Caution to the Wind (American Heroes)

by Mary Jean Adams

  The day had grown late, and dark stubble covered the captain’s jaw. Amanda found herself drawn to the uniquely masculine trait. Instead of making him look unkempt, it emphasized the hard lines of his face, making him look more commanding than ever.

  His questioning gaze swept over her face. She wasn’t sure what he expected from her anymore than she knew what to expect from herself. Her inner voice seemed to want her to take action, but her rational mind had no idea what to do.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice a low rumble that was more vibration than sound.

  He made no move to stand, and neither did she.

  Without stopping to consider the appropriateness of her actions, Amanda reached up to touch the dark stubble that covered the captain’s chin. The muscles of his jaw twitched beneath her fingertips, but he didn’t pull back. His beard scratched like the bristles of a brush when she ran her hand down the sculpted contours of his cheek. A sudden flash of boldness enticed her to draw her thumb across the fullness of his mouth. His lips opened as if compelled by her touch. They were warm and soft, a delightful contrast to the rough maleness of his unshaven jaw. Currents of heat ran from the tips of her fingers to the pit of her belly.

  She lay her other hand flat against his chest and the rumble of a low growl against her palm sent a thrill of power coursing through her. The wolf was hers to command, at least for now.

  His gold eyes watched her, wary but ready to take her lead. His nostrils flared slightly as though catching her scent. He would kiss her again if she wanted him to. She need only lean in a little closer, slide her hand around his neck, tilt her chin just a little, part her lips...

  “Oh, pardon me,” the doctor said, pushing back the curtain that separated his side of the room from hers. “I was bringing something for Amanda. I didn’t realize you were here.”

  Heat rushing to Amanda’s face, the captain pushed her away and stood up. With a curt, “Excuse me,” he strode past the doctor and left the cabin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Will sat at his desk, fingers drawing circles at his temples while he stared at the accounting of the auction of their latest prize. Normally, he loved this part of commanding a privateer. He had financed the Amanda with the last of the money his mother hadn’t had the chance to spend. With his first few prizes auctioned off, he had successfully built back his father’s fortune. Now, with his continued success, he could claim wealth exceeding even that which his mother had squandered before her death.

  After he took his share, generous yet smaller than what some captains allotted themselves, he divided the rest among his crew. He loved that part most of all, seeing the faces of men who earned more money from one captured ship than many of them earned in an entire year, some in an entire lifetime.

  But this evening, his thoughts were on one specific crewman, or rather, would-be sailor.

  What in the hell had gotten in to him? Only a thin sliver of self-restraint kept his desire for Amanda in check. Why had he gone to her quarters?

  The doctor’s timely interruption had led to a later dressing down. The ship’s surgeon informed him, in no uncertain terms, that he would not allow any harm to come to Amanda. The hard gleam in his spectacled eyes told Will exactly where the doctor thought the greatest danger lay. He could just imagine what Doctor Miller’s reaction would have been if he had been caught in the act of deflowering his assistant!

  He grunted in self-loathing and looked down at his books. The crew expected their allocation in the morning. By midday they would be in a Portsmouth tavern doing their best to spend every last cent before they passed into a rum induced oblivion or lost themselves in the arms of a comely wench.

  Maybe he should do the same. He might be able to quench some of his desire at one of the higher-class establishments in town. With his more base needs met, Amanda would lose some of the sway she held over him.

  He reflected on the perfumed and pampered ladies at Madam Lydia’s. An establishment intended for men of wealth and position, he could spend the night drinking only the finest brandy, playing cards with men of similar means, and if one of the lovely ladies caught his fancy, engage in a discreet interlude with one of the finest prostitutes in New England. Lydia’s Ladies were so elite, it seemed almost unfair to call them prostitutes. Mistresses would be more like it. Most of them ended up with a small list of exclusive clients who paid enough to assure the girls were kept in style and relatively unencumbered.

  Not being a regular client of Madam Lydia’s—hell, he had never been a client—he would have to settle for one of the newer girls. However, because Madam Lydia had her pick of the crop, his choice would be young and fresh, even if no longer virginal.

  He imagined the heart-shaped face of a dewy-eyed woman staring up at him with faux admiration. She would have blonde hair, not too long, piled atop her head in a style that took forever to release, but with short curls that wound around his fingers when he buried his hands in them. She would have green eyes that glittered like emeralds in the candlelight, but softened when he kissed her. A sprinkle of freckles…

  “Damnation!” he said when he realized the woman he had imagined finding at Madam Lydia’s had transformed into Amanda.

  He knew better than to think he would find anyone like Amanda at Madam Lydia’s, but he had to find one who could wipe the green-eyed wench from his mind, at least for a while. He blew out a breath and pushed the manifest away. Then he leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. Closing his eyes, he contemplated going ashore for a night of dissipation that would leave him spent for weeks to come.

  Maybe he would just read a good book.

  ****

  Amanda flipped the pages of her book, not really seeing the words. From the deck above, she could hear the sounds of the men preparing to go ashore. They hadn’t invited her.

  Shouts of laughter reached her ears. One of them had probably made a lewd suggestion. There had been many this afternoon, enough to make her seek refuge in her quarters.

  Not that she would have wanted to go even if they had invited her. The first couple of times, a few of the sailors had tried to get her to go along telling her “there was a first time for everything.” She presumed they were referring to her virginity. She found it odd they didn’t treat Neil like such an innocent, he being younger than her.

  She recalled Neil’s recent trip with the prize crew and scowled at her book. Thanks to the captain’s loose attitudes toward his crew, Neil might no longer be innocent.

  She flipped a page with more force than necessary, frowning at a small tear she created in the delicate paper. She didn’t want to go the taverns or the brothels of Portsmouth, but still, it would have been nice to have been asked. That she had not been was just one more sign she didn’t fit in. Her shipmates might not realize they had a woman in their midst, but even they could see she didn’t quite belong in their world.

  “Doctor, have you seen my copy of Locke’s Treatises?” Captain Stoakes flipped back the curtain separating her “quarters” from the doctor’s and poked his head in. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you were Doctor Miller.”

  Her dark mood having festered into animosity toward all members of the opposite sex, Amanda narrowed her eyes and frowned at him. He arched his eyebrows in surprise.

  “Didn’t feel like going carousing with the rest of the horn-mad cockroaches?” she asked, horrified at her coarse words and the contempt she heard in her own voice. Anger did not excuse vulgarity.

  “I beg your pardon?” asked the captain, taking a step into the room.

  A flush crept up her cheeks. She thought the meaning of the euphemisms had been obvious. Maybe she had misunderstood its usage. Or, quite probably, it was an improper thing to say to your captain, and she really had crossed the line.

  This time she did stand up, clutching the book to her chest, her ire overwhelmed by her mortification at her behavior.
“I-I thought you were someone else.”

  “Who?” he asked, his voice skeptical.

  Her ears grew hot. There was no way the captain could be mistaken for any other sailor. His voice, even when calling after the doctor, had a resonance no one else on the ship possessed. And, no one quite filled the space in the little room the way he did. She shifted her stance under his direct gaze.

  “Did you need something?” she asked before he could comment on the obvious lie.

  “Actually, I was looking for something the doctor gave me,” the captain’s voice trailed off when he noticed the book she clutched against her chest. “What are you reading?”

  “A book,” she replied.

  “Yes, I can see that.” His jaw tightened. “What book would that be?”

  “This b-book?” she stammered, holding the book out for him.

  “Milton, eh?” The captain took it from her hands and examined the cover. “Isn’t Paradise Lost a bit much for a common sailor?”

  He didn’t seem to be expecting a response, so Amanda decided the wisest course of action would be to say nothing. For reasons she dreaded contemplating, he didn’t appear too pleased to find her reading Milton.

  “Since you are so fond of reading, I don’t suppose you might have a copy of any of Dr. Franklin’s works, would you?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, his face a mask of indifference, but the rhythm of his pulse beat against the chords of his neck, and the muscles in his thighs twitched. He looked ready to pounce.

  Her instincts had been right. Of course all those books, pamphlets and papers Bull and Buck loaned her had belonged to the captain. She had seen stacks upon stacks of books and pamphlets in his quarters when she served his meals. Some part of her brain had refused to acknowledge what her eyes told her.

  Her knees turned to pudding.

  Now what was she going to do? She clutched the book until her fingers turned white. She couldn’t very well lie and say she didn’t have them. She held the incriminating evidence in her hands, and she had an entire sea chest full in the corner behind her.

  For a moment, she considered making a dash for the doorway, but where would she go on a small ship in the middle of the sea? Besides, his large frame filled the path to the door, so even if it hadn’t been an absurd idea, it was impossible. It would be better to confess and get it over with. Still, with him standing over her, looking at her with those feral amber eyes, she couldn’t will her lips to speak.

  “Perhaps, I’ll just check for myself.” He pushed away from the door and made a move for the small locker she kept tucked in the corner.

  Amanda jumped out of his path just in time to avoid being knocked over.

  The captain threw open the lid and pulled out his belongings one by one. “Voltaire, in French.” He tossed the volume to the floor. “And Dr. Franklin. No wait, several copies of Dr. Franklin’s works. And, several of Mr. Shakespeare to keep him company.” He fixed his eyes on her each time he read off the title of a book or pamphlet.

  The pile grew with alarming speed; she sensed his anger filling the room. She opened her mouth a couple of times in a futile attempt to protest that she didn’t steal the books, but her dry throat could produce no words. As he pulled out book after book, she started to feel like she really was the guilty party.

  Finally, when the locker was empty, he stood up and faced her. “Do you know the penalty for stealing?” His eyes shone like burnished gold in his hard face.

  She stared at the wall behind him, her thoughts racing for something, anything she could say to defend herself. Now he wasn’t going to just kick her off the ship, he was going to kill her.

  “I...” she croaked, her mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton.

  The captain took a step toward her and she stepped backward, stumbling over an uneven floorboard. He grabbed her arm and pulled her up against his chest. His golden eyes seared her face for only a moment before his mouth descended on hers.

  With her last rational thought, Amanda decided whatever she thought the punishment for stealing might be, it certainly hadn’t involved kissing. The ship rolled on a wave, and Amanda and the captain were thrown off balance. Lips never losing contact, they stumbled through the curtain to the wall adjacent to the door. The breath rushed from Amanda’s lungs when her back slammed into the rough planks, but she paid it no heed. She didn’t need air at the moment.

  The captain pinned her to the wall with his body, his palms flat against it. He tore his lips from hers, giving her a moment to catch her breath while his lips seared a line of kisses from her collarbone to her ear. Amanda gasped when he nibbled her sensitive lobe. She entwined her fingers in his hair and held on while he traced the outline of her ear with his tongue.

  “Amanda,” he groaned against her temple.

  He still had his body pressed against her, but the pressure eased.

  No, don’t go! She didn’t want the captain to come back. Right now, she much preferred the wolf. He was not nearly so guarded as his master.

  Amanda grasped his face in her hands and held her to him. His ragged breath washed over her. She had to do something, anything, to make him stay.

  She reached behind his head and tugged the small leather tie that held his queue in place. Dark locks fell about his shoulders, and her breath caught in her throat. With his golden eyes, tanned skin, and dark flowing hair, he looked more feral than ever.

  The captain lowered his face to hers again, and Amanda parted her lips. Remembering the way he had tasted her with his tongue, she teased him with her own, tempting the beast she knew lived just beneath his controlled façade.

  “Amanda,” he said again, his voice held a note of anguish as though he knew he couldn’t win the battle he fought with himself.

  He tugged at her shirt and she quivered when his calloused hand touched the sensitive skin at her midriff. His hands gripped her hips, and he caressed both sides of her navel with his thumbs. When she sighed against his chest, he ran his hands higher still, over her waist and ribcage stopping when he reached the bindings that encircled her chest.

  Silently, she urged him onward. Her bindings were coming loose already. He could release them as easily as she had released his hair if only he would give a small tug on the right one. Oh, please, captain, now is not the time for retreat!

  “Stop!” Bull yelled from just inside the door.

  Bull stumbled forward when Buck and the doctor plowed into his back.

  The captain stepped away, and Amanda had to catch herself to keep from falling to the floor.

  “He didn’t steal them,” Bull said between gasps for breath. “I loaned them to him.”

  “As did we,” added the doctor.

  He and Buck squeezed around Bull to stand at his side.

  For a moment, Amanda had no idea what they were talking about. Then she remembered the captain’s belongings that lay scattered about her hammock.

  Had they heard the captain’s shouts when he first discovered his books in her locker? He hadn’t actually raised his voice, but even his normal voice would be more than enough. Perhaps his words had carried up through the planks where one of the men had heard and gone to fetch the others.

  Amanda stole a glance at Captain Stoakes. Except for the hair cascading over his ears making him appear atypically unkempt, he didn’t appear to be a man recently returned from the throes of passion. His eyes hard and his lips set in a thin line, she would have guessed him to be angry. She was a little disgruntled herself.

  Captain Stoakes glared at the three officers filling the cramped quarters. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor, but aren’t these the books you gave me at the beginning of our voyage?”

  “Well, yes, they are.” the doctor studied the incriminating pile in the middle of the floor. “However, we had a bit of an emergency.”

  “An emergency?” The captain had lowered his voice, but his eyebrow twitched, and Amanda knew the storm had not blown over
yet. “Pray tell, what was the emergency?”

  “They kept the lad from drinking,” said Bull.

  Drinking? Amanda wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to be accused of stealing.

  “He has a drinking problem?” The captain’s blank expression showed his confusion.

  The men looked at each other in silent conference. Amanda would have sworn the doctor gave a small nod.

  “No, not really a problem,” the doctor began, his words measured as though he were trying to decide how to describe the issue.

  “No, not really,” added Buck, less than helpfully.

  “More of a predicament,” said Bull, looking pleased with himself for finding just the right word.

  Doctor Miller and Buck nodded in agreement.

  “And, what is this predicament?” the captain asked, emphasizing the chosen term.

  “Well, you see.” The doctor spoke slowly, as though he were explaining an illness to his patient. “I’m guessing that growing up with his mother and all, the boy hasn’t had much experience with alcohol.”

  “No, sir, he hasn’t,” added Bull.

  Buck nodded in agreement.

  That part was true at least. Actually, no experience would be more precise. Her first taste of hard liquor had been the mug of rum Bull gave her only a couple of weeks after setting sail. When she tasted it, she had sputtered and coughed. Bull had yelled at her, saying something about “not inhaling it.”

  After that, she sipped slowly until she grew accustomed to the taste. Rather more, she liked the sort of soft warm glow it gave. It took the edge off her aching muscles and relaxed her head until her troubles didn’t seem quite so overwhelming. However, that had been her first and last taste of rum because she most certainly did not like the headache she had in the morning. Cooking the captain’s eggs had been a most nauseating experience and not one she wished to repeat.

  “And as such…” the doctor was saying.

  “Yes, as such,” Bull added.

  The captain shot him a dark look that suggested he would throttle him if Bull repeated one more word. After that, Bull joined Buck, silently nodding in agreement with everything the doctor said.