Commanding Heart

by Madeline Evering

  “Sir,” she stammered uselessly; “I apologize for the intrusion. I had a question for you….but I see you are busy. I will return at another time….” She trailed off in confusion. “Stay” the Captain replied in calm command, his eyes twinkling with wicked delight at Catherine’s obvious discomfort. “Please,” he said, gesturing to a set of leather wingback chairs in the corner, “Be seated and we can discuss… whatever is the matter.” Catherine hesitated only a moment then walked forward to settle primly in the offered chair. Catherine’s tiny frame was dwarfed by the large scale, masculine furniture. She perched at the edge of the seat self-consciously smoothing the fabric of her linen gown as Captain Knight moved to join her, his large frame folding into the chair opposite. He stretched his long legs out in casual attitude and Catherine pulled her own feet further back to avoid any contact with his imposing frame. His casual state of dress and teasing, informal attitude seemed completely out of character, leaving Catherine’s thoughts completely disrupted. She steeled her nerves a moment longer then looked boldly at the captain as she focused her turbulent thoughts on her request.

  “I have come to ask your help, Captain” she said formally. Knight’s eyebrows twitched in amusement at her attempted reserve and serious demeanor. “But of course, Miss Gibson,” he replied with a wry grin. “I am at your disposal. What can I do to be of assistance?” Catherine heard the undercurrent of humor in his tone and stiffened in pride. She faced him squarely and began in earnest: “As you know, I have spent some considerable time in conversation with Tom Foster.” The captain nodded his head in agreement, wondering to what this conversation might be leading. “I understand,” Catherine continued, “That the… the difficult circumstances of Tom’s home place are still a matter of concern for Tom’s sister, Martha.” Captain Knight’s dark eyes widened in surprise at her speech; Tom was a very private boy and few knew anything about the nature of his arrival onboard, or of the sister who remained at home in England. “You surprise me, Miss Gibson,” the captain said softly. “You must be a very special friend for Tom to have confided such knowledge.” Catherine reddened again at his words but she felt encouraged to continue with her speech: “It is my wish, Captain, to assist Martha with her schooling. I would like to arrange for her tuition, as well as room and board, at a proper school for girls so she might train to become a teacher. I expect,” she said haltingly, “that there may also be the requirement for some sum as compensation to her father for her loss.” Catherine’s face twisted in anger a moment at her own words before she continued; “My hope, Captain, is that you might help me to do this thing without Tom knowing. He is a very proud boy and I fear he would be offended if I made this offer directly to him.”

  Catherine felt somewhat breathless as she finished her speech. She anxiously awaited a response from the captain who had remained silent to this point. Knight looked at Catherine a long time before he finally spoke: “I am familiar with Tom’s town, Miss Gibson, and a school such as you desire is not far off. However,” he continued, his face now becoming somber; “I must tell you that such an undertaking is not inexpensive. I do not wish to question your judgment but this would be a matter of considerable effort and expense.” Catherine boldly met the captain’s gaze and nodded in understanding: “I am well prepared, Captain, for any expense or effort that may be required. I am more than able to meet those needs. What I lack is the proper local connections to accomplish such a task, or the knowledge of how to make such an arrangement with Tom’s father. I hope you might be willing to assist me in this regard.”

  Catherine paused, sensing the hesitation in Captain Knight’s posture. She braced herself for the inevitable question that she knew the captain would ask. Knight drummed his fingers a moment on the arm of the leather chair before catching her with his penetrating gaze; “You seek my help in this matter, Miss Gibson, but I think it my duty to enquire why you do not employ your father’s assistance instead? His connections are obviously extensive, and he may have some wish to direct your hand in a matter of this… significance” he finished brusquely. Catherine’s face darkened and she launched to her feet at his words. She swept past Captain Knight and angrily paced the room, her usually serene features betraying strong emotion. Twice she crossed the room in complete silence before she could compose herself once more. Turning to face him, Catherine drew herself up to her full height, every inch of her slender frame speaking proud defiance. Although she attempted to remain calm, beneath Catherine’s response was a barely disguised anger; “The money I offer, Captain, is solely at my discretion. It is a sum left to me by my mother after her death. My father has no claim upon it, nor has he any right to inquire as to its use. I choose to spend it in this way and I hope that you will help honor my wish.”

  Catherine’s impassioned speech hung sharply in the air a moment, then a heavy silence settled over the room. Catherine remained standing at the cabin’s centre, her body held in a stiff attitude of unease. She could not bring herself to look at Captain Knight, dared not for fear of finding a look of amusement or, even worse, derision. This mission on Tom’s behalf was of vital importance to Catherine for so many reasons and she feared lest she had made a mistake in approaching Captain Knight. As the silence lengthened, Catherine clasped and unclasped her hands, nervously awaiting some response to her request.

  From his position on the far side of the room, Captain Knight sat in silence, his face unreadable as all manner of thoughts passed through his mind. Catherine’s strange request, her subsequent outburst about her father, could only serve to drive his curiosity about her personal situation. He longed to know more about her background, to understand fully what Jamaica represented. But even now, when her personal request to him might have opened this door for inquiry, his strong sense of honor would not allow it. Captain Knight looked in admiration at the proud, stubborn young woman before him. He rose to his feet and moved to where Catherine stood in anxious expectation. She trembled as he drew near; her head hung low to shield herself from what she expected would be a rather curt dismissal of both her and her request. To Catherine’s great surprise, Captain Knight did not speak but reached out instead, capturing her two hands in his own. She felt the warmth and strength of his long fingers envelop hers and a tingling sensation like fire raced through her body at the contact. Catherine remained with head bent low, her eyes starring in wonderment at the spectacle of her hands captured in those of the captain’s. With great gentleness, Captain Knight raised his hand to the soft line of her jaw and tilted her face upward until her blue eyes were caught and held by the light of his own. Catherine’s heart hammered in her chest at the closeness and unexpected intimacy of the moment. Anxiously she searched his normally stern face, still certain that her request was to be dismissed as childish fancy. Instead, Catherine was astonished to find Knight’s features lit with warmth and kindness. His fingers brushed against her cheek softly as he spoke; “You have my word, Miss Gibson that I will help. I am yours to command in this matter.”

  Words failed Catherine as she stood locked in his gaze, unspeaking. After a long moment, Captain Knight gently released his hold on Catherine, but his smoldering eyes never left her face. Freed from their close contact, Catherine took a step away and attempted to regain some semblance of order over her thoughts. “You….you agree to help me?” she stammered questioningly; “You accept my proposal?” Captain Knight replied with a broad smile; “I believe that is what I said, Miss Gibson.” A look of sheer delight came into Catherine’s face, her eyes glittering like jewels: “Captain Knight, you are most generous” she said earnestly as she starred into the warm depths of his dark eyes “I shall never forget your kindness.”

  “I believe the kindness is all yours, Miss Gibson” Knight replied quietly. “Leave the matter with me and I will let you know when I have some response to your request. Now, if you will excuse me, Miss Gibson, I am afraid I must return to ship’s business.” Catherine nodded her agreement and moved to the door of the cabin, re
eling slightly at the unexpected turn the interview had taken. At the threshold, Catherine paused, elated by her success but shaken as well by the intimate turn the interview had taken. She turned and gave Knight a polite bow but retreated before her eyes could meet his once more.

  The door closed firmly behind Catherine. For a long moment after, the captain continued to stare at the place where the young woman had just been. At length Knight returned to his maps but the meaning of their contours and symbols long evaded him; his mind was too occupied by other, troubling thoughts.

  Chapter IX

  The buoyant mood Catherine felt that morning carried through the rest of the day. The world seemed a better place all round and Catherine fairly danced as she went about her usual rituals onboard ship. It was not until the afternoon was drawing to a close that her attention was finally caught by the hurried preparations that many of the crew seemed to be making. Catherine located her uncle near the mizzen mast and moved to his side. “What can be afoot, Uncle?” she asked; “The crew seem in a great hurry?” Lieutenant Matthews turned to his niece and gave her a solemn look: “The weather glass has been dropping all day. I’m afraid we are in for a bit of a storm, Catherine.” A look of concern crossed Catherine’s face: “Will it be bad?” Catherine asked in some dismay. Although she had become very comfortable onboard ship, Catherine knew that it was due in large part to the very calm seas they had encountered thus far. She was uncertain what kind of sailor she would make during rough weather. At that moment, Captain Knight came forward to join them. He rapidly passed instructions regarding the rigging of the sails to Matthews and a number of the other men. They all set forth in haste to perform their individual tasks. It was then that Knight finally noticed Catherine; “Miss Gibson,” he said in his low voice, “I am afraid we are to see some unpleasant weather. Ship’s duties will prevent us from dining in my cabin this evening. I hope you will accept my sincere apologies.”

  “Of course,” Catherine replied quickly; “But may I ask, Captain, what exactly should I do to prepare? I am somewhat uncertain how to weather the storm.” The captain gave her a reassuring look. “All will be well, I assure you. But it would be best for you to go below to your berth. I will have the cook send supper to your room directly – we must put the galley fires out as soon as possible. Then you should stow away any loose items in the room. The rest we must leave to the storm’s discretion” he finished with a slight smile. Catherine’s eyes were wide in her face as she listened to his recommendations. Her uncle’s grave look and the preparations the captain suggested spoke of the seriousness of what they were to encounter. Catherine nodded her head in acknowledgement and the captain turned away, hastening to the next station on deck awaiting his orders.

  Catherine remained on deck for another hour watching in frightened fascination as the skies darkened and the sea changed from sparkling blue to angry grey. What had been a peaceful day, bright with sunshine, was now a malevolent thing, charged with raw power and fury. Thunder rolled ominously and lightning rent the skies while huge rollers tossed the Triton about like a child’s toy. Angry spray hissed against the ship’s sides and crashed over the deck in foaming waves that snatched at anything – and anyone – not firmly attached. The motion of the sea soon became so rough that Catherine could no longer remain in position without the support of the ship’s rail. Several times she was tossed roughly aside as an angry swell struck the Triton. Catherine knew she must heed the warnings of Captain Knight and her uncle and seek refuge in her cabin, but the thought of leaving the relative security of the group on deck for the emptiness of her own cabin filled Catherine with dread. As the ship’s motions grew more erratic and the work of the hands became more urgent, Catherine knew she could no longer delay. A violent crack of thunder was followed by several flashes of lightning. The heavens opened and huge rain drops began to fall leaving Catherine no choice but to make way to her solitary cabin while the storm raged above.

  Below deck, Catherine quickly moved about her room, returning books, sketchpads, pencils and other items to the trunk at the foot of her bed. She cast a careful eye around the room, determined to be prepared for whatever the storm would bring. As the porter arrived with supper, Catherine could the feel danger of the swells that struck the ship with violence. “The storm is worsening?” she asked the porter, trying to quell the nervous tremor in her voice. “Aye, it ‘tis” he replied with great calm: “Don’t worry though, miss. The Triton and the captain have got us through many a spot of weather before this” he said, and left to attend his duties.

  Alone in her cabin, Catherine nervously moved from chair, to trunk, to bed, uncertain of what to do next. She ate a little of the food the porter had brought, then began pacing the tiny room once more. Catherine felt relieved that her motion sickness did not return despite the rough motion of the ship. In its place, however, was a feeling of great anxiety that Catherine could not dismiss. There was a violent energy to the wind and waves like nothing Catherine had ever experienced before. The storm felt like some ancient portent, signaling the coming of a great change. A shiver slid down Catherine’s spine at the thought. She determined to take her mind off of the tempest outside and settled down with a slim volume of poems. Her attempts to read, however, were short-lived. The rough motion of the vessel and the sound of the wind grew in violence. Struggling to stay in place, Catherine cast her book aside and determined to prepare for bed. The thought of being under the covers gave her a small sense of comfort, a reminder of times spent with her cousins, hiding under their beds during summer storms. Catherine laughed at the childish notion and opened her trunk quickly and began her night’s preparations.

  Staggering under the pitching motion of the ship, Catherine finally managed to exchange her linen gown and petticoats for a loose cotton nightshift. She freed her hair from its primly twisted plaits, leaving the long tresses hanging in a golden curtain to her waist. In the mirror Catherine could see what a riot of curls the plaints had created. She stuck her tongue out at the sight and turned to the sanctuary of her bed prepared to ride out the storm. At the same moment, a huge surge struck the ship, sending a shuddering groan throughout the oaken timbers. The floor suddenly shifted under Catherine and she fell sideways, knocking against the desk with great violence. Catherine cried out as she landed roughly on the floor, a sharp pain spreading through her arm. In agony, Catherine cradled the aching limb and struggled to regain her feet. The pain was quickly replaced by a feeling of shocked surprise when she was suddenly picked up bodily from behind. Catherine spun around, her breath catching, as she found herself held in the firm embrace of Captain Knight.

  “Are you hurt,” he asked hoarsely, his face mere inches away from hers. “I heard your cry as I passed…. Are you hurt?” he asked again, his words carried on ragged breaths. She could not answer, could scare breathe at finding herself in such close proximity to the captain. Catherine was pressed against the full length of his body, the rain water of his oilskin jacket seeping into the cotton of her nightgown. Her face flamed at being found in this state of undress, but the rough motion of the ship and Captain Knight’s imprisoning embrace kept her from drawing away. She starred at Knight mutely for several long moments before she could finally answer his question.

  “I… I fell,” she said in a hoarse whisper, her wide blue eyes starring into his with growing alarm. “I fell and hit my arm… but I am alright…” she could not think of how to continue, of how to escape from this strange, unwonted embrace. Held close against Knight’s chest, Catherine could see glistening jewels of water caught in his jet black hair, its silky texture slick against his brow. In breathless fascination she watched as droplets fell, coursing their way down the angular planes of his face to trace the fine lines around his mouth. More disturbing, however, were the dark flames that burned within his eyes.

  Captain Knight slowly pulled one hand away from Catherine’s waist and ran it down the length of her injured arm. The heat from his fingers burned like fire a
s they traced a careful path across her forearm. A faint mark was already apparent on the surface of the skin and Catherine caught her lip between her teeth as his fingers brushed over the spot. Knight heard her indrawn breath and starred at her once more. “It is not broken… you will be fine” he said, his dark eyes glittering wildly. “There will be a mark, but you will be fine” he said again, his voice rough and uneven. Catherine could only give a tiny nod at his words. Knight’s eyes roved over the features of her face, taking in the beautiful eyes, the cheekbones with their high color, and the golden tumble of curls that hung freely down her back. His eyes flashed a warning but before Catherine could free herself his mouth came down upon hers in a punishing kiss.

  A riot of sensations crashed over Catherine as Knight took possession of her. The feel of his hot, demanding mouth on hers sent waves of desire through her body. She struggled to remain controlled but as his hands slid across her back and tangled in her loose hair, Catherine sagged against him weak with desire. Nothing in life had prepared her for the raw intensity of this moment, the burning flame that threatened to consume them both. The heat from his body felt through the thin fabric of her gown sent shockwaves through Catherine. This was madness and she should stop him, stop herself from responding, but Catherine found she could not. Instead, she clutched at his shoulders for support, her heart hammering within her chest as she eagerly returned his kiss.

  In a sudden, rough motion, Captain Knight pulled away, holding Catherine at arm’s length. The two panted for breath, neither speaking, only staring at the other. After what felt like an eternity, the captain spoke brusquely: “Miss Gibson… I beg your forgiveness. I should not have….. I beg your forgiveness” he said again, then turned and left the room as suddenly as he had entered.