Stormy Persuasion

by Johanna Lindsey

  They found him in the first place Jacqueline looked, in the carpenter’s storeroom. Jack knew exactly where it was, but then she’d explored every inch of this ship the last time they’d sailed on it. And learned every aspect of running it, too. Of course, she hadn’t given up yet on her goal of being a pirate back then. She’d even tried to teach Judith everything she was learning, but Judith, not sharing the same interest, had only listened with half an ear.

  The room was smaller than their cabins, but big enough for one man to work in. Materials weren’t stored here, but in the hold. Only a long workbench and a wide assortment of tools were kept in the room. And the narrow cot Nathan had mentioned, replete with rumpled bedding to show he’d been using it.

  He was standing at his bench twisting apart old ropes to make oakum from the fibers, which was typically applied between planks in the hull to keep them from leaking. Judith vaguely recalled Jack’s mentioning the process. His white shirt was tucked in, half-unbuttoned and sweat stained, the sleeves rolled up. The door had been open, but the room was still hot. His hair wasn’t quite long enough to club back, but he’d tied a bandanna across his brow to keep the sweat from his eyes. Some of his shorter locks had escaped it. It made him look roguish, and far too masculine.

  Jacqueline, having pulled Judith into the room with her, was definitely caught by surprise, enough to whisper, “You forgot to mention he’s a bloody Corinthian and so handsome it hurts the eyes.”

  Judith’s cheeks lit up instantly, but Nathan didn’t appear to have heard the whisper. As he turned toward them, he merely stated, “You must be Jack.”

  “Judy mentioned me? Yes, of course she did. And did she tell you that neither she nor I am getting married this year? Shopping, just not buying yet. Keep that in mind, Nate.”

  He laughed, that deep rumble Judith had missed hearing. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little too outspoken for your age?”

  “Wouldn’t matter if they did,” Jack retorted. “Malorys don’t adhere to golden rules, we create our own.”

  He glanced at Judith. “Is that so?”

  She rolled her eyes. “For some of us.”

  Jacqueline nodded toward the rope still in his hand. “That’s something you could do on deck where it’s cooler. Why aren’t you?”

  “Maybe I was avoiding meeting up with the two of you,” Nathan replied with a slight grin.

  “Why? I don’t bite—without reason.”

  “He’s just teasing, Jack. I’m beginning to recognize the signs.”

  Jacqueline glanced between them. “Just when did you two get so well acquainted?”

  “We’re not,” Judith replied with only a slight blush. “We’ve only spoken a few times.”

  Jack nodded and told Judith, “I’m going to find Andrássy and see if he actually knows how to use that sword he carries. Don’t be too long in joining us on deck.” Then Jack actually smiled at Nathan. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Nate.” But she ruined the cordial remark by adding, “Nothing inappropriate happens in this room or I’ll have to gut you—if her father doesn’t beat me to it.”

  Jack left as quickly as they’d arrived. Judith peeked around the door to make sure her cousin really was going up to the main deck.

  “That was a little too direct,” Nathan said.

  Judith turned back to him. “That’s just Jack being Jack. She’s very protective of me, well, of everyone in the family, actually. It’s a Malory trait we all share. But I think she’s annoyed with me now that I didn’t mention you sooner.”

  “You weren’t supposed to mention me at all.”

  “No, your condition was to refrain from saying we’d met before and I’ve adhered to that. I told her nothing other than what you said to her father. But all that sneaking I was doing behind Jack’s back was far too nerve-racking to continue. As you can see, it’s no longer necessary.”

  “Yes, but how did you manage that?”

  “By convincing her that I was interested in you.”

  He grinned. “That must have been hard to do.”

  “Yes, it was,” she gritted out.

  He abruptly tossed the rope in his hand on the workbench and reached for her. She gasped, but he was just setting her on the bench. Deliberately disconcerting her again? He must have remembered how easy that was for him to do. It did put her closer to him, right in front of him actually, and he didn’t move away to correct that.

  Flustered, she demanded, “Why do you keep setting me down on things?”

  “It’s up, actually, and because you’re a half-pint.” But he leaned a little closer to add, “And maybe because I like touching you.”

  She blushed and jumped down to put some distance between them, only to feel his hands on her waist again. He put her right back on the bench, he just didn’t let go as quickly this time. His hands lingered on her waist. And those pleasant sensations were showing up again that had nothing to do with anything except him. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, waited . . .

  “So you like my touch, do you?”

  “No—I—”

  “Then maybe you’ll stay put this time?”

  She snapped her mouth shut. How bloody high-handed of him! And he did let go of her now, but too late. She was of a mind to leave but didn’t doubt he was persuading her to do just that with his manhandling tactics. Had he hoped her interrogation was done when she didn’t seek him out these last two days? Wanted to assure that it stayed that way? Too bad. She was too stubborn to let him manipulate her like that or to give up on getting at the truth.

  She was angry now. Not because he didn’t kiss her just then as she’d thought he was going to do, but because it appeared he was trying to renege on their agreement.

  Not having seen him the last two days, she’d had plenty time to dwell on him and had realized that none of her questions to him had been about smuggling. She’d merely questioned him to satisfy her curiosity about his personal life. So she’d accomplished nothing so far other than to nearly get caught hiding in the hold. By her father no less.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  She blinked. The anger simply drained away and too quickly, making her realize he could be doing it again. Saying things designed to distract her.

  And he wasn’t done. “I thought I caught your scent a few times.” Then he laughed at himself. “Kept glancing behind me, expecting to see you. I even opened a few doors I was so sure I could smell you nearby. Just wistfulness on my part, I guess.”

  Her brows narrowed suspiciously. “You know I don’t believe a word of that.”

  He grinned. “I know.”

  He moved farther away, over to the cot to sit down. She was surprised he hadn’t sat next to her again, but guessed the workbench wouldn’t support their combined weight. She caught the wince, though, as he sat, making her wonder if he was still in pain from that fight with her father.

  “Everything I say is going to be suspect,” he continued. “Because you don’t know me well enough to know when I’m telling you the truth. If you come over here and sit on my lap, maybe we can change that.”

  She snorted to herself. That didn’t sound as if he were in pain. Or he simply knew she wouldn’t be doing anything like that. It didn’t even warrant a reply, it was such an outrageous suggestion.

  Instead, she asked, “How bad was the bruising?”

  “Black.”

  “Still?”

  “I think he ruptured my stomach. I can’t keep anything down.”

  Her eyes flared, but she quickly realized he had to be teasing. “Nonsense, you’d be dead by now if that was so.” Then she smirked. “Maybe you’re seasick. Now that would be hilarious, wouldn’t it?”

  He snorted. “No, just absurd.”

  “But you’ve never been at sea this long to know, have you?”

  “I was just exaggerating, my way of letting you know what I think of your father.”

  “Oh.”

  A compliment to Anthony’s prowess in
the ring, or a slur? It was unusual to see someone at odds with her father. Her instinct was to defend her parent, but she held her tongue, recalling how rough that fight had been. She supposed Nathan was due a little grouching about it, at least until he was fully recovered, even though by the sound of it he’d started the animosity in the first place. Of course, she didn’t know what that had been about. Yet.

  “Now I’m craning my neck in the opposite direction,” Nathan complained. “At least come sit over here.” He patted the spot next to him on the cot.

  “On a bed? With you? That’s far beyond the pale of inappropriate and isn’t happening.”

  “Close the door first. Who will know?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Stop trying to seduce me.”

  He shot off the bed and didn’t stop until he was leaning into her. “But it’s working, isn’t it? If you’re going to admit to anything, darlin’, admit you want me as much as I want you.”

  Oh, God, did she? Is that what these feelings were? No wonder she was so confused and excited by him by turns. She’d never experienced desire before.

  He’d pushed between her legs even though her skirt wasn’t wide enough to allow him to get that close. She didn’t know how he’d done it until she felt his hand on her outer thigh—against her skin. Steadily moving upward and bringing her skirt up with it.

  Simple instinct moved her hand to his to stop its ascent. And it worked, he just didn’t take his hand away, and she would remember later that she didn’t either. She was too deep in the throes of anticipation. Yet the fear of discovery was present, too, with the door wide-open, when anyone could pass by and see them. But it didn’t occur to her yet to simply push him away.

  His cheek rasped across hers before he bent his head to breathe deeply by her neck. “There it is again.” His lips brushed against her skin as he said the words, causing gooseflesh to spread, leaving a trail of tingling sensations across her shoulders and back. “The smell of ambrosia.”

  “Jasmine,” she corrected breathlessly. “And vanilla . . . with a touch of cardamom . . .”

  “Then it’s just you, that’s ambrosia.”

  He leaned up, was suddenly staring deeply into her eyes. He did that for the longest moment. Such intensity! As if he were trying to see into her soul. Then he kissed her with such passion it took her breath away.

  “I’m going to hate m’self for this moment of gallantry.” His words brushed against her lips. “But if you don’t leave this second, I’m going to carry you to that bed. That’s a promise, darlin’, not just a warning.”

  Sanity returned with a vengeance, crimson embarrassment with it. But he didn’t move back so she could get down from the bench without sliding against him. She heard the groan as she did, just before she ran out of there.

  She stopped at the end of the corridor near the stairs, and the trembling set in. She put her back against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. Her cheeks were still scalding hot. What just happened?! But she knew, because once again she hadn’t got a chance to ask a single pertinent question. He’d found the perfect way to avoid that. He was chasing her away with sex. And what would have happened if she didn’t leave? Would he really have made love to her?

  Oh, God, she wasn’t even near him now and yet that single thought made her knees go weak.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nathan left the storeroom before he demolished it. What the bleedin’ hell was wrong with him to let her go like that? She’d been his for the taking. He’d seen it in her eyes. And a woman always got soft and friendly—and trusting—afterward. Which is exactly what he needed. But getting angry at himself for letting her go pointed out just how much of a fool she was turning him into.

  The saner thought was that he needed to stay far away from her. He’d been managing to do just that, knew very well she was trouble in more ways than one even before her father convinced him of it. Yet he still couldn’t get her out of his mind, had found himself thinking of her at all times of the day. He did want her. There was no denying that. He just couldn’t have her, and he needed to keep that fact uppermost in his mind.

  They could not be left alone again. Today proved he couldn’t keep his hands off her when they were. The only way to make sure she stopped tempting him like that was to give her the truths she wanted so she’d stop seeking him out. So he went up on deck where he expected to find her. She was there, looking calm and composed. He wasn’t, so he decided not to approach her yet and moved to the stern of the ship and took out the extra spyglass Artie had found for him. The first mate was there, too, doing the same thing.

  Yesterday Nathan had seen the captain surveying the ocean with a spyglass as well. But James hadn’t mentioned the ship that had been trailing them the night the stowaway had escaped, and it hadn’t been sighted since then. He’d surprised Nathan by volunteering information of a different sort, saying, “There’s a Yank aboard named Boyd Anderson who you might want to have a chat with. Spends a few days seasick every voyage, which is why you might not have noticed him yet. But he can steer you to the people you need to discuss your plan with after we arrive. Might save you some time.”

  “Appreciate it, Captain.”

  “Don’t mention it. Some Yanks do come in handy occasionally—good God, I need to bite my own tongue.”

  And he’d left with that odd statement.

  Now, Artie lowered his own spyglass and, noticing Nathan, asked, “You’ve been watching for them, too, mate?”

  “Curiosity compels me to.”

  Artie nodded. “No further sightings. They either got what they were after, gave up—or they know where The Maiden George is heading, so they don’t need to keep us in view.” Then he grumbled, “The day was when we would’ve circled behind and boarded them—or blasted them out of the water.”

  “Really?”

  The first mate snapped his mouth shut and marched off, obviously unwilling to elaborate—or realizing he shouldn’t have said that. Nathan turned to pursue the subject, but spotted Judith instead. She wasn’t looking his way but was watching the fencing match between her cousins on the main deck. Leaning against the rail, her back to it, her arms crossed, her red-gold locks were whisked about her shoulders and back by the wind. She was so engrossed in the match that she might not even know he’d come on deck. He could keep it that way—if his feet didn’t have a will of their own.

  He stopped two feet away from her and watched the fencers for a few minutes. It immediately became apparent that Jacqueline Malory wasn’t just amusing herself; she actually knew how to use that thin rapier in her hand. The lunges and feints, the quick responses, she wasn’t giving Andrássy much of a chance to do anything other than defend himself.

  Incredulous, Nathan asked, “Just what sort of tutors did you girls have?”

  “Normal ones.”

  “Normal for whom? Pirates?”

  Judith burst out laughing.

  He glanced at her. “What was funny about that?”

  “You’d have to know the particulars,” she replied, still grinning. “So tell me, when you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

  “Is that a trick question I shouldn’t be falling for?”

  “No, but when Jack played that wishing game, she decided she wanted to be a pirate. Of course, she’s outgrown that notion. Thankfully.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  “Yet it appears she mastered one of the skills of the job.”

  Judith giggled. “I know.”

  “Did you as well?”

  “Goodness, no. We shared the same tutors since we live close enough to. We merely altered the weeks and subjects, one week at my house for literature, geography, and several languages, then the next week at her house for history, mathematics, even a smattering of political science, then my house again, et cetera. We just differed in our personal curriculum. She was interested in fencing, pugilism, and becoming a crack shot, all of which her f
ather was happy to teach her. I was interested in needlepoint and learning to play an assortment of musical instruments. And you?”

  “The rudiments of a general education taught at a local church. But I don’t believe that she took up pugilism. There’d be no point, since it’s not something she could ever make use of.”

  He caught the smile on Judith’s face, which she wasn’t directing at him since she’d yet to glance his way even once. Then she confided, “I would agree with you if I hadn’t seen her in the ring with her older brother. Jeremy can easily hold his own in a fight. He is like a younger version of my father, but she was still able to beat him. Speed and a few tricks can counter size and brawn.” Then Judith laughed. “Of course that only works once. Onto her tricks, Jeremy didn’t let her get away with it twice.”

  Jack might be a few inches taller than Judy, but Nathan still couldn’t picture what she had just described. But it did make him wonder if Judith might be good at lying, too, or just good at exaggerating. She still wouldn’t look at him. Didn’t trust herself? He started to smirk but ended up groaning to himself. He had to stop thinking she was as attracted to him as he was to her. It might even just be a ruse on her part to get him to confirm her suspicions. And why didn’t he think of that sooner?

  A pretty older woman appeared on the quarterdeck, elegantly clad in a hooded, green velvet cloak that she no doubt wore to protect her coiffure from the wind.

  “Your aunt George?”

  “Yes,” Judith replied.

  Noting the woman’s serene expression as she watched the fencing, he said, “She doesn’t mind her daughter’s antics?”

  “D’you really think she could be unaware of the lessons Jack had from her father? Of course she doesn’t mind. She’s proud of all of Jack’s accomplishments, from never missing what she aims at with a pistol to her grace in a waltz—speaking of which, do you know how to waltz?”

  Startled by the question, he quickly turned to look at her and saw she still wasn’t looking at him. It was starting to annoy him. “Why would I? If you’re going to dance, it should be fun.”