by Linda Ladd
She checked on Trey again, and found him lying still and relaxed, his skin now cool to the touch. She fidgeted anxiously until Samuel returned, wearing a different set of clothes, and Caitlin barely gave him time to enter before she was outside in the gangway making her way to the aft ladder.
Caitlin came out into the cool air, thinking it felt marvelous, feeling marvelous herself as she inhaled deeply. She found Richard nearby, and she laughed at his startled expression when he caught sight of her. She went to him quickly, determined that he would not refuse her help.
"I intend to help where I can," she said without preamble. "I am skilled in all the tasks aboard this ship, and I will no longer sit below while others exhaust themselves."
Richard's eyes went to her breeches, and he hesitated, vividly recalling Trey's vehement refusal to let her help.
"I am sorry, Caitlin, but I cannot allow it. Trey strictly forbade it. You heard him yourself."
"Hang what Trey said. He is in no condition to command. To stop me, you will have to clap me in irons, and I do not think he would like that either."
She glanced up at the topsail, where two tars struggled with a task that needed four hands for a competent job of it; before Richard could react, she had swung agilely onto the shrouds and was climbing the taut robes with practiced ease.
Richard stood watching, tempted to let her have her way, although he knew that Trey would have his head over it. The two seamen aloft stared openly as Caitlin joined them without a word but set about the job at hand. After a moment of watching her proficiency at handling the canvas, they went to work alongside her, satisfied that she knew well what she was doing. Far below, Richard watched with trepidation, praying Caitlin would not hurt herself, for he shuddered to think what Trey would do to him if such an accident should come to pass. Caitlin felt no such fears of reprisals as she worked with surefooted skill near the yardarm, feeling like a captured bird set free, and she savored the feel of the strong cold wind against her face. It felt wonderful and natural, bringing her vigorously alive again with a new lightness of heart. She laughed and broke into song with such pure joy that the men working with her caught her light mood, their own hopes soaring after long depressing weeks fighting the fever.
Chapter Eighteen
Trey tried to fight his way out of dark swirling pits, but it was like clawing a path through tangled masses of seaweed. It took him a long time to force open his eyes, only to quickly shut them against the unaccustomed light. After a moment, he tried again, and found Samuel asleep on a chair drawn close to him. He lifted himself on one elbow, but a weakness of limb assailed him, and he lay back, waiting for it to subside. With effort, he managed to sit up, and Samuel roused as Trey swung his feet to the floor. The boy's brown eyes lit up at the long-awaited sight of his captain up and in lucid mind.
"Captain! Sir! How do you feel?"
Trey considered the question, stretching muscles that felt as if they were constrained by heavy leather straps.
"A little stiff, and hungry as hell," he answered slowly, bringing a wide smile to Samuel. "Where is Caitlin?"
Samuel's delight fled, and he squirmed as he answered.
"She is up on the deck, I believe, sir."
"I thought I told her to stay down here," Trey muttered, reaching for the bottle of rum on the shelf beside him. He drank a healthy portion, feeling a good sight better as the potent liquor burned a path into his empty stomach. He looked back at Samuel.
"I'd say I needed that good night's rest, eh, boy? I slept like a dead man."
Trey's remarks earned him an odd look from his cabin boy.
"You have lain ill for many days, Captain. Do you not remember?"
"What?" Trey's hand froze, the bottle halfway to his mouth.
"Aye, ‘twas the fever that downed you. Your lady tended you till the delirium was past."
"Caitlin did?"
Trey's voice held a skeptical note, but Samuel reassured him with a nod. Trey stared at the boy, more than pleased to think Caitlin would go to the trouble. He had begun to think he had earned her hatred for all eternity, but hearing that she had been the one who nursed him back to health made him suddenly very eager to see her. And if indeed he had been sick for so long, he had urgent need to see to his ship.
"Get me my clothes, Samuel. I will have to see Richard, then you can run and tell Caitlin I wish to speak to her."
Samuel was glad for the opportunity to warn his mistress that her husband was up and about. Perhaps if he hurried, she might even have time to change into her own clothes before the captain found out that she had disobeyed him.
Trey pulled on his trousers, then rose, picking up his shirt from the shelf. He found himself a little wobbly once he was on his feet, and he braced a hand against the wall, waiting for his strength to return before he drew his shirt over his head and tucked it into his breeches.
He poured himself more rum, welcoming its steadying influence as he made his way to the mirror above the pitcher and bowl. He stared into a haggard face and sunken eyes amid many days' growth of black beard. He grimaced at his unkempt appearance, but at least he had survived, and he was grateful for it.
Wondering why Caitlin had not yet returned, he opened the cabin door and made his way to the quarterdeck ladder. Wind howled down from the deck above, and he stopped there to rest for a moment. He was still weaker than he wanted to be, but he gripped the rail with determination and began to pull himself upward.
He frowned when he stepped out into weather that was nothing less than a small squall. Stinging needles of rain hit his face, and the seas were choppy and rough. He searched the forward decks with concerned eyes, angry that Caitlin should be wandering about in such inclement conditions. She was nowhere to be seen, and he turned around to find Richard striding down the deck toward him. Richard didn't see Trey at first, his eyes peering upward intently to where several men were desperately trimming the billowing sails against the shifting gusts.
Trey followed his gaze, then froze as he saw Caitlin near the main mast. She was making her way quickly along the yard to where loose canvas had been torn from its ropes and was flapping wildly in the wind. His initial shock turned to icy fear as the wind changed directions, whipping the sail dangerously in the driving rain.
"Caitlin!" he bellowed furiously over the wind, effectively bringing all eyes on deck and above to his heretofore unknown presence. The enraged yell from below startled Caitlin enough to make her lose her footing, and Trey's breath caught as she slipped and nearly fell before she caught herself on the ropes and managed to pull herself astraddle the yard. She peered down at Trey through the rain for a moment, then continued on her way as if he were not there.
"Dammit, woman! Get down here," he yelled again, shaking off Richard's restraining hand as he turned furious eyes on his cousin. Richard's voice was conciliatory.
Leave her be, Trey. She'll be down after she secures the line."
"To hell with the line. What in the bloody devil is she doing up there?"
Richard winced and glanced up at Caitlin, but Trey's eyes hardened when he didn't answer.
I asked you what she is doing up there," Trey demanded furiously once more.
"I let her help out since we were so shorthanded. She knows what she's doing."
"And you'll answer to that, Richard. I promise you," he said, but his eyes remained on the small figure high above as Caitlin scrambled along the yard as nonchalantly as if she were strolling down some garden path, instead of precarious beams forty feet in the air. His tensed muscles began to relax only when she finished her task and started down. When she was almost to the deck, he turned furious eyes to Richard.
"She has done a good job, Trey," Richard told him quickly. "We needed every hand we could find with half the men down. She deserves your gratitude not your anger."
"I did not ask you for your advice, blast you," Trey returned tersely. "I am the captain of this ship, if you will remember, and I will not permit my wife
to endanger her life by swinging around the masts!"
Caitlin jumped lightly to the planking, looking toward Trey and finding herself more afraid to face his anger than she had expected to be. She had no doubt he would be furious with her, but she was glad he was well enough to come topdecks, even if it was to reprimand her. She took a deep, fortifying breath and started toward him, steeling herself to withstand the glare he turned on her as she drew nearer.
"Go below," he growled, his words harsh and unyielding, and Caitlin's pride swelled at his peremptory order. Damn the arrogance of him, she thought furiously. How dare he come up and treat her like a willful child in front of Richard and the others! She was tired and cold from working most of the night to keep his bloody stupid ship afloat, and yet he had no word of thanks for her! A fiery retort teased the tip of her tongue, and she wanted more than anything to hurl it out at him, then follow it with her fist against his hard, bewhiskered jaw. She contained the compelling urge with unusual restraint, for she acknowledged that Trey was the captain of the Glory and, as such, had the right to choose who would man the vessel and to mete out punishment as he saw fit. She would not undermine his authority.
With teeth clamped, she turned, furious tears stinging her eyes as she found her way back to the cabin below. Samuel turned as she thrust open the door, then slammed it shut behind her. She muttered a string of low curses as she jerked off her wet coat and slung it to the floor. She paced in agitation, ignoring Samuel's sympathetic eyes. Trey Cameron was the most impossible man in the whole of the world! There was no pleasing him! She should have left him in his delirium forever, for all the appreciation she got from him! He would no doubt come soon and berate her without mercy for trying to help!
In the few moments it took Trey to follow her below, Caitlin worked herself into a rage that she had no compunction about voicing when facing her husband in private. Her eyes flashed pure gold fury as Trey entered. After a mere glance in her direction, he turned to Samuel.
"Run along, boy," Trey said quietly, then moved to the bunk and sat down heavily. He was totally worn out just from the walk topdeck and back, and he knew it would take some time before his strength fully returned. He looked at Caitlin where she stood near the sternwalk windows, fists on her hips, murdering him with dagger looks.
After Trey had ordered her below, Richard had told him how hard she had worked, relieving the other men day and night so they could rest. Richard had become angry himself, obviously most impressed with her performance. And now as Trey looked at her in the wet and dirty shirt and breeches, he realized that she looked exhausted. Rage floundered beneath his concern that she might become ill, and that emotion filtered through his voice.
"You almost fell out there," he said, just the idea of it making him shudder.
"Thanks to you," Caitlin spat out. "You yelled at me when I wasn't expecting it. I was startled to see you."
"I can imagine," Trey said dryly. "Since I am the captain of this ship and expressly forbade you to work the sails."
"Richard had every right to let me help! He needed me with you down!"
She stared at him in open defiance, ready to defend Richard if Trey meant to punish him for her actions. To her surprise, Trey nodded.
"I am fully aware of that, Caitlin."
Caitlin did not know how to answer, having prepared herself for a lengthy lecture from him, so she waited warily for Trey to speak again.
"He says you have done a fine job while I was sick. I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude."
His words shocked Caitlin into complete silence, and Trey smiled as he leaned back against the wall.
"I was only concerned for your safety, but Richard says you rival the best of my crew."
"My father taught me well."
Caitlin's answer was stiff. It was not like Trey to be so generous with his praise, especially when she had disobeyed him.
"To be sure, I am less than pleased that you ignored my orders, but I can understand your reasons," Trey went on slowly, surprised to realize that he really did understand. She had done well for him and the Glory, and he stared at her, suddenly able to see her in a different light. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even now in the shabby garments she wore, but there was much more to the small woman standing defiantly before him. Caitlin had a deep and abiding strength, coupled with a rare integrity and fierce pride, and he found that he admired those traits in her very much. She had proven herself worthy of his respect as well as his love.
"Thank you, Caitlin," he said wearily, laying his head back against the wall.
Caitlin stared at him, unable to believe she had actually heard such words from him. He smiled at her now, in the old way, as if he read her mind, and a great tide of happiness broke inside her. It was the first time he had treated her as if she were a real person instead of a burden to be trained for marriage or a female body to be desired. Perhaps he was finally ready to accept her for what she was, not what he thought she should be.
"I only wanted to help," she said, sounding a good deal less defensive. "And I still want to, if you will let me."
Trey cocked one dark eyebrow at her last words. She had certainly never asked his permission before. It boded well that she had; however, despite that, he could not bring himself to grant her leave to join his crew.
"I cannot allow that." He paused as the happiness left her eyes. "It is hardly necessary now that most of the men are able to man their watches again." His gaze dropped to her attire. "And perhaps you will do me the favor of donning more respectable garb before we reach Portsmouth, so the ladies of London will not swoon at the sight of you."
"I would scarcely want to shock any fine English ladies," Caitlin returned, her words dripping with sarcasm as she turned away in anger. Trey sighed as the old animosity settled between them again like dust on a waning wind.
Caitlin sank into a chair, saddened that the beginnings of cordiality had already disintegrated. She had thought for a moment that he had been willing to accept her, but now she knew he would always try to make her fit his ideas of what she should be—a bloody, boring lady. She closed her eyes, only her utter exhaustion making her able to forget the aching of her heart.
Chapter Nineteen
Caitlin huddled closer to the small cast-iron stove, pulling the woolen blanket closer around her shoulders. She shivered uncontrollably, never in her life having been so cold. She wore one of the thin muslin dresses she had brought from the tropics, though Trey had given her several of his warm woolen shirts to wear atop it. She even wore Samuel's breeches beneath the skirt, but even that could not warm her in the frigid weather of the North Atlantic.
She glanced at her small trunk that Samuel had packed and placed near the door. They had arrived in the harbor of Portsmouth, England, just the day before, and Caitlin had yet to go abovedecks. It seemed even colder now that they had set anchor, with the wintry winds beating the sternwindows and sending bone-chilling drafts through the cabin.
Rubbing her hands together briskly to warm them, she grimaced, thinking that she was the only one who seemed to suffer the cold. Trey certainly seemed unaffected, spending long hours outside without complaint. He had been most kind and considerate to her when she saw him, but of late he had spent more and more time elsewhere. He had not changed his mind about letting her help the crew and, as they had sailed northward, Caitlin had been secretly glad to leave the work to others so that she could remain in front of the stove.
Never in her life had she endured such shivering discomfort, and it seemed her body had been numb for weeks on end. Her nights had been filled with dreams of warm white sand and soothing turquoise waters, and often she awakened to wish for Trey's hard warmth against her. But after his recovery, he had returned to sleeping in the hammock, and the chasm of distrust and disillusionment between them had widened even more.
Soon it would be time to leave the ship and proceed to Worth House, Trey's estate in Sussex, and Caitlin dreaded it, knowin
g Trey planned to leave her there with his family while he went to London to meet with the Queen. His mother and sisters would no doubt be the ones Trey feared would be shocked by her attire and behavior, and she would probably hate them as much as they hated her.
Caitlin turned as Samuel entered and hoisted her trunk upon his shoulder.
"The captain awaits you, mum. The coach has come. He bade me give you this."
Caitlin took the heavy blue velvet cape lined with the softest of fox fur, gratefully wrapping it around her before she followed Samuel out of the cabin. Goose bumps rose and rippled over every inch of her skin as she stepped onto the deck and was assaulted by a cutting wind that swept across the ship to invade her cloak. She immediately lifted the hood, her eyes moving over the dingy port city, and she could not hide her dismay at her first look at the fabled land of England.
Everything was gray, she thought in dismal disbelief, the sky, the sea, the land. Gray and cold and ugly. Great clouds of black smoke rose from countless chimneys atop dirty buildings crowded together along the quay, creating a sooty pall over the rooftops and ships of the harbor. Caitlin shut her eyes against the scene, visualizing instead lovely blue waters and sunshine that warmed her skin and hair. Sickness congealed in the pit of her stomach at the thought of spending her life in such a horrible and desolate place. Her determination to return to Barbados increased tenfold in that moment of despair, and she vowed to see Windsway again, no matter what she had to do to achieve it.