“Barret knows what I expect of Colin.” Abraham regained his self control. “But what about you? Why this debauchery with servants? Why didn’t you take my son to bed today? Your eyes, your expressions, the way you move… They all tell me you’re a sensuous, earthy little creature perfectly capable of giving a man a deuce of a good time. Why don’t you seduce my son? He’s a good-looking boy, keeps himself clean, is well educated… I can’t believe you find him repulsive.”
“We’re getting to know each other,” I said, drawing myself up to my greatest height, struggling to keep from becoming an incoherent, incensed fool before the smirking captain. “Love and intimacy take time. Colin has been in love with someone else, and…”
“Dear God!” Abraham smacked one white-knuckled fist into his other hand, his face turning beet red. “He told you?”
“Yes,” I managed to reply calmly, although his distorted countenance was weakening my bravado. “He didn’t tell me with whom, but I believe it was recently. Therefore, I can’t expect him to…desire me…yet.”
The relief in Abe’s expression was as startling as his outrage moments earlier.
“Quite right,” he breathed. “Of course, you’re quite right.”
“Come on, Abe.” Barret put an arm about the older man’s shoulders. “Let’s get a snifter of brandy. Leave the laying of Colin to this girl. I’m sure if anyone can teach the boy how to perform in bed, she can.”
Abe allowed himself to be led away, but soon Barret Madison returned to where I’d crumpled into a wing chair in the hot drawing room.
“Does he have a problem in bed?” he asked. “Isn’t he able to perform?”
“None of your damn business,” I cried, and rushed, tear-blinded, to our room.
A short time later, as I sat alone in our bedroom, I heard a group of men entering the office below. From snatches of the conversation, I gleaned it was a meeting of Abe’s captains.
My anger melted into curiosity, and I dropped on hands and knees to listen through the half-closed grate in the floor. It allowed me partial view of the room below. Like a poisonous but mesmerizing snake, my father-in-law frightened and fascinated me; I knew I had to learn all I could about him if I hoped to survive in his house. I might one day find myself mother of the child who would inherit the Abraham Douglas legacy.
“Please be seated, gentlemen,” Abraham said pleasantly. Not a single trace remained of the outraged man who’d left the drawing room less than an hour ago.
All of the nearly twenty men found places on the chairs Abraham had ordered brought into the room to accommodate them. His fleet must be much larger than I’d imagined, for whatever number was at home in Pine at any given time during sailing months, there were as many at sea, Colin had told me.
Within my field of vision, I watched as Abe sat down behind his huge mahogany desk near the window, Barret Madison on his right, Jared Fletcher on his left.
“Gentleman, as you’re no doubt aware, Douglas and Sons has made a bid to provide a year-round transatlantic mail service between this province’s government and Her Majesty’s government in London,” he began. “My son Randall has managed to bring our governor to the brink of signing with us. There is, however, a small stipulation which we must first meet. These ugly iron steam tubs are providing the problem. They don’t depend on the caprices of nature to do their job, some would argue. I say”—Abraham slammed his fist down on his desk—“show me the lumbering bit of tin that can outrun any of your ships in a good breeze, and I’ll condemn myself to Hades!”
A heartfelt murmur of agreement issued from the men.
“The stipulation,” Abe continued, “is proof that we can do what we promise—provide a dependable year-round mail service. Therefore, one of our ships must sail out of Halifax on New Year’s Day and reach London within three weeks. Captain MacDonald, I’ve chosen you and your vessel for this task.”
I suppressed a gasp. Hadn’t I already heard him tell Randall that Barret would make the crossing?
“Put my London Lass to sea in January?” The big, bearded man jumped to his feet, astounded. “Mr. Douglas, she’s swift as a eagle, but she’s also delicate as a swan. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that fact. She was built for the West Indies trade, not a North Atlantic run. Icy seas will split her apart in a matter of hours!”
“Are you defying me, Captain MacDonald?”
“Aye, sir, that I am.” Captain MacDonald stepped to the desk to confront his employer. “I’ll not send my men and ship to the bottom in a mad attempt to prove you right. Send one of your pretty lads. Captain Madison and Captain Fletcher both have ships equipped for speed and the North Atlantic in winter. Or are they too young and fine to risk on such a suicide mission? Perhaps you can best spare an old seadog like myself, one whose dissenting from blind obedience to your every wish has been a thorn in your side these many years?”
I held my breath, expecting my father-in-law to erupt into rage. Abe Douglas, as always, was full of surprises.
“Andrew, Andrew,” he said, his tone placating. “Can’t you see the reason I’ve chosen you over these…boys? You’ve more years before the mast than both of them combined. You know the winds and tides like your own hands. And when we get that contract, there will be a handsome extra in your pay, you can believe.”
“No! I’ll not risk my men on such a foolish mission for all the tea in China. You can dismiss me, you can take my command, but I’ll not put my men’s lives in jeopardy.”
“Then consider yourself dismissed from your position.” Barret Madison got to his feet and stood beside Abe. Tall, handsome, and powerful, he was an impressive figure in a room full of strong men. “I’ll not tolerate insubordination to the owner of my fleet.”
“Damn you, Madison! How dare you presume to take my ship from me? You’re nothing but a piece of trash from a Caribbean gutter!”
“I’d advise you to leave this house at once, Mr. MacDonald.” Jared Fletcher came to his feet, and I saw cold, hard rage on his face. “Otherwise I’ll be obliged to invite you outside. I cannot countenance insults to my commodore’s good name.”
“Good name!” MacDonald was striding toward the door. “I doubt he has any real name at all. Bit of whorehouse leavings, if you ask me. Good name, indeed! Lusting after young Colin’s wife and layin’ that barmaid Meg all in one breath—the bastard!”
The door slammed and he was gone. A static silence fell. Finally Abe spoke evenly, as if nothing untoward had happened. “Any more dissenters?”
No one replied, but several shifted in their chairs. They might not like Abe’s plan, but they were not ready to risk losing their commands as Captain MacDonald had.
“I’ll make the January run, Abe.” Barret startled me by speaking up. “Since my reputation has been besmirched,” he continued sardonically, “I have little choice if I wish to command any respect among these men.”
“Barret…” Jared Fletcher tried to intercede, but Abe drowned him out.
“Then it’s settled. Captain Madison will make the run. And may God have mercy on all your cowardly souls if he doesn’t return.” Then his tone lightened. “There are refreshments in the dining room, gentlemen. Eat, drink, and be merry.”
Chapter Eight
As I came down to breakfast the following morning, I heard Barret and Abraham arguing in Abe’s office, situated between the foot of the stairs and the front entrance. With its door slightly ajar, their voices carried into the hallway.
“And I tell you, sir, you will go after that cargo of guano!” Abraham’s words burned hot with anger.
“And I tell you, I won’t.” Barret’s reply, cool and controlled, held no possibility of acquiescence. “I’m just now getting the stench of that human cargo you ordered me to carry as ballast on my last trip from the holds of the Maris Stella. I’ll not foul her again. My crew are good men. I won’t have them demeaned by ordering them to scrape bird shit from rocks and shovel it into the holds.”
“A re
spectable captain does not use foul language,” Abraham barked.
“A respectable captain would not be asked to transport bird droppings on a ship like the Maris Stella.” The captain’s response was as cold and final as the snap of steel handcuffs on the wrists of a condemned prisoner. “I’ve already agreed to make that crossing from Halifax to London in January. Be satisfied with that foolhardiness. Don’t expect degradation as well.”
“Must I remind you, Captain Madison, you work for me? You’ll do as I say!” Abraham bellowed. “Remember that ship you’re so proud of is mine!”
“Partly yours.” Barret Madison maintained his calm, controlled tone. “I own a good piece of her shares. By next year I’ll have the controlling interest.”
“In a pig’s eye you will!” Abraham snapped. “If you persist in refusing to carry out my orders, I’ll not sell them to you.”
“You have no choice,” Barret said. “You’ll recall the agreement you made when I became her master. I obtained the right to purchase her shares from you over the next four years; if I managed, in that period, to afford them all, you would have to sell. It’s in writing and perfectly legal.”
“Damn you!” Abraham muttered. “You’re too clever and resourceful by a half. You should have been my son, not those two milksops I’m forced to acknowledge as blood kin.” Strength returning to his voice, he continued, “Little did I know, when I took you in as a ragged sixteen-year-old and gave you a place on one of my ships, what a tough, smart devil you would turn out to be. I recall you worked like a thing possessed to become a bo’sun, then second mate, then first.”
“And, at twenty-two, master of one of your ships, albeit the poorest in your fleet, a veritable floating coffin,” Barret interjected. “But I kept her sailing, and you turned a nice profit with me as her captain.”
“I don’t doubt your ability, but I’m not unaware of your vices, either.” Abraham’s tone moderated. “You’re shrewd and tough, and you don’t let any ridiculous Sunday School morality block your way to what you want. We’re a good deal alike in that respect, laddie, but don’t ever forget who’s the master and who’s the servant in this relationship.”
“Or who you’re depending on to deliver up that mail contract. If I refuse to make that January crossing, you’ll be hard pressed to find another who’ll attempt it.”
“All right, forget the guano. It’s a highly profitable cargo just now, but if you want to forego your share of it, that’s your foolhardiness. Now, there’s another matter I wish to speak to you about. You gave Mary Constable a position in my shipping office without consulting me. That was highhanded of you. I have other plans for that girl.”
“Plans to marry her off to Jared? Or, at least, letting him bed her?” Barret’s reply held sarcastic amusement. “That won’t placate Captain Fletcher. Only one woman can satisfy him, and we both know who that is.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!” Abraham barked. “All cats are gray in the dark. Fletcher will take what he’s offered and be glad of it. Or”—his tone became nasty and smooth—“perhaps you have an eye for Mistress Mary yourself. Perhaps you’re already bedding her and don’t want to share with your friend. Well, hear me, and hear me well.” His tone picked up. “I’ll not allow you to thwart my plans with your lusting. I’m ordering you to discharge that girl immediately. Destitute, she’ll have to marry Fletcher to survive.”
“Sorry, Abe. I promised her a secure position for just that reason. I didn’t want to see her forced to marry some man she didn’t care about, in order to avoid starvation. Both your sons will tell you there's little joy in such arrangements.”
“How dare you comment on my boys’ marriages in such a demeaning manner! God damn you, you never did know when to keep either your mouth or your trousers shut.”
To my surprise, I heard Barret chuckle. “Come now, Abe, let’s not fight. It never gets either of us anywhere. Only when we both pull in the same direction do both your family and your enterprises prosper. Forget the girl. She’s an asset to the office, but of no sexual interest to either Jared or myself. She’s where she’s most useful to Douglas and Sons.”
Abe muttered something derogatory, but his mood was mellowing. Barret Madison had won.
A chair creaked, and I knew the meeting had come to an end. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, I slipped into the room across the entrance hall and out of sight behind its half-open door.
“And one more thing.” Abraham spoke as the two men emerged into the foyer. ”Stay away from Colin’s wife. I’ve seen the look in your eyes when she’s about, and I’m ordering you to stop any ideas you might have concerning her. I want to be sure the child she’s going to bear will be my grandchild beyond any doubt. Do I make myself clear?”
A hot, outraged blush of anger flooded over my body. Say something, Captain Madison. Defend both of us. My heart pounding, I listened with clenched fists and drawn lips.
“There’s no need to worry,” I was chagrined to hear the captain reply lightly, almost mockingly. “I can assure you, no matter what I do, any child Starr Douglas bears will be your grandchild. You’re letting MacDonald’s innuendoes get to you, Abe. You know I’m not really so great a whoremaster as he’d have you think.”
“As long as we have an understanding,” Abraham’s reply was astonishingly congenial, as I’d might have expected from someone who had just struck a good bargain. “I know she’s a tempting little piece, and you’re forced to sleep across the hall from her. All the same, it’s important to me you stay out of Colin’s marriage. And his wife.”
His vulgarity made me want to rush out at them screaming I was no common whore nor piece of baby-producing machinery whose body could be bartered between two ruthless men for the purpose they deemed best.
I managed to control myself with an intense effort as they went off up the hall to breakfast, talking companionably of other matters.
****
That night I found sleep difficult. Glancing over at Colin slumbering beside me, I reflected on the unnaturalness of our marriage. We’d married each other for reasons which were neither love nor desire. Now we must live with the consequences.
Yet we did love one another in a way. We cared for each other as a brother and sister might. I could not bear to see Colin hurt or unhappy, and he, I knew, would do all he could to make my life pleasant and comfortable. It could have been a much worse situation, I tried to comfort myself.
At times like these, however, when I awoke in the middle of the night with a strange, unquenched longing within me, I had to be stern indeed to make myself see the positive aspects of my marriage. Colin’s warm body stretched out beside mine awoke feelings in me which aroused both fear and excitement. I never again wanted a man to try to take me in violence and lust, I would tell myself, as memories of the time in the overseer’s cottage washed over me. Then Colin would stir in his sleep and roll against me.
The broad chest and lean belly of his long, muscular body would relax against my hips and breasts, and I would shudder with a nebulous mixture of sensual pleasure and heart-stopping fear.
Troubled and unhappy, I got out of bed. Without disturbing Colin, I slipped on a silk robe. A glass of milk from the kitchen might help me sleep. I eased open the bedroom door and was closing it carefully after me when a voice from the darkness near the top of the stairs made me start.
“Restless, Mrs. Douglas? Stealing out for a carouse while young Colin sleeps?”
I whirled to see Captain Madison silhouetted in the moonlight pouring in through a tall window at the end of the hallway. His shirt was open to the waist, revealing a hard expanse of chest. There was a distinct odor of rum about him.
“I’m on my way to the kitchen for a glass of milk,” I whispered. “Please keep your voice down. I don’t want to awaken Colin. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
I had to get away from the man. The sudden quickening of my pulses at the nearness of his blatant virility appalled the rational side of me, titilla
ted the natural side.
“Milk? Or a man?” He moved closer. The giddy sensation I remembered experiencing with him that night on the deck of the Maris Stella washed over me. My heart began to beat an incessant tattoo, my entire body lighting up with a wild tingling.
“You’re drunk,” I accused, feigning disgust in a vain effort to still the rush of feeling threatening to overwhelm my common sense.
“Ah, oui,” he slurred. “Drunk and about to die and take a lot of good men with me.”
“Die?”
“Don’t let the idea distress you, my love.” His words reeked of sarcasm as he reached to run a finger slowly down my cheek. A shock that set my senses reeling glanced down through my body from the point of contact. “I may survive that January run with only minor frozen appendages. The chances aren’t great. So how would you feel about granting a condemned man a last wish?”
My breath caught in my throat. I could only stand staring mutely up into those charismatic charcoal eyes. In the dark shadows of the moonlighted hallway, Barrert Madison was a mesmerizing phantom lover, drawing me like a helpless moth into the flame of his desire. It was wrong, so wrong, and yet…
Colin pulled open the door behind me, breaking the spell as lamplight fell out over us.
I whirled to face him. Blinking sleepily, my husband ran his fingers through his tangled blond curls as he squinted out at us.
“Starr, what’s the matter?” he yawned.
“I…I was on my way to the kitchen for a glass of milk,” I stammered. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“That’s right, Colin,” Captain Madison said, fingering one of the tousled ringlets which fell about my shoulders, his words thick with sensuous innuendo. “Your wife was restless.”
Their implication brought Colin fully awake. He moved to my side to put his arm about my shoulders. “You’ve been drinking, Barret,” he said with amazing calm. “Go to bed.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Captain Madison stepped backward away from us and saluted. “A thousand pardons, young master. I thought perhaps you were inebriated again and had failed to satisfy this lovely little creature.”
Shadows of Love Page 13
