She stood as he approached, as though sensing his presence, or perhaps she recognized his footsteps. His heart hammered in sudden apprehension, like a green boy trying to impress the prettiest girl in town. He had no idea what to say to her, where to begin. She held her back to him for so long he wasn’t entirely prepared when she turned those huge limpid eyes to him.
His beating heart quite nearly stopped. Her eyes were his downfall. They always had been, and for what felt like an eternity, he could not think, or breathe, or even move. If this was suffocating the sensation was anything but unpleasant, and for a single magical moment all else ceased to exist.
Could she feel it?
Obviously not.
Cadence stood rigid, shooting daggers up into Curtis’s eyes. She fingered the heavy holystone she’d been cleaning with as though she’d like nothing more than to send it sailing into his head. He took an involuntary step back. The stone clattered to the deck.
“I thought you might want to crack my skull with that.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t tempt me.” She bent to retrieve her cleaning supplies, completely ignoring him.
He reached for her, his hand gently brushing her elbow.
She jerked away from his touch, whirling to face him, eyes sizzling with anger. “What do you want?” she snapped.
“We need to talk about the other night,” he said, resisting the urge to bolt.
Cadence closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath. She was beautiful with the blue sea glittering in the background even in her cabin boy costume. Opening her eyes, she sighed in defeat. “Very well, but I will not go to your cabin. If you wish to speak with me it will be here on the deck.”
“Fair enough.” Curtis clasped his hands behind his back and together they moved slowly along the deck keeping a safe distance from the other crewman.
He cleared his throat, flashing a crooked smile. “You can give me another black eye if you wish.” Humor never failed him. He’d say something funny, she’d giggle, and…
Cadence scowled, a flicker of hurt darting across her face. “Don’t try to be witty, Curtis. Your charming smiles aren’t going to fix this.”
Her words left him fumbling. Fix? That was rich. As if he could fix anything, much less this particular situation. “You, uh, think I’m charming?” he nudged her shoulder with his, meaning to keep the conversation light to break the ice and coax her into a better humor.
“Not anymore,” she said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms firmly against her chest. “I know what you are.”
The sweet suffocating sensation from a moment ago evaporated. Damn, but her cold eyes gutted him. The gaze she fixed on him held nothing of the glowing adoration ever reflected in her violet depths. He detected none of the look he’d always known he didn’t deserve but craved nonetheless.
“Are we finished, Curtis?” she asked. “There is work to be done.”
A familiar black cloud roiled around the edges of his soul. Whatever illusion of goodness he’d tricked himself into believing still lingered faded away in the face of her dismissal, darkening of his every emotion. “Cadence, I’m sorry about the other night,” his tone grew harsh, grating, making him sound completely callous. “I suppose I took advantage of you.” God! That was the wrong thing to say, why did he sound like such an ass? “And I’ll marry you if that’s what you want.”
“If that is what I want?”
Curtis knew instantly how badly he’d erred. Her hands balled into fists, she spun toward the rail and then back to face him. Involuntarily he cringed away from the onslaught sure to come.
“If that is what I want? How many times must I tell you that I did not come here to trap you? You,” she spat as an expletive, “are without doubt the most incorrigible, conceited, untrusting ass I’ve ever met.” Curtis cringed. He deserved that. He was an ass, was behaving like an ass, and he certainly felt like a bloody ass.
“I hate you!”
He deserved that too. She had every right to hate him. He’d treated her terribly, and now she obviously perceived his attempt to do right as insincere. What woman wouldn’t? “Cadence, wait,” he pleaded as she made to leave. “I know you’re angry, but—”
“Goddamn right I’m angry!”
“Cadence, what I said. That is not what I meant. It came out all wrong and—”
“Oh? And exactly how did you mean it to come out?”
Hell! He was rapidly losing ground in this argument, though he wasn’t entirely sure when or how it had happened. “Well, I, um, what I meant to say is,” he pulled a hand through his hair and turned a frustrated circle. “Dammit! What do you want, Cadence? What? Just tell me what to say, to make things right between us.”
“I don’t want you to say anything, Curtis, unless it’s what you want to say.” Her eyes sparked against his. “I just want you to be truthful, be yourself, and say what you feel.”
“Truthful?” he railed. “You want me to be truthful? He jabbed an outstretched finger at her. You are some kind of hypocrite you know that? I am standing here trying to do the gentlemanly thing by you, you, a woman who has done nothing but lie to me almost since the day we met, and you want me to be truthful?”
“You a gentleman?” she quipped sarcastically.
A cruel smirk twisted his lips as his gaze raked the length of her. “No more than you’re a lady.” Eyes narrowed, he took a menacing step forward. “Which brings me back to the point.” His eyes grew cold and hard. “Why are you here? I had believed you wanted me, but I’m coming to realize there are forces at work far more dark than my conceit in believing a woman would be so bold in chasing after me.” Curtis closed the distance between them and grabbed her upper arms with such force she gasped aloud. “It’s time to tell me the truth, Cadence.”
She shuddered, eyes widening with fear. “Curtis.” His grip tightened. “I haven’t lied to you.” She gulped, cringing away from the cruel bite of his fingers.
“Like hell,” he barked, eyes flashing. “All you’ve told me is that you needed to run away, but never why. Why did you choose my ship? And why in the name of Christ did you choose me?” He didn’t know why he bothered to ask. He knew. It was the evil fates or perhaps the devil. She had been sent to tempt him, to remind him of all that sinners couldn’t have and to hasten his decent into hell.
“Be-because you’re a good man," she whispered. “A kind man and I thought you would help me.”
His lips twisted into the bitter semblance of a smile, a short burst of ironic laughter escaping him. Even now a flicker of that foolish trust drifted elusively across her eyes. “Do you really believe that?” He searched her face. “You do, don’t you. Why? Because you think I saved you once? Oh, Cadence, if only you really knew.” He pulled her closer, eyes boring into hers. “How can you not see me for what I really am?”
“Oh, Curtis,” she breathed. Her eyes searched his as though seeing him for the first time. “What happened to make you so cold? This isn’t you.”
The words cut him to the quick. What had she seen mirrored in his gaze to prompt such a statement? Suddenly he felt totally bare to her eyes, and for a moment he feared she could see every inch of his blackened soul. Would she know? Her face was now so soft and her eyes no longer flashed lightning. Instead she looked at him with warmth and compassion. Once again he longed to lose himself in her beautiful eyes. In the violet depths he could drown. Forget…
A shine of tears glassed the surface of her eyes. Cadence flushed, tugging away from him. “Curtis, let me go,” she whispered just as tears spilled over her lids.
Oh, God, no. Not tears, Curtis groaned inwardly. Anything but tears! He abhorred tears! Show him a weeping woman and words failed him, words of sincerity had always failed him, but in the face of distress, especially distress he’d caused, he felt totally helpless. “Don’t cry,” he demanded. “Crying doesn’t solve anything!” The tears only came faster. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed miserably,
gazing up at him, expression sad. “I’m so sorry Curtis.” At last she broke free of his hands. “I-I never meant to hurt you with lies. That night on the docks when you saved me…” Her face softened then crumbled. “I thought I could trust you.” She backed away several steps. “I expect nothing of you Curtis. You have no obligation to marry me.”
At a total loss for words, thought, or action, Curtis watched her sprint across the rolling deck. “Well, that didn’t go quite as planned,” he remarked to no one in particular scrubbing a hand through his hair. And he still had no idea what was going on. Guilt hit him again. Damn that guilt. It left him feeling hollow. Striding toward the galley for a cup of coffee, Curtis contemplated the complex puzzle that was Cadence Jamison.
He hated puzzles.
“Afternoon, Jack.” Curtis bade the cook as he stepped into the galley.
“And to you, Captain.” Old Jack flashed a toothy grin. “How be the young lady this evenin’?”
Curtis gaped at the other man. “What?”
“How be the young girl this evenin’?” The cook set a steaming mug in front of him.
Curtis was incredulous. “How do you know? Did she tell you?”
Jack chuckled, a musical rumbling from deep within his expansive chest. “A pretty girl like that? A man would have to be blind not to see who she really is.”
“Jesus,” Curtis muttered. “Who else knows?”
Jack shrugged. “I knew from the first night I found her raiding my stores, but most men don’t see what his hidden right in front of them.” The old man held a knowing gaze upon Curtis. “She’s a good girl, Captain, whatever problems be between you, just remember that she is a good girl. Not a mean bone in her body.”
Curtis stared at the dark liquid in his mug, contemplating the man’s words. Old Jack was a man with the ability to look into the soul. Jack could read people like words on a page and be it a gift of divine intervention or unspeakable evil Curtis had never seen the old man wrong when predicting what motivated a man. Or, in this case, a woman. Desperately he wanted to believe that Jack was right and Cadence was not motivated by malice or self-seeking greed.
Eleven
Cadence huddled in the solitude of her small cabin and if not for the heaviness of her thoughts, she might have found the atmosphere pleasant. She dragged an old quilt up and around her shoulders, toying with a loose thread on the edge. The memory of her sister swollen and miserable with an unwanted pregnancy, married to a man she had used but never wanted, refused to leave her be.
What have I done?
While she did not regret her night with Curtis she knew the consequences that could come of her choice, and Curtis obviously had no desire to find himself leg shackled. His surly attitude on deck proved that. He’d offered to “do the right thing” but without sincerity she would never hold him to what he obviously perceived as a code of honor.
She gazed through her small window at the heavy clouds. Heavy… Heavy was a good word for how she felt, as was devastated. Confused. Angry. No, she was quite beyond anger. At this point she was—
The train of thought was interrupted by loud pounding on her door. She flew from the narrow bunk. “Who’s there?” she asked, uselessly, as the door flung wide. Goodness, but I should have locked it. Curtis stood in the doorway, his hulking frame all but blocking the light.
“Can you sew this up?” he demanded, thrusting an arm toward her, revealing a blood-soaked gash in his sweater sleeve.
“Uh,” an assessing gaze dipped to the ugly slash. “Your arm?
“No, the sweater,” he half-smirked, half-snarled sarcastically. “Of course, my arm. What else would I mean.”
Her eyes widened as he took a step into the room. “You want me to do it?”
“Better you than Jack! I am assuming you can stitch with a little more finesse than he possesses.” As though to emphasize the point he pulled up his right sleeve revealing a jagged silver scar. “Compliments of the cook.”
“Point taken,” she conceded. “Wait! What are you doing?” her voice registered no small measure of panic as he proceeded into the room tugging the worn wool sweater over his head.
“I thought you were going to stitch my arm. Get the medicine case from my cabin. It has all you’ll need.”
Electing not to point out that she’d agreed to no such thing, she complied and returned in seconds, thinking quickly. Despite his surly attitude toward her she had no desire to tempt fate and find herself falling to his whims yet again. “If I’m going to do this we’re going to the galley. Better light.”
“As you wish,” Curtis grumbled, grabbing his sweater in a fist and stomping from the room.
A quagmire of confused emotions bogged Cadence’s mine as she followed him through the ship to the galley. Over and again she reminded herself to hate him, but staring at the rippling muscles of his back it was difficult to think of much else. However, it was more than his physical appeal. The pain and anguish she’d seen earlier in his eyes, as though he’d lost all hope, haunted her.
Stepping into the inviting warmth of the galley Curtis sprawled into an old wooden chair avoiding eye contact entirely. Cadence moved past him, rummaging through the medicine chest in search of an acceptable needle, thread, and some form of cleansing agent. She marveled at her sudden shyness. It seemed odd but she was more unnerved by Curtis’ presence now than before knowing him intimately.
“Alright.” She located the supplies and faced him. “Let me see your arm.”
With a barely audible snort—which she could not quite determine the meaning of—Curtis slung an arm across the table. The gash was really quite ghastly with an almost triangular flap of skin torn from the back of his left arm. Blood oozed from the site and yellowish white fatty tissue poked through. She made a face. “What happened?” She soaked a rag with rum, pressing it to the wound.
“Ouch!” he jerked away.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, lifting one of the small curved needles and poking black linen thread through its eye. She pushed the needle through his skin, then into the other side of the cut. He flinched, but held relatively still.
Through gritted teeth, he said, “You’re not exactly squeamish, huh?”
Cadence glanced up to find his crisp blue eyes assessing her. Indifferently she shrugged.
“I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, Cadence Jamison.”
She paused. “And what does meet the eye, Captain?” Her gaze met his, stare for stare, challenging.
A slow grin stretched across his handsome face and his naked shoulders shifted back slightly though he said nothing. After a few moments she went back to sewing his arm. “I think you’re strong,” he said seriously after she’d placed a full ten stitches. “I think you’re a lot stronger than I could ever be.”
Cadence reached for the rolled cloth bandage at the top of the medicine chest, her hands shook with the sheer force of his proximity as she gently wrapped the dressing around his arm. “What do you mean?” She tied off the bandage and backed away.
“Cadence?” He followed her up, his hulking frame pervading the very air and essence of the room. For a long moment he watched her with a piercing, unreadable gaze. “Cadence, I’m sorry,” he drawled, moving in until they touched.
She couldn’t move! Couldn’t breathe! Couldn’t think! Only stared into his unnaturally blue eyes, wondering at how much closer his lips were…
“Land Ho!” The excited call from the crow’s nest echoed through decks of the wooden vessel.
Cadence seized full opportunity to escape the truly intoxicating nearness of the man who invaded every thought, pore, and fiber of her body, and bolted from the room. Though the biting air did little to cool her flushed and flaming body she strained with the rest of the crewman to catch a glimpse of the gray shoreline barely visible in the distance. Ignoring Curtis completely when he stepped alongside her, Cadence turned to the first mate. “Is that England?”
“Aye, laddie,” Mr. Bowen replied j
ovially. “And home sweet home for this old bugger.”
“When will we reach port?” she asked, keeping her voice low and gruff, she could almost feel Curtis’s tense in irritation beside her.
“Noontide on the morrow I’d imagine.”
Noon tomorrow and she’d be on her way to a new life. On her way to a new life and away from Curtis Langston forever… Her throat constricted, blocking off air. Attempting to swallow, she cut a wide swath around the deck, fighting for every breath and blinking back bitter tears. The very thought of leaving Curtis caused her such pain, her labored breathing whistled with each inhalation.
So much for no regrets.
So much for hate.
Now that the inevitable separation had arrived she emptiness filled her. She loved him, though she did not want to. Her love for him was too much, too excruciating, and more over it could never be. She could never return to Charleston. Quietly slipping below decks, she stumbled to her cabin, barred the door, and bawled.
Eventually sleep claimed her and the nightmare came swiftly out of her subconscious, dragging her into a chasm of terror and despair. Far outside her dream a loud crashing met her ears as a soothing voice began to chant her name. Stretching through the horrors of her nightmare Cadence slowly became aware of strong arms holding her.
“Curtis!” She clung to his neck, sobbing from the agony of icy fingers wrapped around her heart.
Curtis pressed gentle lips to her brow, savoring the sweet smell. “What is wrong, love? Please tell me.”
Cadence shook her head, terrified to tell him. She couldn’t know how he’d react to the truth. Finally Curtis pulled her back and looked into her face.
Cadence (Langston Brothers Series) Page 10
