"I thought your grandfather and sisters ought to have the pleasure of watching you bring the Undaunted in. She's your ship, after all."
His words warmed her as nothing else could have.
"Look." He pointed. "Up there."
She gazed toward where he was pointing, and saw her family watching from the widow's walk.
He watched as she carefully navigated the hidden rocks, the sudden drop-offs and shallows, and brought the ship to their cove for anchor.
It was only when the anchor was lowered that he noticed how she favored one arm. His smile faded. "You're
"It's nothing." She rubbed her shoulder. "Just a little tender."
Knowing the others were watching, he managed not to touch her. But his voice, so close to her, was fierce with concern. "You should have told me, Ambrosia. I don't want you straining that wound."
He turned to Newton. "Order the skiff lowered, Newt. I must go to Land's End and meet with the king's representative, and arrange for him to claim our cargo." He turned to Ambrosia. "You're coming with me."
"To Land's End?"
"Nay. To shore."
"Shouldn't I stay here with the crew?"
"They're capable of standing watch until I return. As for you, I intend to ask Mistress Coffey to prepare a hot bath and a warm meal for you at once."
Ambrosia lay a hand over Riordan's and lowered her voice. "You know that I will refuse any special treatment."
He smiled, in that way that always caused her heart to tumble in her chest. "Indulge me, Ambrosia. I spent too many hours worrying about you. And now that we're home, I want to know that you're being cared for properly."
She swallowed. "Aye, Captain."
When the skiff was lowered, they descended the rope ladder and settled themselves inside.
Minutes later, as they landed on the beach, Riordan held out his hand and helped her from the boat.
She hesitated. "Will I see you for dinner?"
"Aye." He smiled. "As soon as our cargo is turned over to the king's representative in Land's End, my job is done."
"I'll tell Mistress Coffey to expect you."
Riordan watched as she walked across the beach. Then, leaving Newton beside the skiff, he started toward the village, content that his first voyage as captain of the Undaunted had ended well, despite some setbacks.
He was looking forward to a long hot bath himself. And perhaps a few minutes alone with Ambrosia, to take up where they'd left off aboard ship.
Riordan strode through the village of Land's End, eager to finish this business and get back to MaryCastle. He couldn't begin to relax until the gold was removed from the Undaunted and turned over to the proper authorities.
Then he smiled to himself. He would find some time alone with Ambrosia. He might even admit to her that she'd done a fine job aboard the Undaunted. Much finer than he'd expected. She'd worked harder than any other sailor. She'd pushed herself to the limit to prove to him, to the others and probably to herself, that she was up to the task. His smile grew. Aye, she was more than up to the task of sailing. And even in battle she'd done herself proud. If not for the unexpected fall, there'd be not a blemish on her record. And that fall could have happened to any one of them. What made it all the more remarkable was the fact that she'd rushed to the aid of young Brandon before the others had even noticed his predicament.
She was an amazing woman. And he intended to tell her that. Right after he kissed her full on the mouth. Because the truth was, he'd been thinking about that mouth ever since he'd first kissed it. And if he didn't taste her again, and soon, he'd go mad.
After inquiring at the tavern, he was told where he could find Barclay Stuart. His place of business looked out over the harbor filled with ships at anchor. It was a sight that stirred Riordan's heart as nothing else could.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. The walls were lined with maps of the world, the trade routes clearly marked. Every inch of space was cluttered with things much loved by seamen. Rope. Oars. Anchors. A ship's sextant sat atop the desk, which was littered with papers.
It would seem that Mr. Stuart wasn't a neat man. The papers even spilled over onto the floor.
Seeing no one at the desk, Riordan called out, "Mr. Stuart?"
His greeting was met with silence.
"Barclay Stuart?" Seeing a door ajar across the room, he stepped closer, then froze in midstride.
A pair of booted feet, twisted at an odd angle, lay in the doorway. Riordan hurried across and shoved open the door. A man lay in a pool of blood. From the looks of him, he'd been bludgeoned. A bloody wooden oar lay on the floor next to the body.
Though he knew it was a futile gesture, Riordan knelt and touched a hand to the man's throat. There was no sign of a pulse. Nor had he expected one.
Now Riordan realized why the desk was so disorderly. Someone had been searching for something, and had scattered Stuart's papers in the process.
At the implication, he felt a prickling along his scalp, and knew that there was no time to waste. He had to return to the Undaunted immediately.
Riordan always trusted his instincts. And right now he felt certain that he and his men were in serious danger. It stood to reason that Barclay Stuart would have kept a record of the actual cargo being carried by the Dover. If the murderer found that document, he would come looking for the gold. It was only a matter of time until word leaked out that it was the crew of the Undaunted that had salvaged the king's precious gold.
Now Riordan was more convinced than ever that the attack by the rogue ship hadn't been a random act. They had known. That meant others knew as well. There wasn't a moment to waste.
The Undaunted and her crew would be at the mercy of every pirate ship in the Atlantic.
"Newt." Riordan's greeting was abrupt. "We won't be unloading the cargo. Nor will the crew be departing for shore."
"Trouble, Cap'n?" The old man could see the worry in his eyes.
"Aye. We'll need supplies for a voyage, Newt. And soon."
"How soon?"
Riordan glanced at the sun, already hovering low on the water. "Before dark, so we can navigate the shallows." He stared intently at the old sailor. "Think you can do it?"
"Aye, Cap'n. I'll send some men to Land's End to replenish our supplies."
"They're not to speak of this. To anyone."
Newton nodded, though he felt uneasy at the urgency in Riordan's tone. "I'll see to it." He cast a glance toward the house. "What about the lass? Have ye told her?"
Riordan turned away. "That's to be my next stop." He turned and strode toward MaryCastle, wishing he didn't have to be the bearer of such unhappy news.
Before he could even climb the steps the door was thrown wide and Ambrosia was standing there looking cool and regal in a gown of lemon yellow, her hair swept up in a mass of curls that danced beguilingly around a face made even more beautiful by the kiss of sunshine from her sea voyage.
"Riordan." She stood aside, allowing him to enter, then closed the door and caught his arm. "Come. My grandfather and sisters are in the parlor. They're eager to hear all about our adventure."
"Ambrosia." He tried to dig in his heels, but the sheer force of her energy swept him along. "We must talk."
"Aye. And we shall. But first..." She opened the parlor door. "Look who's here. Just in time to add to my tale."
"Captain Spencer." Bethany and Darcy leapt up and caught his hands, dragging him close to where their grandfather sat. "Ambrosia has just been telling us about the voyage." Bethany exchanged a smile with Darcy. "Was it as delightful as she claims?"
"Delightful?" He marveled at her choice of words. "It was... eventful."
Darcy's eyes were wide with excitement. "She said the Undaunted was attacked by a rogue ship."
"Aye."
Bethany had a hand to her throat. "And she was swept overboard."
"True enough."
"And you saved her," Darcy said with a note of drama.
He kept his tone dry. "Someone had to. Otherwise your sister would have drowned."
"Crowned?" Geoffrey Lambert had listened to the entire exchange, turning his head from one to the other. "Who's been crowned? Is Charles no longer king?"
"Aye, Grandpapa." Ambrosia nodded her head vigorously. "Have no fear. Your beloved young king hasn't faced the same fate as his father."
"Yet," Riordan said to himself.
Ambrosia's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
He shrugged. There was no point in saying more than necessary. He'd come here wondering how to broach the subject of taking Ambrosia along on another sea voyage, so soon after her return home. But now that he'd had a chance to see her, his mind was made up. She belonged here at MaryCastle, living the life of a country gentlewoman. Just seeing her in this beautiful gown, surrounded by her loving family, made him realize how unsuited she was to a life at sea. Those few days aboard ship had made him forget how gentle her life was here in Cornwall. Why should she sacrifice something this grand for the life of a lowly sailor?
Ambrosia handed him a goblet of ale. "What's wrong, Riordan? You seem distracted."
"Aye." He emptied the goblet in one long swallow, then turned to include the others. "There's been some trouble in the village."
"Trouble?" Ambrosia glanced at her sisters. "What sort of trouble?"
"The king's representative, Barclay Stuart, won't be taking our cargo off our hands."
"Why not?" Ambrosia settled herself on a chaise beside her grandfather, fanning out her skirts as she did. She was hoping she made a pretty picture for Riordan. One that might have him thinking about kissing her again. And maybe holding her and ... other things. She felt her face flame at the naughty thoughts that were dancing through her mind.
"Because he's dead. Murdered."
"Murdered?" She leapt up, her face draining of all color. "Here in Land's End? How can you be certain it was murder?"
"Because I saw him lying in a pool of his own blood, with the weapon used against him tossed carelessly aside." Seeing her pallor, Riordan put a hand on her arm. "Listen to me, Ambrosia. You must send one of your servants to town to alert the authorities."
"You didn't see to that yourself?"
He shook his head. "There wasn't time." He was wasting even more right now. But they deserved the truth. He took a deep breath. "The cargo we salvaged from the Dover is bound for King Charles."
"The king desires tea and spices?"
"Listen to me." He touched a finger to her mouth. Determined to get through this without allowing his feelings to get in the way, he took a step back. It was dangerous being too close to this woman. "The cargo is not what you think. That's the reason we were attacked by the rogue ship. And the reason Barclay Stuart has been killed. Someone took great pains to find out what the cargo was, and who now has it. It's only a matter of time until one of the sailors aboard the Dover will disclose the name of our ship. And by the time that happens, I intend to have the Undaunted safely in port in London, and the cargo personally delivered to the king. I've already ordered Newton to see that fresh supplies are brought aboard at once. We leave within the hour."
Ambrosia and her sisters were, he realized, taking this hocking news better than he'd expected. While Bethany was relaying the news into her grandfather's ear, Darcy watched and listened without emotion.
Ambrosia nodded. "You're right, of course, Riordan. That's the wisest course of action." She started toward the door. "Very well. I'll just change and be ready to leave within the hour."
"Wait." He caught her by the arm, then cursed himself for his lapse when he was forced to endure another jolt to his already overcharged system. "You won't be going this time."
She smiled. "Bethany and Darcy will have their turns, I assure you. But this is actually part of the original voyage. And so I claim the right to continue until it's run its course."
"You don't understand, Ambrosia." He was making a determined effort to keep his voice calm and reasonable. "This is no ordinary sea voyage. A man has been murdered. A king's ransom sits in the hold of the Undaunted." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bethany and Darcy clap their hands over their mouths at this news. He realized he hadn't yet told them what the cargo was. And it was best if he left it that way. "I have no doubt that before this journey ends, the crew will face grave peril. I can't permit you to be in harm's way."
"Permit?" Ambrosia's eyes went wide. She put her hands on her hips and faced him. "You won't permit? Since when were you appointed my lord and master, Riordan Spencer?"
His temper slipped a notch. "Be sensible, Ambrosia. I simply cannot, in good conscience, allow you to take this sort of risk."
"Allow? There's that word again." Her eyes grew dark and stormy. "I'll remind you, Riordan, that you are not my keeper."
"Perhaps that's what you need." He took a step closer, his own eyes narrowing. "Hell and damnation, woman. I'm trying to spare you pain and suffering."
"Nay. What you're trying to do is run my life. And nobody, least of all you, Riordan Spencer, can tell me what to do."
He realized his temper was completely out of control now, but he no longer cared. This emotional, unreasonable woman was going to be the death of him. "I simply cannot afford to be looking out for both of us during such a perilous journey."
"Fine. Look out for yourself, Riordan. And I'll do the same."
"Don't you understand?" He no longer cared that her grandfather and sisters were staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. And maybe he had, he thought. If not his mind, at least his temper. It was full blown, and about to explode. "You're a bloody distraction I can't afford, Ambrosia."
"A bloody distraction? Is that how you see me? A bloody distraction? Then I'll remind you, Captain, to keep your mind on your business, and I assure you I'll do the same."
"I fully intend to. For the sake of my life and that of my crew, I'm forbidding you to come."
"Forbid? You forbid me aboard my own ship?"
"Aye. That's what I said." He was shouting so loud, he knew the entire household could hear. It no longer mattered. Nothing had gone as he'd planned. And all because of this obstinate, infuriating female. Once again she'd twisted his words and made him sound like some kind of monster. When all he was doing was looking out for her welfare. "I forbid you to board the Undaunted. And every member of the crew will be given orders to that effect. If you should try to sneak aboard, I'll have you brought back in chains." He closed a hand around her wrist and dragged her close. "Is that understood?"
"Oh, I understand. I understand that you are a spineless, brainless goat masquerading as a man. Now you understand this, Riordan Spencer. When you return from London—"
"If I return," he shouted. "What we are about to do might cost us all our lives."
"Aye. If you return from London, you will be relieved of your duties aboard the Undaunted."
His eyes narrowed. "You'd do that?"
"Aye. That and more. You can go to a watery grave. You can even go to hell and back, Riordan Spencer. I'll not shed a tear. Now leave me."
She wrenched free of his grasp and fled up the stairs, leaving him to stare after her.
He turned back to see her grandfather and sisters staring at him with matching expressions of disbelief.
"Forgive me. There simply is no more time for civilized explanations." He turned and strode out, slamming the door behind him.
Damn the woman, he thought. And damn his own quick temper, which had only made things worse.
Didn't she understand that he couldn't bear to see her harmed? Why couldn't she see that her very presence aboard ship would leave him weak and vulnerable to his enemies?
As he trudged across the beach toward the waiting skiff, he filled the air with a string of vicious oaths. He'd made his decision. There was no turning back. Now he would simply have to find a way to put Ambrosia Lambert out of his mind. For whatever they'd almost had together was, for now and all time, irretrievably lost.
Within the hour the Undaunted had set sail. Riordan was determined to see his ship and crew safely through the shallows before darkness overtook the land.
Once out to sea he ordered seamen to be posted in the riggings day and night, two fore, two aft. At least if they were attacked by rogue ships, they'd be warned in time to prepare a defense.
On board were two cannons and enough weapons to arm every man aboard ship.
Every man. Riordan stood at the wheel, watching clouds scudding across the moon. He felt an ache around his heart. Now that he'd had time to think it through, he realized he'd handled the scene with Ambrosia badly. He'd hurt her. Caused her embarrassment in front of those she loved.
He should have prepared himself better. But there'd been no time.
Time. Would there ever be time to mend this rift between them? How could she ever forgive a man who had torn her pride to shreds in front of her family? If only he could take back all those hateful words. But it was too late. Too late.
"Would ye like some relief, Cap'n?"
He turned to find Newton standing just behind him. It was a reminder of just how deeply he'd been affected by thoughts of Ambrosia. If the old sailor had been an enemy, he'd have found an easy mark in a man this distracted.
"Thanks, Newt. But I'd prefer to keep my hands busy." If only he could do the same for his mind. "Whatever ye say, Cap'n."
The old man ambled to the rail, just as a shout went up from the lookout in the rigging. "Ship bearing down on us fast, Captain. On the port side."
"Sound the alarm," Riordan shouted.
Newton gave a shout that had sailors dashing topside and taking up arms.
It took nearly an hour before the ship was close enough to hail in the darkness.
"Ahoy, the Undaunted," came the sound of a decidedly feminine voice.
"That's Ambrosia," Newton shouted. "I'd know the lass's voice anywhere."
Riordan's eyes narrowed. He'd recognized it as well. "Newt," he called. "Take the wheel."
The old man did as he was ordered, and watched as Riordan fisted his hands at his sides, peering through the darkness as the Sea Challenge approached at top speed.
The Sea Witch Page 11
