CHAPTER TWO
Angelique arrived carrying a pup in blue flannel, her parents trailing behind. “I don’t want to go to gloomy old London. I want to stay and marry Dickon” came her greeting, or lack thereof.
“Don’t be a goose, Angel,” her mama scolded. “Dickon is nothing but a fisherman. Now stop your pouting. You will go to London with Lady Patience and marry that rich Marquess.”
Patience winced. While she hoped she could be as stern with Angel, mention of the Marquess diluted her pleasure in the lesson.
The mother kissed her ‘Angel’ as the scowling Captain joined them. Patience would think his glower natural, if she hadn’t been blinded by his earlier smile. “Here is Captain St. Benedict,” she said.
The Captain nodded. “Give your pup back, so you may board.”
Crocodile tears. “But Dickon gave him to me. Surely you don’t expect me to part with Dickon and Wellington, too?”
Patience knew if the Captain would be gentle, but firm, with Angel, he might convince her to leave the dog. “Captain, please,” she said, in an effort to warn him. “May I—”
Angel’s mother poked her husband. The man blustered. “I say, Captain. Let the chit take the beastie. Won’t be a bother. Angel’ll take care of it, won’t you puddin’?”
“Of course, Papa.” She batted her lashes.
The Captain’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Patience, may I have a word with you?”
He seemed calm, but fury lay beneath his composure. Curious that she noticed, in view of their short acquaintance. Patience turned to Angel’s parents. “If you will excuse us.”
At their nod, she followed a short distance away, prepared to warn him. “Captain, don’t....”
He leaned so close, Patience saw each long lash shading eyes darker than a midnight sea. The crinkle lines at the corners of those eyes said he smiled often, which was not the case at this moment.
“Here are my rules,” he said, snapping her back to the issue at hand. “I am holding you personally responsible. You will keep the beast in the cabin at all times—” He snarled. Snarled! “Except for once a day when I allow it on deck. Then, you will clean up after it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Don’t make the mistake of letting—”
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Captain, are you always so unpleasant?”
“Yes.”
Patience scowled as good as she got. “Perhaps that’s why you do it so well.”
The Captain’s eyes widened, a smile breaking, despite his effort to stifle it.
He went to address Angel’s father, then Patience watched Angel’s family follow him to their carriage, where he unloaded Angel’s bags.
The Captain returned to her. “I’m anxious to get under way, Lady Patience. I’ll send Shane right down.”
“You said that before, but you came back, instead.”
“I had a near-mutiny to handle. Some of my men don’t want women aboard.”
“Oh? I’m surprised. Most men would enjoy a pretty woman.”
“The rest of them want to do exactly that.”
Patience felt her face warm, but didn’t know precisely why. She wished Aunt Harriette hadn’t been so secretive about men and marriage. She was certain there were things she should know, especially with husband-hunting in her future. Patience sighed in frustration. Other than the fact that no man would want her flat-chested self—and in Aunt Harriette’s opinion, she should be glad of it—her aunt had said nothing of what happened between a man and a woman.
The Captain examined her expression with a shake of his head. “You really don’t understand a thing of what I just said, do you? And I’ll bet you wouldn’t know a leer from a smile. Damn. Well, take my word; this isn’t going to be a picnic in Hyde Park, Lady Patience. We’re going to be together for weeks. The men have hardly been ashore this time ‘round. That means it’s been . . .Never mind. Just keep yourself and the rest of your beauties the hell away from my men.”
“Certainly, Captain.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “‘Certainly Captain’, she says, as if it were the easiest task in the world. Damned if I’m not stuck with a flock of innocents.” He narrowed his eyes. “Well, innocent in some ways. Why didn’t these poor wretches give you money like the rest?”
Angel’s fee had been settled in advance. “That’s my affair,” she said. “It has nothing to do with you.”
“You’re right. Your affairs are not my concern, thank the stars. I hope you realize, though, what a huge responsibility you take on.”
“Don’t worry, Captain St. Benedict, I’ll take care of everything.”
“I don’t believe it for a minute. Bloody hell.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Jasper!”
A sailor in the rigging looked down. “Yo, Cap’n.”
“Find Shane.”
Jasper saluted. “Aye, Aye.”
The Captain blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll draw and quarter the bloody agent who booked this fare,” he said to no one in particular. His look, when it finally settled on her, made Patience feel like a fly in his pudding. “I’m setting sail in fifteen minutes,” he said, and walked away.
A sandy haired sailor arrived shortly. “I’m to escort the ladies aboard,” he said with boyish charm. “Name’s Shane.”
Pleased there would be a friendly face among the crew, Patience turned to Angel. “Shane will take you aboard now.”
Shane offered his arm, which Angel took.
“The last passenger should arrive any minute, Shane,” Patience shouted after them.
“Be right back ma’am.”
The Captain wasn’t pleased at how easily his brother had charmed the vixen. “She’s a lady, Shane,” he said when Shane stepped on deck.
“I can tell,” Shane said.
“No, I mean she really is a lady,” the Captain said. “As in ‘Lady Patience.’ Don’t call her ma’am.”
Shane raised a brow. “The hell you say?”
“Shane,” Grant warned. “There’s a lady present.”
Shane looked smug. “A lady? Or . . .a lady?”
The Captain bit back his curse. “Call her, ‘Lady Patience.’”
“Aye, aye Cap’n.” Shane saluted and walked away laughing.
Grant tightened a backstay rope with an angry stroke. First mates who think they’re smart, a ship full of lusty, superstitious tars, and one redheaded siren. A voyage to remember in the making!”
Patience’s relief at Rose’s arrival vanished when a woman, whose scowl could curdle milk, threw the carriage door open and pushed Rose out. “Get thee gone, daughter of Satan!”
Patience stepped forward, but Rose rallied. “Please, Mama. Please let me stay. Don’t make me leave my—”
“Slut,” the woman spat, pushing her daughter away.
Rose crumpled to the ground as wheels of her mother’s departing carriage ran over her skirt.
Shane lifted Rose, supporting the weeping girl as Patience dusted shell fragments from her dress.
Rose composed herself. “Thank you, both of you.” Then she saw people watching and buried her face in Shane’s shirt.
“Have you nothing better to do than gape at a woman in distress?” Patience shouted, scattering the watchers. She followed Shane, his arm around Rose, and stopped to look up, beyond spiked masts and circling gulls. You did this on purpose, didn’t you? I’m to be taught a lesson, aren’t I? But you’ve thrown me worse than this, you know. She took a step, saw the captain waiting, cross-armed, at the top of the plank, and anticipation shot through her, rare and unrestrained. And her heart leapt.
Soon enough, cries of, “Hoist away,” and “Set sail,” turned to the moans and creaks as sails unfurled, snapped and billowed, and Patience followed her girls toward the ladder to the low-ceilinged cabin deck.
“Watch your step, ladies,” the Captain said, taking hands as the girls stepped down. “It’ll get easier with practice.”
As Pati
ence prepared to descend, she knew he was waiting for her to fall, again, so when he made to take her hand, she snatched it back . . .and fell against him, every soft inch of her against every hard inch of him.
His eyes were so intense, warmth stole over her. This was worse than his hand caressing her foot. Her breasts nuzzled his stomach; her stomach met his . . .oh, much worse.
She tried to extract herself gracefully, but he held her tight, the twinkle in those eyes belying his innocence.The brute was enjoying this. She pushed him. “Let me go, you rogue. I should realize by now, not to expect anything but insolence from you.”
He let go. “My Lady, you wound me.”
She stepped back. “I’d like to. I really would. But I haven’t a weapon to hand.”
His chuckle followed her down the companionway.
The girls’ bickering permeated the heat of Patience’s ire. “Mama wants me to marry him,” Angel said. “Lord Andover will want an original. He’s bound to pick me.”
Sophie, looking wounded, stared at her friend. “How can you say such a thing when you know very well that my mama has her heart set on the Marquess for me? This whole trip was her idea.”
Patience bristled at their childish display. “Hush, girls. I think Lord Andover is too elderly to want any of you. He was an old rakehell when I was a babe.”
The only sound that could be heard was the Captain’s ill-mannered snigger. Patience turned, surprised to find him behind her. “Captain St. Benedict, will it be a practice of yours to be present for every awkward moment this entire trip? I feel as if some ancient curse has befallen me. Surely you have other duties that call to you.”
His smile rankled. “On the contrary, Lady Patience, my most pressing duty at this moment is to see you settled. And bearing witness to your discomfort has become the highlight of my day.”
“The highlight of mine would be if you fell overboard.”
“Unlike you, I am not awkward on my feet. I would have to be pushed.”
“I will see what I can do.” Patience snapped her skirt.
He angled his head. “As you wish.” He might as well have dared her. And, as if the gauntlet had not been passed, he indicated the room. “This is one of your cabins. As you can see, your things are here; you may sort them later. Your second cabin is directly across the way. Follow me.”
Angel closed Wellington inside with their trunks and followed everyone across the hall. Patience examined the tiny cabin. “Captain, we are five women with but two small beds. Surely there are quarters better suited to our needs.” She made for the companionway.
The Captain ordered the girls to, “Stay!” and followed.
Patience opened the last door to find a large cabin with two double-width bunks. This must surely be the most beautiful place on the ship, she thought as she examined the cabin in detail. Thick, slanting beams of sunshine entered through six, multi-paned windows across one entire wall. As sunlight passed through the etched glass, the beams broke, and prisms of bright color shone on the polished wood furniture and sailing instruments placed strategically about. “This will do nicely.”
“It will not!”
“Do I detect one of your autocratic rules coming on, Captain?”
He shut them inside, the door cutting them off, it seemed, from the rest of the world, and he stepped close. His scent, already familiar to her, was as comforting as it was disquieting.
“This, my Lady,” he said. “Is my cabin. The second bunk belongs to Shane.” He gave her an assessing glance, then, lids lowered, he reached up to finger the lace at her collar.
Patience was certain her throat swelled, for she could not seem to swallow.
“If you would care to share,” he said, his voice husky. “I could be most accommodating.”
“Share your cabin?”
He stepped a bit closer. “My bunk.”
His words, like cold water in her face, hit Patience full force. “You insult me, Captain.”
“On the contrary, Lady Patience, you should be honored. I never offer to share my bunk.” He examined her, almost surprised at what he saw. He touched an errant curl at her shoulder, hesitated then lowered his hand. Some inner struggle seemed to overtake him. “I apologize, my Lady,” he said, and opened his cabin door indicating that she should precede him.
They returned to the girls.
Patience examined the tiny quarters with as much relief over her location as displeasure over its size. “Why do you take passengers if you have only two cabins? It makes no sense.”
“When my ticket agent is in his right mind—” He sighed. “Though I suspect his son, Dan, of—”
“The agent was young.”
“I was afraid of that. You see, the Knave’s Secret is a cargo ship, but I like to take one or two passengers on occasion. Tradesmen make interesting companions on a voyage. We discuss business, investments, topics that make the days pass. But unfortunately, this trip—”
“But you have a male passenger, do you not?”
“We do not.”
“I saw him board this morning.”
“Only sailors have boarded, other than you and your girls.”
“He was no sailor. He was a gentleman.” Patience heard her insult, tried to repair it. “That is to say, he was a man of—”
The Captain’s scowl dared her to continue.
“I . . .didn’t think he was a sailor.”
“I sincerely wish you were correct,” the Captain said in disgust.
“We are women, Captain, not cattle. We are perfectly capable of providing diverting dinner conversation, should you wish it.”
He scoffed. “Yes four children arguing over a man they never met, who wouldn’t want them under any condition, must prove incredibly stimulating dinner companions. The Marquess of Andover, indeed. Save your diverse topics, Lady Patience, I’ll eat with my men.” He looked about the cabin. “Now, I trust you understand the living arrangements?”
Patience itched to slap the smirk from his face. “Perfectly.”
“Good. Three of you will share one cabin, two the other. We’ll string hammocks. You can put them away during the day to allow for adequate living space.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”
“You hardly allowed me the opportunity before you stormed—”
“Enough,” Patience said. “Angel, you and your puppy will share the other cabin with Grace. Rose, Sophie and I will share this one. Rose you may take the bunk.”
The Captain’s eloquent eyebrow rose. “Taking a hammock, Lady Patience. My, my. I am impressed.”
Patience smiled, refusing to be baited further.
The Captain coughed, nonplused. “I’ll leave you to your arrangements, then. Someone will be down to hang the hammocks later. Good day.” He stepped into the companionway and shut the door behind him with an authoritative click.
Sophie stamped her foot. “He called us children.”
Grace frowned. “And he said the Marquess wouldn’t want any of us. That wasn’t very nice.”
Angel tossed her chestnut curls. “The Marquess will certainly want one of us.” And which of them Angel thought he’d want, they all knew.
A crash caught their attention, then a sharp yipping.
“Wellington!” Angel screamed.
An eerie screech split the air. “Pittypat!” Grace choked.
Together they crossed the hall and Angel threw open the opposite cabin door. Under a chair ran a gray kitten followed by a barking Wellington. Between their skirts to the companionway, then up the ladder and through the hatch the noisy duo scrambled.
The girls followed to the main deck, Angel and Grace calling frantically.
The kitten changed directions, unexpectedly, and ran up the rigging. When Wellington attempted the quick turn, he slipped on the spray-slick deck, puppy legs flat out, and slid through a hawsehole into the ocean.
Angel leaned over the rail screaming.
 
; The Captain came running. “What’s wrong?”
“Wellington has fallen into the sea,” Sophie cried.
At the Captain’s murderous look, Patience stepped back. He named this her fault with his angry eyes. “The puppy, Captain! He’ll drown or be eaten for bait. Do something!” Patience wailed.
He took Angel by the shoulders and thrust her at Patience. “Keep her the hell away from the rail before she goes over, too.” He scanned the murky depths. “Blast and damnation!” The captain shucked his shirt and jumped.
A sailor not too far distant jumped at the same time.
Patience consoled Angel and turned to Grace who was trying to coax down her frightened feline. “A kitten, Grace?”
The girl had the sense to look contrite.
Time seemed suspended.
Finally, the sailor who’d jumped at the same time as the Captain climbed back aboard and gave Angel the pup. She took her shivering pet and began to stammer. The sailor shook his head and left. Angel cuddled the bedraggled pup while she watched the man as if he were the most interesting sight ever.
Patience sighed. She was going to have to watch them very closely.
She and the girls were wrapping Wellington when a heavy silence fell.
Patience looked to where all eyes centered. There, standing on the rail, black hair slick, bronze chest gleaming in the sun, one hand clenching a backstay rope, was a drenched, hard-breathing, furious Captain.
His jump from rail to deck moved his men to action. They returned to work so fast you’d think God had spoken. But he had eyes only for her. A tic worked in his cheek. As he clamped an icy hand around her arm and propelled her toward the hatch, he was the picture of Aunt Harriette’s description of Satan.
And he’d come to take her to hell.
Sitting her roughly down on a hard, wooden chair, the Captain slammed his cabin door. With his back to her, he took a cloth and wiped the moisture from his hair, his wide shoulders and the back of his neck. He turned and stared at her, eyes cold, as he wiped his chest. She couldn’t decide what was more mesmerizing, his eyes or his naked chest. “Captain, your chest is naked!”
“Because I jumped into the bloody cold ocean to save a dog. A dog, Lady Patience. With all those foolish women screaming like banshees, it’s a bloody damn wonder my whole bloody crew didn’t jump in the—”
“Bloody damn ocean.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did no-one ever tell you, my Lady, that you have the vocabulary of a guttersnipe?”
It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d heard that. “Perhaps, Captain, it’s because I was a guttersnipe.”
“Then the title is as false as the promises you made?”
“Not so. Both are genuine. I will help my girls find titled husbands, and I am, indeed, Lady Patience Kendall.” Some experiences in life, however, cannot be helped, she thought.
The Captain shivered. “Well, then, Lady Patience had better watch her mouth, or no titled gentleman will so much as glance at her or her girls.”
Patience repeated a despised phrase. “You have an unfortunate tendency to the vulgar, Patience, and you must repent.” She smiled at the confusion on her abductor’s face. “That, Captain, was my Aunt Harriette speaking. The two of you would get along very well. I don’t like her, either.”
“Be that as it may, we are losing sight of the problems you and your girls have already caused. I’d like to set down some rules. First—”
“Captain, I didn’t know about the kitten.”
“Kitten? I have a bloody cat for a passenger?”
“Dear, quiet Grace sneaked it aboard in a basket.
“Quite appropriate,” the Captain said. “Hell in a hand basket.”
“Captain, if I must watch my language, you should—”
He shot forward to bend over her, and clamp a hand on either arm of her chair.
Caged.
The spicy scent of him carried a salty freshness. His wet hair dripped on her bodice. Each drop seemed to be hot rather than the ice his skin proclaimed it to be. His wide chest, matted with dark, curling hair, was close enough to lay her cheek against. She examined it, then his hard mouth, then his intimidating, midnight blue eyes.
Looking back down, away from those eyes, she faced his chest again and found herself wondering if the hair was soft or coarse and how it would feel against her cheek.
“My dear Lady Patience. I believe I must—”
Patience stood, knocking her chair to the floor. “Captain, please.” But he gave no quarter and she was forced against him, the backs of her knees touching the overturned chair. As she sought to keep her balance, her hand came to rest in the soft, silky tangle about which she had been speculating. She nearly snatched it back at the heat she encountered, but she could not.
The Captain steadied her, bringing her closer, pinning her in place, all of her against all of him. Again. “Captain, your pants.”
“Yes?”
“They’re wet.”
“I could take them off.”
Heated spirals purled through Patience at the bold suggestion. She could no longer deny herself, and moved her fingers the tiniest bit, just to test the texture of the strands beneath them. “They’re getting me a little wet,” she said, trembling within, now that she knew how silky that hair really was, wondering if he would remove . . .anything.
The Captain stepped back.
Disappointed, Patience lowered her hand.
“That’s nothing compared to what I want to do to you.”
Patience lost track of their conversation. “What?”
“I want to pick you up and carry you off....”
Her knees turned to jelly.
“And throw you into the ocean. So you would be more than a little wet.”
Now she remembered. She looked away from his angry eyes. “You said Angel could take the pup.”
“You argued in favor of it, Lady Patience. I merely capitulated. Those girls are your responsibility, not mine.”
“When I saw how insincere Angel was about caring for the pup, I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“You always misunderstand—”
“Always? How can you say that? We have only known each other one day. One day, Captain. Less than twenty-four hours.”
He seemed shaken by her statement, an endearing look of confusion softening his features. “It seems as if we’ve known each other—”
“I know.”
He ran his hands through his hair, sprinkling her in the process.
She didn’t flinch, even when a droplet trailed down her neck and slid between her breasts, even when the Captain watched it and cleared his throat as it disappeared.
Silence filled the moment.
He cleared his throat again. “If you’ll excuse me, I do need to change,” he said, unbuttoning his pants. “I’m neglecting my duties.”
Patience couldn’t look away from those three open buttons or the curling hair that arrowed into intriguing darkness.
His hands stopped at the fourth button.
Rooted, she looked into his questioning face.
He raised a brow.
Patience turned and fled as if the devil nipped at her heels. The Captain’s sharp, deep laughter followed her into the cool evening air.
Hours later, after Sophie drifted to sleep, and Rose’s weeping calmed, Patience could still hear the humiliating sound. As she sought comfort in her hammock, her afternoon’s foolishness made her worry about her girls. They needed someone smarter, worldlier, and better able to deal with men.
She sighed, knowing there was nothing for it. They had her, only her, and she couldn’t fail them.
She wouldn’t. She’d find them husbands with titles and no bad habits. Were there such men?
Look at the Captain. She expected he had lots of bad habits. Which didn’t matter, because he despised her. And she had lusted after him. She had. She really had. And he knew it. At least she thought it w
as lust. How was she to know? It was something like, because she’d been very interested in . . .everything.
She wasn’t even sure why she was so curious. She had never seen a naked man—except Reggie Hamilton from the neighboring house. When they were eight, they’d disobeyed and gone swimming and she saw his little . . .thing. Why in heaven’s name had she stood there just staring at where the Captain’s little thing was?
Patience groaned, mortified once again, and pulled the blanket over her head.
For hours, she squirmed and shifted, uncomfortable in the spider-web of netting she must use as a bed for the next month or more.
When sleep finally came, it infused her with the most improper dreams. Perspiring, uneasy, she twisted to get away from the dark-eyed, bare-chested Captain, with his warm, seeking hands grazing her ankle, higher, and as she gasped and turned to run, she found herself on the floor.
Three times she fell to the cabin floor that night.
The next morning, stiff and bruised, Patience walked the deck, her gait slow. When she heard the bell for breakfast, she went to her cabin where a young sailor had come to set a table earlier. And there the Captain sat, charming the ribbons off her girls.
Now how could she stay away from him, if he was always here? He gave her his pirate’s smile. “Good morning, Lady Patience, I wondered where you’d got to this morning. Doc has made a fine lobscouse for us to share.”
“Who is Doc?” Grace asked.
Patience lowered herself carefully into a chair.
“Doc is the cook, who also happens to do the doctoring.”
Sophie patted her shoulder. “Then perhaps he should take a look at Patience. She fell out of that contraption at least five times last night.”
“Three,” Patience snapped. “I only fell three blasted times.” She placed her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. Humiliated again.
Then she heard a familiar chuckle and her gaze rose with her need to exterminate the beast where he sat. He was wise enough to close his mouth, but she noted the amusement in those crinkle lines about his eyes.
Rose stepped into the breach. “What in heaven’s name is lobscouse?”
“Breakfast,” the Captain said.
Sophie shuddered. “It sounds like an affliction you don’t want to catch.”
The women all groaned.
The Captain laughed. “It’s ‘cracker hash.’ Hard-tack soaked in water until it softens, mixed with salt beef, pork and sliced onions. Doc bakes it until it forms a crisp top. That, a strong cup of coffee sweetened with sorghum, and a hearty, sea breakfast you’ve had.”
“I’m impressed you know the ingredients,” Patience said.
“I cooked for a few weeks, once, the time Doc broke his leg in a storm. I burned everything. Almost had a mutiny. It’s made me appreciate him.”
Everyone laughed, except her. She was still angry over his amusement at her falling from the hammock.
“We don’t cook during bad weather,” he said. “You’ll get hard-tack dry and be glad of it. And if you’re lucky, there’ll be left-over cold coffee for drinking.”
Just then, a grizzled, smiling Doc brought in the lobscouse and roast pork, filling the room with the aroma of spice and onion. The young helper carried steaming coffee. Everyone dug into the fare with enthusiasm, pronouncing it delicious.
Captain St. Benedict leaned close as the girls discussed ways to enhance the dish. “Patience,” he whispered.
She leaned forward, pleased he wished to confide in her. Perhaps they could make peace, after all.
His eyes filled with merriment. “If there is a storm, make sure you sleep on the floor. You can’t fall off a floor.”