Regardless of what she had said, he followed her over to where Imelda and Fanny stood peering into the distance.
‘I told you so. Can you see it?’ Imelda pointed.
There, just visible on the horizon, was the tiny shape of a ship.
Sarah’s heart was still racing from what had just almost happened between them, her blood still rushing, her cheeks still scalding. She glanced at Daniel Alexander, but his gaze was focused firmly on the distant ship. Nothing could disguise the presence that emanated from him—strength and power and determination. His hair ruffled in the wind. The angles and planes of his face sharpened, honing his handsomeness. His eyes darkened and all around him she felt the aura of danger. Sarah shivered just to see it.
‘Aunt Sarah?’
‘I see it, Imelda.’ But she was not looking at the ship.
‘Is it a pirate ship?’ whispered Imelda.
‘There are no pirates in these waters,’ replied Sarah. ‘Only merchant ships such as the Angel and ships of the King’s navy.’ There were other navies too, not all of whom would be friendly towards a British merchant vessel, but Sarah did not want to frighten her niece by saying so.
‘But what about...?’ Imelda gestured her eyes towards Daniel Alexander.
Sarah pretended not to notice.
‘Aunt Sarah?’
‘I think it is time we retired to our cabins.’
‘But the ship...’ protested Imelda.
‘Is sailing away from us,’ said Daniel Alexander in a low serious voice.
Imelda cast big wide eyes at him.
He became aware of the way they were looking at him and the harsh focus dropped from his face. He smiled and was transformed to the man that they had come to know. ‘You need not worry, Miss Bowden, if they are pirates they have changed their mind about coming back for me.’
‘And if they are the King’s navy looking to catch you?’
A shadow moved in his eyes—there, then gone in a second. ‘Then I have had a lucky escape.’ Daniel Alexander gave a cheeky tug at one of Imelda’s pigtails and grinned.
Imelda giggled.
It was as if the moment had never happened...almost. For Sarah could feel the tension about Daniel Alexander and see the way his focus returned to linger long and cool on the distant ship.
She followed Fanny guiding Imelda back down to the cabins, leaving him to watch the last trace of the ship disappear. But what she had seen reminded her that Daniel Alexander was a man she did not know, for all it felt otherwise. And what had almost happened between them, in broad daylight, before Imelda and the Angel’s crew... She closed her eyes at how close she had come, despite all that she had resolved about men. But Daniel Alexander was different from other men. The time had come to stop lying to herself and admit the truth—that she was attracted to him, more than attracted to him. She wanted him in all the ways that a woman could want a man. And that was too risky a place for Sarah. Especially when the man involved was a tall handsome Highlander who was dangerous possibly to more than just a woman’s heart.
She knew now, that when it came to Daniel Alexander she could trust neither herself nor him. Nine days to Plymouth and she was going to have to avoid him for every one of them.
Chapter Three
Sarah Ellison’s niece and maid were alone when they appeared on deck the next day.
‘Oh, there you are, Mr Alexander.’ The wee lassie had already knocked her bonnet askew and was fidgeting at the ribbons. ‘Any sight of the pirate ship today?’
‘Not one, Miss Bowden,’ he said. Thank God!
‘Maybe tomorrow.’ She seemed cheerily hopeful.
‘Maybe.’
‘They are sure to come and fetch you.’
Daniel hoped not. ‘Your aunt does not accompany you today?’
‘She says she is busy with her needlework.’ Busy avoiding him, more like, after his carelessness the previous day. Imelda came to stand by his side. ‘You like Aunt Sarah, don’t you?’
‘I like Mrs Ellison very much.’
‘I thought so,’ said Imelda. ‘She likes you too.’
‘I am glad to hear it.’
‘Although she will not admit it.’
Daniel gave an encouraging nod. ‘Because she misses Mr Ellison?’ He knew it was unfair of him to ask the bairn, but he wanted very much to know what it was that Sarah Ellison was hiding.
Imelda snorted. ‘I do not think that likely!’
‘Why not, Miss Bowden?’
Imelda poked at a mark on the deck with the toe of her shoe. ‘She did not like him very much.’
‘Miss Imelda...’ warned the maid.
Imelda sent her an insolent look in return.
‘Mrs Ellison told you this?’
‘Of course, not. Aunt Sarah would never say such things to me. I am only ten years old!’ She looked at him as if he were a simpleton, then glanced away with a guilty expression. ‘I once overheard my mama and papa talking about it. They said he was a scoundrel.’
‘But your aunt still wears her widow’s weeds four years after his death.’
‘Only to dissuade gentlemen. Aunt Sarah is very pretty,’ said Imelda and drew him a knowing look. ‘And very rich. Lots of gentlemen want to marry her.’ Imelda smiled.
‘That is understandable,’ said Daniel.
‘But Aunt Sarah doesn’t want to marry again, so she pretends she is still in mourning so that she doesn’t have to go to balls and routs, and be thought on the marriage mart, but the gentlemen called just the same. Mr Mallory, Mr Watkins, Mr Taverner—’ Imelda’s list was interrupted by the maid.
‘That is quite enough, Miss Imelda. Your aunt would be very angry if she knew what you were saying.’
‘Do you really want her to marry Mr Taverner?’ Imelda demanded.
‘Of course not, miss, but—’
‘Is your aunt then interested in marrying this Mr Taverner?’ Despite his apparent relaxed stance, Daniel’s senses sharpened as he waited for the answer.
Imelda gave a visible shudder at the thought and checked around before leaning forwards in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘It is true that they were courting...’
‘For the past few months,’ added the maid. ‘First man since Mr Ellison passed away. A real charmer is Mr Taverner, when he wants to be, and right handsome too.’
‘Anyway,’ Imelda resumed the story again, ‘Mr Taverner came to visit two weeks ago, late at night. Fanny and I sneaked downstairs and spied on them.’
Daniel raised an eyebrow at the maid, whose entire face flushed scarlet.
‘I was worried for Mrs Ellison, sir.’
‘We both were. I know it is not a nice thing to do, but Uncle Robert wouldn’t have fitted that spy hole through from his library to the drawing room if spying were really so terrible, would he?’ The wee lassie looked up at Daniel in total innocence.
‘I suppose not,’ he said, wondering what manner of man Sarah Ellison had been married to.
‘So that was how we came to see Mr Taverner pushing Aunt Sarah against the wall and hear him shouting that the gossip was a lie—that he hadn’t kissed another lady—’ she added as an aside.
‘Oh, the louse more than kissed her, sir,’ said the maid, puffing up her chest in righteous indignation.
‘He said that if Aunt Sarah did not marry him he would tell everyone...’ Imelda screwed up her face in confusion. ‘I didn’t really understand what it was he was going to tell everyone, only that it would ruin Aunt Sarah’s reputation.’
Daniel looked at Fanny for further explanation.
The maid’s lips tightened. She cast a sideways glance at her charge before bringing her eyes back to his and saying diplomatically, ‘Mrs Ellison is the height of respectability, but he was going to tell
them otherwise, that she had succumbed to his...’ she raised her eyebrows ‘...charm.’
So the bastard was blackmailing her.
‘He said that Aunt Sarah had until Christmas to give him her answer. The next day my aunt decided we should go home to England for the holidays.’ Imelda narrowed her eyes. ‘So you see now why it would be a good thing if someone else was to marry Aunt Sarah before she goes back to New York. Someone who could run Mr Taverner through with his cutlass.’
‘I see perfectly.’ Little wonder that Sarah Ellison was thinking of moving to England for good.
‘You do have a cutlass, don’t you?’
‘I have a sword that is much better than a cutlass for running villains through, Miss Bowden.’
‘Good.’ Imelda gave a sigh of relief. ‘You will not speak of what I have told you to anyone else will you, especially not Aunt Sarah.’
‘My lips are sealed, lass.’
‘Shake hands on it.’ Imelda looked very serious.
She had forgotten to put on her gloves and her small hand was both cold and sticky beneath his, but the bairn loved her aunt and she had told him something of what he wanted to know, and he was grateful for both.
‘I knew I could trust you, Mr Alexander.’
* * *
There was a curious dearth of wind. Through the porthole in the cabin that Imelda shared with Fanny, Sarah watched the sky change. It was the third day she had kept to her cabin and even now, even watching what she was, and even knowing what she did, there was a part of her that wanted to be up there on deck, to see the sky overhead, and feel the wind on her cheeks...and be with him. She pressed her lips firm and concentrated on the view.
Great clouds, dark and thick, belched across the sky, drawing with them a deep dull grey curtain tinged faint with yellow hue. She watched it close until only a peek of brightness remained in one small corner. And then that, too, was gone. The wind picked up, cracking the canvas stretched tight against the strain. From up on deck came shouts as the Angel’s sailors raced to lower the sails.
A knock sounded at the cabin door and Fanny answered it.
‘I wish to speak to Mrs Ellison.’
Sarah’s heart stumbled at the deep Scottish voice that sent delicious shivers chasing across her skin, and then kicked to a gallop. She stood where she was and did not look round.
‘Mr Alexander is here to see you, ma’am. Are you in to visitors?’ Fanny stood by her side, saying the ridiculous words. The door gaped wide. He stood so close he could have reached across and touched her shoulder.
She wanted so much to turn and look into those steady blue eyes.
‘No visitors today, Fanny,’ she said and knew that, however wrong it felt, she was doing the right thing.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Fanny dipped a curtsy.
Sarah kept her gaze fixed on the darkening sky and held her breath. The click of the closing door never came.
‘Mrs Ellison, you may be avoiding me, but...’
She turned and saw Daniel Alexander with his hand splayed firm against the door.
‘How dare you, sir?’
‘There is a storm coming,’ he said calmly, ignoring both her protestation and her wishes, which fuelled her outrage all the more.
‘You overestimate your importance, sir! I have not been avoiding you.’
He crooked an eyebrow. ‘Three days without a foot on deck. Taking the ginger, are you?’
Her cheeks burned. ‘If you would be so kind as to leave now.’
He made no move. ‘As I said, ma’am, there is a storm brewing.’
‘I can see the sky, Mr Alexander. I am quite well aware there is a storm brewing.’
‘Good. You’ll be ready to be secured to the mast then.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
He produced a coiled length of rope.
She looked at the rope and then at him. ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’
‘It is no joke, Mrs Ellison.’ But it was the look in his eyes, more than the grave sincerity of his words, that made her realise he was in earnest.
‘We are not dogs to be tethered, sir!’
‘It is clear, madam, that you underestimate the ferocity of a storm at sea.’ His voice was soft but determined.
‘Sir, I will have you know that we suffered a storm two days after leaving New York.’
‘That was not a storm.’
‘How do you know?’ she demanded. ‘You were not here to see it.’
‘I know because you are arguing with me rather than begging to be tied to the mast.’ He gestured towards the great thick wooden mast passed through the deck, but his eyes held hers with a strength that made it impossible to look away.
‘But I do not want to be tied up!’ Imelda protested.
‘And neither you will be,’ said Sarah.
‘Mrs Ellison, perhaps I am not making myself clear—’
But she cut him off with a fury. ‘We will be fine in our cabins, Mr Alexander. As we were before. I bid you good day, sir!’ She moved to close the door.
But Daniel took a step forwards to meet her. He stood there, so tall and imposing that she had never been more aware of his strength or masculinity.
‘I must insist, Mr Alexander.’ They were standing so close that she had to tip her head back to see his face.
‘So must I, Mrs Ellison.’
‘You cannot seriously mean to tie us to the mast?’ Her eyes flicked to the rope coiled in his hand.
‘You’ll thank me afterwards.’
There was a heartbeat of horrified silence as she raised her gaze to his once more.
‘No!’ Imelda dodged round him and ran.
‘Imelda! Stop!’ But Sarah’s shouts went unheeded.
At the far end of the deck the Angel’s crew were busy securing the cargo.
Imelda did not stop. She ran straight for the hatch ladder that would give her escape to the upper deck.
Sarah chased after her niece, but Daniel was faster, reaching the bottom of the ladder and climbing just as Imelda stepped off the top.
‘Stay below, Mrs Ellison. I’ll fetch her.’
But Sarah knew, with Imelda so frightened, that if anyone had a hope of fetching her it was Sarah herself. She took the rungs two at a time, desperate to reach her niece, but what she saw when she emerged on deck was a place she did not recognise.
Sarah stood there and stared around her in horror. It was like a scene from hell except there was no fire, no colour, only wildness and darkness and rain that was not rain. It was a deluge, heavy, icy, stinging as a vertical sheet of hail, deafening as Thor’s fingers, drumming against the wooden deck. Furious. Ruthless. Relentless. It felt like it was flaying the skin from her bones. And through the horror there was no sign of either Imelda or Daniel Alexander.
‘Imelda!’ she screamed. ‘Imelda!’ So loud as to scrape her throat raw, but it was as nothing against the onslaught.
Shadow figures rippled through the dark curtain of water and Sarah stumbled towards them, shouting Imelda’s name for all she was worth. Her heavy, cold skirts wrapped themselves around her legs, impeding her all the more. Her hair was plastered against her face. Blinded by the rain, she felt her way.
And then running out of the hell scene came Daniel with Imelda in his arms.
He grabbed Sarah’s hand and dragged her with him as they sprinted towards the open hatch.
He took no notice of the ladder, just swung Sarah round and lowered her into the hole. She jumped the rest of the small distance to the deck below, turning just in time to see Daniel slide with his feet alone down the edges of the ladder, as if he had done such a thing a thousand times before.
From up above the wind screamed a war cry against the ocean’s roar and the A
ngel began to reel.
‘To the foremast. Now!’ he commanded.
And this time, not one of them disobeyed.
The rope was where he had dropped it halfway along the deck. He caught it up as they ran. And when they reached the foremast he stood Sarah, Imelda and Fanny around it and bound them in place.
‘Where are you going?’ Sarah asked.
‘The main mast.’ He gestured to the aft of the ship. ‘Just there. No further.’
She nodded, took a breath and felt the rain run from her sodden hair to drip down her face.
‘Are you all right, Imelda?’ She glanced down at her niece.
‘I’m frightened, Aunt Sarah.’
‘Everything is going to be fine. It is just a storm and storms pass.’ She squeezed Imelda’s little hand within her own and forced a smile. ‘Is that not so, Mr Alexander?’ She met his gaze, afraid that it was not going to be fine at all.
‘It is, Mrs Ellison.’ His voice was calm and reassuring, his eyes steady upon hers.
I’m sorry, she wanted to say. What is coming? she wanted to ask. But she knew she could utter not one word of it before Imelda.
‘Let go of the fear, lass.’ He touched his fingers lightly to her cheek, in what was almost a caress, and she had the feeling that it was not only fear of the coming storm he was talking about. The moment stretched as they stared into one another’s eyes. Then it was gone and he was bending down to Imelda and chucking her under the chin. ‘Your aunt is right. All storms eventually pass. Everything is going to be fine.’
‘Do you promise?’ The tremble in Imelda’s voice touched Sarah’s heart.
‘I promise, Miss Bowden.’
Fanny’s gaze met Sarah’s across the small distance. Sarah gave a nod and a smile of reassurance she did not feel.
‘But it will get worse before it gets better again. And as a pirate’s friend you will have to be brave. Can you be brave for me?’
‘Have you been through many storms, Mr Alexander?’
‘Very many.’
‘And it has always worked out fine?’
A Sprinkling of Christmas Magic Page 22
