The Captain's Revenge

by Nadine Millard

  He comforted himself with the thought that this was something he had done hundreds of times before.

  He knew how to captain a crew and get them to their destination safely.

  He knew how to ask the right questions and find information for the Home Office without arousing suspicion.

  And he knew how to reinvent himself and make an entirely new life for himself, since he’d done it once before.

  Lucas plucked a scone from the plate before him and bit into the soft dough, a feeling of calm washing over him.

  There would be no surprises. Everything would be just as it should be.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ANNA GRIPPED HER midsection and prayed that she wouldn’t cast up her accounts right there on the floor.

  This place was absolutely disgusting.

  She hadn’t been able to find a single bloody place that some sailor or other wasn’t stomping around, and in the end, she’d had to make her way to the hold, where the ship’s cargo was stored.

  It was damp, and it was dark. She couldn’t see a thing. Her muscles had cramped hours ago, and her stomach swung between starved and sick as the ship rolled over the waves.

  There hadn’t been the sound of another soul for an age.

  And much as she felt as though she were being tossed about, Anna knew that if there was a storm, there would be shouts galore.

  She could only assume that theirs was a smooth sailing, and that she really, really didn’t have the stomach for the sea.

  It was becoming too much to bear.

  Anna wondered desperately if she should just make her way onto the deck and pretend to be one of the crew.

  It looked as though there were plenty of seamen on board. Would they even notice her?

  But what if she were discovered straight away? There was no way they were far enough away from land for Lucas to have to allow her to stay on board.

  No, she had no choice. She would have to stay put, miserable as it was.

  Anna repositioned herself on the burlap sack where she had set up camp and settled down for a long and miserable night.

  LUCAS FINISHED HIS ale and placed the tankard back on his desk.

  He usually liked to eat with some of the crew, at least during the first few days of a new voyage. It was easier to get to know them that way, to ensure everyone was satisfied and working hard.

  A captain who stayed aloof may be feared, but he would never be respected, and Lucas knew that if his men respected him, they would work for him.

  But tonight, he had dined alone in his cabin.

  A life at sea wasn’t easy and had taught Lucas some valuable lessons, the most important of which was always to trust his instincts.

  And his instincts were shouting that something on board his ship was amiss.

  He had spent the day checking and rechecking everything and everyone. There were no new crew members, bar a seaman, Doyle, who had recently joined the crew.

  Lucas knew little of him, but Bryant had checked him out and declared him well-experienced and hardworking, and that had been good enough for Lucas, so he had no concerns on that front.

  But all day he just had a feeling that he couldn’t shake, and it was making him anxious and probably not all that pleasant to be around.

  So after his incessant checking on things that didn’t need to be checked, Bryant had tactfully suggested that he might like to spend the rest of the evening below deck, seeing to his business.

  Lucas had taken the hint and retired downstairs.

  Now, however, he felt even more anxious.

  He heaved a sigh then moved his hand to open the hidden draw under his desk.

  Usually, being on the ocean calmed him, but he was feeling anything but calm at that moment.

  When the ocean failed, or when he was on dry land, he turned to a journal.

  He had never told anyone — not a single soul. His father would have found it too feminine an activity for his son, and besides it felt far too personal to share with anyone.

  Writing down his innermost thoughts had helped Lucas for years, to sort through his raging emotions, his muddled thoughts, to fight the demons of his unrequited love.

  Other men turned to drinking or womanising, and while he was no monk, he’d rather indulge his writing than other baser vices.

  Opening the latest in a long line of journals, he flipped through the pages. As in the past, his writing had become more frequent when Anna Spencer nee Grant had waltzed back into his life.

  He had a cabinet full of such things, right here in his cabin. It was foolish to take them with him, he supposed. But since he didn’t plan to return to the London house, at least not frequently, he didn’t want to risk someone finding them and having his personal life splashed across the gossip pages.

  And he certainly never, ever wanted Anna to get wind of how much she’d crushed him.

  Making himself comfortable, Lucas flipped to a fresh page and dipped his quill into the ink sitting on the desk in front of him.

  Hopefully a few moments spent writing would rid him of the uneasy feeling churning inside him.

  IT WAS NO use.

  There was no way she would survive an entire night down here.

  She wouldn’t survive another second down here.

  Anna had sat and shivered for hours, telling herself over and over again all the reasons she couldn’t make herself known yet.

  It was too soon.

  Lucas, being the stubborn oaf that he was, would likely turn the boat around if it were only a day’s sailing back to England.

  Gradually however, that terribly sensible voice of reason was replaced by a louder, far more hysterical one, and when, in the damp, cold darkness, she felt a distinctively furry body run over her legs, that was it.

  Doing her best to repress a scream, Anna leapt to her feet, shuddering in disgust.

  She wasn’t cut out for this.

  She wasn’t brave like Evelyn or adventurous like Gabrielle.

  And currently, she had no idea why she had ever thought this would be a good idea.

  Lucas’ anger would be difficult to manage, and she supposed, there was always a chance that he’d fling her overboard, though that was unlikely.

  But Lucas in a towering rage was still preferable company to whatever furry creature was scuttling round down here.

  Besides, Anna reasoned with herself, there was still every chance that she’d be able to remain hidden from him.

  It was a large ship with a good-sized crew. And she was disguised after all. Quite well, as it happened.

  Besides, it was late and therefore dark.

  If she could just sneak to the galley to grab a few provisions, she could find another, hopefully more comfortable hiding spot.

  Anna wasn’t foolish enough to believe she could stay hidden for four months.

  But a couple of days should be sufficient.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Anna slowly and quietly made her way from the ghastly hold and into the main body of the ship.

  She was so hungry it felt as though she hadn’t eaten in days.

  The sooner she found the galley, the better.

  LUCAS BIT BACK an oath of frustration.

  No matter what he did, his mind would not be quieted tonight.

  Pages and pages of bitter thoughts about Anna and what she had done to him brought him no closer to relaxation or peace.

  Rolling his neck to ease some of the kinks, he wondered what he should do.

  He could go to the top deck and check on things, but he knew his antsy disposition would likely worry the crew.

  It wasn’t often that he got like this. Lucas smiled as he remembered his mother’s words from years ago. She always used to say that he had too many thoughts and not enough space for them. Then she would heat some milk and mix in a splash of brandy, and he would go off into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

  Perhaps he should try his mother’s sleeping draught. It hadn’t failed him yet.

 
; Lucas pushed back his chair, stood, and made his way to the door of his cabin.

  What he needed was a good night’s sleep and to recapture some of the excitement he had once felt about setting off on this new course for his life.

  Feeling more determined, and more at ease, he pushed open the door.

  There was a bang, followed by a gasp, followed by a thud, followed by an expletive that was certainly at home on a ship.

  However, Lucas noted with a growing feeling of dread as he stepped round the door and took in the figure in an ungainly heap on the floor, that expletive had been uttered in a female voice. A voice that sounded all too familiar.

  Please, he prayed to the Fates, let me be wrong.

  Before the figure on the floor had a chance to move, Lucas bent, plucked her up, and set her on her feet.

  Then, with a steadying, calming breath, he whipped the ridiculous hat from her head.

  The tumble of blonde curls confirmed his most dreaded position.

  “Anna,” he growled, his senses reeling from the shock. “What the hell are you doing on my ship?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THIS, ANNA ADMITTED, could have gone a lot better.

  She looked up into Lucas’ furious, navy-blue stare, her heart pounding fiercely.

  What am I going to do?

  A wild panic set her pulse fluttering. She refused to think it had anything to do with his large, strong hands gripping her upper arms as he glared downward.

  Lucas towered over her, a picture of barely supressed fury. He looked like an avenging angel, his handsome face set like granite, his eyes flashing blue fire.

  And Anna had the ridiculous urge to stand up on her toes and press her mouth to his.

  No doubt due to leftover hysteria from being trapped amongst the cargo.

  She felt a fleeting moment of fear. He truly looked as though he would, in fact, throw her overboard with no compunction. But it was only fleeting. Lucas would never hurt her. He would never purposefully hurt anyone; she was sure.

  His grip, even in his anger, was vastly different to the cruel one her husband used to have, and Anna felt none of the sickening fear that had accompanied Peter’s hands on her.

  During Peter’s reign of terror, Anna had lived in constant, abject horror. She felt none of that now.

  But still, Lucas was very angry, and it made her nervous. So, she did what she always did when in an uncomfortable position. She reverted to the stiff upper lip of Society women that she’d been perfecting for years.

  “Good evening, Captain,” she said politely, as though they were meeting in a London ballroom and not outside what she supposed must be his private quarters aboard a ship in the middle of the ocean.

  His eyes widened at her polite words before he resumed his fierce scowling.

  “I asked you a question,” he bit out as he ran his eyes slowly over her then frowned deeper still. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”

  “Breeches,” she answered, still in that faux polite voice that she used in awkward situations. “They are rather comfortable.”

  His eyes would disappear into his forehead if he frowned any deeper, Anna thought.

  Lucas opened his mouth again, his face like thunder, and she knew he was about to ring a peal over her head.

  But before he could utter a word, the sound of footsteps became clear.

  Before Anna knew what he was about, Lucas swept her into his cabin and closed the door with a decisive click.

  “What—” Anna began, but was soon silenced by one of Lucas’ hands clamped over her mouth.

  “Not. A. Word.” He warned her with a dour expression.

  Seconds later, a knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?” Lucas called calmly as though he weren’t in the midst of this admittedly bizarre situation. He removed his hand from her mouth and turned his back to her, facing the closed door.

  “‘Tis Sanderson, Captain,” a voice sounded from the other side.

  “What is it?” Lucas called back.

  There was a pause, and the voice sounded again, more hesitant this time.

  “Should I enter, Captain?”

  Lucas muttered a curse. “No, Sanderson. I am not to be disturbed tonight.”

  To her mortification, Anna’s stomach chose that moment to rumble rather loudly.

  Lucas turned a raised a brow at her, as though she’d done it on purpose.

  Anna scowled back.

  Releasing another oath, followed by several more, Lucas turned back to the door. “On second thoughts,” he called, sounding thoroughly fed up, “I am feeling rather hungry still, Sanderson. Please bring a tray with supper and a pot of tea.”

  “Of—of course, Captain. Right away.” Sanderson sounded thoroughly confused now, and Anna could only guess that it wasn’t a common occurrence for him to be having a conversation with his master on the wrong side of the door.

  “And,” Lucas called again, “a pitcher of hot water, if you please.”

  Anna could have wept with relief at the order.

  To be able to eat and wash would be simply divine.

  She couldn’t supress a wide grin at the idea of a full belly and clean skin. But her smile faded when Lucas turned to glower at her once again.

  “I—”

  He held up a hand to halt her speech, which was convenient since she hadn’t a notion of what to say to him.

  “You will wash, and you will eat and get warm,” he said stiffly. “Then you will tell me what damned idiotic idea caused you to stowaway on my ship, and then,” he finished ominously, “we will discuss how to get you back off it.”

  Anna wanted to argue, but her stomach was growling louder than a caged animal, so she decided it was in her best interests to stay quiet, at least until she’d eaten something.

  There would be plenty of time to argue after. Because she was not leaving that ship.

  NOT EVEN WRITING in a journal would help Lucas sort through his emotions about this one.

  He sat and quietly stewed while Anna made light work of the bread, cheese, and tea that he’d ordered from a very confused Sanderson.

  Lucas didn’t blame the man for being muddled. Lucas invariably had an open-door policy, and he’d never ordered extra food to be sent to him.

  No doubt the crew was even now speculating on what was going on.

  Well, they could speculate to their hearts’ content. He wouldn’t reveal Anna’s presence aboard the ship until he figured out what to do about it. And maybe not even then.

  The mere thought of what the men would think, say, even do about a woman like Anna was enough to make his blood run cold and his temper flare hot as the sun.

  Lucas squeezed the bridge of his nose, willing his emotions back under control so he could think logically.

  He couldn’t believe that she’d actually done it.

  Anna Spencer. A stowaway.

  Truth be told, he wouldn’t have thought she’d have the guts to thumb her nose at Society and hie off to pastures new. It seemed he’d underestimated her. And now he was stuck with her.

  His irritation grew with every passing second.

  She seemed singularly unaffected by the entire thing, sitting there looking mouth-watering with her golden hair falling down her back like a damned river of sunshine. As for her outfit and what it did to her figure—

  Lucas stood suddenly and stalked over to his decanter of whiskey. He had a feeling the thing would be empty before the night was through.

  Turning around would add days to his journey. Days he hadn’t planned for. Days he hadn’t been expecting. Days that would bloody cost him, in more ways than one.

  He poured himself a generous glass of the liquid, trying to ignore its similarity to her unusual eyes, and trying harder to ignore her sighs of contentment.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours of gritting his teeth and exercising iron control over parts of himself he hadn’t expected to be worrying about for the duration of the voyage, he sn
apped.

  “Anna,” he barked, louder than he’d intended, causing her to jump.

  “Y-yes?” she looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, and damned if he didn’t feel the impact right to his toes.

  “At first light, we are turning around and taking you back.” He managed to regulate his tone. “I’m sure I—”

  “No!”

  Her chair toppled over, such was her rush to jump to her feet.

  “No?” he asked dangerously.

  Had she been anyone else, his tone would have been enough to send them scurrying.

  But she was Anna Spencer. The bane of his existence. And apparently, she didn’t scare easily.

  “No,” she repeated firmly, placing her hands on her hips mutinously.

  He tried his hardest not to notice how the action pulled the jacket tight across her breasts.

  And he tried not to notice how the breeches clung to her long, slim legs as she planted her feet and glared at him.

  Suddenly, it was too much. All of it. Her being here, her defying him, his body, and its foolish reaction to her.

  “This is my bloody ship,” he yelled, aware that he sounded like a petulant child and resenting her all the more for making it so. “And I am the captain of it. How dare you come on here, jeopardise this voyage, and my shipping company?”

  “Lucas.” She sounded shocked, contrite even.

  But he was past caring.

  “I didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t think, Anna. You never do. You never think of anything or anyone but yourself. You were a selfish, spoiled brat eight years ago, and you’re a selfish, spoiled brat now.”

  Her face paled at his words, and once again Lucas had to fight the guilt that immediately surged through him.

  This wasn’t his fault. None of it was.

  And he refused to be the first one to break this awkwardness that now existed between them. Because that was her fault, too.

  “It’s a shame you feel that way,” Anna said, and he noticed that once again, her tone was freezing, cutting, disdainful. “But if you choose to act foolishly and jeopardise your voyage, that is entirely your own doing.”