* * *
“I can’t turn the ship! I don’t know how!”
Patience’s scream woke Grant. “Shh. Patience, love. Relax.” Her grip on his arm would probably cause a bruise.
She whimpered. “I don’t know how to steer a ship.”
“I’ll teach you, Patience. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to work the wheel.” He felt her calm. “Would you like that?” He stroked her arm resting on his chest.
She sighed and relaxed. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Captain?”
“Yes.”
“I just want you to know, I’m still angry at you for sending Shane away.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Just so you know.”
“Be quiet and go to sleep.”
Patience woke in the Captain’s bunk—in Grant’s bunk—alone, her clean sailors’ clothes placed over a chair. She remembered the Phantom ship and her panic, and running for the wheel, then she’d been here with the Captain. It had seemed so right to snuggle up to him and sleep. And, oh! Sometime during the night, he’d promised to teach her to steer the ship! She got up, surprised she ached in so many places, dressed quickly and went on deck.
It was near noon, she surmised, by the placement of the sun, as she stepped into the fresh air. Cheers and whistles startled her. “Whatever is the matter with everyone?” she asked as her girls approached.
Sophie hugged her. “Patience, you saved the Knave’s Secret and all aboard last night. Don’t you remember?”
“Did I?”
The Captain—thinking of him as Grant was difficult on deck, surrounded by sailors—stepped closer and nodded. “The wheel was turning out of control after I was knocked senseless,” he said. “We were directly in the phantom ship’s path.”
Snatches of memory teased her. “I remember thinking we would split in half, and the girls and the sailors would die. I . . .tried to turn us in the opposite direction, away from the ship, so—” She recalled using their names as she grabbed each spoke. “I turned us away from that ship? I did it? Not you?”
Lord, the Captain was handsome when he smiled. “You did it,” he said. “We are all most grateful and will continue to be for the years we’ve been given because of you.”
Patience felt her blush, either from Grant’s smile or everyone else’s applause.
They stood in line, those formerly, nasty, grumbling tars, with their shaggy hair and beards and their leathery, wrinkled skin, and smiled and shook her hand. They thanked her one by one, calling her Ma’am, Lady Patience or yer Ladyship. She was so happy she might cry. Grant stood beside her throughout, beaming with what seemed like pride. She would examine that thought later. The girls hugged her in turn.
The Captain said she showed incredible bravery, but her actions seemed more like practical, common sense to her.
Doc made a beautiful plum duff for lunch, because it was her favorite. Patience leaned toward the Captain when they were finished eating and the girls were deep in conversation between themselves. “Last night, when we were, ah, we were—”
“Sleeping?”
“Yes, sleeping.” She ignored the smile in his eyes. “You said you would teach me to steer the ship. Will you?”
“I always keep my promises, and the sea is perfect right now. But aren’t your arms sore? Do you think you can manage it so soon?” His hands slid slowly up her arms and then down again as if he were trying to soothe her aches.
She wondered if he would keep doing it, if she said they hurt, and considered it, but she was eager to handle the wheel, so she shrugged away her discomfort, experiencing disappointment when he released her.
The Captain took her hand. “Come along, then.” He led her to the wheel. “I’ll set her on course. Now, stand here. Grab the spokes like so and feel the ship on its course. See how the sails are filled and the wind carries her forward? From here, we make certain we don’t go in the direction the wind directs all the time.”
Patience felt strength surrounding her, in the ship itself and in the man behind her. He slid his hands atop hers, his palms skimming her knuckles. He guided the wheel with her, her thrill having little to do with controlling so massive a vessel. His breath tickled her neck. She wanted to turn her head, to feel his beard-stubbled cheek against her own, to lean into him.
“Now look at the compass and watch the mark,” he said, distracting her daft musings. Just as well. “If it moves to the left of the point, turn the wheel a couple notches to the right, to pull her back again. If she comes back too fast, shove her over a couple of spokes. Sometimes it’ll take a couple more spokes to bring her to heel, but as soon as she’s where you want her, you’ve got to bring her back to where she was or you’ll be running the ship in a circle the whole time.”
Patience turned in disbelief. “Could you repeat that?”
“You’ll begin to see the sense after a time. Keep her on course and see what happens.”
Patience loved the sun kissing her hair, the wind sifting through it, the Captain’s deep rusty voice in her ear, and the tickle of his breath with each word he spoke. As if that was not enough, the power in keeping such a giant vessel on course surged through her like heat lightening at midnight, bright, deadly, and exciting.
He gave her a smile and a, “Good girl.”
When he wasn’t angry, he could be downright wonderful. Contentment flowed through her.
“Give her a spin to port,” he ordered.
When she followed his precise order, she laughed at his surprise.
“By, God, you’re a natural. You’ve had her all to yourself for the past half hour. You can take me sailing anytime.” He squeezed her shoulder and kept his hand there afterward.
Patience pictured a smaller vessel in a secluded sound, the two of them drifting alone of a lazy summer’s afternoon. His hands would be on her then, too. She’d let go the wheel and turn to wrap her arms around him....
The bell rang for the change in watch. She was surprised the afternoon had passed so quickly and sorry to see her lesson end.
After dinner, he walked her to her door while the others lingered over tales of buried treasure and ghost ships. He kissed her forehead. “Back to the hammock for me,” she whispered, as his lips lingered against her hairline and his arms came around her. She grieved that though Shane’s bunk lay empty, she couldn’t stay in his cabin with him. Besides, it wasn’t Shane’s bunk she coveted, but Grant’s, his body close to hers.
He stepped back. “I’m afraid so. Last night was an unusual circumstance. Tonight would be—”
“Of course.” She colored, scooted inside, shut the door, and leaned against it. She had almost begged, but he had made excuses.
Sometimes she could be such an idiot.
When her hammock rocked, a short while later, Patience jumped before it could throw her. Books slid off the table.
“All hands! All hands on deck, ahoy, to shorten sail.”
A thunderous crack split the night.
Water seeped under the cabin door.
“Get dressed,” she shouted to the girls then ran to the second cabin. The Captain met her in the companionway. He ran a hand through his dripping hair. “A spar snapped. I need a couple of you to see to the injured. We’ve the storm from hell, and it’ll be the devil to pay. The rest of you stay in the cabins. Don’t light the lamps.”
“Captain, wait.” Patience caught his arm. “Can we replace the injured men?”
Surprised, he nodded, “You, Angel and Sophie. Wear your pants and caps. Get some oil-skins and boots from the men’s quarters; they’ll protect you from the weather.”
Grace and Rose tended the wounded.
The Captain put Angel on the deck pumps, tying her to the mast to keep a wave from taking her.
When he put Patience on the wheel, her surge of triumph met one of fear. But she didn’t let him see it.
“The squall’s taken all three topgallant sails and
parted the jib sheet,” he said, but she could hardly hear him over the gale’s fury. “I’ve got to go up the rigging. I need you here. You’ve already got a feel for it; keep her straight as you can, else she’ll twist . . .but hell, you know that. Use everything I taught you today, but remember the sea and the wind are much more determined tonight.” Her heart warmed at his confidence, despite the icy elements.
He placed Sophie near her. “You pull at the same time as Patience, in the direction she tells you.” He looked into Patience’s eyes. “With Sophie, you’re strength is doubled.” You all right with that?”
She nodded and quelled a panicked urge to kiss him, for fear it would be their last.
He secured them both to the wheel house. “The rudder’ll be flapping in the swells and turning the wheel all to hell.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Take in the mainsail,” he shouted a moment later. It fell, but the wind whipped it back into place with the report of a cannon. It became engorged like a balloon, strained and split.
Squealing rigging, snapping canvas, shouted orders, became a wail of pandemonium amid the bellow of Mother Nature. They’d ride a monstrous wave high, high into the air, and fall fast, back into the trough, the ship sounding as if she’d split in half. The whole was tumultuous, yet eerie, as if they’d been abandoned by God.
Patience’s heart pounded with a fear of never being connected to the world again. She kept an eye out for Angel, not too far distant, and Sophie nearby. Her chicks, fighting the elements with her, were safe. If they didn’t sink, Grace and Rose, below, would be safe too.
“Man overboard!”
The alarm hung in the air.
Patience looked at Sophie and saw fear reflected in her eyes.
Minutes, or hours, passed; Patience wasn’t sure. The wind calmed. Jasper came and took over the wheel.
Where was the Captain? Horror held Patience in its grip. “Who was lost?”
Jasper shook his head. “Go below. All of you. There’s nothing more you can do.”
Sophie and Angel went. Patience followed, saw them warm and dry, went to check on Rose and Grace and returned topside to wait.
The sea calmed. A furious rage became an angry swell. The regular watch, four hours, changed to a dogwatch, two. Jasper continued at the wheel. He sent the crew to their bunks. The storm was over.
Oh, God, where was the Captain?
Eight bells sounded a new watch. Head bent in prayer, Patience huddled against a bulkhead. Face wet, her tears mingling with drizzling rain, she looked up to see Jasper heading below. The abandoned wheel was steady now. They were at anchor.
She’d give anything to hear a shout from the snarly cap— Then she saw him, leaning against the wheel house, arms crossed, studying her.
He opened his arms.
With a whoop she ran into them.
He gasped when she hit him, hugging hard as she could, to draw him within her where he would be safe.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, afraid she might cry.
“I’m taking the watch. Will you stay for a while? I know you’re wet and cold and I shouldn’t ask, but . . .though I find this curious in myself for the paradox, I’d like to spend a few calm moments with you.”
“Who fell overboard?”
“Paddy.”
Her eyes filled.
“No, don’t.” He hugged her. “He’s safe. He got caught in a sail like a babe in a cradle.”
Her happiness returned. “Thank God you’re both safe.”
“Both? Did you think it was me?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry.” He gave her a soft kiss. “No one has ever worried about me before. Thank you.” She would remember this particular smile the next time he scowled. He took her hand. “Come with me.” He led her to a sheltered corner, drier than most places on deck.
The sky, which had seemed their enemy a short time ago, shone a clear dark blue, a million tiny stars winking down, the air cool and fresh. He rested against a stack of lashed crates and tucked her between his raised knees, pulling her back against his chest, and holding her loosely with an arm under her breasts. “Comfortable?”
“Very.”
He toyed with her hair. “No matter how many times I pull these springy wisps of copper straight, they bounce right back.”
Within the comfortable silence, she closed her eyes. His breath tickled her. Under her hand lay the cool, slick oil-skin covering his leg. The hard deck below her was tempered by the yielding strength of his chest at her back. Scents teased her, the salty sea, wet wood and rope, clean air and him. She knew that of them all, his scent would be forever etched in her mind as the essence of this moment.
“Are you dry under that thing?” He slipped his hand between two hooks on the oil-skin and felt her dry shirt beneath. The proximity of his hand to her breast sent tremors through her.
“Everything’s dry but the trousers. How about you?” She slipped her hand under his oil-skin and caressed his thigh.
“Mmm,” he all but purred. “Do you realize what you’ve done to me on this voyage? I’ll never look at plum duff, riding lights, the wheel, flying fish—so damned many things—without thinking of you. Even my cabin haunts me, between the bunk, the books and that boarded-up window—which, by the way, let in water during the storm.” He tweaked her nose. “Hell, I won’t even look at a pig the same way again. Future voyages will seem dull by comparison.”
Take me with you, again, Patience wanted to say. Instead, she laughed. “Don’t forget, you jumped into the ocean for a puppy.”
“For you, Patience. I jumped into the ocean to save that puppy for you.”
“Oh.”
He was quiet for a few moments after that. “Do you know, a couple of nights ago, while on watch, I could have sworn I heard the sound of your laughter in the wind?”
Patience couldn’t help be aware that they would be separated soon, and he would go back to sea without her. It seemed impossible that she might miss him when they parted. After all, they’d only known each other a short time. Still....
His fingers teased her neck as he moved the hair aside. Soft, cool lips followed, moving slowly over her exposed flesh. His hand moved from her waist upward. Ripples of pleasure flowed with every touch. His thumb teased the underside of her breast as he took a tongue-swirling taste of her neck. Ripples became bounding waves.
“Mmm, salty, but delicious.” He nipped her earlobe. “I want to know your dreams, Patience.” He kissed her lips. “Tell me what you see as the perfect future.”
“Nothing beyond this moment. My dream is now and it’s wonderful. Don’t speak of the future. Don’t talk at all. Just continue what you’re doing.”
“Ah, but Patience, I want to do more. Will you let me? Do you still mean to know why men like women with large bosoms?”
A fire began within her, a small flame fed by his actions. As he offered to reveal one of life’s great mysteries, her heart began a newer, faster rhythm. She turned to look into his eyes. “Tell me.”
“Will you let me show you?”
She wasn’t certain that would be a good idea . . .and yet she wanted to know. And it should be him that showed her.
She could see that he sensed her quandary.
“Something incredible can happen between a man and a woman, Patience. But to be truly understood, it must be experienced. I intend to give you that, no, to share it with you.” His look brought new warmth.
“Yes. Please.” A flame centered in a place that never knew such heat. He turned her until her back rested against one of his arms. He brought her chin up so as to place his lips on hers. They were soft, like a whisper, a flutter of wings so translucent you hardly knew they were there but for the silken beauty they represented.
“Captain, I—”
“Grant. Say my name, Patience.”
She whispered it, almost reverently.
More than anything, Gra
nt wanted to take Patience to a place higher than she’d ever been. That she was intrigued, even aroused, but not fearful, almost became his undoing. He kissed her repeatedly, drawing from her honeyed mouth. She opened to him and followed his unspoken instruction. A quick, brilliant pupil, he had, but he slowed to calm his already frustrated body.
“Show me now, Grant.”
Oh, God. “Yes, my little Impatience. But stop me if you’re frightened or unsure.”
She nodded.
He undid the fasteners on the slicker; she helped. He untied the cross-strings over the bodice of the shirt he had given her and separated the fabric to expose her shift, sheer and damp. He kissed the top of one breast through the clinging fabric. “So beautiful.”
She regarded him. “Questions?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You know, don’t you, that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you?”
“Of course.”
That scared him. Damn, this woman could make him feel emotions he didn’t think existed. He remembered his fantasy, the children, and her, pregnant. He thought about waking up beside her every morning, of actually hearing her laughter, rather than conjuring it in the wind. He should run like hell. One look in her green eyes, and need overshadowed fear. He wanted to be the one to teach her about loving, and by God, he would. Her firm breasts peeking through her shift were small but perfect. With the back of his hand he grazed the underside of one.
Her eyes closed, and she took a breath.
“Do you like that, love?”
“It feels . . .extraordinary.”
“You deserve nothing less,” he whispered, certain she deserved more than a jaded sea captain on a wet deck. He nearly closed her shirt, his shirt, over her tiny breasts, but he could not seem to make himself. “Your breasts are perfect, Patience. Not too small, just right. See how they fit my hand?”
Smiling, she watched him tease a tiny nub. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply so as to fill his hand. He obeyed her body’s unconscious entreaty, and she whimpered. Pulling her higher up against him, he kissed her as he pleasured her, her ardor matching his. He moved the fabric of the shift aside to expose her skin to the cool air.
He took in her beauty and was humbled. “I want to lave your breasts with my tongue and take you into my mouth. Do you want that, Patience?”
“More than anything.”
At first, he teased her, a tiny lick at the bud, then another, bolder taste. When he closed his lips around her nipple and suckled, she cried out with what must be her first pleasure, and he was exhilarated to be the one to give it to her.
“Grant, I feel faint.”
“Relax and enjoy, love. You won’t faint. It pleases me to give you this. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
This, between them, was just physical, of course; he knew that. Still, he couldn’t shake the notion he’d never experienced anything quite like it before, his purpose centered in the pleasure he could give, rather than receive. He placed his hand flat against the juncture of her legs. She whimpered and arched.
He stroked her lightly and she moaned against his mouth, then suddenly she was kissing him, drawing from his lips. God, she was incredible.
“Cap’n! We’ve a problem below decks. The sea’s past the water line. Yo Captain? Where ye be?”
Patience’s eyes widened. Even in the moonlight, Grant could see the blush wash over her as awareness set it. He placed his hand against her mouth and shook his head, only removing it when she nodded understanding.
He closed her shirt and hooked the slicker. “I’m sorry, love, we’ll finish later.” He kissed her quickly but with force. “Stay where you are until I go below, then go to your cabin. Are you all right? Can you manage?”
Wide-eyed, she nodded.
As if from afar, Patience watched Grant stand and arrange his clothes. With a wry smile, he leaned down to kiss her before he stood and walked away. With an explicit oath, he ordered Jasper below then his shout for the pumps to be manned floated upward followed by a quick response.
Silence descended. Still, she sat stunned. As her mind cleared, she realized that sailors would soon return to run the pumps. She rose and went directly to her cabin, for surely if anyone saw her face, they would know exactly what happened.
Rose and Angel slept, praise be. As she undressed, Patience realized she was especially tired, pleasantly so. Her body hummed. Just thinking about Grant’s promise to finish later brought a flood of confusion. Finish what? Could that have gotten any more intense? That something she had never done in her life, which she suspected she shouldn’t have done now. Oh, who was she trying to fool, anyway? She knew he shouldn’t have touched her that way. But, glory, it had been wonderful.
She was glad they would be in London soon. This . . .fascination she had for the Captain had to stop. She didn’t want to be . . .attracted? Tempted? She sighed. Neither seemed strong enough. Captivated, more like, but it went deeper than that. Still trying to put a name to her feelings, Patience threw her nightdress over her head and set about pulling her hammock down.
There came a light tapping at her door. When she opened it, Grant stood waiting. She stepped into the companionway shutting the door behind her and felt childish in her ruffled night-rail and bare feet. She covered one foot with the other to dignify her position then felt even more foolish.
Grant noted her embarrassment and tipped up her chin to examine her face. “Are you all right?”
Patience nodded. “What do you call what happened between us? What we just . . .did?”
Heat filled Grant anew. “Passion, sweetheart. A most gratifying experience, was it not?”
“Well, yes, but, can a woman share such with just any man?”
Grant stood stunned, both by her question and by the answer that had come readily to his mind. He ran a hand over his face refusing to believe that passion with Patience was different than with anyone else. Perhaps it was more intense . . .probably because she was an innocent, and it intrigued him to be the man to awaken her. Her guileless expression, her prim, childlike gown roused an absurd notion in him to pat her on the head and offer her a sweetmeat. His invective, sharp and raw, startled her, and he scowled. “Any man and any woman can experience passion together.”
Patience saw exactly when Grant departed, and the arrogant Captain returned. “You’re lying. I can’t imagine letting Izzy, Red or Shanks—”
He grasped her shoulders. “Stop it!”
She smiled inwardly, because only Grant had the capacity for jealousy, so it was he, not the Captain, who’d snapped. “Perhaps Jasper, though,” she said, baiting him, and he growled. “Good night, Grant,” she whispered and stood on her toes to kiss him with all the fire they’d shared earlier.
She rejoiced when he groaned and pulled her into his arms to deepen the kiss.
Some while later, he stepped back. “Good night, Patience,” he said, a quiver in his voice.
“I’m looking forward to continuing our lesson,” she whispered, slipping through her door. “Let me know when you’re ready,” she added, before shutting it soundlessly.
“Oh, I’m ready,” she heard him mutter. “But if I have any sense at all, your lessons will continue when hell freezes over.”