Caution to the Wind (American Heroes)

by Mary Jean Adams

  “Adam, I believe you owe Miss Bowersley an apology,” the captain said, without looking at her.

  “But, captain,” Amanda sputtered.

  He believed Violet, bad acting and all? More than that, how could he possibly think she would try to steal a kiss form the girl? Did he think just because she dressed as a man meant she preferred the attentions of women?

  Amanda stood in horrified silence.

  “Now, Adam!”

  Amanda gritted her teeth. Well, she could be as much an actress as Violet.

  “My dear, Miss Bowersley,” Amanda clasped one of Violet’s hands. “I sincerely regret our misunderstanding. You see, I was so captivated by your company that I simply must have missed your suggestion to leave.”

  Amanda’s stomach churned, and although she tried her best to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, it crept in through her words. “As for the kiss, although it would be heaven to be permitted to kiss an angel such as you, I realize I am a mere boy and not fit to kiss the ground on which you tread.”

  Buck coughed, and Amanda could feel the captain’s eyes boring into the side of her head. Violet preened like a parakeet.

  “I would never try to take advantage of an innocent like yourself. I’m afraid I lost my footing on the uneven boards and, unfortunately, knocked you over when I tried to catch myself. I do hope you will forgive me and we can remain friends.”

  “Well, I suppose it could happen to anyone,” Violet said, in a haughty and condescending voice, but at least she no longer sounded angry.

  Amanda gave Violet her biggest smile. What a fool! Either that, or Amanda’s deception skills had improved. After all, she’d had more than two months to practice.

  Miss Violet held out her hand for a kiss and Amanda’s conceit vanished.

  Oh, for heaven’s sakes. How low would she have to stoop before this was all over? And how did one kiss a hand? She once had a neighbor’s boy try to steal a kiss on her cheek, a move he soon regretted, but she had never had anyone kiss her hand. Fighting revulsion, she tried to remember the captain’s performance when Violet had first come aboard. Taking her hand, she kissed the air above her knuckles, all the while imaging what Violet might do if she spit on her instead. She lingered over Violet’s hand a moment longer while she forced back a grin.

  “You may escort me back to my quarters now.” Violet’s tone would have befitted a queen.

  “I think not,” the captain interjected. “Buck, escort Miss Bowersley to her quarters, and then make absolutely certain no one is allowed inside.”

  Or out, Amanda wanted to add, but she decided not to press her luck.

  “Yes, sir,” Buck waved his hand to allow Violet to precede him through the door.

  Amanda turned to follow.

  “Not you,” the captain said.

  He didn’t sound pleased. Amanda turned back and set her feet shoulder width part so she could bob with the waves and weather whatever recriminations came her way.

  The captain rose from his chair and went to stand beside a small window. He stood there for some time, staring out at the night sea, hands clasped behind his back. After several minutes, Amanda wondered if he had forgotten her presence.

  “Captain, I…” she began, but the captain’s deep sigh cut her short.

  “You have no need to explain, Amanda. Do you honestly think I believe you pushed that woman onto the bed? I sent you with her to her quarters to keep her occupied and away from anyone else she might try to seduce, me included.”

  Amanda choked back a giggle. So the captain had not been oblivious to Violet’s intentions.

  “I sent you because you were the least likely to have any interest in her and she in you.” He glanced at her. “I had no idea she would use you to further her goals.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Captain,” Amanda said. “I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you.”

  “No, I am the one who should offer an apology.” His lip curled in a sneer. “When I ended the dinner and she saw her chance slipping away, she used you as a pawn in her little game—and I let her.” He leveled his gaze at Amanda. “For putting you in that position, I am truly sorry.”

  His sincerity touched something inside her. “If you didn’t believe I pushed her, why didn’t you allow me to tell my side of the story?”

  “Because you obviously don’t have much experience with women.”

  Amanda bit her lip, not sure whether she had just been insulted. She was a woman!

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “What I mean to say is that you don’t have much experience with women who will do whatever it takes, use whomever they will, to get their way.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like a compliment,” Amanda said.

  To her surprise, the captain returned her smile. “If she felt her reputation had been damaged, she might complain to some authority or another, and I could lose my marque. Her uncle may not be as powerful as she claims, but I don’t want to take any chances.

  “I see.” Amanda had no idea the stakes were so high.

  “Plus, I have the suspicion she is husband hunting.” The dismay on the captain’s face suggested he didn’t relish being the girl’s quarry.

  “Oh, I can assure you, she is,” Amanda said.

  “Yes, well, I don’t intend to get snared in her net. Women like her are one of the reasons I don’t allow women on my ship.” He looked up as though he suddenly remembered to whom he was speaking. “Most of the time anyway.”

  A glimmer of hope kindled in Amanda’s chest. His statement hadn’t been a reversal of his cardinal rule, but it was tantamount to an admission that rules could be broken. But could they be broken permanently, or did he still consider her presence a temporary aberration?

  “You are lucky she is vain enough to actually believe your outrageous apology.” The captain shot her a grin. “Where did you learn to kiss a hand like that?”

  Amanda shrugged. “From you.”

  “From me?” The captain’s brows rose as one.

  “Yes, I watched you greet Miss Bowersley when she came on board this evening.”

  “Ahh, so that’s it. Anyway, your performance may have saved my ship, and I am grateful.”

  “Thank you,” Amanda said, humbled.

  “However, to avoid further mishap in case she changes her mind, I think perhaps the two of us should stick together tonight.”

  “Stick together?” Amanda’s heart leapt into her throat.

  Surely, he didn’t mean she should spend the night with him. A sudden image of the two of them snuggled together on his narrow hammock sent heat rushing to her cheeks. If the captain noticed, he didn’t comment. His gaze dropped to the manifest in front of him.

  “I wouldn’t put it past her to drug poor Buck and slip into bed with one of us while we are fast asleep and then claim we put her there.”

  Perhaps he did know women—of that type anyway—far better than she did.

  Amanda grinned. “So you want me here...as your protector?”

  “Something like that.” He held up a hand. “But before you get too smug, it’s for your own protection as well. She could just as easily sneak into your hammock as mine, and I thought you might find that a bit awkward.”

  “I’ll say.” Amanda laughed. “Still, I’m happy to oblige you, Captain. If I can be of service...” Her voice trailed off as she started to imagine some of the ways she would like to be of service to him.

  Not that any of that was likely to happen.

  “Thank you.” Captain Stoakes said, his voice warm.

  “Captain, can I go fetch something?” Amanda asked.

  The captain nodded. “I think Buck has things well in hand for now.”

  Amanda scurried out the door. Minutes later, she reentered carrying a small tray.

  “You ended dinner so abruptly that you missed dessert.” She set a French custard and a pot filled with steaming black coffee before him on his d
esk.

  The captain looked up from the manifests. A grin infused his features when he looked into the scalloped custard dish. “Nice choice. I see it was intended to complement the main course.”

  Amanda grinned, pleased he understood and appreciated her humor instead of seeing it as an affront to his guests.

  The captain gave her leave to sit in the chair across from him. She politely declined to share the custard, saying she didn’t care much for sweets. In truth, she got far more pleasure watching him enjoy it than she would eating any of the confection herself.

  The captain produced a chipped ceramic stein from a desk drawer. Pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he swabbed it out, blew in it, and poured it full of coffee from the pot. Then he offered the dainty teacup to Amanda while he kept the stein for himself. She accepted it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Amanda sipped the coffee, reveling in the rich aroma and flavor while she watched the captain polish off his desert. When he finished spooning up the last of it, he stared into the empty dish. From the longing in his eyes, Amanda half expected him to bury his face in it and lap up every last dreg. Instead, he contented himself with the remnants of custard clinging to his spoon. Then, he gave her a sheepish grin and offered to refill her cup.

  Amanda shook her head. “No, thank you. Coffee disturbs my sleep.”

  Not that she would get much sleep sharing quarters with the captain. Where did he expect her to sleep anyway?

  “Before you drift off, would you mind brewing another pot?” he asked, refilling his stein. “I have a lot of work to do tonight, and I may be up for hours.”

  For reasons she didn’t want to ponder, his words disappointed her.

  Now that Cookie had learned to make coffee, he almost always had a fresh pot at the ready so Amanda returned in a few minutes. Not thinking to knock, she pushed his door open with her shoulder and entered to find Captain Stoakes standing at his basin.

  He had removed his white linen shirt and stood bare-chested in front of the mirror, a small cloth in hand. In the reflection, Amanda could see his broad chest covered with a smattering of dark curls, soft and springy.

  While he washed himself with the cloth, Amanda watched the play of muscles in his back. He had to be the most beautiful creature God ever created. His shoulders were wide, but his back narrowed to a trim waist. Each movement sent muscles rippling beneath his skin. Above the waistline of his breeches, she found herself fascinated by two indentations in the small of his back that ended somewhere below his belt line. She traced them with her eyes, and then let her appreciative gaze linger over his taught buttocks and long legs. Under his tight breeches, she could see the rest of him was just as well built.

  Letting her eyes drink in the sight of him, Amanda realized something had changed. Muscles no longer rippled beneath glistening skin, and she no longer heard the soft swish of the cloth in the basin. She raised her gaze to the mirror.

  His golden eyes glowed like embers in the reflection.

  Probably an effect of the light from the oil lamp. She set the pot down on the desk, but her skin tingled with awareness. She knew without looking his gaze was still on her. An alertness filled her, and she understood what it felt like to be a rabbit stalked by a wolf.

  She settled herself in the hard wooden chair, a foolish rabbit without the sense to flee.

  Amanda closed her eyes and attempted sleep, but she couldn’t shut out the sounds about her, the glide of cloth over bare skin, the trickle of water returning to the bowl, the small groans of exertion as he tried to reach places on his back that she longed to scrub for him. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

  Every fiber in her body hummed to his presence and the intimacy of being alone with him. Perhaps he had been right about not being alone together. However, it wasn’t her reputation that concerned her. It was her sanity.

  He didn’t invite you here so you could try to seduce you him.

  Over and over, she repeated the reasoning to herself until it became like a mantra. His invitation might mean they were on the path toward an understanding, but nothing more. That he could be comfortable with her in his quarters all night meant he thought of her as his subordinate, nothing more.

  She tugged at the bindings on her chest, wishing she might at least loosen them. They chafed at her delicate skin, but she had grown to hate them for what they represented more than the discomfort she had to endure. If he saw her as less than a woman, the fault lay with her, not with him.

  Amanda was still arguing with herself when she finally found a comfortable position on the little chair. Fatigue overtook her, the refrain repeating as she drifted off.

  He didn’t invite you here so you could try to seduce you him...could try to seduce him...try to seduce him.

  ****

  Will drank the entire second pot of coffee, but got no work done. Amanda talked in her sleep, and although he couldn’t make out the words, the way she tugged at her clothing and laughed suggested her dreams were interesting ones. Much of the time, he sat gazing at her and entertaining himself by trying to deduce what enticing visions could cause such sensuous sighs and moans.

  When her breathing at last slowed and he thought he might be able to move her without disturbing her slumber, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his hammock. As soon as he laid her down, Amanda gave a breathy sigh and snuggled into his pillow.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Will smoothed her blonde curls from her brow.

  Amanda smiled in her sleep as though his confusion pleased her.

  Somewhere over the last few weeks, he had lost all desire to get her off his ship. He hadn’t realized that until Miss Bowersley offered the perfect opportunity, but the thought of being without Amanda overwhelmed him with a gut-wrenching sense of loneliness. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

  But if he allowed her to remain on his ship, how would he keep her safe? How would it affect his crew’s morale? His ability to command?

  It had been nerve wracking keeping her identity a secret from everyone but the doctor. No matter how well Amanda covered her soft curves with men’s clothing, everything she said and did appeared delightfully feminine. It would only be a matter of time before others discovered her secret.

  The first ray of dawn stabbed through the darkness in the cabin, haloing Amanda’s blond curls with an angelic glow. Will knelt down and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

  “Amanda, I surrender,” he whispered.

  Come what may, he needed her by his side and would not let her go. The rising sun warming Will’s cheek, he tucked his quilt beneath Amanda’s chin. They would begin anew today.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amanda arranged the captain’s breakfast on a tray, positioning an array of orange wedges until they resembled a flower. The oranges had been a gift from the English merchant, a thank you for her culinary efforts. She suspected they might also be an apology intended for Captain Stoakes, since he had assumed the responsibility for their “cargo.”

  She hadn’t seen the captain yet today, and she found his absence unsettling. Last night, he allowed her to remain in his quarters in order to keep them both safe from the machinations of a clever young woman.

  Amanda gave a soft laugh. If anything, the captain had been in far more danger than she had, and he knew it. She had given the situation considerable thought this morning, wondering why he hadn’t suggested she simply go back to her own hammock. The doctor would have made sure Miss Bowersley didn’t molest her in her sleep. However, that arrangement would have left Captain Stoakes alone and unguarded.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if it went deeper than that. Perhaps sleeping in his hammock had given her the illusion of intimacy. Although he had not shared his bedding with her, she had awoken, surrounded by his heady masculine scent almost as if he had lain next to her. Not possible, she concluded, since his hammock was only slightly wider than those used by the men. If two people shared
his hammock, their weight would have brought them both rolling toward the middle and they would have had to curl around each other like two pieces of a puzzle.

  The image made her cheeks heat, and she fanned herself with the captain’s linen napkin until the flames receded. He hadn’t been curled around her when she awoke. Disappointment stabbed at her, and she reminded herself she had no right to feel that way.

  She set the linen napkin on the tray and made a few last minute adjustments to the arrangement before carrying it out the door.

  Walking into the common area, she remembered how anxious she had been leaving the captain’s quarters this morning. The impending shift change meant the common area would be crowded with men from the morning shift eating the breakfast of milled oats that Cookie prepared in vast kettles. She had considered waiting a half hour or so until they finished. After that, the much smaller night watch would be preparing for bed. But if she did that, she would be late with the captain’s breakfast. Or worst case, Cookie might take it upon himself to try his hand at the captain’s eggs again. Amanda flinched just thinking about it.

  When she finally mustered enough courage to step into the common area, a few of the men had greeted her with their usual smiles, but none seemed to think it odd that she should emerge from the captain’s quarters so early in the morning. Perhaps they thought she had just brought him his breakfast.

  Luckily, only the night shift remained in the common area to see her bring this tray to the captain, and most of them lay snoring in their hammocks.

  Amanda balanced the tray in one hand and rapped on Captain Stoakes’s door with her knuckles. When no answer came, she pushed the door open and peeked in.

  “Your breakfast, Captain,” she said to the empty room, before setting the tray on the desk.

  The overwhelming desire to see him kept her from leaving. Maybe if she waited around a bit, he might return. She folded his bedding and laid it at the end of the hammock. Brushing off the velvet coat that lay slung across the back of the chair, she hung it in his wardrobe. Then she picked up his chipped ceramic stein and peered in, appalled at what looked like months of coffee stains. He could at least let her wash it for him. She tucked it in the pocket of her apron.