Passion's Tide

by Sarah West

  “So, you’re just going to marry the first Prince or Duke who proposes?”

  “I don’t know about a Prince, but essentially, yes,” she replied in an empty voice.

  “What about courtship? What about compatibility? Hell, what about love?” He watched the color drain from her face. “Oh Amber,” he sighed, “you really did love the bastard, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t talk about him as if he’s already dead,” she choked.

  He walked around the table and knelt beside her, cupping her shaking hands between his own. “Of course he’s not dead. That man has escaped from stickier situations hundreds of times before. He’s probably on a ship right now, just a few days behind us.” His face did not confirm his belief.

  She shook her head. “Even if that were so, which I doubt it is, I would still be in this predicament.” Eli chewed on his lower lip and stayed silent. “Please, can we not talk about him anymore? Maybe in a year or two once I’m happily married with several children, you can stop by for tea and we will laugh about that time I wore breeches and learned to fight and fell in love with a pirate Captain.”

  “I doubt they would let someone like me into the drawing room of someone like you,” he mused as he walked back to his own chair. “But if I may, I’d like to talk about the protocol of your arrival in England. We can’t exactly pull up to the pier in the Thames, Jolly Roger flying and deposit a girl of some nobility who we kidnapped two months ago.”

  “I can see why you’d wish to avoid that.”

  “We can slip in relatively undetected in the middle of the night and bring you ashore, but we won’t be able to stick around to make sure you get settled. And it’s probably for the best that you don’t mention any of our names, or the ship at all.”

  “How shall I account for my delay?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. Suppose you say that the ship you started out on, what was the name?”

  “The Queen Charlotte.”

  “Right, suppose it got caught in a storm and had to pull into the nearest port for several weeks to repair. Once you realized it was going to take longer than expected, you began to look for another ship. You found a large merchant vessel that agreed to take you on, but England was only one of several stops. That would explain why you’re so late arriving, and why your family would not be able to personally thank the crew that brought you here safely.”

  “Sounds like a well thought out excuse.”

  “Do you think you’d be able to lie to your family?

  “Of course. If I can muster up the fake enthusiasm to search for a husband, I can easily withhold the details of my association with el Tigre and his vicious crew.”

  Eli smiled and leaned over the table to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re the strongest female I’ve ever had the fortune to meet.” He gathered the plates and headed to the door. “We should be arriving in three days time. Will you be ready to disembark by then?” She nodded. “Well then, goodnight.”

  As he shut the door behind him, she turned to look around the cabin. Each fight, each confrontation, each bout of passion that had taken place in this room came flooding back to her. So many memories, more good than bad, so many experiences with Logan on this ship that they defined her. She had been exposed to adventure, ecstasy and love, and now she had to bottle everything up inside and put on a mask of indifference. Pretend she hadn’t changed. It would be difficult, painfully so, but she would do it. She had known from the start that she would have to.

  True, she had flirted with fantasies, foolish plans constructed by her heart. But even if Logan had admitted his love for her, asked her to marry him, she would have to say no. And it would likely kill her. So perhaps this was for the best, she tried to reassure herself. With Logan gone, she would be able to put her feelings aside and begin forgetting him, as impossible as that looked right now.

  Too wound up to sleep, she threw open her trunks and began folding and organizing her things. As she turned up the lamp a flash caught her eye and she looked down at the ring on her finger. It hit her suddenly, a cold vice squeezing her heart until she fought to breathe. She slid it off. With the band lying flat in her palm, her other hand groped the table behind her for the lamp, her fingers wrapping around the handle and lifting it to illuminate the ring. She couldn’t wear this; she was looking to find a husband, not appear as if she already had one. Her brain urged her body to throw it into the corner of the room, toss it under the bed, but it wouldn’t respond. Instead, she stood with the lantern and pushed open the door.

  Avoiding the crew, she descended into the hold where she used the lamp to light a pathway through the maze of crates. Weaving her way among them and stopping occasionally to check their contents, she finally halted in front of one that looked familiar. Prying off the lid and dropping it to the side, she began sifting through the sparkling gems and strands of pearls, blind to the worth of each expensive piece of jewelry that passed through her hands.

  She located a black velvet pouch. Untying the drawstring she poured the contents into her hand, the ball of tangled snakelike gold chains cool in her palm. She went to work untangling them, examining each one before slipping it back into the bag. She freed a thin, rope chain from the mess and held it up. It was much more delicate and feminine than the others, but when she pulled on it she found it was surprisingly strong. He fingers fumbled with the small clasp, eventually freeing it and threading the chain through the center of the ring. Then she hung it around her neck.

  The ring was hidden beneath her clothes so that no one would know she was wearing it. She replaced the rest of the jewelry into the crate and was positioning the lid when she heard a noise behind her and turned. Puck was sprawled on his back, his too-large paws swiping at a silver chain that had fallen from the box. She scooped the kitten up and held him tight, his surprised mew turning into a content purr. The cat still in her arms, she finished putting everything away and returned to her cabin. She dropped Puck onto the bed where he kneaded the soft pillow, his rumbling purr still reverberating through his small body. She smiled for the first time in a week. After slipping off her dress, she crawled into bed beside the cat and moved him over so that she could lay her head on the pillow that still smelled like Logan. The purring lulled her to sleep.

  The stars shone overhead as Anton lifted Amber’s trunks into the longboat, the crew standing back, uncertain how to approach her and say goodbye. There was an awkward silence hanging in the humid air.

  Suddenly, Johnny and Henry pushed through the crowd and ran up to Amber. “Oh good, we didn’t miss you,” Henry exclaimed, as he thrust a wooden box at her. “We wanted you to have Puck. We know how much you like him, and he seems to like you best anyway.” A frustrated meow came from inside the crate, and a pink nose tried to poke its way through the air holes that were carved into the wood. She thanked Henry and let Eli take the box from her as Pax approached with a canvas bundle.

  “I don’t know how much use you’ll have for these in your new life,” he said, lifting the corner to reveal her weapons, sharpened and polished. “But I want you to take them with you just in case. If anything, they’d look awful smart hanging above your fireplace.” She accepted the bundle with a nod.

  Next, Abe limped to the front of the crowd. “Miss Amber, I made you your favorite honeycakes to take with you, and the boys helped me to write down the recipe so you can tell the cook at that fancy new house of yours that Abe says to make them for your breakfast.” The lump in her throat grew larger and larger as the crew members presented her with thoughtful gifts: a new lock for her trunks from Deacon, presented with a blush and an apology for breaking hers in the first place, a conch shell from Creed, a small wooden pirate that Anton had painstakingly whittled. The figurine had long curly hair.

  “Is this me?” she asked in surprise, looking up and seeing Anton’s bandaged hands. Wringing them together now, he grinned and nodded.

  “I worked real hard to make it as pretty as you, b
ut this is as close as I could get. Went through a lot of wood, too.”

  At last Johnny stepped forward, a homemade book with a crude leather binding in his hands. “I wrote this for you,” he said as he held it out to her, and dropped his voice so that only she could hear him. “It ain’t much, but I wanted to thank you for making me to learn how to read and write.” Scrawled on the cover was the title: The Adventures of Ruby Red and Puck. Beneath that was a drawing of a redheaded pirate and a buccaneer cat burying a treasure chest. Tears welled up behind her eyes as she smiled. “It’s wonderful Johnny, thank you,” she said to the boy, who took her by surprise by throwing himself at her. She staggered backwards and wrapped her arms around him, holding him for a moment until he pulled away, wiping a dirty hand across his eyes and leaving a smudge.

  “Amber, we need to leave soon,” Eli said quietly behind her. She squared her shoulders and blinked back tears. Anton got into the boat that he would help row, taking Puck’s box with him. She thanked everyone, received embraces and encouraging words from the crewmembers. Picking up the skirts of her simple dress, she climbed into the longboat. Eli said a few words to the crew and followed her.

  She lifted the box with Puck from the bench and sat, scaring the kitten into mewing again. She whispered soothing words. When that didn’t work, she pushed a finger into a hole and searched around until she found the animal’s chin, and began scratching. Puck quieted down and issued a low purr as Pax and Deacon sat down on the opposite bench and the boat was lowered into the water.

  “You ready Amber?” Eli asked.

  She gave a futile smile. “Of course.” The men began rowing and Amber watched as one by one the faces peering over the side of the boat disappeared. Puck settled at the bottom of the box and fell asleep. It was the middle of the night and the water was calm, but Amber was wide-awake.

  The ride was completed in silence, the one lantern in the center of the boat shining to guide their way until they reached the docks, at which point they blew it out. The flickering lights from the deserted harbor provided necessary illumination for them to steer the boat into an empty space.

  “We’ll let you off here,” Eli whispered, turning in his seat to face her. “We can’t stay, but a magistrate should walk through here within the next half an hour, doing rounds. Tell him what I told you, and he’ll help you get home.” She bobbed her head once to show she understood.

  Eli and Deacon rowed the boat closer to the dock, while Anton hopped onto the ladder and extended an arm for the first trunk that Pax hoisted up to him. The second trunk was exchanged in the same fashion, the third—the one holding her books—requiring all four men to lift it onto the dock. Next, she handed the small wooden box to Anton, who took it with care and placed it beside her luggage. At last, she embraced each man for a final time and climbed out of the boat, standing by her trunks and watching as the pirates rowed off into the early morning fog.

  Feeling alone and scared, she took a seat on her trunk and pried the top from Puck’s crate. He blinked up at her, yawned and stretched in the small confines of the box, and allowed her to lift him out. She slid the box to the ground and placed the kitten on her lap, stroking him until he fell asleep again.

  That was how the magistrate found her, asleep with a black and white mound of fur in her arms. He had seen some strange things in his years of walking the harbor, but this was a first. Glancing around him and seeing no one else in the vicinity of the girl, he cleared his throat.

  Amber sleepily opened her eyes, and upon seeing the magistrate in front of her, she smiled. “Hello, I was hoping you could help me find my family.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Amber was seated in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection and fiddling with the gold ring around her neck when there was a knock at the door. She quickly tucked the ring back into the bodice of her chemise.

  The door opened and Olivia James, her nineteen-year-old cousin, entered in a buzz of excitement. “Are you nervous about this evening?” she asked, scooping up the sleeping Puck and depositing him on her lap. “I know I would be, if it were my first London party. Lord, I would be a bundle of nerves!”

  Amber smiled. She had taken a genuine liking to her vivacious cousin, who, along with the rest of her extended family, had accepted her the minute she crossed the threshold a week ago. They had expressed their sympathy for the passing of Molly, and while her aunt Elinor and uncle Alfred, her father’s brother, reminisced about Amber’s parents, Olivia took Amber under her wing. In just seven days Amber felt she knew everything about everyone who was worth mentioning, thanks to her cousin’s gossip, even though she hadn’t yet been introduced to anyone outside the family.

  But tonight the Jameses had accepted an invitation to the Whitmore’s annual gala. And word about the beautiful American stranger had spread quickly, eliciting a large number of RSVPs for the party.

  “Georgie says her mother had to hire extra help from town to help with all of the guests,” Olivia informed her, referring to her best friend, Georgina Whitmore, whom Amber had met earlier that week. “Not that you should be scared,” she added.

  “I’m not scared, but perhaps I am a little apprehensive. This is the largest party I have ever been to, and the first one outside the States. I hope my etiquette lessons were enough preparation.”

  “You’ll probably do better than I will,” Olivia said with a chuckle. “Mother says I’m always making mistakes. But if you’re at a loss, just look at the person beside you and copy what they are doing. That’s what I do.”

  Another knock sounded at the door and Anne, the lady’s maid the Jameses had supplied Amber with, poked her head in. “Are you all finished bathing, Miss?” Amber replied that she was, and Anne hurried over and picked up the ivory-handled brush that lay on the table. Amber was finding it difficult to readjust herself to being looked after. After so long at sea, it was strange to have someone brush her hair again.

  As Anne began pinning her curls on top of her head, Aunt Elinor entered with a large bundle in her arms. “Here is your dress dear, just in time. I’m so glad we could get the alterations finished before tonight.” She laid it beside Olivia on the bed and turned to her daughter. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready as well? I believe I saw Mary wandering the halls, looking for you.” As Olivia flounced from the room, Elinor called after her: “No dawdling, I do not want to be late again!”

  Her daughter out of sight, she turned to her niece, who was quietly regarding her own reflection. “I hope Olivia has not been saying anything to make you nervous, Amber. I assure you, you’ll do splendidly.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Elinor,” Amber replied, meeting her aunt’s smile in the mirror. She winced as a hairpin was jabbed into her scalp.

  “Sorry Miss, but that was the final one. If you could hand me that comb—” she watched Anne’s eyes widen as her fingers brushed Amber’s skin, and she pulled back her hands with an embarrassed flush.

  “I apologize, my hands became quite rough while I was…aboard the ship.”

  Her aunt glanced at the clock mounted about the mantle and stopped Anne from going to fetch a bowl of water. “There is not enough time to soak them before we leave. I suppose you’ll just have to keep your gloves on while you dance.” She leaned over to give Amber a small hug. “Do not fret, the gentlemen will not care that your hands are callused. They will be far too distracted by your beauty. Now finish getting ready, while I get dressed and round up my family.”

  With her hair finished, Amber stood and allowed herself to be laced into her corset, gripping the bedpost as the laces were pulled tight. Next, the pannier-supported petticoat was tied about her hips. On top of that went her ivory silk petticoat, adorned with pale yellow roses, and her matching embroidered stomacher was pinned to her corset. Finally, with the help of a second maid, she was sewn into the French-blue silk gown, edged in lace and embroidered with the same yellow roses.

  The gown had been made by Madam Lorelei and shipped by Ma
xwell in a separate trunk. Her aunt had declared it suitable, if a little outdated, and sent it off to her seamstress to have the sides let out to allow for the whalebone hoop frame that had become popular in England a few years before.

  Now, with a double strand of pearls tied about her neck—her own necklace hidden beneath her chemise—and a pair of white gloves on her hands, she was ready. “We can’t do anything to hide your freckles, but don’t forget to pinch your cheeks for a nice flush,” Anne instructed as she handed Amber a matching silk fan. She thanked the maid and hurried downstairs, where her uncle and cousin Dominic were waiting for Elinor and Olivia.

  “You look lovely tonight dear,” her Uncle Alfred told her, and Dominic grinned; one very similar to Olivia’s mischievous smile, Amber noted.

  He winked at her. “Wearing that dress, you won’t have any trouble finding a suitor.”

  “You better keep those Whitmore boys in check then,” his father warned him.

  Dominic’s smile vanished. “If Rafe or Caleb so much as think about dancing with her, I will—” Luckily Olivia and her aunt joined them then, cutting off Dominic’s threats, and they all piled into the carriage that would take them to the Whitmore’s house.

  The ride was a short one, which was a blessing to Amber. As overwhelmed as she already was, she fervently believed that to listen to more of her cousin’s excited chatter would frighten her from ever leaving the carriage. She was trying to remember all she had learned from her governess so many years ago, and with each name Olivia mentioned she found it harder to recall the steps of a quadrille, or which spoon to use to eat soup. She knew this was not a formal dinner party and so knowing which spoon to use was not important, but it was comforting to run through her etiquette lessons in her head anyway.

  Olivia’s voice interrupted her mental exercise to inform her that they had arrived. Amber was helped down from the carriage and hurried inside a magnificent house before she could catch her breath, and as she looked around, she found it hard to. The entry hall she was standing in was grander than anything she had seen before, with polished marbled floors leading to a large staircase, high vaulted ceilings, and huge framed portraits on every wall. Before she could look at the paintings, however, Olivia whisked her into the ballroom. This room was even larger than the first, and filled with what appeared to be every member of the ton.