maid or clean linen? Am I expected to remain in these clothes for sixteen weeks?’

  ‘Miss Gilpin has a point,’ Alex said.

  ‘Then find her some clothes,’ Captain Brookside snapped.

  ‘Allow me to escort you back to your cabin.’ Alex took her arm and guided her towards the companionway, leaving her no choice. He went down first and waited for her at the bottom, watching her come towards him, his hand held out to steady her.

  ‘Do you have such things as ladies’ apparel on board?’ she asked him, as they went along the lower deck. On either side big guns lay idle at their ports. There were a few off-duty seamen playing cards at the rough tables between them who watched her progress dispassionately.

  ‘I doubt it. Unless gowns are part of the cargo, but we would not be allowed to raid those.’

  ‘You would think if my kidnappers planned my abduction so carefully, they would have thought of things like that, would you not?’

  ‘You would, but even the best laid plans sometimes go awry.’

  ‘What do you mean, awry?’

  ‘Perhaps they did not intend that you would be on board when the Vixen set sail.’

  ‘But you have been paid to take me to India, the captain said so.’

  ‘Not me, Miss Gilpin. I am merely the second mate and obey orders.’

  ‘Whose orders? Those of my so-called betrothed?’

  ‘No, for I do not know him. I obey the captain of the ship. On board his word is law.’

  She refrained from speaking again until they reached her cabin and he ushered her inside. ‘What game are you playing, Captain Carstairs?’ she demanded as soon as they were alone and could not be overheard.

  ‘You are mistaken, ma’am. My name is Lieutenant Fox.’

  ‘And mine is the Queen of Sheba.’

  He laughed aloud and for one heartstopping moment she saw Alex Carstairs laughing with her on their ride back from Hyde Park. Of course it was him; it could be no other. ‘Forgive me, your Majesty, I did not recognise you.’ He gave her a sweeping bow. ‘I will leave and go in search of clean raiment for you.’ And with that he was gone, leaving her more bemused than ever.

  She sat on her cot and contemplated the opposite bulkhead. This was her prison. It would not have been so bad if she knew why she was being held and what they had in store for her. All that talk of a betrothal was nonsense. It was, wasn’t it? Who was this mysterious fiancé? And what was Captain Carstairs, alias Lieutenant Fox, doing on board when he was supposed to be in Norfolk? Why buy that expensive coach if he did not intend to use it? Unless it was to get close to her and work out how best to kidnap her? Was he hand in glove with Grosswaite? Was he the gaffer? Was he the mysterious fiancé?

  But why the deception? He could have courted her openly; she might even have welcomed it. Had he already spoken to her father and been told he was not

  eligible on account of not having a title? But when could he have done that? She had been in his company no more than three or four times, not long enough for him to approach her father, although she had to admit she had liked what she had seen of him. She had admired him, felt her heart beat faster when he looked at her, had found comfort in his arms when those two men had accosted her in the park, the same two men who had run off with her in the hired chair. And all the time he was plotting...

  She felt betrayed and dismally disappointed. And angry. It was her anger that prevented her from bursting into tears. She had shed them for her father, but, if the seaman, Locke, was to be believed that Papa had been saved, she would not cry for herself. Would Papa have any idea of what had happened to her? What would he, could he, do? It was too late now; she was on a ship bound for distant lands she had only ever read about. Why she could not fathom. It did not seem to be ransom money.

  She heard the key in the lock and the door opened to reveal Alex with a bundle of clothing in his arms. ‘I am afraid you will have to be a midshipman until your own clothes can be washed and made wearable again,’ he said, piling trousers, shirt, stockings and jacket on the bed. ‘At least the boy’s mother sent him to sea with a clean change of raiment.’

  ‘Thank him for me.’

  ‘I am sorry there is no female servant to help you dress.’

  ‘I can manage,’ she said, though she wondered how she was going to untie her stays, which were laced at the back under the bodice of her gown.

  ‘Turn around,’ he commanded.

  ‘You can’t...’

  ‘I can and unless you intend to spend the whole voyage without taking off your clothes, someone has to get your laces undone.’

  She stood up with her back to him and undid the hooks that fastened her bodice to her stays, so that she could slip it off and reveal the laces. She shut her eyes and held her breath as his fingers moved up and down her back, loosening the stiff garment. His touch sent shivers up and down her whole body. The tingling sensation found its way to her groin and became so overpowering she was hard put not to twist round and throw herself into his arms. As it was she could not suppress a small gasp as the stays fell away and his hands made contact with her body through the thin material of her shift. She had never felt such sensations before. It was exquisite pleasure and torture both together.

  The next minute he had untied her petticoat and it dropped to the floor. A second petticoat followed the first and released the frame of the small panniers, which clattered to join the petticoats. She was almost naked, but she did not have the voice or strength to protest. She felt herself sway towards him and his arm come about her, supporting her. She felt his warm breath on her neck and shivered. The sensation in her groin increased until she longed to squirm round and drag his mouth down to hers. She felt reckless, almost outside herself, but a little voice of reason ruined the euphoria by telling her to pull herself together before it was too late. There was nothing for it but to pretend to faint, which she did, letting herself go limp in his arms.

  He picked her up and laid her on the cot, where she moaned and pretended to come to her senses. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her with a gleam of amusement in his eyes as if he knew exactly how he had affected her and why she had pretended to swoon.

  ‘Go away,’ she said. It was too late to be angry. ‘Leave me be.’

  ‘As you wish,’ he said, standing up but, then, unable to resist the opportunity to tease, just to see her flare up like an ember bursting into flame. ‘I had hoped to be invited to stay.’

  ‘Never! The sky will fall in before that happens. You took advantage of me and that’s not fair when I have no means of defending myself.’

  He looked down at her, raking his eyes up and down her body, covered only with her flimsy shift. ‘If I had wanted to take advantage of you, madam, you would not be lying there so complacently. Be thankful that I have no wish to do so.’

  The tin plate from which she had eaten her breakfast was still on the locker. She picked it up and threw it at him. He dodged and it bounced off the bulkhead and rattled along the floor. Calmly he picked it up and replaced it on the locker. ‘Tantrums will not avail you. I suggest you try to keep a cool head. You are going to need it.’ Then he picked up her clothes and left her to fume. But he did not lock the door again; there was really no point to it—she had nowhere to go.

 
* * *

  Alex could not have stayed a moment longer. She had been so pliable, so lovely, so desirable, her perfect body barely covered by the shift, which had done nothing to hide the round shape of her breasts with their dark nipples. It had taken all his self-control not to throw himself on top of her and rain kisses all over her body and the only answer he had to that was to be brusque and pretend indifference.

  He had heard the story of the fiancé and was puzzled by it. Did she have any idea who that might be? Was it a disappointed suitor unable to take no for an answer? Or was it all a sham on her part to be with a lover? It would not be the first time he had had to deal with something like that on the Society’s business. Because she was the sort of person she was, he found that hard to credit. But how did he know what sort of person she was? He had been wrong before.

  He was reminded of Jonathon Leinster’s assertion that Mr Gilpin was looking for a title for his daughter and that gentleman’s warning as he sent him after her, for a warning it certainly was. That, together with Captain Brookside saying she would obey her father in the matter of a husband, had sent him hurtling back to another voyage and another young lady. He remembered that miserable voyage home from India when life hardly seemed worth living and he had wished every storm they encountered would put an end to his existence. But he had been young and strong and the feeling passed, leaving him older and wiser. Females were fine for a little dalliance, for an hour or two of amusement, but not for a lifelong commitment. So he had resolved and so he must remind himself when Miss Gilpin tantalised him. If he was to succeed in fulfilling his mission to rescue her, then he must take his own advice and keep a cool head.

  He took Charlotte’s garments to the sailor responsible for the officers’ laundry and then returned to the deck where the barefoot men were climbing the ratlines to set more sail. He watched them working high above him, calling out an order now and again until the ship was under a billowing canopy of white and the men returned to the deck. Davy jumped down beside him, but gave no sign of recognition. Alex took a step towards him and murmured, ‘Have you discovered anything?’