The Sea Witch

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Before he could drop into the water, Riordan caught him and assisted him to shore, where he helped him to sit in the warm sand.

  Ambrosia, Bethany and Darcy waded through the water behind him.

  As Newton took the weapons from their hands he asked, "How'd it go today, lasses?"

  Ambrosia nodded toward her grandfather, who was wearing a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "You'd better ask Grandpapa."

  Riordan leaned close, shouting into his ear, "Do you think your granddaughters are ready for life at sea, Geoffrey?"

  The old man cupped a hand to his ear. "Tea? Aye. I'd like that."

  "Sailing, Geoffrey." Riordan was shouting louder. "Aboard the Undaunted."

  "Eh? What is it you wanted?"

  Defeated, Riordan shook his head. "Nothing, Geoffrey." He turned to Ambrosia, who was stifling a chuckle. "I think I quite agree with Mistress Coffey. He hears only what he chooses to hear."

  "You should have seen my granddaughters," Geoffrey suddenly blurted. "I don't believe there's a man in England who could best them at handling a ship or handling a weapon."

  The three young women beamed with pride. But Riordan turned away with a look of disbelief.

  "Are you coming in for tea?" Darcy called as he started to walk away.

  He turned and saw that all three sisters were smiling. "Dinnertime will be soon enough. Until then, I believe I'll just check the repairs again."

  "Is the Undaunted finished, Riordan?" Ambrosia's voice held a note of contained excitement.

  "It appears so."

  "How soon can she take an assignment?"

  "I've received word that there's an English ship, the Dover, aground up the coast, carrying tea and spices from India."

  "Where is she bound?"

  "She's bound for here, actually. Land's End. She's asking for help before her weakness is discovered by a rogue ship that might claim right of salvage. It should be a simple run. No more than a day or two. I thought it would give me a chance to see how the Undaunted handles after her repairs."

  "Excellent," Ambrosia cried. "When do we leave?"

  The sound of "we" grated on his nerves, even though he'd expected it. "I thought I'd leave on the morrow. At dawn."

  Ambrosia nodded. "Then I'll be sailing with you. My sisters and I drew straws. I drew the long one. Mine's the first run."

  He wouldn't be surprised to learn that she'd rigged the draw. It would be like Ambrosia to make certain she had the first chance at it.

  He glanced from her to the two old men who stood beside her, grinning like fools. Maybe they were, Riordan thought. A couple of old fools, and a few young ones as well. All thinking this was some sort of lark.

  "Fine. Well, I'd like Newt to accompany you."

  The old man's eyes lit up like a child's. "You mean it, Cap'n?"

  "I do. Someone's got to watch out for her." He saw Ambrosia's sudden frown and added, "Tell Mistress Coffey I won't be here for dinner."

  "Where will you eat?"

  "At the tavern. While I sign on the crew." He started away, then turned back. "We leave at first light. If you're late, Ambrosia, the Undaunted will sail without you."

  "I'll remind you that I'm the owner, Riordan."

  "And I'll remind you that I'm the captain. What I say goes."

  Ambrosia was still frowning as he strode away. Then he turned and trailed after her sisters toward the house. So it was to be a contest of wills, was it? It was time Riordan Spencer learned that she had no intention of losing. Or of missing her first chance at a sea voyage.

  Riordan packed his seabag and pulled on his jacket, hen paused in front of the window overlooking the beach. The sky was still dark. Too dark to make out the ship anchored just offshore. But he sensed its presence and felt the quick tug at his heart. It had always been this way. Whenever he was about to embark on a voyage, he needed no reminder to awaken. Needed no food to fuel his body. This hunger for adventure, this thirst for the sea, were all-consuming.

  He blew out the candle before leaving the bedroom. As he strode past Ambrosia's door, he paused a moment to listen for any sound that might alert him that she was awake. Hearing nothing, he smiled and moved on. Perhaps he'd been given a reprieve. Perhaps she would oversleep, and the Undaunted would sail without her.

  His smile grew as he descended the stairs and let himself out the door. He'd hate to be around when she awoke and discovered that they'd left without her. Knowing Ambrosia, she'd be hissing and spitting like a sack of wet kittens.

  He strode along the beach, his bag over his shoulder. When he reached the skiff, Newton was already seated inside, holding aloft a lantern and waiting to pilot him out to his ship.

  "Good morrow, Newt. Have you seen Ambrosia?"

  "Nay, Cap'n. But I wouldn't worry. The lass is too excited to miss her first voyage."

  "So you say." Riordan tossed his bag on the seat, then nudged the old man aside. "Let me row, Newt. I need the release."

  As he moved the oars through the water, the old man grinned at him, showing white teeth in the darkness. "Excited, are you, Cap'n?"

  "Aye. I've been ashore too long. My blood's hot for the sea, Newt."

  "As is mine." The old sailor glanced at the black water, gilded here and there by ribbons of moonlight. "She's calm this morrow. We're in for some fine weather. At least on the first leg of our journey."

  "I hope you're right. If so, it should be an easy run up the coast and back."

  He lifted his oars and they drifted close to the waiting ship. When they came alongside the rope ladder, Riordan hefted his seabag. "You'll bring the crew out when they get here?"

  "Aye, Cap'n. I see the line of their lanterns coming down the shore now. We'll be along shortly." He handed over the lantern and took up the oars.

  Before Riordan had even made it over the rail, the skiff had disappeared into the darkness. All that could be heard was the splash of oars in the water.

  Riordan stood for a long time breathing deeply, enjoying the pitch and roll of the deck beneath his feet. He watched as the skiff, now aglow with lantern light, began another run toward the Undaunted. Then he picked up the lantern and his bag and headed for the cabin belowdecks.

  He threw open the door and strode inside, setting the lantern on the table before stowing his bag in the closet.

  Then he withdrew a rolled map from one of the small cubbyholes along the wall and unrolled it, using the lantern to anchor one side. As he bent to the map he heard a sound behind him and turned. When he caught sight of a figure sitting up in his bunk, he reached for the knife at his waist. In the blink of an eye he had the figure pinned, and was holding the blade at a throat. "Stop, Riordan."

  At the sound of that husky voice he froze, then slowly lifted his hand away. "Ambrosia. What are you...?"

  He took a step back, staring at her in alarm.

  She looked like a gypsy he'd once seen. Dark hair tumbling about in wild tangles. Eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. A crimson shirt falling off one shoulder in the most provocative manner.

  He felt a rush of heat and blamed it on the fact that he'd been caught by surprise.

  "I spent the night aboard the Undaunted."

  "So I see." He sucked in a breath, unsure whether to throttle her or kiss her. He wanted both in equal measure. "Afraid you'd oversleep?"

  She smiled. "Perhaps I was afraid you might leave before the appointed hour."

  "It had occurred to me. But there was the crew to consider. I dare not leave without them. Otherwise, I must confess, I would be more than a little tempted."

  "You won't be sorry I came along, Riordan."

  "Nay. But you might be. Some of the sailors are superstitious. They won't like sailing with a female aboard."

  "It can't be helped, for most of these men have known me since I was a child. There's no way to hide the truth. Still..." She tossed aside the blanket and got to her feet. She was wearing men's breeches tucked into boots. She pulled on a vest, covering more evidence of
her gender. Then she began twisting a piece of black cloth around her head. When she was finished, her hair was completely covered. "Aboard ship I'll just be Seaman Lambert."

  Seeing the way his jaw dropped, she gave a sly smile. "Admit it, Riordan. If you didn't know better, you'd never guess, would you?"

  He gave a grudging shake of his head. It wouldn't do to mention the fact that her face was too beautiful to ever be mistaken for a man's. "All right. You might be able to get away with this charade. But remember, Ambrosia. Every sailor aboard the Undaunted will be expected to carry his share of the workload."

  "That doesn't worry me. There's nothing aboard ship I can't do."

  "We'll see about that." He turned away and bent over the map. "If you're finished dressing, you can get started hoisting the sails. We've no time to waste."

  She felt the sting of dismissal, and for a moment considered reminding him whose ship he was commanding. Then she realized the futility of it. Until they returned to shore, Riordan Spencer was captain of the Undaunted. A law unto himself. Whether she liked it or not.

  "Newt, take the wheel."

  "Aye, Cap'n." The old man stepped up, and Riordan left him to walk to the rail.

  With the sails lowered and most of the crew already asleep belowdecks, he was free to look back on their first day. It had gone smoothly, without incident. They'd enjoyed fine weather and a brisk wind that filled their sails and carried them smartly along the coast of Cornwall.

  Now, with a skeleton crew on deck, they would drift on the tide until first light. With a good breeze on the

  morrow they ought to make their destination, the small village of Bretton, by mid-afternoon. They would salvage the cargo of teas and spices, and head back to Land's End, arriving the following evening.

  It had proven to be a perfect trial of the Undaunted. Riordan smiled in the darkness. She was a fine ship. Sleek, sturdy. And proving to be better than ever, since her repairs.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow move on deck. He turned. And caught his breath.

  Ambrosia stood with her face to the stars, breathing in the fresh sea air. Now that darkness covered her, she had removed the scarf and vest she'd worn throughout the heat of the day.

  "I should think you'd be sound asleep by now. You've put in quite a day." He felt a twinge of regret. He'd worked her hard. Harder than the other sailors, he now admitted. And only because he was so determined to prove her unfit to be in their company.

  "Aye. I am tired. But it's a good tired."

  He moved closer and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, Ambrosia."

  She turned to look at him. "For what, Riordan?"

  "For ... singling you out for so much duty. I should have been more impartial."

  "I didn't mind the work."

  He saw the glint of starlight reflected in her eyes and felt a sudden tug of desire. "But it was unfair. I was testing you. Trying to push you beyond your limits."

  "I know." She didn't bother to add that her anger had been the fuel that kept her working when her muscles protested and her body craved rest. "I'd expected as much."

  He touched a hand to her arm and felt the rush of heat.

  It was impossible to be close to her and not be aroused. "You must think me a cruel taskmaster."

  She turned, so that her mouth was mere inches from his. Her breath was warm against his face and he breathed her in. For one brief moment he thought about kissing her. Then he remembered that Newton was just across the deck, holding the wheel. Though the old man couldn't hear their words, he could surely see them.

  She smiled in the darkness, and Riordan felt his lips curve in response. And then she spoke, and the smile died.

  "Nay, Riordan. You were simply being a man. And no more cruel than any other. None of you can bear to imagine a woman doing what you do. Enjoying what you enjoy. Wanting what you want. But I'll expect an apology when I've proved you wrong."

  She turned and walked across the deck.

  Before she could descend the ladder, he came up behind her and caught her arm in a painful grasp. "Where do you think you're going?"

  "Below-decks to my bunk."

  His eyes narrowed. "With the sailors?"

  "Aye. With the sailors. Isn't that what I am? Isn't that what you were so determined to prove to me all day?"

  "Perhaps. But you forget how you look." He caught a handful of her hair and for the space of a heartbeat felt all the air leave his lungs. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to plunge his hands into these glorious tangles and kiss her mouth until they were both breathless. He actually leaned toward her and tempted himself with the thought of how she would taste. Salty from the sea air, lips still wanned from the sun. Wickedly wild and gloriously feminine.

  His fingers tightened on her shoulder, and he drew her close. "You might try to deny it, Ambrosia. But you're a woman. A beautiful, desirable woman. One look at you and a man might forget everything he's ever learned, including how to be civilized."

  "All except you? Is that what you're saying, Riordan? I'm sure a leader such as yourself would have no trouble remembering who he was."

  Temper had him tugging her head back more viciously than he'd intended. "I'm only warning you that once you fall asleep you'll be helpless. You wouldn't stand a chance against all those men."

  "Wouldn't I?"

  He was stunned to feel the cold steel of her knife against his throat. "The first one who touches me will pay with his life. After that, I doubt there will be any others wanting to risk the same fate. Don't you agree... Captain?"

  "Aye." Eyes narrowed, he released her and took a step back.

  "Now I'll bid you good-night."

  With a hiss of annoyance he watched as she descended the ladder into the darkness below.

  As he returned to take the wheel, he felt a grudging respect. He hadn't seen her reach for her knife. Yet there it was, close enough to slit his throat if she'd so desired.

  As he approached, old Newton called, "I see you had a few words with the lass."

  "Words?" He stood beside the old man, willing his heartbeat to return to normal. "It isn't possible to exchange words with Ambrosia Lambert. 'Twould be easier to exchange blows."

  "She's always been a fierce scrapper." The old sailor smiled in the darkness. "But I've a feeling when the lass gives her heart, it will be equally fierce. The man lucky enough to win Ambrosia Lambert will possess something greater than any earthly treasure. He'll have love and loyalty that will last a lifetime."

  "Aye." As he reached for the wheel, Riordan touched a hand to his throat. Though she hadn't broken the skin, he'd felt the press of that razor-sharp blade. And had seen the determination in those eyes. "Providing she doesn't kill him first."

  The second day of their voyage was nothing like the first. The sun disappeared behind a bank of angry clouds. The wind came up, out of the north, whipping the sea into dark, churning waves that rolled across the deck of the Undaunted, making it impossible for sailors to cross from one side to the other without the use of ropes to keep from being swept overboard. And then came the rain. A strong, steady downpour, punctuated with heart-stopping rumbles of thunder, and lightning that danced across the sky in blinding flashes.

  By the time they'd managed to ride out the storm, the Undaunted had been blown far off its charted course. It would take hours to make up for what they'd lost.

  "Seaman Lambert." From his position behind the wheel Riordan bellowed a command. His heart went out to Ambrosia. She'd been valiantly battling the weather for hours alongside the other sailors. Like them, her clothes were soaked clean through, plastered to her skin. It was no longer possible to hide her gender. Those who hadn't known before could surely see, by the breasts clearly visible beneath her wet shirt, that there was a female in their midst. But all had accepted her as one of their own, for she was willing to work twice as hard.

  "Aye, Captain?" Ambrosia looked up from her task of swabbing the deck.

  "Fielding needs h
elp belowdecks preparing the food." It would give her a rare chance to change into dry clothes and even drink some hot tea while she helped with the meal.

  Ambrosia's eyes blazed. "Do I look like a cook? Let someone else help Fielding."

  Riordan's mouth clamped into a hard, tight line. Why must she always be so damnably stubborn? "Are you questioning my command?"

  "Nay, Captain." She spat the words from between clenched teeth. "But I'd rather swing from the rigging during a lightning strike than be stuck belowdecks with Fielding."

  Several of the other seamen chuckled. It was well known that Fielding spent most of his time eating, while ordering his assistants about like a monarch. But most of the sailors didn't mind galley duty. It gave them a chance to be dry and well fed.

  "Very well." Riordan turned to a young lad no more than ten and three. "Brandon, go below and help Fielding." He turned to Ambrosia with a look that dared her to argue. "Seaman Lambert, you have your wish. Climb that rigging with young Randolph and begin unfurling the sails. We need to make up for the time lost."

  Ambrosia heard the laughter of the other sailors, and saw the relief on their faces that they'd been spared such an order. Lifting her chin, she took hold of a rope and began to climb hand over hand.

  The waves were so fierce they sent a wall of stinging salt spray spilling over the rail, nearly swamping her. She was grateful when she'd climbed high enough to avoid the waves. Still, the ropes were stiff and wet, burning her hands until they bled. And to add to her misery, each time she looked up she was forced to close her eyes against the rain that fell directly into her face.

  From his position on deck Riordan watched her progress with a sense of self-loathing. Once again she'd managed to light the short fuse of his temper, causing him to push harder than he'd intended. The last thing he wanted was to order her to take such a risk. But she seemed determined to force his hand at every turn.

  He glanced at Newton, who also seemed concerned as Ambrosia clung to the ropes with one hand while with the other she worked the sails. The young seaman who worked across from her seemed to be having a bit of trouble with snarled lines. Seeing it, Ambrosia swung hand over hand until she was beside him. Together they worked the ropes until the knot was free. Then Ambrosia swung back in a graceful arc, catching another rope in her hands and easily returning to her position.