by Jamie Carie
“What makes you think she will listen to me? I mean, look at her!”
“Just keep her away from my men.”
As the elegant couple drew closer, Dorian sucked in his breath. She was tall by standard, her head reaching just above his shoulder. Her golden hair was swept up into the monstrous hat, a hat that matched the most arresting bluish violet eyes he had ever seen. He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach and had to order himself to breathe again.
She soon came to be standing in front of him. She tilted her head back to see his face from under the wide brim. As her gaze met his it seemed a sparking electricity, the kind of which the famed Benjamin Franklin told about with his kite, passed between them, jolting him with its suddenness and strength. She blinked, surprise filling her brilliant gaze as if she too felt it and then quickly lowered her eyes. Dorian noted the small nose with two tiny freckles on it and then his gaze became fixed on a pair of cherry-colored lips, the color of his mother’s prized roses back home. He wanted to lean in and kiss them. Absurd. And stupid to even let the thought cross his mind. What was wrong with him? His mind screamed the question while his body stood as taunt as a mainmast in the wind. She was going to be a whole new kind of trouble. He looked down at her and scowled.
Kendra’s glimpse of the man had only lasted a few seconds but his image burned in her mind. She’d never met an American before and he looked as wild as she’d heard them to be, handsome in a rugged way that she was unaccustomed to. His face was tan, so different from the milky white complexions she was used to seeing. He had rather long, dark hair that had been brushed back from chiseled features and waved in the breeze. His eyes were a cerulean blue with silver flecks in them and filled with piercing intensity and . . . disdain. Thick black brows arched almost wickedly over his eyes. His chin was square with a small cleft and she sensed he may have a dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. Small lines stood on either side of his well-molded mouth. His lips were slightly wide with even white teeth peering behind them. Kendra peeked up through her lashes and saw broad shoulders and a wide chest. He looked like a pirate she’d once read about. Goodness Lord, I didn’t know You made such men for real!
Peeking up at his face she saw him frown with such a look of disapproval in his eyes that it took her aback. What had she done to cause him to give her such a look?
Her eyes widened as she realized the turn of her thoughts. What did she care if this captain didn’t like her? Heathen, blackguard, thieving pirate most likely! But she did care and that made her all the angrier. Of all the injustices, first she was being thrown out of her home and then there was this, this, man whom she would be forced to spend the next few weeks with, maybe even alone with . . . Oh goodness, she had to get these wandering thoughts under control. Goodness! Self-control!
The other man rushed to make the introductions. “Lord Townsend, this is Captain Colburn and I am John Lucas. And this must be your niece?”
Andrew nodded, peering down his nose at Kendra. “This is the Lady Townsend.”
Kendra dipped her head toward John but ignored the captain as Andrew continued. “I have the payment we agreed upon and instructions for some overland travel once you’ve reached America. As your fee is exorbitant, you will see to it that she is safely delivered?” Andrew pulled out a clinking purse and pressed it into John’s hand.
Kendra frowned. Where had her uncle come up with so much money?
“Of course, sir.” John assured her uncle. “We will see her safely delivered.”
The captain cleared his throat and John rushed to correct the statement. “That is, I will see that she finds her destination, sir.”
Well at least this John fellow seemed decent enough. The captain obviously didn’t want anything to do with her.
Andrew turned to Kendra, gave her an awkward pat and a peck on the back of her hand, which she wrenched out of his grasp, then spun about on his heel and left. Kendra raised her chin a notch, trying to still the traitorous quiver of her bottom lip. She ignored the captain and looked at the kind face of the other man. “I’m ready to board, sir.” When she glanced at the captain she saw that he was glowering in the direction of her uncle’s back. Well, let him scowl! She was on her way to America and meant to make the most of her new life.
John offered Kendra his arm and saluted the captain with a secretive smile. “I’ll just be about my duties to the lady, sir. As you directed.”
Kendra looked from the gleeful, teasing eyes of John to the thunderous gaze of the captain, as he replied, “See that you do.”
John turned to her and flashed a bright smile. “After you’re settled, I’d be happy to show you around the ship.”
“Why thank you, sir. It is so good to see that some Americans have gracious manners.”
John made a choking sound as he hurried them away, leaving the pirate, as she chose to think of him, to follow behind with the trunks.
“I do believe I’ve upset the captain. He has been looking daggers at me since the moment we met, but I can’t fathom what I’ve done,” Kendra confessed to John when they were out of his hearing distance.
John only shot her a knowing smile and murmured, “So I noticed. I do believe, my dear lady, that this voyage is going to be very interesting.”
Kendra paced the short breadth of the cabin she had so impulsively confined herself to. She did hope that the nice man, John Lucas, would come back for the promised tour of the ship. And where were her trunks? For goodness sake, the captain was right behind them when she boarded. They held all of her belongings in the world and she wasn’t about to let the ship sail without them.
Peeping out the door, she looked down the narrow passageway. A man was just going out of sight around a corner.
“Excuse me, sir,” she called out, waving her arm.
The man turned around and then gaped at her with slack-jawed astonishment.
“I’m looking for my trunks. Could you be so kind as to check with the captain as to their whereabouts?”
“Three big trunks? We just carried them up to the first mate’s bunk. But I’ll let the captain know you’re wantin’ them, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Well, if she didn’t quite have the nerve to search the ship for the elusive captain, at least she could get a message to him, and she felt better just knowing her things were on board. Kendra shut the door and studied the room. It was something of a surprise—elegant and well appointed, complete with a high feather bed and satin counterpane the color of thick cream. There was a mahogany writing desk and chair in the corner and a rectangular table made of a peculiar light-colored wood with two matching chairs that looked as if it had come from some exotic island. The cabin would be well-lit at night with plenty of candles in elegant silver candlesticks and an oil lamp of modern design on the desk. Bookshelves lined the walls where, after a quick perusal, she found a few novels such as Robinson Crusoe, a book of fables, and poetic titles roaming between volumes on natural history and nautical interests.
Walking to the lamp, Kendra lit the wick to better illuminate the room. She was surprised to find that the furniture was secured to the floor, but as the ship rocked to one side, nearly knocking her off balance, she realized the wisdom in this. She carried the lantern to a table beside the most lavish piece of furniture in the room, a deep-shelved armoire. She opened it, her hand gliding across the enameled brown and gold doors to find it full of the captain’s clothes.
Before she had time to stop and think what she was doing she had pulled out a crisp, white shirt. It unfolded itself in a neat motion and hung from her fingertips. She held it closer, closed her eyes, and breathed in the captain’s scent—brine and wind, the sea, male—her insides slid and a melting feeling washed over her.
Goodness gracious! She balled the shirt up, threw it toward the back of the armoire, and slammed the door shut. What had gotten into her? She must, at all costs, avoid this captain of the Angelina!
Kendra woke early the next morning and wa
ndered out onto the deck of the ship. She stood at the railing letting the gentle breeze soothe her rattled mind and body. Yesterday she had stubbornly remained in the cabin and missed their departure, which she regretted now. It could have been her last view of her homeland and she had let that infuriating captain keep her hibernated in the stuffy cabin. Well, that wouldn’t happen again.
She looked down at the endless lapping waves of the sea against the hull of the ship and breathed deeply of the salt-laden air, but her calm was unsettled due to the prickling sensation that she was being gawked at. Kendra glanced around and couldn’t help but notice all the stares she was receiving from the men who stood in various positions of pretending to work behind her.
Dorian watched, transfixed, as Lady Townsend approached the railing of his ship, his ship, with a mixture of awe and anxiety churning in his stomach. The sun shone bright on her uncovered head. She was wearing the plum dress but this time her hat dangled from her hand, feathers trailing the wood boards of the deck that had been scoured with sand until they were almost white. She raised her hand to her eyes and looked out over the endless gray waves to the sunrise. The light was rosy on her face, making her hair come alive with glints of gold.
He expelled a breath and then clenched his jaw closed as he realized he’d been holding it in. His view couldn’t be better, directly above her on the quarterdeck. It also afforded him a bird’s-eye view of his crew. As reality returned to him, the commotion she was causing with his men became evident. Anger flared into his cheeks. Get control, man. And get control of this ship!
His booted steps rang out on the wooden stairs as he marched down to her side. He came up behind her, leaned in, and rasped out in a quick staccato in a voice that never failed to cause his men to pale with fear and rush to obey. “I remember ordering you to remain in your cabin.” He took a firm grasp on her elbow.
She swung toward him, her violet gaze a rapier’s thrust. The nearness of her, the touch of the silky skin of her upper arm left him rolling, reeling, like a rowboat in the midst of rising thirty-foot waves. Her gaze narrowed at his tone. “But my dear captain, since you ignored my message last night I was forced to search you out myself and find the whereabouts of the mysterious disappearance of my trunks.” Her voice lowered to a soft purr. “It seems you only deem yourself worthy of their care.”
Dorian bit his tongue, shoved what he wanted to say back down inside, and took a step back. The woman was enough to make a saint curse. “If it’s only trunks that you seek, then by all means, we will fetch them this instant.”
He turned away to order the trunks delivered to her.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. It was a mere brush of a touch but it seared his skin and his muscles jumped where her fingertips encountered his upper arm. It took him a moment to be able to concentrate on her tirade.
“Captain, let us come to an understanding. I will not be locked up in a stuffy cabin during the entire voyage. You cannot treat me like a prisoner. I am a paid passenger and expect a passenger’s rights.”
Dorian found himself gazing at her fast-moving lips, thinking how he would like to take her into his arms and kiss her silent. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sensation that someone had stuffed his mind with wool. “This, Lady Townsend, is not a passenger ship. Therefore you have no rights. I am captain of this ship and you will obey my orders like the rest of this crew.” When she opened her mouth to argue, Dorian cut her off. “This is for your own good. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the attention you are receiving from my men.” Her stunning eyes widened at the statement but he didn’t believe her. She must be aware of her feminine charms. “I will not have my men distracted from their duties to satisfy the vanity of a spoiled English lady.”
Kendra gasped as if she’d been slapped. “Your opinion is formed from your vast experience with the ton, I presume? Why, I’m quite certain a man like yourself”—she allowed her glance to flick down to his feet and then back up to his furious gaze with all the condescension she’d seen her uncle Andrew flay someone alive with—“has attended any number of social events with the aristocracy. Next, you’ll be telling me you are on excellent terms with the king. Ha. You’re little but a heathen and a-a American pirate!” As soon as the words flew from her mouth she stopped, eyes widening as shame filled her. Lord, forgive me. I don’t know what’s come over me!
It’s not My forgiveness that you need to seek. The words thundered in her ears as her face filled with heat. Taking a step back she bit her lower lip and peeked up at the captain’s face, which had turned ashen with shock and anger. “I’m sorry. That was ill played of me.” Kendra looked at the floor, at his boots, and thought she quite deserved to have to polish them. Maybe if she offered . . .
When he didn’t say anything, just stood there as one frozen with the shock of her audacity, she began to babble. “Of course I don’t want to cause any trouble, and I had no idea that I was, uh, doing that, you must believe me. But really, I cannot possibly be confined to that cabin all of the time. Isn’t there some arrangement we can make so that I can go above to get some fresh air, properly escorted, of course?”
“I keep a sparse crew. There is no one aboard this ship who can give you a proper escort,” the captain said with a dry note lacing his deep voice.
“Not even yourself?”
“I am quite busy running this ship and I don’t have time to escort a woman on strolls.” But he sounded uncertain. The captain took a step toward her and searched her eyes. Kendra met his gaze and held it, waiting, knowing he was battling with the decision of what to do with her. His face changed from stiff and stoic to resigned. “As I can see that you are trying to be reasonable and compromise, I would be willing to escort you above in the early morning and after dinner when most of my men are not on deck. That is, if you don’t sleep well into the morning as most English ladies are apt to do.”
Oh! Had there ever been a man more provoking? Patience! She took a deep breath and said in as calm a voice as she could manage, “I will have you know that I am up before the servants and will be dressed and ready at any time you wish.”
The captain gave her an assessing look then turned to leave.
“What about my trunks?” Kendra asked after him.
He paused but did not turn to look at her. “Go to your cabin, Lady Townsend. I will have them brought to you immediately.”
Her heart pounded as she hurried to the cabin. As soon as the door closed Kendra fell back on the bed with a groan. Had she really called him a heathen pirate to his face? She grimaced at the outrageousness of her insult, remembering how those silver-blue eyes held her caught and confused. The power he had to make her angry and giddy, hot and cold at the same time, was distressing. He was like no one she’d ever met.
Shaking her head, she tried to put some sense to her thoughts. She needed to be planning her future not daydreaming about an arrogant captain. He was part of her problem anyway. If he hadn’t been so eager to take her as a passenger aboard this ship, she might have had more time to try and convince Andrew to let her stay home and stay unmarried. Why had Andrew been so stubborn and determined to get her out of his life? That was a question she had no answer for.
She rolled over and curled into a ball, grasping the elegant coverlet with one hand. If only she had someone to talk to about these rollicking emotions. The gaping hole in her chest expanded and ached as she thought of her father. She had always been able to talk to him about anything.
A psalm came to her mind: “A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.” Oh Lord, I need that right now. Please be my Father and guide me. Help me control my tongue around that man. Help me behave in a way pleasing to You. I’ve never felt this way before. He makes me so . . . mad and frustrated and . . . thrilled and excited, all at the same time. What is happening to me?
Chapter Five
Dorian hurried through his dinner in anticipation of his duties as
escort. He watched himself with self-loathing as he shoveled in the food on his plate at record pace but he couldn’t seem to help it. There was a growing anticipation, like when dark clouds swirled and the waves began to heave, at the thought of seeing her again that he had never had with a woman before. What was it about her that held him captive, like moth to flame? He’d never been the moth; he had always been the flame. Women had tried to ensnare him for years, using every trick in the book. But none of them had ever made his heart pound as it did when he was sparring with the sharp-witted Lady Townsend.
Minutes later Dorian stood outside her door, his door, he corrected with a flash of irritation, took a short breath, and knocked.
“Come in,” her sweet voice called.
He opened the door, feeling large and clumsy as he entered the cabin. His voice came out in gruff disharmony to hers, “Are you ready for your fresh air?”
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to come tonight, but I would love to get out of this cabin for a little while. Do you think we shall see the sunset? I do imagine that the best parts of sailing are the sunrise and sunset.” She flashed him a brilliant smile that gave his knees a strange weakness. He barely heard her feminine chatter.
He cleared his throat, noticing the simple blue gown and low-scooped neckline. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from her rising and falling bosom. He cleared his throat again and turned his head toward the wall. “The wind is a bit cool tonight, you should take a cloak.”
“Yes, of course. I imagine the wind blowing off the cold Atlantic can be quite chilly at night, even in the summertime. I have so much to learn about ship life. Have you been sailing long?” It would seem she wanted to start anew and had forgiven his earlier comments. She reached for a blue satin cloak that was hanging on one of the hooks beside his bed as the stream of chatter continued.
