Shadows of Love

by Gail MacMillan

“Prove it.” His words were razor sharp, brooking no denial. “Name his ship, her port of registry.”

  “The Sea Star,” I replied, my gaze fixed on his face for his next reaction. “She was registered in Saint John, New Brunswick, where she was built in 1818. She broke a number of records for speed passing through the Roaring Forties in the years my father commanded her.”

  “I’d heard he left a wife and daughter, but it was said the woman was dead and the child had disappeared.” The words were a mutter of astonishment.

  He grasped me by the hand and started toward the rear of the ship.

  “Where are you taking me?” I cried.

  “To quarters befitting the daughter of Captain Morgan Reynolds, if indeed you truly are who you claim to be.”

  Near the stern of the vessel he pulled open a hatch and urged me down the ladder beneath and into the gleamingly clean, lantern-lit companionway beyond. When we reached a door at the far end, he flung it open and thrust me inside.

  The living quarters beyond the door astonished me with their elegance. Richly ornate woodwork gleaming with polish formed the backdrop for a fine mahogany desk covered with carefully arranged maps and navigational instruments, a matching captain’s chair, a copper bathing tub, and a large built-in bed covered by more than one quilt. A single lighted lantern cast bewitching shadows as it swayed gently in time with the ship’s subtle motion. After the dark stench of the overcrowded hold, the cabin was a small piece of heaven.

  But why had he brought me there? I could think of only one reason, and the idea sickened me.

  “What are you going to do with me?” I asked, backing away from him.

  “Treat you as the daughter of Captain Reynolds deserves to be treated…if you are indeed who you claim to be.” He started toward me, but when I leaped away, he merely smiled sardonically and reached past me to take a cigar from a box on the desk. “Steerage is hardly a place for such a lady.”

  He pulled a small penknife from his pocket, snipped off the cigar’s end, then lifted the lantern’s chimney and used its flame to light it. He took a long pull, blew smoke in a leisurely fashion, and hunched a hip up onto a corner of the desk as he fixed me with an evaluating gaze.

  “What?” I asked finally, unable to stand his silent, caustic perusal. “Why do you study me so intently? Do you think I’m lying? Why should I lie?”

  “Why not? It would most definitely prevent your being returned to the hold. Any respectable sea captain would treat you like royalty, if you are who you claim to be.”

  “Haven’t I given you enough facts to prove who I am? Question me further if you’re still not convinced. My mother told me many stories of my father’s exploits before she died. I can tell you whatever it is you need to know.”

  “I know enough to satisfy me for the present. I’m still not certain you aren’t fresh off the London streets, of course. I’ve never known a decent lady able to fight the way you can. I’m thinking Morgan Reynolds’ daughter could well have fallen on hard times and been forced to adopt an unsavory way of life in order to survive.”

  “Think what you wish.” I swung away from him, head held high. “Just keep your hands off me.”

  “You can feel safe on that score.” He headed for the door. “I’m not about to risk catching something from a waterfront doxy.”

  “Catching something…? Why, you…” I started toward him, hands balled into fists at my sides, my entire body clenched with outrage.

  “I’d advise you to control that temper,” he said mildly. “I’m a good deal bigger than you and a lot better versed in the arts of self-defense, I’ll wager. At any rate, I’m about to do you an immense favor…just in case you truly are Morgan Reynolds’ daughter. I’m going to let you use my cabin for the remainder of the voyage. All I ask is that you bathe in the water my men will soon bring for you. I don’t fancy finding lice in my bed when you disembark.”

  He turned and went out. I heard him bar the door behind him, and I was left to fume over his last words in the complete luxury of his quarters.

  Shortly, sailors arrived with hot water to fill the tub, while the ship’s disgruntled cook, apparently awakened from sleep, brought me a tray heavy with a bowl of thick stew, hardtack, and a pot of tea.

  I longed to hate the arrogant Captain Madison, but later, freshly bathed and with my belly full as I snuggled down in his luxurious featherbed, I found the emotion hard to come by. Instead, my drowsy mind wondered if he lay amid the quilts and pillows as I did when he sought repose. Did he sleep on his back or on his side, or stretched out full-length on his flat stomach…?

  I caught my thoughts up short. I was on my way to marry Darcy Pod. I loved Darcy Pod. I buried my face in a pillow in shame and struggled to draw Darcy’s image to mind.

  But all I saw was a darkly handsome man, standing arms akimbo, feet planted squarely on the deck, virile and breathtaking against a backdrop of spars and sails.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, I awoke alert and refreshed. Sunlight streamed in the cabin’s skylight as the great ship lilted forward. I yawned and stretched like a contented feline. It was good to find oneself in a soft, warm bed, one’s body and hair fresh from a thorough washing.

  I arose and dressed. I could not risk lingering in my transparent old chemise, lest the captain decide to visit. One of the sailors had fetched my carpetbag, and I’d been able to don my nightdress after I bathed. Once fully clothed, I wandered about the room, searching for clues that might unlock the secrets of the master’s enigmatic personality.

  Most of his personal possessions had been removed by the man who brought my meal the previous night, but on a shelf above his desk was a collection of books. “A man is what he reads,” Darcy had once said. With this in mind, I set about perusing the volumes.

  Many, not surprisingly, were about ships and sailing, trade and world travel, astronomy and mathematics, but there was also a King James Version of the Bible and a dog-eared copy of Shakespeare’s King Lear.

  I leafed through the worn pages of the latter and wondered what intense attraction this story of a father’s psychological blindness could have for the captain. Certainly he did not seem the type of man to be impressed by the beauty of its poetry.

  ****

  Although I was a veritable prisoner, with my door kept locked from the outside, I passed the remainder of the voyage in continuing comfort. A seaman came regularly to bring me food and see to my other needs; each evening another sailor brought bathing water and towels. But those were far from the most astonishing events of the voyage.

  Every midnight, when most aboard the great ship appeared to be asleep, the captain himself would knock on my door, unlock it, and request I join him on the deck, where a single sailor and a helmsman carried out their duties.

  Once on deck, we would stand by the rail and watch the winds frothing the sea as it filled the Maris Stella’s great ivory sails and pushed us closer to America and Darcy. We seldom spoke. I felt as if I were simply being taken out to be aired like so much dirty linen.

  One night Captain Madison brought me up onto a deck shrouded with fog. The great sails hung limp in a windless calm. Darcy and America again seemed far away, an unreality on such a night.

  “How long will this last?” I asked.

  “A few hours, a day.” He shrugged. “We’re ahead of schedule, so I’m not particularly concerned.”

  We walked to the rail, and he looked down at me appraisingly.

  “You’ve washed your dress,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “You look much better in a clean gown,” he said. “Your hair has benefited from cleanliness, too. It’s remarkably like honey, both in color and”—his fingers went to a straying curl—“in texture, rich and soft.”

  I looked up at him, my eyes widening in surprise. His hand moved to my cheek, cupping it slowly, gently. Intense gray eyes gripped me in an invisible hold. Mesmerized, I couldn’t resist as he drew me into his arms. When he
lowered his head to kiss me, I melted into the sensuous thrust of his tongue between my lips and the power of his lean, hard body.

  His hand slid to the small of my back and thrust me full length against him. Drawn inside his open seaman’s jacket, sheltered from the damp chill by his coat and body, I was overcome by a wave of erotic pleasure the likes of which I’d never experienced. Enthralled, I allowed his kiss to deepen. This devilish man was bewitching me with sensations I’d never known existed. My entire body came alive to his, and I was giddy with an overwhelming sense of ecstasy.

  When he finally raised his head and brought his hand from my back to caress my cheek with his knuckles, I was breathless, awakened to a wonderful sense of intoxication that left me weak-kneed and lightheaded.

  “I don’t know your name,” he said softly.

  “Starr.” The word came in a tremulous whisper.

  “Starr.” Astonishment colored his reply. “You’re named as my vessel. Maris Stella means Star of the Sea, did you know?”

  I shook my head as he looked down at me, his expression enigmatic. “Starr of the Sea,” he muttered. “My Maris Stella. Morgan Reynolds’ daughter. Strange.”

  “A coincidence.” I struggled to find my voice. “Nothing more.”

  “It’s cold and damp.” He changed the subject. “I’ll take you back to the cabin.”

  I nodded and let him lead me back down the ladder and into the companionway. At the door of his quarters, he paused.

  “May I come in?” He leaned forward to kiss my forehead. I hesitated, then slowly nodded.

  Will I regret this decision? Think of Darcy, Darcy who rescued you from the mines, who has worked to save money that you might take this voyage, Darcy who is building you a home.

  The truth gushed out to shame me. I wanted to experience more of the wonderful sensations the captain had aroused on deck. Awash with conflicting emotions, I drew a deep breath and waited.

  Inside, Captain Madison doffed his heavy jacket and went to a cupboard for wine and glasses. He poured us each a goblet, then went to sit in his chair at the desk. With a contented sigh, he stretched out in it, and I realized he must miss his cabin and its comforts. Softened by this insight, I seated myself on the edge of the bed.

  “Your present quarters are perhaps less comfortable than these?” I asked struggling to keep the memory of that heart-throbbing kiss on deck from my mind.

  “A trifle, yes. But, then, I’m no stranger to a hammock slung in the bow. No one begins a career at sea as a captain…as you should know.”

  “I’m grateful for your kindness.” I caught the suspicion in his words but decided it best to let it pass.

  “Are you?” He looked over at me, eyes narrowing.

  “Yes, of course. You fancy Shakespeare.” I changed the subject and indicated the worn little volume. “Darcy has told me the stories of most of his plays. I look forward to the day when I shall have access to books and may read them for myself. Why did you choose this particular tale?”

  “The plot interests me,” he said. “If art is a reflection of life, then this play is indeed just that, in its purest form.”

  “You think all fathers are blind to their children’s virtues and vices, and are unable to recognize their own offspring for what they truly are?”

  “Come here,” he said. “I’m in no mood for a discussion of literature at the moment.” When I stood beside him, he said, “You’re very beautiful. Has your Darcy told you that you are? Has he told you how you can heat up a man’s blood?”

  He put an arm about my waist to draw me down onto his lap. I started to pull away, but when I looked into his eyes, his gaze caught mine in an invisible grip. Suddenly I was allowing myself to slip down onto his knee.

  Slowly and sensuously he opened his mouth over mine. He tasted of wine and fresh salt air. I let my arms slide about his neck and gave myself over to the enjoyment of the moment. The excitingly erotic sensations I’d experienced on the deck moments earlier welled up from the pit of my stomach, enveloping me once again with the intensity of their impact.

  Still in this state of euphoria I was only vaguely aware of his fingers on the fastenings of my dress. With a jolt of reality I felt his hand cup my breast. The horror of Simon’s assault flooded back.

  “No!” Pulling my dress shut, I leaped to my feet. “How dare you touch me like that! How dare you…”

  “You invited me in,” he drawled, reaching calmly for his wine. “You allowed me to fondle you. It was the next reasonable step.”

  “It was not!” I cried. “Darcy wouldn’t have…”

  “Then Darcy is less than a man,” he said. He finished off his wine, arose, and reached for his jacket. “I suggest, my girl, you marry him as soon as we dock. You seem capable of satisfying only the effeminate excuse for a male your beloved must be.”

  He strode from the cabin and locked the door after him.

  That night I prayed to be forgiven for my wantonness with the captain and to be kept safe from the dangerous attraction I’d experienced in those moments of dark magic on the deck of the Maris Stella under a star-studded sky. As an epilogue, I fervently restated my love for Darcy Pod and only Darcy Pod.

  The captain did not come for me again during the remainder of the voyage. God had answered my prayers.

  ****

  At dawn one morning about four weeks after we left England, Captain Madison aroused me from my sleep by pounding on my door and demanding I join him on deck. Clutching my shabby cloak about me, I stumbled from the cabin. He propelled me along the companionway and up into the fresh air.

  “There,” he said, holding my arm with one hand and pointing with the other when we came to the rail. “There is America.”

  Drowsiness fled. I leaned out over the bulwarks to better view the green line on the horizon. Separating the azure blue of the brightening sky and the charcoal depths of the white-capped Atlantic, the American coast appeared to be an unbroken line of virgin forests.

  “It’s beautiful!” I cried, as the wind caught my unpinned hair and flung it back from my face. “I know I will enjoy living there.”

  “Don’t let appearances deceive you,” he replied, cynicism heavy in his words. “Beneath its innocent façade, New Brunswick is as infested with opportunists, adventurers, and disreputable politicians as any colony in the Empire. Don’t be seduced by its summer beauty. Keep in mind this is a land of long, brutal winters.”

  He turned and walked away. Undeterred by his pessimism, I returned my gaze to the strip of green thickening before me. Soon I would be with Darcy. Nothing, not even the captain’s bitter words, could dull my joy at the thought of our reunion.

  ****

  The Maris Stella nosed into a river’s wide mouth and trimmed her sails. Barret Madison stood by the wheel to instruct his helmsman in navigating the bay’s depths. I gazed about the shores for signs of human habitation and saw none. I was wondering if the land was a complete wilderness when the captain gave the order to one of his seamen.

  “Mr. MacIntosh, return the lady to my cabin and see that she remains there until we’ve arrived at River Island. I’ll have Randall check her for disease in my quarters.”

  I’d heard the other passengers discussing this quarantine inspection. Before the ship would be allowed to dock in Pine, passengers and crew must be checked for contagious diseases. If any were found, the vessel would have to remain anchored at River Island, a small bit of land in the center of the river near the village, until all traces of the sickness were gone. As I returned to Captain Madison’s cabin, I silently prayed none would be found. I had to see Darcy soon!

  ****

  The man who came to the cabin, escorted by the captain, was tall, well built, and in his late twenties. His dark blond hair curled softly about a face handsome yet surprisingly haggard for a person of his age. As they entered, I retreated against a far wall.

  “Welcome to New Brunswick.” The newcomer’s words and smile were reassuring. “I hope y
our voyage wasn’t too disagreeable.”

  “No,” I replied, my apprehensions lessening.

  “This will only take a moment,” he said, putting down the small black bag he carried. “I’m simply going to look down your throat and check your neck for swelling, and then you’ll be free to go. So far I’ve found no evidence of illness aside from seasickness aboard the Maris Stella, and you appear to be in perfect health.”

  Put at ease by his unobtrusive, kindly manner, I opened my mouth when he asked, and let him feel my neck. His fingers were cool and skillful, but I caught the smell of alcohol on his breath.

  “She’s fine, Barret,” he said. He smiled at me again, picked up his bag, and headed for the door. “I’ll see you in town later. Welcome to New Brunswick, mistress.”

  The two men went out. I was left alone to scrabble my belongings into my valise. Darcy, Darcy. His name beat a tattoo in my heart and mind.

  ****

  Captain Madison kept me locked in his cabin until all but a few of his crew had left the Maris Stella. When he did open the door and carry my case up onto the deck, I discovered I’d be the last passenger to disembark.

  Undeterred, I gazed about the village that was to be my home. Sprawled along the frontage of a river that measured about three-quarters of a mile in width, the settlement called Pine lay basking in the warm June sun. Behind a series of crude, sturdy wharves and piers that were piled high with sawn timber, plank and log buildings lined the waterfront. At a number of locations farther downstream, several partly built ocean-going vessels stood in dry dock, while hives of workers swarmed over their developing forms.

  Three or four dry, rutted lanes wound among the buildings, finally disappearing into the depths of the great green forest that surrounded the developing township. All of the structures were typical of a community founded a scant forty years previous by an itinerant Loyalist trader; all, that is, save one.

  Overlooking the river and the village, the exception stood on a rise some distance beyond the shipyards. A massive white three-story structure, the house dominated the village below in the manner of a medieval castle dominating the homes of its vassals. With an ivory-columned verandah sweeping around its ground floor, the magnificent house was surrounded by wide, beautifully manicured lawns, a curving drive, and huge shade trees.