Gentle Rogue

  As it happened, she was annoyed with herself for wasting precious time worrying about it when she stuck her head cautiously through the open hatch and could find no trace of the captain in the immediate vicinity. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Mac either, not even aloft, where he might be checking the rigging.

  Climbing the rest of the companionway, she set off in a hurry toward the bow, not daring to look behind her at the quarterdeck and who might be up there with a clear view of the lower decks. She was just short of running, hoping she wouldn’t have to search from stem to stern before finding Mac. But she stopped short amidship in the narrow passage between gunwale and deck housing when her eyes happened to glance starboard. There, as far as the eye could see, was nothing but ocean. Her head snapped around to stern and there was the land she had expected to see passing to port and starboard, not the riverbanks she desperately needed close to hand, but the great bulk of England getting smaller and smaller in the wake of the ship.

  Georgina simply stared, watching her chance to abandon ship receding rapidly in the distance. How was it possible? Her eyes shot up to a sky too overcast for her to even hazard a guess at the time of day. Could it have been so late when she had carried that tray of food to the captain? A look at the bowed sails told her the ship was making better than excellent time with storm winds pushing them out to sea, but still, to have left England behind already? They had been navigating the river when she had gone belowdecks to meet the captain.

  Anger hit her swift and hard. Double-damn him, if he hadn’t been so bent on entertaining himself at her expense with his provoking banter and his unnecessary concern, which she saw now as no more than an opportunity to force his arbitrary will on her, she could have seen the last of him. Now…devil take it, she was trapped on his ship, subject to his nasty whims, and likely could expect a great deal more of the aggravation she had experienced at his hands this afternoon. Hadn’t he admitted that he enjoyed pushing a person to the ends of his temper? As sweet-tempered as she was, and she assured herself that she was, even she couldn’t be expected to last long under such deliberate goading. She’d be provoked and provoked until she ended up slapping him or putting up some other such female defense that would give her away. And then what? With his cruel sense of humor, she couldn’t even begin to guess.

  Madam Luck had truly deserted her today. So had caution for the moment. When her panicky thoughts were interrupted by a sharp nudge to her shoulder, she came around snapping “What?!” in a voice loaded with haughty exasperation. Such an impudent response naturally enough got her cuffed instantly. The blow to the side of her head slammed her into the gunwale, where her feet slowly slipped forward until her backside hit the deck.

  She was surprised more than dazed, though her throbbing ear hurt. And she didn’t have to be told what she’d done wrong, though the belligerent sailor standing over her was quick to tell her anyway.

  “Sass off to me ag’in, you cheeky little bugger, an’ I’ll toss you o’er sooner’n you can spit. An’ don’t let me catch you blockin’ the bleedin’ way ag’in, neither!”

  The area wasn’t so narrow that he couldn’t have gone around her. He wasn’t very big, and was skinny besides. But Georgina didn’t point that out. She was too busy getting her sprawled legs out of his way, since he was about to kick them aside rather than step over them to go about his business.

  Meanwhile, on the quarterdeck, Conrad Sharpe was having a devil of a time keeping the captain from vaulting over the railing to the deck below, as he had started to do the instant the girl had been cuffed. And to restrain him without appearing to do so was no easy task, either.

  “Blister it, Hawke, the worst is over. Interfere now and you—”

  “Interfere? I’m going to break the man’s bones!”

  “Well, there’s a brilliant notion,” Connie tossed back sarcastically. “How better to show the crew that Georgie boy is not to be treated like a cabin boy at all, but as your own personal property? You might as well yank off that silly cap and fetch up a gown. Either way, you’ll have the men’s interest centered on your little friend until they find out what is so special about him that had you committing murder. And don’t raise that brow at me, you bloody fool. Your fists would be lethal on someone that size, and you know it.”

  “Very well, I’ll just have the chap keelhauled.”

  Hearing the dry tone that signaled James had come to his senses, Connie grinned and stepped back. “No, you won’t. What reason would you give? The wench got lippy. We heard her from here. There isn’t a man aboard who wouldn’t have done exactly as Tiddles did with such provocation coming from such a little squirt. Besides, looks like the brother’s going to take care of it, and no one will wonder about him coming to the brat’s defense.”

  They both watched as Ian MacDonell bore down on Tiddles, yanking him around just as he’d been about to kick the girl. Up went the shorter man to dangle from the Scot’s fists, each fastened on his checkered shirtfront. And although MacDonell didn’t raise his voice, the warning he issued carried across the deck.

  “Touch the laddie again, mon, and I’m thinking I’ll have tae kill ye.”

  “He puts it rather well, don’t he?” James commented.

  “At least no one will remark on it…coming from him, that is.”

  “You made your bloody point, Connie. You don’t have to belabor it. Now what the deuce is she saying to the Scot?”

  The girl had gotten up and was speaking earnestly but quietly to her brother, who still held Tiddles aloft. “Appears she might be trying to defuse the matter. Smart girl. She knows where the blame belongs. If she hadn’t been standing about gawking—”

  “I’m partly to blame for that,” James cut in.

  “Oh? Did I miss something, like seeing you down there nailing her feet to the deck?”

  “In high form, aren’t we? But notice, old friend, that I’m not amused.”

  “Pity, since I am.” Connie grinned unrepentantly. “But I can see you’re perishing to do the noble, so go ahead. Confess why you think you’re responsible for the brat’s impudence.”

  “I don’t think, I know,” James retorted, all but glowering at his friend. “As soon as she recognized me she decided to jump ship.”

  “She told you that, did she?”

  “She didn’t have to,” James replied. “It was written all over her face.”

  “I hate to point out little details, old man, but she’s still here.”

  “’Course she is,” James snapped. “But only because I detained her in my cabin until it was too late for her to do anything foolish. She wasn’t on the deck gawking. She was watching her only opportunity to escape recede into the distance…and prob’ly cursing me to everlasting hell.”

  “Well, she isn’t likely to make the mistake again—of getting in the way, that is. A clout on the ear usually serves as a good lesson.”

  “But it’s set Tiddles against her. Artie, too, was ready to kick her arse a good one, and would have if I hadn’t been there. You should have heard the imperious way she was ordering him about.”

  “You don’t suppose the brat’s a lady, do you?”

  James shrugged. “She’s an old hand at directing underlings, whatever she is. Educated, too, or else a great mimicker of her betters.”

  Connie’s humor deserted him. “Damn me, that puts a different light on this, Hawke.”

  “The devil it does. I didn’t put her in those breeches. And what the deuce did you think she was? A dockside whore?” Connie’s silence was answer enough, and drew a short bark of laughter from James. “Well, you can stow the chivalry, Connie. It don’t sit well on your shoulders any more than it does on mine. The cunning little baggage can be a bloody princess for all I care, but for the time being, she’s a cabin boy until I say otherwise. It’s a role she gave herself to play, and I mean to let her play it out.”

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as I can bear it.” And then, watching
the Scot release his victim, he added, “Hell and fire, not even a bloody blow! I would’ve—”

  “Broken his bones, I know.” Connie sighed. “Appears to me you’re taking this a little too personally.”

  “Not at all. No one can hit a woman while I’m around and hope to get away with it.”

  “Is that some new sentiment you’ve adopted since we set sail? Now, Jamie lad,” he added placatingly when James turned on him. “Why don’t you save those killing looks for the crew, where they might do some…All right,” he amended with ill grace as James took a step toward him. “I take back every word. So you’re a bloody champion of all womankind.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Connie’s humor returned instantly at the appalled look that came over his friend’s face. “Neither would I if you weren’t so blasted touchy today.”

  “Touchy? Me? Just because I want to see that woman beater trounced on?”

  “I see I must point out the little details again, such as Tiddles ain’t even aware that he hit a woman.”

  “Irrelevant, but point taken. Child beater then. Can’t stomach either one. And before you open up that yapping trap to defend the little twit again, tell me if he would have been so quick to clout MacDonell out of his way?”

  Connie was forced to concede, “I daresay he would have gone around him.”

  “Quite so. Now, since you’ve ruled out all the more preferable forms of reprisal for his bullying tendencies, and the Scot has disappointed me, indeed he has, in merely giving him a warning—”

  “I believe the wench saw to that.”

  “Again irrelevant. Her wishes don’t come into this. So the next time I see Mr. Tiddles, it had better be with a prayerbook in his hand.”

  James wasn’t referring to a religious book, but the soft stone used on the hands and knees to renew the deck surfaces that were too small for the larger holystone to get at. After the deck was wetted down, preferably in rainy weather so water didn’t have to be hauled up, sand would be sprinkled over the entire surface, then the large holystone with its smooth underside would be dragged fore and aft by means of long ropes attached to the ends. Having to go through the same process on your hands and knees was one of the more unpleasant deck chores.

  “You want him sanding decks that are perfectly spotless?” Connie asked for clarification.

  “For no less than four watches…four consecutive watches.”

  “Damn me, Hawke, sixteen hours on his knees won’t leave much skin on them. He’ll be bleeding all over the deck.”

  Pointing that out did not change James’s mind as he’d hoped. “Quite so. But at least his bones will be intact.”

  “I hope you know this will only make him resent your lad the more.”

  “Not at all. I’m sure you can find something about the chap to warrant such a mild punishment. Even the cut of his clothes or their condition will do. His shirtfront ought to be nicely wrinkled from MacDonell’s fists, don’t you think? But whatever you find fault with, you’re the dear fellow who’ll be resented, not Georgie.”

  “Thanks much,” Connie sneered. “You could just let it go, you know. They have.”

  James watched as the two MacDonells headed toward the forecastle. Georgie had her hand pressed to the ear that had been clouted.

  “I doubt they have, but under no circumstances will I. So don’t quibble any more about my means of retribution, Connie. It’s either that or the cat-o’-nine-tails. And if you want to talk about blood getting all over the deck…”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Blathering about brick walls again, are ye? Did that mon hit ye sae hard then? Ye should’ve let me do some damage tae—”

  “I meant the captain,” Georgina hissed as she hurried Mac along in search of a private spot where they could talk. “He’s the same two-ton ox who carted me out of the tavern that night I had hoped to forget.”

  Mac stopped in his tracks. “Ye canna mean that yellow-haired laird? He’s yer brick wall?”

  “He’s our captain.”

  “Och, now, that isna good news.”

  She blinked at that calm reply. “Didn’t you hear me? Captain Malory is the same man—”

  “Aye, I heard ye aright. But ye’re no’ locked up in the hold, or hasna he seen ye yet?”

  “He didn’t recognize me.”

  Mac’s brows shot up, not because he was surprised at that answer, but because Georgina sounded piqued that it was so. “Are ye sure he got a good look at ye?”

  “From top to bottom,” she insisted. “He simply doesn’t remember me.”

  “Aye, well, dinna take it personally, Georgie. They had other things on their minds that night, the both of them. They’d been drinking as well, and some men can ferget their own names after a bad night.”

  “I thought of that. And I’m not taking it personally.” She sniffed indignantly at the very thought. “I was nothing but relieved…after I got over my shock of seeing him here. But that’s not to say something might stir his memory yet, like seeing you.”

  “Ye’ve a point there,” Mac said thoughtfully. He glanced over his shoulder to where England was no more than a speck on the horizon.

  “It’s too late for that,” she said, reading his mind correctly.

  “So it is,” he agreed, then, “come. There’s tae many ears here.”

  He led her not to the forecastle, but belowdecks to the boatswain’s domain, now his, a room where the extra rigging was stored. Georgina plopped down on a fat coil of rope while Mac went through the motions of thinking: a bit of pacing, a bit of sighing, and tongue clicking.

  Georgina practiced patience as long as she could, all of five minutes, before demanding, “Well? What are we going to do now?”

  “I can avoid the mon as long as possible.”

  “And when it’s no longer possible?”

  “I hope I’ll have grown some hair on my face by then,” he said, offering her a grin. “A red bush tae cover this old leather will be as good a disguise as yer own, I’m thinking.”

  “It will, won’t it?” she said, brightening, but only for a moment. “But that only solves one problem.”

  “I thought we only had the one.”

  She shook her head before slouching back against the bulkhead. “We also have to figure out a way for me to avoid the man.”

  “Ye know that isna possible, lass…unless ye take sick.” He beamed, thinking he’d just solved the matter. “Ye wouldna be feeling poorly, would ye?”

  “That won’t work, Mac.”

  “It will.”

  She shook her head again. “It would if I was to sleep in the fo’c’sle as we assumed, but I’ve already been informed otherwise.” And then she sneered, “The captain’s magnanimously offered to share his own cabin with me.”

  “What!?”

  “My sentiments exactly, but the blasted man insisted. He wants me close to hand in case he needs something in the middle of the night, the lazy cur. But what can you expect of a pampered English lord?”

  “Then he’ll have tae be told.”

  It was her turn to gasp as she shot to her feet, “What!? You can’t be serious!”

  “Ye better believe I am, lass.” Mac nodded resolutely. “Ye’ll no’ be sharing a cabin wi’ a mon who’s nae friend or kin tae ye.”

  “But he thinks I’m a boy.”

  “That doesna matter. Yer brothers—”

  “Will never know,” she cut in angrily. “For God’s sake, if you tell Malory, I could end up sharing his cabin anyway, but in a manner even less to my liking. Did you think of that?”

  “He wouldna dare!” Mac growled.

  “Oh, wouldn’t he?” she demanded. “Are you forgetting so soon who’s captain around here? He can do anything he blasted well pleases, and protesting on your part will only get you clapped in irons.”

  “Only the blackest scoundrel would be taking such advantage.”

  “True. But what makes you think he isn’t jus
t that? Are you willing to risk my virtue on the thin likelihood that the man has a scrap of honor? I’m not.”

  “But, lassie—”

  “I mean it, Mac,” she insisted stubbornly. “Not a word to him. If I’m found out some other way it will be soon enough to learn if the Englishman has any decency, but I tell you true, I doubt it. And sleeping in his cabin is the least of my worries. It’s being around him otherwise that will be a test of my fortitude. You would not believe how despicable he is, how he takes pleasure in being downright nasty. He actually admitted to me it’s one of the few enjoyments he has.”

  “What is?”

  “Putting people on the defensive, making them squirm. He treats them like butterflies, his barbs the pins that nail them to the spot.”

  “Are ye no’ exaggerating a wee bit, lass, disliking the mon as ye do?”

  She was, but she didn’t care to admit it to him. If she really was the boy the captain thought her to be, she wouldn’t have taken offense at what was merely an older man ribbing a younger one about his lack of experience, something males invariably tended to do. And the topic of sex was a natural one between men when women weren’t around. Hadn’t she overheard enough conversations among her brothers, when they weren’t aware that she was about, to know that?

  Fortunately, the door opening just then kept her from having to answer Mac. A young sailor rushed in and showed relief at finding the boatswain there.

  “The topsail halyard is fraying under these winds, sir. Mr. Sharpe sent me for a new one when he couldn’t find you.”

  “I’ll see tae it, mon,” Mac said curtly, already turning to locate the proper rope.

  The inexperienced sailor left gratefully. Georgina sighed, aware that Mac had no more time for her right now. But she didn’t want to leave their conversation on such a bad note, or have him worrying about her.

  The only way to do that was to give in and admit, “You were right, Mac. I have been letting my dislike of the man persuade me he’s worse than he is. He said himself that he probably won’t even notice me underfoot in a few days, which means he’s tested my mettle and now won’t bother himself with me anymore.”