* * *
Three days passed before Sarah saw the man again.
She was taking the air with ten-year-old Imelda and their maid, Fanny. As the only passengers on the schooner Captain Davies allowed them to come up on deck as they pleased, weather permitting.
The sky was grey-white, the water, cold and choppy and dark. The wind was stiff and unremitting, blowing its damp chill through every nook and cranny of the boat. Yet still Sarah sought it out at every opportunity.
‘I think I see something over there!’ Since the rescue of the man they had learned was a businessman returning to London from New York, Imelda still had not given up hope of spotting something equally exciting in the water.
‘It is just the wind on the waves, Imelda.’ Sarah stared out at the place to which her niece pointed.
‘I bet that’s what Mr Seymour said to you when you saw Mr Alexander in the water.’
Sarah gave a wry smile and breathed in another lungful of air.
‘Perhaps it is another of Mr Alexander’s pirate crew.’ Imelda had spent the past week reading An Investigation into Monsters, Myths and Villains of the Oceans and so was obsessed with the idea that the rescued man was a pirate. ‘They have hatched a ploy to sneak on to the Angel one by one.’ Imelda was warming to her theme. She had read the chapter on pirates twice already. ‘They mean to rob us and make us walk the plank. And we will be eaten by sharks.’
Fanny’s eyes slid to Sarah’s and the women exchanged smiles before Fanny answered the little girl. ‘Do you really think so, Miss Imelda?’
‘Of course, why else would Mr Alexander be in the Atlantic ocean waiting to be rescued by the Angel? I tell you he is a pirate captain with a plan to steal our jewels.’
A deep masculine voice sounded. ‘My, I cannot help but notice what a very pretty bracelet you are wearing, miss.’
The three figures spun round. Imelda gave a shriek of horror, Fanny’s face flushed puce, and Sarah found herself looking into the eyes of the man she had last seen lying half-drowned upon the deck.
‘Forgive me if I startled you,’ he said, ‘but as there is no one to introduce us I find I must introduce myself.’
Imelda and Fanny were staring at him, eyes like saucers. Sarah felt like doing the same.
He was a devastatingly handsome man. Now that it was dry, his hair was a light ashen brown, cut short and feathered in the wind. His nose was strong and straight, his mouth, both determined and sensual, with a hint of amusement about it. He was taller than she had anticipated, and the borrowed brown coat he was wearing was too tight across his broad shoulders. Fortunately the clean white shirt beneath it decently covered his chest this time and he was wearing a dark neckcloth. Sarah swallowed.
‘I am Daniel Alexander.’ His soft Scottish lilt stroked against her ear to the nape of her neck and all the way down her spine. He bowed. ‘And I am very pleased to meet you, at last.’
Sarah ignored the increased patter of her heart and curtsied. ‘I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr Alexander.’ She met his gaze with a cool calmness she did not feel. ‘I am Mrs Ellison and this is my niece, Miss Bowden.’
Imelda appeared to have been struck dumb and motionless.
‘Imelda,’ prompted Sarah.
Imelda dropped a hurried curtsy.
‘It seems that I owe you my life and my thanks, Mrs Ellison.’ He extended his hand to shake hers.
Her eyes took in his lack of gloves, and the long bare fingers, making her heart speed all the more. She hesitated, but knew she could not refuse to shake his hand.
His clear blue eyes were calm and steady and smiling as she finally grasped just the tip of his fingers. Even through the kid leather of her gloves his touch was warm and disturbing, sending tingles of awareness all the way up her arm.
‘I did no more than any person would have done.’ She withdrew her hand too quickly, turning to the ocean view once more, both to hide her embarrassment and to terminate the conversation.
But Mr Daniel Alexander was not so easily dismissed. ‘Not according to Captain Davies.’
‘Captain Davies is too kind.’ She allowed just enough of an edge to her voice—of reserve and distance. She kept her gaze fixed on the grey-blue waves with their white-flecked heads.
From the corner of her eye she saw him smile. ‘Then I must be thankful that your eyesight is so keen and your powers of persuasion so determined.’
She said nothing, just stared out to the sea, waiting for him to leave, but much to her consternation Mr Alexander showed no sign of leaving. The silence stretched until Sarah was embarrassed by her rudeness to the man who had come so close to death.
Unable to bear it any longer, she glanced round at him, her eyes moving over the bandage fixed upon his forehead and the fading bruising on his cheekbone and jawline. ‘Are you recovered from your accident, sir?’
‘Very well recovered, thank you.’ His voice was easy. He smiled again. A self-assured smile. A smile that made her stomach flutter with nerves and other things. Oh Lord! She was not attracted to him.
She gave a curt nod and turned back to the safety of the ocean. The civilities had been exchanged. He should walk away now.
There was another silence in which only the wind blew and the water slapped against the boat.
‘Are you travelling on from Plymouth, Mrs Ellison?’
‘I am, sir.’ She glanced across, meeting his eyes, and holding them with the clear message, Go away, sir. I have no wish to converse with you, or tell you anything of myself.
But Mr Daniel Alexander’s gaze was unfazed. Indeed, she could see in it something that looked like amusement.
‘We are for Bowden, near Totnes in Devon. My Aunt Sarah is returning me to my family for Christmas. I stayed on a little longer after their recent visit to my aunt’s home in New York.’
Sarah suppressed the sigh.
‘I’m sure you must be looking forward to the reunion, Miss Bowden.’ His eyes were laughing, even though his mouth was all politeness.
Imelda’s face was a picture of honesty. ‘Immensely so.’ She grinned, before hastily adding, ‘Not that I would not have enjoyed Christmas in New York. I loved staying with my aunt.’
‘Naturally.’ Then, with a look at Sarah that said he knew he was baiting her, asked, ‘So, how long have you lived in New York, Mrs Ellison?’
‘Some years.’
He smiled. ‘And yet your accent...’
‘Is as unAmerican as yours,’ she finished.
Their eyes duelled across the small distance, his with provoking merriment, hers, with a coolness she was finding increasingly difficult to maintain.
‘Your voice does sound funny.’ Imelda peered up at him. ‘Where are you from, Mr Alexander?’
‘Young ladies do not ask such questions,’ Sarah warned.
‘Do not scold the lass. She has a natural curiosity, and my accent is different from most she will hear in Devon or New York.’ He looked at Imelda. ‘I’m from the Highlands of Scotland.’
‘A Scottish pirate!’ Imelda breathed with something akin to reverence.
Sarah felt the blush warm her cheeks. ‘Imelda!’
‘Indeed, but let that be our secret, Miss Bowden.’ He lowered his voice, ‘You’ll help me keep a look out for any of those Royal Navy ships that come to catch me?’
‘Or your own pirate ship come to fetch you?’ Imelda nodded. ‘I will start straight away.’
‘I am in your debt, Miss Bowden.’ He bowed a deep formal bow.
Imelda dipped a low, wobbly curtsy.
Only then did he meet Sarah’s gaze again, with the hint of a smile playing about his lips. ‘I will leave you to enjoy the peace, Mrs Ellison.’ With a bow he walked away.
Sarah turned her back and faced out to the ocean once more, but her se
nse of peace had gone, shattered by the tall handsome Highlander. She was too aware that there were two more weeks to go before they reached Plymouth and, short of staying in her cabin, it was going to be very difficult to avoid meeting him again.
* * *
Daniel’s thoughts were on Mrs Ellison as he made his way to the small cabin that had been assigned to him. She was different from other women, most of whom were only too willing to talk, to flirt...and more. That slight standoffishness and prickly demeanour determinedly sent the message that she was not available, not interested. He smiled at that, remembering the transparency of her feelings before she had reluctantly agreed to shake his hand.
She was a very attractive woman. Too young to be a widow. Tall with silky dark hair and velvet brown eyes that hinted at passion and secrets hidden beneath that aloof respectability. And beautiful—perhaps not in the conventional sense of the word, but there was something about her that rendered her unforgettable. As if he ever could. Her image had been impressed upon his mind since he had seen her across the waves, standing on the Angel’s deck. Though Daniel had much more important things to be thinking about than a woman. Things that meant the difference between life and death. Things like Higgs.
The cabin door closed behind him. Sitting himself down at the little table, he put Mrs Ellison from his mind, dipped the pen in the inkwell and wrote the letter.
It was a letter he hoped would never be needed, but one that was a necessary insurance were the worst to happen. And as for Higgs... Daniel’s eyes narrowed with deadly intent. Until he reached England there was not a lot he could do about Higgs. The ship’s progress to the English coast was out of his hands; he could not will the wind to blow her there faster, no matter how much he wished it. For now, he was stuck here on the Angel, with the beautiful Mrs Ellison.
Had he not been up to his neck in this mess... Had she not been the woman who saved his life... Had it been any other time of year... Daniel Alexander shook his head and smiled at the irony of it. Fate could be both merciful and cruel in the games that she played upon a man.
Chapter Two
The moon was a silver crescent high in the sky when Sarah wiped the cold sweat from her face and sat the chamber pot aside, resting a little as the latest bout of retching subsided. The remnants of the evening’s paltry meal had long since been emptied from her stomach. At this rate she wondered if she would survive another fortnight and could only be thankful that Imelda and Fanny, sound asleep in the next cabin, were not here to witness the worst of it. The Angel heaved upon the waves and Sarah’s stomach followed suit. A quiet moan escaped her lips and, unable to bear it a moment longer, she rose from the bed, grabbed her cloak and lantern and quietly slipped from the tiny cabin.
Up on deck the wind was howling, catching beneath the long dark lengths of her cloak to billow it like wings on her back, and snatching the ribbon that secured her hair from the nape of her neck to set it free. The cold air nipped at her face, chasing away the nausea that roiled in her stomach. She breathed in great gulps of it, relishing the freshness, and with her lantern swaying in the wind, made her way to the bulwarks.
Gone was the smooth pale stretch of water. In its place was something dark and fierce and alive. The sea spray stung against her cheeks, the wind’s chill was like a knife through her dress and cloak, but she welcomed it. The cold heat in her head receded. The constant background roar of the ocean was louder up here than in the tiny cabin below, competing with the wind to fill her ears and yet still she heard the tiny noise and glanced in its direction. The dark figure was leaning against the bulwark only a few feet away.
She jumped and sucked in a small shriek.
‘Forgive me if I startled you, Mrs Ellison.’
‘Mr Alexander,’ she breathed. In the lantern light his face was all harsh planes and angles, dangerously handsome.
‘I did not expect company,’ he said.
‘Nor I.’ His presence made her glance behind to the hatch that would take her back down to the safety of her cabin below, the cabin in which the buck of the ship seemed so much worse. Her nausea rose just at the thought. She swallowed hard and dismissed any idea of leaving.
She gripped a hand to the top of the bulwark to steady herself, staring out at the blackness beyond, breathing deep to halt the sickness, swallowing again and again, determined not to reveal such weakness in front of him.
A large wave rolled beneath. The Angel dipped and kicked.
Sarah’s stomach reacted. The lantern slipped from her fingers to crash upon the deck as she leaned over the side and retched for all she was worth.
A strong arm fixed itself around her waist. A hand captured her wild flail of hair into a tail and held it secure. Daniel Alexander stood behind her.
‘What...?’ She tried to speak, tried to pull away, but the sickness was too pressing and the man too strong. ‘Oh, dear God...’ Her stomach heaved again.
‘Easy, lass,’ he soothed by her ear. ‘Any ocean can have a slyness to it. The waves are not always what you think and I’ve no mind to lose you over the side. One of us having a winter dip is enough to be getting on with.’ His grip was gentle but unyielding.
She stopped fighting both him and the sickness.
‘Breathe,’ that Highland lilt instructed. And again, so soft and soothing, ‘Breathe.’
And she obeyed. One breath of the bracing air, and then another, until eventually the nausea passed, leaving her spent and embarrassed.
‘You can release me,’ she murmured. ‘I’m all right now.’
He loosed his arm slowly as if he did not trust her words, moved to stand by her side, but stayed close. The wind caught at her freed hair, streaming it to dance long and wild. All her efforts to catch it back met only with minimal success.
‘Is it just at night that you suffer the seasickness?’
She shook her head and some more hair escaped. She gave up and let it billow free in the night. ‘I have felt sick since the moment we sailed out of New York. But it is worse at night.’
‘Sometimes it is the way of it.’
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as another wave of nausea clenched tight at her stomach. ‘Being up on deck helps. The fresh air, the openness...’
‘But this will help more.’ Through the darkness his hand took hers to press a small pouch into it. ‘Crystallised ginger.’
‘Just the thought of eating...’ She swallowed down the retch that threatened.
‘One piece, three times a day.’
A large wave reached up the bulwark to spray them both.
Sarah gave a sharp intake of air and backed away. ‘I will leave you to your contemplations.’
‘Shall we, Mrs Ellison?’ She sensed his movement to escort her.
‘I am quite capable of making my own way, sir.’
‘I am quite sure that you are.’ Again that smile in his voice. The high lantern on the mast caught the glint of the glass as he passed her her own expired lantern.
She looked to where the hatch should be and saw only shadowed shapes.
‘But I am finished my contemplations for the night.’
There was a tiny silence before she tucked her fingers within his arm, yielding to what she told herself was only common sense, and let him guide her through the darkness all the way to her cabin door.
‘Goodnight, Mrs Ellison.’
He turned and, heading for his own cabin, disappeared into the blackness.
She stood there until she heard the quiet open and closing again of his door before she slipped within her own.
* * *
Sarah was standing at her favourite spot out on deck. The waves were not too high nor the wind too strong. A fine smirr of rain was slowly wetting the wool of her cloak, but she did not mind. It was not the nausea she was escaping this mo
rning. She touched a hand to her pocket and Daniel Alexander’s pouch of crystalline ginger—it had worked a magic just as he had said. Down below Fanny was dressing Imelda’s hair while Imelda imagined stories of Mr Alexander’s pirate past. Sarah had no wish to hear of any more of the tall handsome Scotsman—even aside from last night and the memory of what he had witnessed.
He disturbed her in a way she had sworn never to let any man disturb her again. Not after Robert, and not after Brandon Taverner, who had brought back all those awful feelings she had thought finally laid to rest. She swallowed and it seemed she could still taste something of the bitterness, of the hurt and the shame. The memories from across those years, stirred up afresh, haunted her even now, standing here, looking out at the expanse before her, of sky and ocean merged in shades of sombre grey. They made her strong. They made her determined. They made her turn away from men like Daniel Alexander.
One breath and then another, focusing on the here and now, on the damp-chilled air with its tang of salt and seaweed. Closing her eyes, she let the wind blow the memories away so that she did not think, but only felt this moment. And there was peace in that.
Footsteps sounded behind her. The nape of her neck tingled and a shiver rippled down the length of her spine, banishing the peace. She did not have to open her eyes to know the man’s identity.
He was standing at the bulwark some distance away, looking out at her view of the ocean.
‘Mr Alexander.’
‘Mrs Ellison’—that soft lilt of the Highlands that made her name sound like a lover’s upon his lips. She blushed at the thought.
‘Do you mind if I join you in your view?’
Yes, she minded! Because she had no interest in encouraging any gentleman. Especially not gentlemen like him, men who made her feel... Made her feel nothing, she finished harshly. ‘The view is all yours. I was just leaving.’ Her voice was sharper because of the heat in her cheeks.
‘And you have no mind to talk to me this morning.’ He turned his face to look at her then, his eyes meeting hers.
She stopped, ashamed of her rudeness. He unnerved her. He made her behave in a way that would have had her mother turning in her grave. She took herself in hand. He was just a man like any other, and she would be polite. To be anything other would be an admission that he affected her. And he did not affect her. No man affected her any more. ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to be so ill mannered.’
A Sprinkling of Christmas Magic Page 20
