* * *
Patience moved Angel in with her and Rose, putting Sophie next door with Grace. At first, Angel cried more than Rose. Eventually they read every book they brought between them—some more than once. They didn’t see Sophie or Grace for days. They were cross, snappish, and Rose began to cry twice as much as before, only brightening when Shane sneaked a quick visit. Once, when he was with them, they heard the Captain bellow his name and Patience worried one brother would murder the other. The only other person they saw was Paddy, and he had probably been threatened with drowning, because he refused to utter a word.
The absolute worst result of their incarceration, Patience hated to admit, even to herself, was that she missed the Captain. She wasn’t sure why, because he shouted at her all the time, but she missed him all right. She must be daft.
Their last conversation had taken place the day he confined them to their cabins. She’d argued, pleaded, but he wouldn’t be swayed. She said she needed to hang their things every day. He said he’d have one of the sailors do it. She told him how terrible it would be to hand their personal items over to one of the sailors who despised them. She could imagine the jests. The Captain said he would have Paddy do it. He reassured her nothing they had would mean anything to the boy. When she saw Paddy’s red face, after the first day, Patience knew the cabin boy was smarter than the Captain thought. But at least he wouldn’t mock them for sport.
Patience couldn’t stand it. She didn’t even know what day it was.
When Shane slipped into their cabin, Rose’s face lit, but so did hers and Angel’s. “How are my pretty ladies today?” Shane asked.
“You know, Shane, you’d best be careful. You’ll have us all in love with you by the end of the journey and you’ll have to choose,” Patience said.
Rose and Shane gazed at each other. Neither had heard her jest.
Patience coughed discreetly, then stood between them and waved until Shane laughed. “Do you think you could find us some books we haven’t all read twice?”
“There are plenty in my cabin,” Shane said. “Why don’t you just choose a few and bring them back here.”
“Are you out of your mind? We might get eaten by the shark.” Patience had had enough of the Captain’s anger to last forever, and then some.
“For God’s sake, don’t all of you go. Patience, you’ve been in the cabin before, you know where the books are. It’s a perfect time. I’m certain I saw him in the rigging a bit ago. Go ahead. I’ll stay and protect Rose and Angel.”
“Yes and what army will protect me if his Royal Nastiness should descend to his throne room?”
Shane smiled. “If I hear a roar, I’ll come running.”
“See that you do.”
Patience looked both ways before leaving the safety of her cabin. As afraid as she was, it felt good to be free of confinement, even for a few minutes. She crept to the door of the officers’ cabin and opened it, ever so slowly. It screeched on its hinges—a sound so disturbing in the quiet, she thought the whole crew would come running.
She stood still and waited, but nothing happened, so she went in. After closing herself inside, she leaned against the door, holding her hand to her pounding heart, examining the empty room before her. She was safe. Not to push her luck, however, she got right to her task.
She chose so many books, her arms were too full to get the cupboard door shut. “Blast and double blast,” she swore juggling the volumes. Then she heard the faintest noise and hot prickles ran up and down her arms. She stood like a statue, not even breathing. After a minute, satisfied she was imagining things, she turned to leave.
“Going somewhere, my Lady?”
Books flew in all directions. Patience’s heart beat so fast, she feared she’d swoon.
The bunk built deep into the wall to the left of the door, the one she hadn’t looked back to check, was occupied. By the Captain. And he’d scared her witless. Unadulterated dread—or was it joy at seeing him after so long—made her tremble the more.
God, he was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen.
He lay on his side facing her, propped up on his elbow . . .naked, except for the blanket’s strategically placed corner. The muscles, on his chest, arms and legs, were prominent and strong. Those little lines she loved—did she love those little lines, relaxed now, around his beautiful eyes? How could she? He could be mean, nasty. He snarled for heaven’s sakes. How could she love anything about him?
Time stretched. The lines around his eyes crinkled. “I hope you came here for a good reason, my love. Do you want to . . .dance, Patience?”
“Yes. Certainly, if you wish.” She wouldn’t let him see how agitated she was. If she remained agreeable, he might overlook her direct disobedience of his order.
“Have you ever . . .danced before?”
“You know I have.”
“You’re talking about dancing, aren’t you, Patience?”
“Yes. I loved dancing with you.” His eyes looked dark, deep, almost bottomless.
“What about what happened when we stopped dancing?”
She never imagined they’d talk about it. She raised her chin. “Well, I may have liked that also.” She bit her lip. “I believe I did. I thought you did, too.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m glad.” There were his eye-crinkles again.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed these little chats of ours, Patience?”
She knew how much she’d missed them. “Have your men stopped grumbling?”
“I think I’ve convinced them the women aren’t responsible for all the problems we’ve had. I’ll need a little cooperation from you and the girls, though. You’ll have to be very careful. Do you think they’re ready to do that? The girls, I mean?”
“I know Angel and Rose are. I haven’t even seen Sophie or Grace in days. I miss them. Can we get back to normal now?”
“Sweetheart, things haven’t been normal since the day I watched you fall on your face.” He sighed. “Sometimes, I have this dreadful fear they never will be again.”
Her eyes widened in shock. She feared the same thing.
Her thoughts must show, because he sighed and nodded. “You’ll have to excuse me for not rising in the presence of a lady. I haven’t a stitch on.”
“I thought not.”
“You’re not even blushing. Good girl. But I think you should leave before I begin to entertain thoughts of ravishing you.”
Actually she’d like to know about being ravished. Especially by him. She opened the door, took a step, then stopped and turned. “I’m not sure what that would consist of, exactly. Ravishment, I mean. But . . .perhaps, I might like to try it someday.”
Before the Captain had a chance to consider her words and take her up on her request, Patience scooted out the door and let it slam behind her. She could be bold only to a point.
No sound came from inside. She must have left him speechless.
She went to tell the others they were free to leave their cabins, fanning her face as she tried to forget the sight of him. If a man could be called beautiful, the Captain was.
Grant chuckled as he jumped from his bunk, but the sight of his books scattered about turned his expression to a scowl, then he shrugged. “It was worth it, just to see her.”
Someone knocked. “Grant, you in there?”
“Come on in.”
Brows raised, Shane took in the tomes settled haphazardly about, then his brother’s unclothed form.
Grant stepped into his pants, chuckling over the possible motivations Shane might imagine for the scene.
Shane grinned. “Your little she-devil exited this room as if the hounds of hell nipped at her skirts. I don’t want you to blame her. It was my fault. I told her she could come in and get some books for the girls.” He examined the mess again, hands on hips, and shook his head with a grin. “Care to enlighten me? Though whatever you say, I’m certain it can’t be better than the
possibilities that come to mind.”
“She said she would like it if I ravished her.”
“Did you?”
“Not yet. How’s Rose holding up?”
Shane put his hand to his chest in all innocence. “I don’t know.”
Grant buttoned his shirt and chuckled. “I know damn well you’ve seen her every day since I confined the witches to their cabins.”
“I had to, Grant. Rose is hurting.” He sighed and sat on his bunk. “Rose has a baby girl back home. That old puritan mother of hers said Rose was unfit, sent her away, and kept the baby.
It was Grant’s turn to raise his brows. He sat to listen.
“A couple of years ago, Rose fell in love with a fisherman. Her mother disapproved. He died at sea, never knowing about the baby. Rose hopes if she makes a good match, her mother might give her baby back. She’s grief stricken, Grant. I wish there was something I could do to help her.”
Grant shivered with unease when Shane looked him in the eye. “I think I love her. You may as well know that.”
Time to be stern, Grant thought. “I know you think you do. Exactly as you said.”
“Don’t. Don’t let the hateful woman who bore us keep you from finding someone to love. It’s possible, big brother, and the best thing that can happen to a man. Don’t let your fear of becoming like the bastard who sired us make you just like him. He’s old and alone. I care about you, Grant. Give life a chance. You deserve it.”
Grant bristled. “Fine, fine. I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll take that as a sign of encouragement. There was a time you’d have said there was nothing to think about. I’ll be happy with that, for now. Anyway, thanks for listening. I appreciate it.”
Grant slapped his brother on the back, which was as close as they ever got to a show of affection, but Shane knew he cared—as much as he was able to care about anyone. Grant supposed if there were someone in his life he loved, it was Shane.
“I think I hear the witches in the companionway,” Shane said. “Does that mean you terminated their sentence?”
“Yes. And Old Mother Witch hasn’t wasted time informing them, either.”
When he and Shane went up, the main deck had become a country fair. All that’s missing is a Gypsy wagon, Grant thought. Dublin played his harmonica while Paddy drummed a bucket. Sophie and Angel danced with each other. Patience and the other girls sang and swayed to the music. Sven, the big, burly Norwegian, laughed and stamped his foot.
When the girls finished their song, the sailors began an old sea chantey. “I met a girl in Portman Street, the sweetest girl I chanced to meet. I pulled her up against my chest. My seeking hand—”
Grant rang the watch bell. He knew the words; he didn’t think the girls should. “How about a change in entertainment? Jasper, Shanks, let’s have a pugilistic demonstration.”
His men did a bit of fancy footwork and some prime boxing that entertained the sailors fine, but none of the women, except Sophie. She screamed her enthusiasm. “Duck. Pop him one good, Jasper, old boy.” She mimicked their moves. “Wowee, did you see that? Smack to the jaw.” She punched the air.
Mortified, Grace tried to quiet her.
Sophie ignored her friend’s pleas.
The Captain laughed. He enjoyed Sophie more than the boxers.
When the match was done, a prideful Jasper, the announced winner, allowed himself to be applauded by Miss Sophie. No doubt, he liked her adulation very much.
“I wish I could learn to do that,” Sophie said. “I had this nasty cousin who pushed me around when I was small. I’d love to be able to pop him one when he couldn’t see it coming.”
Jasper’s eyes widened; he scratched his beard. “Well now, Miss, I could teach you a thing or two about taking care of yourself, if you’d like.”
“Would you? Right now?”
The sailor grinned with pride. “Sure. I can be the one to teach you and no mistake. Since fairness is important, Miss, I’ll be teaching you by the Marquess of Queensbury rules. You’ll be learning them as we go. Now, you step forward. No, your left foot first. Just there until it touches my toe. Fine. Move your right foot back a little.” He watched her. “A bit more.”
Sophie followed his set of instructions with eagerness, no matter how simple.
Jasper nodded as each command was executed properly. “Make a fist.” She did. He shook his head and repositioned her fingers and thumbs. “Always keep your thumbs outside the fist. Inside, they can get broke. Now extend your left hand and keep your right up front, even with your left elbow. Like so.” He arranged her arms. “Remember this stance now, because it is your first position. My, you do look right fearful, Miss.”
Sophie beamed then growled fiercely, exposing perfect white teeth.
The sailors guffawed. The Captain didn’t think they’d ever had such a good time aboard ship.
“Now, then. What you want to do, Miss, is to hit me on the nose.”
Jasper had no sooner finished when little Miss Sophie shot out with her left, quick as lightening, hitting him square on the nose. Blood spurted onto her dress. Jasper went down with a thud smacking his head against the capstan, the sound like the crack of a cannon. And it was worse to hear for knowing it was the poor fellow’s scull that got cracked.
The Captain stepped forward.
Sophie crumpled in a silent heap.
Grace screamed and screamed, until Angel took her below.
Rose tried to revive Sophie.
Patience glanced at the quiet sailors as she wiped the blood from Jasper’s nose and the Captain made certain there were no bloody gashes about his head. The seamen looked from her, to the moaning Sophie, to the unconscious sailor.
“Vimen,” the big Norwegian said, and then he began a rolling chortle that grew loud and contagious. Before long, every man and woman roared gleefully. They laughed because little Sophie had nearly killed their big strong ox of a boxer. They chuckled good-naturedly at the mumbling Jasper as he stood staggering, looking slightly bemused.
Jasper, however, certain they were laughing because he was bested by a woman, acted none too pleased.
In the end, only Jasper said they brought more bad luck. Patience was quite certain only he believed it.
“Don’t concern yourself, Patience,” the Captain said. “Once his headache goes away—in two or three weeks—he’ll forget all about this.”
Patience moaned.
The Captain cuffed her arm lightly. “I was only teasing.”
He made her feel better with that bit of playful reassurance.
But Sophie was broken-hearted. She had caused more bad luck.