by Lorri Dudley
“An ode to a redheaded warrior goddess. Well done, my friend.” Captain Fielding lifted his glass in salute.
Charlie’s head drew back until his chin almost aligned with his neck. “I can’t be calling your wife a goddess. That would get me flogged for certain.”
Cobble smacked the table. “The boy may have something in that head other than marbles.” He wheezed out a chortle. “I know what we should call her.” Cobble pointed a curved finger at Nathan. “Look at the way he’s lookin’ at her.”
Lottie’s eyes flew to Nathan’s, but he quickly dropped his gaze and sipped from his drink.
“We should call her Boss because now we know who’s truly behind the helm.” Cobble raised his tankard.
The crew joined with shouts of “Aye,” and “Here, here!”
Nathan avoided eye contact with her for the rest of the evening. Before long, plates were cleared, and the men refilled their cups. When they began to get a bit rowdy, Nathan rose from the table and offered Lottie his arm. She stood and bid everyone a good evening. The narrow hallway didn’t afford them room to walk side-by-side, so Nathan pulled her through the turns and various rooms until they reached her cabin.
“Here we are,” he said, stopping at the door. He didn’t open it.
The nervous flutter in her stomach returned. It was the same as the night she’d boarded, but she refused to be sick again. He didn’t move, only peered down at her. The lighting was too dim to read the look in his eyes.
“Nathan?” Her voice emerged barely above a whisper.
“Yes, Boss?” His lips parted revealing his white, even teeth.
She snorted out a giggle. “I daresay that nickname was the most ridiculous of them all.”
“Why do you say that?”
She gaped at him. “Because I’m not at all like you. I don’t exude authority.” The boat rocked, and she leaned against the wall for support. “Who would follow my orders?”
“Plenty of people.” He leaned against the opposite wall and crossed his arms over his chest. In the narrow hall, there was barely a foot of space between them. “People will follow you because of your kind and caring heart. You’ve already gained Cobble’s and Charlie’s loyalty.”
“Charlie’s merely glad I offered to take over his sewing duties.”
“Exactly.” He raised his brows. “And by doing so, you gained his utmost devotion. For in a way, you saved his life.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How so?”
“You saw him with a needle. A man can bleed out from a thousand small pricks.”
Lottie threw back her head and laughed.
Nathan chuckled along with her. His whole demeanor changed when he smiled. The intensity that cloaked him like a second skin melted into young and carefree. His gray-blue eyes held hers, and mirth shimmered in their depths. For a moment, it was as if they were a courting couple, flirting with each other at a party instead of in the hallway of a rocking ship.
Funny, she’d never noticed the dent in his chin when he smiled. An overwhelming desire to know these small details swelled to a pressing need. She knew so little about the man she’d married. She fiddled with her wedding band, sliding it around her finger. “Did you always desire to be a merchant in command of ships and their crews?”
He exhaled a whoosh of air and rested his head back against the wall. A shadow passed over his face, and he stared at the wood paneling above her. “Yes and no. I was a second son. My eldest brother was groomed to take over the plantation and gained most of my father’s attention.”
Lottie stilled her fidgeting. Nathan was revealing a part of himself, and she didn’t want to interrupt the moment.
“It awoke a competitive jealousy in me. I strove to prove I could run the plantation better, and the crops I oversaw produced higher-quality sugar and in larger quantities. But my ambition caused a rift in the family.”
His eyes grew distant and strained. Her hand twitched, wanting to reach out and comfort him. But would he welcome her touch?
“My parents sent me to the military academy where I learned naval skills. I was supposed to join the navy and fight for our island and mother country.” His eyes shadowed as if haunted. “But my brother became sick with the fever and died.”
Lottie’s hand covered her gasp. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s part of island life.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Indeed. He told me before he passed that…” Nathan’s Adam's apple bobbed, and his facial muscles grew taut. “I was the better man to run the plantation. He told me to make him proud.” Nathan peered up at the ceiling and blinked. After a long moment, he met her gaze with naked pain. “No matter what I’ve tried, the land won’t produce like it once did.” He cleared his throat. “But I couldn’t let my family’s inheritance dry up. So, I found another source of income in trade. Now I manage both.”
Her heart ached for Nathan—and not only for his loss. She understood the pressure of wanting to measure up to someone’s expectations, yet never quite reaching them. “That is a lot for one person’s shoulders.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mean to scare you.” His lip folded into a frown. “I may have said too much. You’re used to means and fortune. I’m not as wealthy as some may believe, but I’m not destitute. I’ll never allow you to lack.” His eyes pierced hers with such a forceful intensity she had no doubt he would hold his promise.
She tried to lighten the mood with a teasing tone. “As you know, I didn’t marry you for your money.”
“No?” A lopsided smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Why did you?” He closed his eyes and gave his head a little shake. “I admit, the night of our engagement is a blurry haze of yelling and angry faces.”
“I married you for your fire-fighting abilities.”
His eyes flew open and his lips quirked in a half-smile. “No doubt. I’ve been told it’s my most attractive quality.”
Lottie’s cheeks ached from smiling so wide. She didn’t want the moment to end, but she hadn’t forgotten the lost men and their families. The suffering she would cause still ate at her. “I realize now how much you sacrificed that night. I’m sorry. I never meant for people to be hurt by my misdeeds.”
“I know.” His eyes held hers. “I shouldn’t have placed the blame at your door. The fault was as much mine, if not more so.”
Her lips parted. “You forgive me?”
One side of his mouth lifted, and he nodded.
The ship rocked, and she stumbled a few steps to the right. Nathan’s arm curled around her to keep her from toppling. His firm hand slid across the sensitive skin of her stomach.
She drew in a quick breath.
The boat shifted again, and Lottie slammed into his hard chest. Her hands gripped his arms, and her forehead pressed into the top button of his waistcoat. The heat from the length of his body radiated through her thin muslin walking dress.
He stiffened, and his iron hands set her apart.
“I still haven’t gotten my sea legs.” She lowered her gaze, hoping he wouldn’t see the flush that surely reddened her face.
“Good night, Lottie.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a brotherly kiss.
Before she could return the sentiment, he turned on his heel and strode away. His arms swayed in rhythm with the click of his boots.
Once he rounded the corner, she let herself into her cabin and closed the door behind her. Her hand still on the latch, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against the thick oak panel.
How could the charming side of Nathan work her into a mass of nerves even more than his brusque side?
The next few weeks passed uneventfully. Lottie assumed her usual spot in the shade of the mainsail behind the helm. During the days, she read the Bible and listened to Cobble and the crewman tell stories. At night, she joined the men for dinner. Nathan, in turn, would walk her back to her cabin. He’d kiss her good-night—if you could call his brothe
rly pecks kisses—but never asked to stay.
One night, instead of unlatching her door, she opened her mouth to question him, but he interrupted her.
“I know this has been a strange marriage thus far.” He stepped closer and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His knuckle trailed around the curve of her jaw and along the tender skin of her neck, quickening her pulse. “I’d like to use the voyage to get to know one another and court you properly.”
Lottie exhaled. That seemed a good plan. She still didn’t know her husband well, and the idea of becoming more intimate broke her into a cold sweat. She nodded and bid him good night, and he pressed another kiss on the top of her head.
But over time, those kisses irked her.
Had she misread the desire in his intense eyes? She’d never been courted, but she knew brotherly pecks weren’t how one went about it. Priscilla often spoke of stolen kisses and clandestine meetings. Lottie stabbed the needle into the fabric she was stitching in her seat above deck.
Cobble sat by her side and whistled. “You do a fine job. Neat little stitches, just like my wife.”
“You’re married?” She looked up at him.
“Don’t sound so surprised that someone fell in love with an old seadog like myself.”
Lottie pulled the thread. “No, I’m surprised a woman would put up with such a cheeky man as yourself.”
“Whales tales and dolphin ears.” He slapped his knee. “She could out-sass the salt off me. Whatever I gave to her she dished right back, but the woman had a heart of gold. She’s in heaven now, God rest her soul, collectin’ on all the rewards of living a good life.”
Lottie paused in her sewing. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Cobble shook his head. “Don’t be. She’s in paradise.” He pointed heavenward. “She’s up there, probably singin’ in God’s choir and waitin’ fer the day I join her.”
Lottie grinned at the fond way in which he spoke of his wife. She knotted the thread and inspected her work. “I believe it’s finished.”
Cobble held the seam up to the light. “Well done, Boss.” He stood and waved the captain over. “She did it. Sewed it up right.”
Captain Fielding sauntered over and examined the stitches. He winked, then lifted his head and said loud enough for Nathan to hear, “Nice work, Boss!”
Nathan paused in sparring against Tiller to smile at her. Even with the distraction, Nathan was an excellent swordsman and didn’t give up any ground. His fluid movements could easily best both her brother and Anthony. The breeze ruffled his hair, and he lunged at Tiller. The muscles in his back and arms strained against the confines of his jacket.
Dizziness swept over Lottie. Was she becoming seasick again? She stared past him to the horizon to orient herself, but her gaze was drawn back to Nathan’s graceful assaults and virile presence.
“All right, men,” the captain yelled. “Let’s get this sail hoisted.”
“Ship off the port stern, Captain!”
A jolt of alarm rushed through Lottie. The shout had sounded from Salt, the lookout in the crow’s nest. The crewmen paused in their work and craned their necks to see. She stood and used her hand to block the sun. Sure enough, a speck of a ship sat on the horizon.
“Sink me!” the captain muttered. “Gus, man the helm.” Captain Fielding grabbed his spyglass and held it up to his eye.
The fine hairs on her skin leapt to attention as she sensed someone’s presence. She glanced over her shoulder to find Nathan standing beside her.
“Is it friendly?” he asked the captain.
“Aye, but that’s what the crew of the Amory thought. We’re dead in the water without a mainsail raised.” The Captain turned on his heel and yelled to the men. “All hands on deck. Men, get the mainsail hoisted or some of you will be Roderick Random.”
Organized chaos broke out as men scrambled to get the sail hoisted.
Nathan sheathed his sword and grabbed her shoulders. He turned her to face him, and the crease between his brows deepened as his eyes leveled hers. “You’re to go below deck.”
“Why is everyone running to their posts?” Her breath quickened. “Who’s Roderick Random?”
“There’s no time to explain. I want you to wait in your cabin, bar the door, and do not come up no matter what happens or what you hear. Do you understand?”
Lottie gripped his arms as her blood pounded in her ears. “What about you?”
“I’m needed. Every hand will count.”
Captain shouted, “Smartly crew. We won’t have much time.” He lent a hand to Charlie, who struggled to hold the line. “Hold fast, boy.”
“Bring Cook and Franny with you.” Nathan spun her around in the direction of the hatch and gave her a push. “Be quick now.”
Lottie fled for safety below deck and found Cook and Franny standing frozen in the small galley.
“What is it?” Cook’s hand still gripped the knife she used to cut vegetables.
“A British ship.”
Franny twisted her apron. “Why would we be worried about a British ship? We’re British.”
“It’s not like that anymore.” Cook pursed her lips. “The trade wars have tarnished everyone. You never know who’s a friendly anymore.”
Lottie grabbed Cook’s arm. “Who is Roderick Random? Is he the British ship’s captain?”
Cook shook her head. “It’s a nickname for a person taken by a press gang.” Even our own mother country’s ships can impress our crew into naval service unless they have proper papers to prove they’re from St. Kitts.”
“Can we outrun them?” Franny’s voice shook.
“The mainsail was down for repairs.” Lottie’s fingers moved to her mouth. “They’re in the middle of hoisting a new one, but it’s slowing us down. Nathan said we’re to wait in my quarters and bar the door.” She chewed a piece off her thumbnail.
Cook grabbed Franny’s arm, and the three of them scurried to the captain’s quarters and huddled together on the bed. They sat in quiet, listening to the shuffling of boots, the creaks of the deck and muffled commands.
Through the glass window, they watched as the faraway ship gained half the distance and doubled in size. Lottie could now see the British flag waving.
Cook closed her eyes. “We need to pray.”
Lottie and Franny each took one of her hands.
“Heavenly Father,” Cook said, “have mercy on us, the Katherine, and its crew. Help the men raise the sail and outrun the ship. Protect us from our enemies. Let no weapon forged against us prevail. Do not allow a single person on this vessel to be harmed or taken away. God, give our captain the wisdom needed for this situation.”
The boat jerked forward.
“Hurrah! We’re moving,” Franny said.
Cook rose and inched back the curtain. “I hope we can pick up speed fast enough.”
Each took turns continuing their vigilant prayers until a cannon blast shook the room. Franny screamed and ducked her head into the covers. Lottie stared at Cook. “Why are they firing?”
“It’s a warning shot not to run.” She squeezed Lottie’s hand in a tight grip. “God will see us through. The captain knows what to do.” Her voice sounded strong, but Lottie felt the telltale shaking of her hands.
The ship sailed close enough for her to count the mounted cannons. Fifteen on the port side. Their merchant ship was heavily outnumbered. Men in navy coats stood at the stern of the other vessel and prepared to board.
Wait. She recognized one of them. Standing at the helm as the ship drew up to their port side was Admiral Gainesboro. Her mother had introduced her to the man and his wife on several occasions. Beside him stood another familiar face, a friend of Anthony Middleton’s.
She jumped to her feet. “I have an idea. Get me into my best gown and fix my hair. I must look my best.”
Cook and Franny stared at her as if she’d sprouted horns.
“Smartly, ladies. Lives are at stake!”
Chapter
11
I daresay, I managed a fair impersonation. Truly her blood runs through my veins.
~ From Lottie written to her brother, Gerald Etheridge.
Nathan clenched his jaw tight to keep from spitting in the haughty British commander’s face. “As a merchant ship from the islands commissioned to trade with England, we are exempted from naval press gangs.”
“Then I need to verify your men’s citizenship papers along with your protection documents.” The man’s polished brass buttons shone in the sun as he strutted like a fluffed turkey before Nathan and Captain Fielding.
“I showed you our protection documents.”
The commander flicked his arm at a cluster of Nathan’s crew. “Yet, these men cannot produce citizenship papers.” He whipped into a ninety-degree turn and addressed his men. “Get ready for onboarding. Take them to the hold.”
Baby let out a growl and grabbed a soldier’s wrist in a tight twist. The man howled in pain, and his sword clamored to the ground. The butt of a British musket slammed into Baby’s face with a sickening crack. The huge sailor teetered, then fell like a tall oak, shaking the floorboards.
Nathan stepped forward, but a British soldier met him with the point of his sword. He could go no farther. “You’re making a grave mistake. The Society of West Indian Merchants will petition parliament over this. The prime minister will hear about your outrageous actions!”
“You.” The commander turned back around and stepped within inches of Nathan, so close he could smell the coffee on the man’s foul breath. His haughty eyes gleamed like a polished stone. “You think your nabob coin can buy your way into British amnesty? We’re at war. Drastic measures and able-bodied men are needed to win the fight.”
“Admiral Gainesboro, how lovely to see you.”
Lottie’s voice froze Nathan’s blood. Icy tendrils of fear penetrated to his fingers and toes as she stepped above deck, dressed in the same gown she’d been wearing when she wed him. Her hair was swept up in an elaborate coiffure, as if she were about to attend a grand affair.
