by Jamie Carie
Dorian stepped forward to fasten it for her, a movement of habit, as he would have done with his mother or sisters. He didn’t consider the differences of what he was doing until he was near enough to smell the light scent of some floral fragrance she must have applied. He didn’t usually care a jot about perfume, thinking it more a nuisance than an attraction, but something about the mix of lavender and mint perhaps, he wasn’t sure what it was, was pleasing to his senses. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Lady Townsend hesitated for a second, her gaze assessing, and then gave him a thoughtful smile and handed him the cloak. She turned, her hands reaching up by the slim column of her neck to grasp for it. Dorian’s hands just brushed across the cool skin of her neck before she grasped the ties and took a step away, but he was certain he’d heard a tight gasp when he touched her. She turned toward him, her face becoming pink, her gaze darting about the room, roving on anything but him.
Dorian held out his arm. “Shall we, my lady?”
Lady Townsend bit her lower lip with little white teeth and then took his arm, her prattle ceasing with the tension.
Minutes later they had traversed the narrow hall, climbed the stairs to the top deck of the ship, and were standing side by side at the railing. Dorian searched for a topic of conversation to get her mind off what had happened in the cabin and restore some semblance of normalcy to their outing. “Was the man who was with you when you boarded really your uncle?”
“Yes, he was my father’s twin brother.”
“Was?”
“My father died over a year ago.” As she said it a great heaviness seemed to fall upon her. Her slim shoulders drooped; she looked down and gazed into the lapping gray water.
She appeared so forlorn, standing there rubbing the backs of her arms as if to ward off the chill her words had caused. He fought the astounding urge that filled him—to take her into his arms and comfort her. Instead, he murmured, “I’m sorry, my lady. I am very close to my parents and can’t imagine the day when they will no longer be with me. It must be difficult for you.”
She looked up at him with a small, sad smile. There was a look of honesty and vulnerability in her face, glowing with the last rays of the sun, that took his breath away.
“Yes, it is. Thank you. And Captain. Please, call me Kendra. I find the phrase ‘my lady’ coming from you sounds more an insult than an honored title.”
She said it with soft humor, causing Dorian to look down and laugh. “Thank you, Kendra, I am honored. You, of course, must call me Captain, as I like hearing that word in your lilting English accent.”
Kendra smiled back at him with compressed lips and sparkling eyes. “That hardly seems fair, sir. Am I not to be included as a friend and an equal?”
“An equal? Why, my dear Kendra, no one is equal to the captain. If they were, chaos and anarchy would rule the high seas.”
The little minx flashed white teeth at him and bowed her head in acquiescence. “I see your point. Let us hope we don’t run into each other on land, as then I will expect to be told your given name.”
“Ah, yes. You travel to the countryside beyond Yorktown to nurse your aunt back to health?”
Kendra’s gaze snapped to his, confusion evident in her eyes. “To my knowledge, sir, my aunt is in perfect health.”
Dorian’s brows came together as he explained, “But your uncle told John that she is ill and in need of your care. We assumed that was the reason for your hasty departure and one of the reasons John agreed to taking on a passenger.”
Kendra looked away, but Dorian could see her rapidly batting lashes. That she was trying not to cry made him want to drive his fist into her uncle’s handsome face. “My uncle lied.” Her voice was shaky but angry too. “After my father died he tried to marry me off, and when that plan proved unsuccessful he made arrangements to ship me to my aunt, whom I have never met and know next to nothing about. You can see how badly he wanted rid of me.” A hiccup of sound came from her throat as she stared at something off in the distance.
Dorian’s arm strained to reach for her, but instead he kept it tight to his side. “The brute deserves to walk the plank,” he said in his best pirate voice, trying to distract her.
She made a choked little laugh and turned to look at him. Had anyone held her since her father’s death? Had anyone helped her with her grief? He thought of his large, happy family and found himself overcome with feelings of profound thankfulness and chagrin. He had so much love from family and friends, people who cared and doted on him . . . and he took it very much for granted. This brave, impish young woman seemed to have no one.
He took a step toward her, staring at the sunset with her. Her skirt brushed against his legs as he turned and looked down into her eyes. He smiled a slow smile. She was holding her breath and he could see her pulse throb at her throat. He lifted one hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek.
She swallowed hard, eyes wide. “Pirate.” She whispered.
Dorian’s grin deepened. “I can assure you, madam, that my business dealings are all above board. I’ve had fights with true pirates, though.” He lifted one brow and pressed his lips together in a grim smile. “Stories that would curl your toes.”
The motion of the waves caused the ship to dip. Kendra tumbled into his chest where his automatic response was to wrap his arms around her to keep her from falling. “Oh!” she yelped, and then sprang back with a gasp. She looked up at him with wide eyes, yanked her arms from his grasp. “I think I should retire now,” she rushed out. “Thank you for the walk, Captain.” She turned and fled from the deck, skirts swaying in her effort to take herself back to the cabin.
Dorian stood where she left him for a long time, gripping the rail and allowing the night air to cool his heated blood. She’d bewitched him. He barked out a laugh and turned to stare out at the cresting waves of endless sea. He’d been wrong to withhold his name from her.
After this night, perhaps he should be calling her captain.
Chapter Six
Perhaps avoiding her would help him regain his sanity.
At least that’s what he’d thought when he came up with the brilliant plan of commanding John to take over the duty of escorting Kendra on her twice daily turn around deck.
Dorian leaned over the quarterdeck rail and watched the two of them laughing as they came around the corner, Kendra’s hand tucked in the crook of John’s arm. She didn’t seem to miss him at all. No, she seemed perfectly happy to have John’s company. More happy and comfortable than with him. Jealousy, he decided, was a very unpleasant emotion. Not that John had any intentions toward her. John had been engaged for over a year and planned to marry Victoria at the end of the summer. Still, the more he tried to appear uninterested in his passenger, the more she haunted his mind.
And worse still, the crew was noticing something was amiss with their captain. He’d caught more than one hastily turned gaze or stopped conversation when he entered a room. And he’d barked orders in a tone that spoke of the raw edge to his nerves. It was astounding. How could a mere slip of a woman turn him into someone he didn’t know? For the first time in his life, he felt like he didn’t belong in his own skin.
The object of his thoughts laughed, causing his gaze to snap back down to her. John was leaning down and saying something close to Kendra’s ear. She looked up at his first mate with another laugh and joyous sparkle in her eyes. Dorian gripped the railing under his hands until his knuckles turned white. Why did he want to march down there and jerk her from John’s arm? Maybe he would.
Before he had time to talk himself out of the madness he had reached the couple. Kendra jerked her head up and took a step back. Dorian realized he was breathing with a harsh sound coming from between his teeth. Get control, man! He unclenched his fists and demanded his body to relax. John watched him approach with raised brows and the quivering mouth of a suppressed smile.
“Something amiss, Captain?” John looked at him as if to say, what in t
he world is wrong with you?
Dorian pasted a smile on his face and attempted a light tone. “Nothing wrong, John. I just forgot that Smythe has the grippe and has taken to his bed. I’ll need you in the crow’s nest this evening.”
John ducked his head and Dorian could swear his shoulders shook for a moment. When he looked back up he had his features back under control. “Yes, sir. Funny though, saw Smythe a little while ago and he seemed as healthy as a horse to me.” The corner of John’s mouth quivered.
Dorian set his teeth. “It came on suddenly.”
“Of course, Captain.” John looked down at Kendra. “If you will excuse me, my lady, duty calls.”
Kendra’s gaze settled on Dorian with a perplexed crease on her brow, as if she knew something was not quite right but couldn’t put her finger on what it was. “Thank you, John. I always have a lovely time with you as my escort. And I am looking forward to meeting Victoria. She’s sounds wonderful.”
John bowed his head at her then turned to Dorian and saluted. Dorian frowned at him. He never demanded his men salute and they knew it.
Kendra sighed. “I suppose you are much too busy to play nursemaid to me, Captain, and I will have to return to my cabin.”
Dorian had achieved his goal of getting her away from John, but found the idea of confining her to the cabin on such a nice evening unfair. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t seem to behave as a person with a morsel of sanity. “Actually, I have a little time. It is such a fine evening. Would you care to allow me to escort you?” He held out his arm and found to his further discomfort that his heart was pounding with the fear that she would reject it. She stood there looking at him for a moment too long. He was just about to pull his arm back to his side where it belonged, when she reached out and clasped his arm, taking a step closer to him. “Why Captain, I apologize for the hesitation, it is just that you surprise me so. I was under the impression that you couldn’t abide the sight of me.”
Couldn’t abide the sight of her? Was she daft? He couldn’t get the image of her from his mind. Of course, when he looked at the situation from her perspective it might appear he wanted nothing to do with her.
Dorian put his other hand on top of her hand, the one resting on his arm, and turned them toward the bow. Determined to regain his legendary charm, he took a small breath and gave her the smile that usually had the fair sex looking at him with doe eyes. “My dear Lady Townsend, don’t think it, I beg you. As captain of this ship, I have duties—I am the eyes and ears at all times. But if you’ve missed me so much, I will try and prioritize my time better. You are my first passenger and I’m afraid I don’t quite know what to do with you.”
Wrong thing to say. Very wrong.
Kendra’s eyes flashed violet-hazed heat. “Oh dear,” she pursed her lips, “I had no idea I have been such a weight on your mind. Why, all I asked for was a little fresh air when the weather allows. I do apologize for my . . . neediness.”
Dorian stopped them and gazed down into her rueful orbs. She dimpled at him. Where had those come from? He hadn’t realized when she smiled a particular kind of smile—more a smirk—that she had two adorable dimples on each cheek. Their effect on him ruined any verbal thrust he could come up with, instead causing him to stare at her lips. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips.
Kendra took a step back and inhaled. The sun was glinting off the water and shining on his face. His eyes were smoldering as they locked with hers. She could hear her heart beat in her ears. Oh, dear. Lord, get me out of this or I’m going to let him kiss me right here in front of all and sundry. The prayer sounded funny, and she smiled, breaking the tension. “Captain, are you a believer?”
Dorian’s gaze snapped awake. “Believer? Of what, my lady?”
“Of the Christian faith, of course. I find prayer helps at times like these.” She raised her brows, hoping he knew to what she was referring.
He seemed to take the question seriously and looked off into the distance at the low summer clouds. “It’s been some time since I last prayed, I admit, but I am a man of faith. My mother, she made sure we all attended church every Sunday.”
“I shall miss my church,” Kendra admitted in a soft and wistful tone. She thought back on the little chapel on their property. All the neighbors gathered there every Sunday and the magistrate, Pastor Timms, gave such sincere messages. Then there was her work with the poor and sickly parishioners. Bringing them baskets of muffins, bathing fevered brows, and tidying up, it was a work she had been glad to do. “I do hope to find a church in America.”
Dorian stared at her with a thoughtful gaze, his humor seemingly restored. “I shall make it my mission to see that you visit mine. I do believe your aunt and uncle live close enough.”
“Oh? Do you know where they live? I had thought to have to discover that on my own upon our arrival.”
Dorian took her arm again and led her further down the deck. “It is just north of Yorktown, I believe. According to the description your uncle gave me.”
“Is that close to where you live?”
The captain gave a short nod. “Close enough.”
He didn’t sound very pleased by the prospect of having her so near, which was confusing, seeing that he was offering to help her find a church. Kendra felt as if her feathers had been ruffled. She sniffed, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Are you cold?” He was the very picture of concerned care. Gracious, how the man made her emotions swing to and fro like a child’s swing.
“No,” but she shivered, belying her words. The breeze was rather chilly by the rail.
“Here, we can’t have you catching a chill.” The captain shrugged out of his coat and placed it around her shoulders. He stood in a white, full-sleeved shirt, dark breeches, and tall Hessian boots. The wind plastered the fabric of the shirt against his wide chest. Kendra averted her eyes but couldn’t stop the scent from his coat wafting to her nose. It was the same scent she’d smelled on his shirt earlier, when she’d practically ransacked his armoire. Her cheeks grew warm with the memory. “Thank you,” she choked out.
Thinking to turn the conversation to safer ground, she clutched the coat under her chin and asked, “Why haven’t you prayed in so long?”
The captain shifted against the side of the ship and shrugged. “I guess I haven’t found the need.”
Kendra’s eyes widened. How could anyone not need to communicate with God?
“I see I’ve shocked you. It’s just that life has been busy and . . . well . . . taking care of itself, I suppose.”
“Don’t you miss Him? God, I mean?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked at her with a flash of revelation in his eyes. “Now that you mention it, I guess I do.” His eyes turned teasing. “You will have me a reformed man, my lady. Indeed, I will say my bedtime prayers from hence forth.”
Kendra wasn’t sure if he was making sport of her or not. She was just about to launch into the benefits of a prayerful life when they heard a shout. It was John’s voice, up in the crow’s next.
“Ship to starboard!”
The captain straightened, turned, and started to go, then turned back toward her. “Go to your cabin and lock the door. Do not let anyone in or come out until I come for you.”
Fear and an excited panic jolted through Kendra. “Are they pirates?”
Dorian shook his head at her with a small grin. “You have been reading too many novels, my lady. Let us hope not. But to be safe you must stay in your cabin. Understood?”
Kendra nodded and hurried to obey.
The ship turned out to be an American merchant ship. Dorian commanded his crew send out a longboat with the message that the captain was welcome to board the Angelina to exchange news if he had the time to spare. Instead of sending a message back, Captain Joseph Moore, booming with laughter and clutching a bottle of rum, arrived a few moments later.
Dorian soon realized he was in a quandary. He usually entert
ained guests in his captain’s cabin where there was plenty of room and privacy. John’s first mate’s bunk was small, even more so since he had moved in with him. And the deck was growing chilly with the night air and the feel of rain coming. The only solution seemed to be to ask Lady Townsend if she minded hosting them.
It wasn’t as if they would be unchaperoned with an old sea-salt like Captain Moore with them, but after his conversation with Kendra tonight, he wasn’t sure she would accept such a suggestion. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about their conversation on faith. Thankfully, Captain Moore had interrupted that line of talk, giving him time to dwell on the matter.
Dorian sent John to make the request while he gave Captain Moore a tour of the ship. It was something he usually enjoyed, showing off the brigantine to like-minded men who appreciated the fine workmanship, but now he was anxious, tapping his toe against the freshly scrubbed deck boards, awaiting her reply.
He took a breath of relief as John’s nodding face came into view at the stairwell. “Lady Townsend said she would be happy to host dinner for you, sir. Shall I have Tipper prepare a special supper for you?”
Dorian nodded to his first mate, turning to Captain Moore. “Sir, allow me to introduce you to my passenger, Lady Townsend of Arundel.”
Captain Moore gave him a wolfish smile. “A real English lady, eh? I can’t say that I’ve met a lady of the nobility. What’s she like?”
Dorian swung out his arm toward the stairs leading down to the cabins. “If you care to follow me, sir, I will try and satisfy your curiosity.”
The old captain chuckled and followed Dorian to the cabin.
Kendra rushed about the cabin putting everything to rights and smoothing her hair in the looking glass. She was just pinching color into her cheeks as a knock sounded on the door. Oh, if only she’d had more time! She turned from her reflection thinking she looked as good as three minutes of primping could accomplish and strode to the door. She had not entertained in a long time. Hopefully, she would be able to keep the conversation flowing with the captain’s melting smile facing her from the other side of the table.
