“That’s all well and good but still, ’tis nice to have a mon who’s ambitious and can support himself as well as a wife and bairns. Never could stand that damned James. Now he was a fortune hunter and ’tis glad I am that ye finally figured that out. Pity though, that yer captain’s from New England. So far away, and we all know they weren’t in favor of this war. Has he proposed to ye yet?”
“Aunt Annis, he’s only asking Father for permission to court me, we haven’t even gotten to the betrothal stage and frankly, I’m not sure we will.”
Annis, raising a red brow, leaned forward to pour more tea. There was a flask of whiskey on the tray and she tipped some into her cup with careless abandon, using it instead of milk to flavor the brew. “Of course ye will. What young mon wouldn’t be smitten by a girl as bonnie as my niece?”
“Captain Merrick is good and upstanding, a man of faith and honor. But he’s not someone to rush into anything—”
“Sounds like he’s rushing a’plenty,” Susannah said archly. “And so are you, Rosalie.”
“Mother, you care too much about the local gossips.”
“And you, child, don’t care enough.”
A flash and a sudden rumble shook the house and looking outside, all three women saw the dark clouds rearing up from the southwest.
“Looks like another storm.”
“Let’s hope it breaks this infernal heat.”
Rosalie set down her tea. “I left my bedroom windows open. I’d better go close them or everything’ll get soaked.” Grateful that the storm had interrupted the tedious questioning, she hurried up the stairs.
The light was already fading and turning everything a greenish black as she hit the landing. At the far end of the hall, the curtains suddenly rose and blew toward her as though warning her to hurry, and she felt the fresh, delicious blast of cooler air as it swept down the hall, carrying the scent of the sea with it. Her spirits lifted and for a moment she forgot her own personal shame, her anxiety over the idea of telling Kieran her painful secret even though she owed it to him—especially now that he’d formally asked permission to court her—to do just that. For a moment, she forgot what lay ahead of her and—
The door to the room he’d been given was just on the right, and Rosalie couldn’t help herself. The whoosh of wind had blown open the latch and the door had swung wide, almost in invitation. Within, she could see the curtains blowing wildly; any moment now, the skies would open and rain would be spraying all over the lowboy beneath the window that had been in Mother’s family for two generations.
There was nothing for it. She hurried into the room, hastily shut the window, and as she turned, her gaze couldn’t help but alight on the bed—whether by accident, curiosity, or its own playful design.
Rosalie froze, her fingers suddenly pressed to her mouth as everything inside her slammed to a stop. Ohhh….
He was asleep, one long, tanned, well-muscled leg tangled with the top sheet, his gloriously thick, dark hair tousled against the white pillow, an arm thrown above his head. He had removed his shirt, probably hoping to keep it fresh for tonight’s dinner and for the first time, Rosalie was treated to a view of how very, very nicely he was made. It had been one thing when he’d been lying unconscious and hurt in a gloomy Caribbean cave; it was quite another to see him lying unconscious and quite well against crisp white sheets, helplessly seductive and completely unaware of the effect he was having on her. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Rosalie stepped closer to drink in the sight of him. Funny how dark a man’s skin could look against white sheets and bedclothes. Funny how the sparse scattering of hair across his chest, down his torso and legs, made her think of how masculine he was, and how she ached to feel that skin against her own in a way that almost hurt in its intensity. The sheet covered the lower part of his torso, but she could see how hard and flat his belly was and despite herself, her gaze moved lower. She wished the sheet wasn’t concealing that which she wanted so desperately to see. She tried to imagine how he must be made. She knew, of course, what a man’s parts looked like, but she also suspected that every man was different, some larger than others, some smaller, some thicker, some longer, and she wondered if this unfairly beautiful and handsome man who had come so unexpectedly into her life, was as unfairly beautiful and handsome in the areas she couldn’t see as well as the ones that she could.
At that moment he stirred and pushed himself slowly up on one elbow, watching her with sleepy amber eyes that warmed at the sight of her.
Something in her heart ached with longing. What she wouldn’t give to wake up to the sight of him every morning, sleep-tousled and ever so handsome, warm and smiling, as he was now.
“Pity you had to close it,” he murmured softly. “The cool air felt so good.”
“The skies are about to open—”
His smile became a grin. “Pity that you have to leave, too.”
It was a frankly honest and rather intimate thing for him to say, he who had admitted shyness with women he fancied, and the fact that he had said it, and with such a look of intense longing and affection in his warm, smiling eyes to accompany it, made her heart skip a beat.
“I don’t have to leave,” she murmured, holding his gaze so that it wouldn’t stray to his gorgeous, reposing form on the bed. “But I should….”
“Yes, you should.”
“And I didn’t have to come in and disturb you, but if I didn’t come in and close the window, Grandmother’s lowboy would be ruined.”
“Better the lowboy than your reputation, Rosalie.”
“I’m not worried about my reputation.”
“Aren’t you?”
She smiled, and her gaze dipped from his face to his chest, his strong, powerful arms, his naked skin dark against the sheets, naked skin he made no move to cover though she got the feeling that it was only because he had an easy confidence about his body; something that she, being as round as a musket ball, couldn’t quite relate to. But he did not leer suggestively as he noted the direction of her gaze; he did not invite her to come closer with either eyes, smile or voice but simply lay there, as though totally unaware of the effect he was having on her heart, her blood, and a certain spot between the junction of her legs which was suddenly throbbing and hot with feeling.
“Well, you may not be worried about your reputation, but I’ll do what I can to safeguard it for you as well as your parents’ tolerance for me.” He smiled and made a little waving motion toward the door. “Now, go.”
She didn’t go. “What did my father say?”
“About what?”
“About…well… I’m assuming you asked him.”
“Asked him what?”
“For heaven’s sake, Kieran, are you always so muddle-headed when you first wake up?”
“I’m not muddle-headed at all, simply trying to figure out what you’re asking me.”
Another crash of thunder made her nearly leap out of her skin, and suddenly the wind was blasting the rain against the window she’d just closed and hammering the outside wall, a hundred thousand drumbeats per second against every surface of the house. The view outside the window blurred behind sheets of water. The room darkened. The urgency of the storm began to weigh on her; her windows were open, and with the rain shielding any sound on the stair, she could be discovered here at any moment.
“I’m asking you, if you asked him if you could court me!”
“Yes, I asked him, and yes, he gave his consent. But if he finds you here, he’ll likely withdraw it and I wouldn’t blame him.”
Rosalie took a step toward the door. Having him in this house was going to be the death of her. How was she going to get the sight of his incredible and naked body against the sheets, on the bed, out of her mind so that she’d be able to sleep tonight?
The rain began to ease, outside.
“Go,” he urged, kindly. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Her throat was too dry to pull words from it, so she merely nodded and bolted from the r
oom, headed for her own and moving so fast that she never saw Aunt Annis just coming up the stairs.
But Aunt Annis saw her.
And saw exactly which room she’d just exited.
* * *
Two doors down the hall, Liam Doherty stood at his washstand, carefully scraping the graying whiskers from his chin, thinking about how his hair had once been as gingery as young Stephen’s and even Angus McCormack’s.
That hair wasn’t as thick as it had been in his youth, though it had enough curl to hide the thin spots, especially with the aid of a comb. Long side-whiskers were all the rage, and Liam had allowed his own to grow. Not that there was anyone here, really, to impress at dinner; it was Kieran’s night, and he had only agreed to attend as he felt an obligation to keep an eye on his young friend and captain who wasn’t, admittedly, comfortable in large gatherings of strangers. He finished shaving, toweled his face, straightened his shirt and carefully buttoned his waistcoat, and with a bit of resignation that was only relieved by the knowledge that he was about to get his first good meal since leaving Sir Graham and Lady Falconer’s home back in Barbados, headed down to dinner.
He met Kieran just coming out of his own room. The younger man’s dark brows rose in approving surprise. “Well! Don’t you look fine, Liam!”
He grinned and nodded toward his friend. “Not as fine as you.”
“Bollocks. Besides, this injury does me no favors,” Kieran ruefully fingered his cheekbone. “I hope I don’t frighten anyone.”
“The gash gives ye character. Makes ye look a bit dangerous, really. Women’ll be fallin’ all over ye, I tell ye. If ye’re lucky, ’twill leave a scar.”
Kieran laughed. The idea that women might fall all over him was amusing if not ludicrous; if he were any great prize, the ladies back home would have been all a’twitter in his presence, as they’d always been with Connor. He reached up to touch his black silk necktie. “Well, looks are deceiving, aren’t they? I don’t have a dangerous bone in my body.”
“There are dead pirates back on that island who’d dispute that, lad.”
“And there will be more dead ones after I get back there, I can assure you. Perhaps Sir Graham will send a ship to help me root out that nest of vermin and give them everything they deserve. And no, Liam, don’t give me that look, you shan’t talk me out of it.”
“I’m starting to think we were all wrong about you, lad. Dead wrong.”
Kieran raised a brow. “And how so, Liam?”
“’Twas Connor and Maeve who always gave your da and mother trouble and far too much to worry about. Never you. Oh, they must be rolling in their graves.”
Kieran grinned and flicked a bit of dust off Liam’s lapel. “Well, never too late to start, is it? Let’s go to dinner. I’m quite famished.”
Chapter 23
Journal of Captain Kieran Merrick, 25 May, 1814
Oh, dear God, but Baltimore is just full of surprises…
Rosalie waited in the drawing room for the arrival of their guests and the announcement that dinner was served. She had taken special pains with her appearance, and Mother’s constant fussing and her sister’s excitement about meeting Kieran were causing her nerves to unravel.
“Stephen says he’s very brave,” Penelope was gushing. “I asked him if he was handsome as well, but Stephen says he’s not an authority on such matters and that I should ask you. Is he handsome, Rosalie?”
“Yes, Pepper,” she said, using her sister’s nickname. She glanced toward the door. “He is very handsome.”
“Even if he were not, I’m sure I’ll like him much better than I did that dreadful James, who was just awful. Does he have brothers, Rosalie?”
“Yes, one, but he’s married.”
“Cousins?”
“Honestly, Pepper!”
“Well, you can’t blame me, I’m rotting away on the shelf!”
“You are barely seventeen, I’d hardly call that rotting.”
Mother was back to fussing, tucking a stray curl behind Rosalie’s ear and twittering like a songbird. “Those earrings look absolutely lovely on you, my dear…they were my mother’s you know, and she always intended you to have them. Stand up straight, now, it’ll give you more height and lord knows you could use it. And oh, the heat, it is going to make frizz out of your lovely curls.” She adjusted one of the soft tendrils that framed Rosalie’s forehead. “There, that’s better. He’s going to be falling at your feet!” She turned to her sister-in-law. “What do you think of the gown, Annis? I love this pale green muslin on Rosalie, don’t you?” She adjusted the cap sleeves at Rosalie’s shoulders. “It’s so nice with your coloring. Why, I think our handsome Captain Merrick will be most charmed.”
“So he is handsome, then?” Pepper chimed in.
“Penelope, keep your voice down!” Mother hissed. “The men will be arriving at any moment and it would be most embarrassing if the captain were to hear you discussing him so!”
Rosalie couldn’t prevent a grin. She exchanged a glance with her sister and the two tried to stifle their laughter.
“She looks divine,” Annis chimed in. She was garbed in a bold sapphire blue, a daring gold belt beneath her breasts and a turban containing her bright orange hair giving her a look of confident authority. “Prettiest girl in Baltimore you are, my dear.”
Fattest one, too, Rosalie thought wryly.
“What about me?” Pepper demanded saucily, raising one brow.
“Your confidence isn’t in need of shoring up,” Annis returned. “Whereas your sister here is nervous.”
“No I’m not,” Rosalie lied.
“Don’t think ye can get something past yer aunt here,” Annis said, and glanced toward the door. “I’m looking forward to meeting this mysterious captain of yours. Pepper’s right. None of us could stand James, especially after what he said. I haven’t even met Captain Merrick, but my brother seems to think he’s a good mon and I trust his judgment, I do. I like it all the more that he’s Irish.”
“He’s American.”
“He’s a New Englander,” Susannah cut in. “And oh, I’d feel so much better if he were a local man.”
“Now, Mother,” Rosalie began, “Captain Merrick is as American as we are. And he saved my life. He saved all of our lives, and he did it while he was gravely injured and not feeling well, too. Give him his due, please.”
“He wasn’t telling the truth about colliding with a mast, was he? I knew that gash on his cheek warranted a better explanation.”
Rosalie suppressed a sigh. “He was telling the truth, Mother.”
“He saved your lives?” Pepper asked, eyes wide. “Oh, how romantic!”
“Gash on his cheek?” Annis raised her brows.
There was a sound outside in the hall. “The gentlemen are arriving now,” Rosalie said, grateful for the interruption. Her heart began to beat a little faster. Her palms dampened beneath her gloves, and she wished that taking up her fan and beating some air against her face wouldn’t betray her own nerves which she was trying so hard to both quell and hide.
She heard Kieran’s deep, quiet voice just outside, Stephen’s laughter, Father saying something, Liam’s Irish guffaw—
And then he was there.
Her eyes widened and she could only stare.
She had only ever seen Kieran dressed for life at sea; a plain shirt, a waistcoat, sailor’s slops or pantaloons and a wide-brimmed hat to keep off the tropical sun. She’d seen him armed to the teeth with pistol, blade, blunderbuss and boarding axe; she’d seen him dirty, bloody, virile and savage, a competent commander, a masterful mariner, a man in his element.
But she had never seen him dressed as a gentleman.
Her heart melted and landed in a puddle on the floor. Her mouth went dry and she felt a hot, reactive blush spreading up her throat and out into her cheeks.
He was garbed in a snug-fitting blue linen jacket with a standing collar and a double row of gold buttons down the front, a black silk ker
chief tied smartly beneath his chin and nestled between the lapels. His waistcoat was red, his trousers white, his black leather shoes buckled and smart. A short black tophat completed the look, a look that bespoke both gentleman and mariner, a look that showed off his tall, powerful elegance and drew the stares of every woman in the room from Aunt Annis as the eldest to the suddenly speechless Pepper.
Rosalie swallowed hard. Her gaze locked with Kieran’s, and she saw his eyes warm with approval.
“You look beautiful,” he mouthed quietly as introductions were made.
“Thank you.”
She felt Kieran’s gaze upon her, taking in her hair, parted in the middle and arranged in upswept curls around her face; she felt it move down her neck, around which was one of the seashell necklaces she’d brought back from the tropics; she felt it touch upon her bosom swelling above the high empire waistline of her evening gown, the peach-and-white ribbon tied beneath her breasts only emphasizing her generous proportions all the more. And then it moved back up to hers and she saw the discreet, approving lift to the corner of his mouth before it became a full, blinding smile—the kind of smile that he didn’t display often, but when he did, caused everything inside of her to go up in steam.
The room and everyone in it went away, her senses closed in, and there was only him.
He reached out and took her hand, raising it to his lips. And then, for everyone to hear: “You are a vision, Rosalie.”
She all but beamed with joy, felt him tucking her fingers into the crook of his elbow and the world came back to her. Kieran hadn’t taken his warm caramel gaze off her, and she wished she could stand on tiptoe and kiss him, wished her family wasn’t studying her reaction to him and his to her, wished she could lose herself in that radiant smile that lit up his handsome face and warmed her soul from the inside out. And her family was studying them; out of the corner of her eye she saw Mother elbowing Annis and grinning in triumph but Annis never noticed because she was staring at Liam Doherty and blushing all red beneath her freckles as the two were introduced.
Heir To The Sea (Heroes Of The Sea Book 7) Page 19
