The Count’s Castaway

by Wynne, Aubrey

  Once on the top deck, Katie gripped the polished wooden rail for balance and looked over the side. The water churned, slapping the painted wood sides and spewing out white foam. It sprayed her bare skin, and she tipped her face to the sun. When she opened her eyes, Rory stared at her.

  “Ye’re not ill?”

  Katie shook her head and gazed at the endless expanse of water. “I remember from the first voyage how the rocking would send me to sleep. Others were deathly ill, but you and I ran along the passageways and decks as if the sea were solid.”

  “So much has changed since that sailing.” They stood for a moment, the breeze cool against their skin, each in their own thoughts.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered, transfixed by the ever-moving, constantly changing ocean. No boundaries, no horizon but the dark gray water, no end in sight. “What a life this must be.” She could stand here forever. This was freedom.

  “We’ll see how enthralled you are at the end of the day.”

  “There are more sails than I imagined,” she commented, taking in the details of the crowded main deck for the first time. “And so many ropes. Don’t they get in the way?”

  Rory laughed. “Some”—he pointed to several lines strung across the side of the craft—“are life lines. Something to grab to stay on or if ye fall overboard.” He pointed above him to the intertwined cables beneath horizontal posts. “Those are footholds, so when we have to reef the sail, or pull it in, we can walk along the beam and keep our balance. It takes a great deal of cordage to hold this vessel together.”

  “I didn’t realize you knew so much.”

  “I don’t have much choice. Besides, I love the sea. I hope to stay on once we’ve delivered ye to London.” After a brief tour, with only two elbow-reminders from Rory to keep her head down, he handed her a bucket and mop. “Back to the galley with ye. Remember, don’t be underfoot and try to answer with yer head instead of your mouth when addressed. The less ye say, the fewer questions there’ll be.”

  She nodded to show her understanding, hoisted the mop over her shoulder, and headed to the galley. At the entrance, Katie stilled. A tall man was talking to Patch, and though she couldn’t see his face, his voice was familiar. Her heart raced. The Frenchman.

  With the blood pounding in her ears, she sidled along the wall, plunged the mop into the bucket, and began to swab the deck with her back to the men. She didn’t know if they spoke in a hush or the thumping of her heart covered their words. Keep your head down. Eyes on the floor.

  Finished with half the room, she backed toward the men. Plunge, slop, push, pull. Plunge, slop, push, pull. She was used to physical toil for the past seven years, so the next month shouldn’t be too difficult on her physically. Her mind wandered to London and her grandparents. What would their reunion be like? She’d pictured two different scenarios. One happy ending, one dismal ending.

  Shiny black boots entered her vision. Before she could register the intrusion, the mop slopped across the gleaming leather. Katie held her breath, immobilized. Patch wouldn’t be wearing such expensive shoes.

  “Welcome aboard,” said the deep tenor that had accosted her on the Boston dock. Heat washed her face and spread down her neck. She nodded.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, as if a murky liquid wasn’t dripping over his toes and puddling beneath his soles.

  “K.T., sir,” Katie rasped. Drat! She sounded like a strangled toad.

  “First lesson of the sea, K.T. Always address your superior as Captain and look him in the eye.”

  Her heart threatened to explode as she replaced the mop in the bucket. Katie leaned on the wooden pole for support and gave him a nod and a quick peek from under her cap. His midnight eyes pinned her, captured her tongue and her ability to move. Still, she couldn’t look away from the dark scruff along his strong jaw and the wide, sensuous mouth. His full lips—the same ones that had kissed her senseless—were slightly turned up at the corners in a shrewd half-smile.

  He knows, she thought as panic seared her insides.

  “Who hired you, K.T.?”

  Patch’s conversation came back to her. “MacLeod, the quartermaster.”

  “Carry on, then.”

  Katie watched him walk away, his short coat stretched across his muscular shoulders and broad chest. A chest she had pressed her palms against. The warmth of his lips, the memory of her first taste of desire flooded her brain. Of all the ships, of all the captains in and out of Boston harbor, why did she have to stumble across him?

  Her breathing had returned to normal by the time she finished her chore. Patch sent her to the supply hold to fetch potatoes. She left the galley and made her way down the dim passageway. Entering the hold, a hand gripped the back of her neck and pushed her back into the companionway and propelled her forward.

  Chapter Four

  No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

  Day 2 at sea

  Alexandre noticed the boy sidle into the room from the corner of his peripheral vision. He gave him a side glance as he spoke to Patch.

  “I don’t recognize him.”

  “Ah, the latest lubber the quartermaster took pity on. Orphan, it seems, and a young one. Came in earlier with another new hire. Funny thing, Captain, I thought the older one, Rorick, was the new ship’s boy, but he said it was this one.” Patch nodded toward the figure swabbing the deck. “Looks like the young-un needs to grow into his clothes.”

  They both turned to study the boy who thrust the mop into the bucket. His shirt had been tucked in but still hung loose around his hips. While his height indicated a lad, something about his small hands piqued Alexandre’s curiosity. The skin was calloused, proving a past of physical labor, but the fingers were slender and the wrist small, almost delicate. There was a grace to his movements that reminded him of a… Sacre Dieu!

  The youth had bent over to push the mop, and Zander saw the outline of a rounded bottom not even the loose trousers could hide. He mumbled a stronger curse under his breath. Finishing the conversation with Patch, he crossed the room and asked the boy his name.

  “K.T.”

  He stared at the bent head for a moment. Katie. Clever to come up with a moniker that she would always recognize. And how had she managed to hide away, then insinuate herself among his crew? Again, a clever lass. When their eyes met, her blue orbs darkened.

  She knows she’s discovered, he thought.

  Well, he’d allow her a slight reprieve until he had the particulars of her deceit. He finished their conversation and strolled from the room, a model of unconcern. Inside, he was seething, until the memory of their initial meeting teased his senses.

  Her soft body fitted against his, that full lower lip trembling from his kiss, the taste of spiced citrus. Alexandre took a deep breath. He’d find out her story, then discipline whoever had helped her on board. He ran a tight ship. There was no way she’d made it on by herself.

  He waited behind the open door of the main supply hold. As she walked in, his fingers gripped the back of her neck, and he turned her back toward the companionway and his quarters. To her credit, she never made a sound until he shoved her into the cabin and locked them both inside.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her chin up and her tone brittle.

  “I might ask you the same thing.” Alexandre crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

  She gripped the edge of his writing table. “I’m going to London. Isn’t that your destination?”

  “Indirectly, yes.” He moved toward her, and she took a step back.

  He grinned.

  Her eyes widened.

  “What are you going to do with me?” she asked in a quavering voice. “Please, don’t throw me overboard. I don’t know if I can swim.”

  “Between the icy waters and the sharks, it wouldn’t matter if you could.” He really should take pity on her. The color had drained from her face. “Of course, that might be preferable to your fate here.”

  “Wil
l you slit my throat?” It was barely a whisper.

  He shook his head, drawing his brows together and taking another step. She was against the wall now. Trapped. His smile returned.

  “This is not a passenger ship. There are no females on board. Our last voyage took eight months. Do you have any idea what a woman’s fate might be once she’s discovered?”

  She shook her head. The cap tilted and red waves spilled out one side. Katie tried to push it back over her hair, but he grabbed her wrist and stepped closer. By God, she was an innocent.

  “Does the word ravage bring anything to mind?”

  She sucked in a breath, her blue eyes luminous.

  “Now that we understand each other, you see my dilemma.” Desire thrummed low in his belly. Her chest rose and fell, her breasts straining against the pea jacket as she struggled. He tightened his hold on her wrist. Jesu, she stirred his blood. “My choices are limited.”

  “I-I just want to get to London and find my grandfather.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and her free hand batted it away. “I didn’t know you were captain of The Escape. I would never have—”

  “Deceived me?” he asked quietly. “Somehow, I doubt that. When we met, you were a desperate woman. I think you’ll do or say anything to free yourself from your master.”

  “He’s not my master. I am legally free.”

  He admired her determination. “Unfortunately, I believe I saw the proof of your statement torn into bits and thrown to the wind. Now, who helped you?”

  Katie bit her bottom lip, and he stifled a groan. There was no way this voluptuous female could roam his ship. She would need a constant guard and a better hiding place. Merde! “You were in the hold yesterday. It wasn’t the cat I heard.”

  Her eyes darted to his chest, refusing to meet his stare. What had she seen?

  “You could not have known about the smaller hold. Someone took you there,” Alexandre said icily. “I’ll find whoever you’re protecting.”

  He released her wrist at the sound of a knock. “Captain, are ye busy?”

  If he had to let another body know this secret, Seamus would be his choice. The man had common sense and might have an idea. “Don’t move!”

  Across the room in three long strides, he unlocked the door. “You have a nose for trouble.”

  Seamus entered, a paper in his hand. “I think we can make the appointed rendezvous by—” He stopped, staring at Katie still crouched against the far wall. “Who in the bloody hell is she?”

  “Katie, may I introduce you to my quartermaster, Seamus MacLeod.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glared at her. “As you can see, your disguise is not very convincing.”

  “What eejit put her on board?” Seamus pulled at his scruffy beard.

  “She says you did, according to Patch. You hired her as the ship’s boy.”

  “Och, only a blunderhead would take her for a lad.” Seamus studied her. “Patch told ye, eh? And who told Patch?”

  Panic brightened Katie’s eyes. Her cheeks flushed red.

  “Another lubber you hired in Boston.” He didn’t take his eyes from her face.

  “I only took on one new seaman. A strapping lad, red hair, name of Rorick.” The Scot rubbed his beard again. “Come to think of it, his appearance favors the young lass. Could be her brother.”

  “Please don’t cut his throat,” the girl cried.

  Seamus’s mouth fell open. “What do ye take us for, lass?”

  “Smugglers!”

  The Scot let out a loud guffaw. “Even if that were true, it doesna make us murderers. Ye’ve been listening to many bedtime stories.”

  “Send for the new man. I think we need to have a talk.” Alexandre sank into a chair at his small table, one leg stretched over the wooden arm. “And Seamus?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Don’t tell him why.”

  “Aye, sir.” The quartermaster left the sheet of paper on the table and exited the cabin.

  At the sound of the click, Alexandre turned his attention back to the woman. A staring match ensued until he finally broke the silence. “I rescued you at the wharf, and I’m repaid with trickery.”

  Katie swallowed the lump in her throat. How had their plan gone so wrong? What would happen to Rory when he returned? He wouldn’t be able to hide his surprise or concern when he saw her. And she didn’t trust either of these men not to do them harm.

  She held his gaze as the horrible possibilities ran through her mind. Rory in a noose, a sword plunged into his belly, both of them tossed overboard to feed the sharks. Then the memory of a kiss came rushing back. A gentle, sweet, earth-shattering kiss. Could that same man kill her brother? Another image of the false bottom of a keg. Yes, a smuggler would not think twice about murder.

  “As I said, I didn’t realize. I am thankful for your intervention, truly I am.” She ran shaking fingers through her hair, grabbed the cap before it fell, and gave up the fight to cover her head. “I just need to find my grandfather.”

  “And who might he be?”

  “I’m not exactly sure of his name,” she mumbled. He’d never believe her story. Never.

  “A woman escapes servitude and stows away on a ship to search for a man whose name she doesn’t know. This makes perfect sense.”

  “Let me explain,” she pleaded.

  “Be my guest,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  Anger curled in her chest. She was exhausted, hungry, and mad at the world. Tired of being another man’s slave, tired of longing for a better life, tired of feeling sorry for herself. “Gah!” She stepped forward and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You are an arrogant, heartless—”

  The door opened, slamming against the wall. The Scot walked in, followed by Rory, hat in his hand. When he saw Katie, he took a step toward her, hesitated, then stepped back. His face fell, a dull red creeping up his neck. “Rorick Craigg, Captain. Ye wanted to see me?”

  “It appears we have some additional goods stashed on my ship. Would you happen to know anything about it?” His tone was calm, but Katie recognized the steel threaded in it. He’d used it on the docks when Mr. MacDonald had confronted him—just after she’d made her escape.

  A long pause. “What sort of goods, sir?”

  Seamus poked Rory’s shoulder. “Look at the captain when he speaks to ye, lad.”

  Lecroix gripped her wrist and pulled her forward. She lost her balance and almost fell.

  Rory took a step forward, his fists raised. “Don’t touch her!”

  “I give the orders on this ship,” growled the captain.

  “Enough!” shouted Katie over both men, grateful her temper had overcome her fear. “I followed him aboard. He had no choice but to hide me once we set sail.”

  She had expected Lecroix to gloat. Instead, his expression was thoughtful.

  “She’s your sister?” he asked Rory.

  “Aye, Captain. I promised my ma I’d watch over her.”

  “Not an easy oath to keep, I imagine,” the captain said with a side glance at her.

  “Some days are more difficult than others,” Rory agreed.

  Lecroix nodded, inspecting the new seaman. “I have a sister myself. I’d give my life for her.”

  Hope sprang in Katie’s chest. “Then you must understand why he kept my secret.”

  “The question is, what do we do now? No offense, lass, but ye canna be roaming the decks.” Seamus wagged a finger at her. “It’ll cause naught but trouble, and we’re a month at sea, at least. Besides, they may think you’ve been sent to spy on our ‘special delivery,’ and they’re not a trusting lot. A stowaway would be fair game to the men.”

  “I don’t want the crew or authorities to think I’m hiding an indentured servant, either. I could be imprisoned or hanged.” The captain held up a hand to stop her retort, then paced the small quarters. “I realize your true situation, Katie, but it’s your word against his. Your presence on this ship could be interpreted as theft of property.”
>
  The captain stood, then paced the small quarters. “We need to find a place the men would never venture without permission.”

  “I could return to the hold. I promise to keep out of sight. Rory could bring me food once a day. I won’t eat much.” Katie’s swallowed, encouraged by the softening in the captain’s onyx eyes. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of her actions. If the men lost respect for their captain, would they mutiny? She had no idea. The thought of this man in prison, or worse, sent a wave of nausea rolling through her belly. Why did this have to be so complicated? “I have skills. I’m an excellent launderess and will earn my keep.”

  Seamus chortled. “She’s a willing lass, I’ll grant her that. We need to find a place the men would never venture without permission.”

  They all blurted out their opinions at once, barraging the captain until he held up a hand. “First, no one breathes a word of this. The only man who will need to be advised is Patch. He’ll keep his mouth shut.” His eyes narrowed when Katie opened her mouth. “Second, we need somewhere safe for Katie to stay for the rest of the journey. And not in a damp hold.”

  Seamus scratched his beard. “Weel, the only place I can think of where the men would no’ trespass is, weel, here.”

  “Here?” the three asked in unison.

  “A captain’s quarters are off-limits unless invited. The ship’s boy does yer bidding and runs the errands. And Rorick is on the scheme.” He shrugged. “I dinna see any other alternative.”

  “I can’t stay with, with… a man!” she squeaked.

  The captain shrugged. “You’d rather sleep in the hold?”

  She thought of the darkness, the odors, the loneliness. There was Stormy, of course. Katie shook her head, but peered warily at the bed. All three men followed her gaze.

  “Och, I can vouch for Captain Lecroix’s integrity.” He looked at his superior. “I’ll bring a hammock up so there’s an extra bed.”

  “I’ll leave you alone as much as possible. But I can’t avoid my own quarters, or the men will speculate.” He bowed and held out his hand. “In the meantime, Miss Katie…” He raised an eyebrow and waited for her last name. “You do know the rest of your surname?”