The Captain's Lady

by Jo Goodman

  Peach nodded and said hopefully, “Then we’re going after her, aren’t we? We can’t just let her be taken. We could help her get away somehow.”

  “Captain Danty’s last order was that we not interfere in what is happening. She’ll want to get away on her own. She knows how dangerous it would be for us to help her.” Jordan shook his head slowly, realizing what she wanted to do was virtually impossible. The Americans would never give her an opportunity to escape.

  Peach’s jaw went slack and his mouth formed an O but no sound escaped his throat. He quickly placed a hand over his mouth.

  Jordan and the others looked at him curiously. “What’s wrong now, Peach? What’s upset you?”

  He did not reply for a time. He had never disobeyed one of Captain Danty’s orders before and now he wondered if he had done the right thing. With all the men staring down on him he felt obliged to speak. “I didn’t know…about what the captain said…” His voice faltered but he tried to go on bravely. “I didn’t know she didn’t want us to help her or I wouldn’t have done it. Honest!” He hurriedly crossed his heart with a thin finger.

  “Well, what did you do?” Peters asked impatiently, tapping his large foot against the deck.

  “When I packed her things I put her dagger in the folds of her clothes,” he explained in an anxious whisper.

  No one said anything for a time. They stared at Peach in amazement then at each other in amusement. “Out of the mouth of babes,” Wilkes whispered reverently as if he had just received an oracle. Everyone stared at Jordan for confirmation of what they intended to do, either together or individually.

  Jordan ran his hand through his hair as he scanned their faces. “We’ve never disobeyed an order before, have we, men?” There were sly grins among the shaking heads and a sound of hope among the low murmurs of “no.”

  “Then why does this mutiny feel so damn good?”

  A cheer went up from all of them. She was not going to like it but there was nothing she could do about it now. Peach found himself atop Peter’s broad shoulders as Jordan gave the order to put about. He was smiling happily as the ship started her turn and when he looked around he saw every man was going about his work with the same expression.

  “We are going to Roadtown first,” Jordan told them. “We’ll tell Grendon what’s happened. After we’ve followed her orders that far we’ll head for Washington. If she’s going to get away then she’ll need something to get away on!” The others nodded. “She’ll be furious, you know.” He said it seriously but he could not help laughing. “She’ll probably have us all keelhauled!”

  No one seemed to mind. It would be worth her wrath, just to see her again.

  Chapter 10

  An hour passed, but to Alexis it seemed an eternity since she had been brought aboard the Concord. She brushed away the last traces of tears with the back of her hand and opened her eyes to examine her quarters. Her frown was evidence of the grim sight greeting her.

  The cabin Cloud had chosen for her was so tiny she thought she could probably cross its length in a few strides. The bunk occupied most of the available space and the rest was taken up by a nightstand and commode. There was a porthole and this is what Alexis decided to examine more closely. She walked over to it, discovering she was correct about the few steps it took to reach it. She tried to open it and met resistance. After a few minutes of struggling, and with the strength of renewed anger at her predicament, she forced it open. It was not large, barely adequate to fit even her slim figure through. Barely adequate was not the same as inadequate, she decided. She shut the porthole again, but not before she availed her senses of fresh air and salt spray. She sat on her bunk and stared at the bare wall facing her. There was nothing, she thought, nothing but the porthole as a way out, and that would do her no good until the Concord reached Washington. There would be no escape at sea this time.

  Washington. Why did the President want to meet her so badly? Arrest her. The charges were absurd. The work of foolish men. She would have helped them. A little more time and she would have stood by—

  Her head lifted in the direction of the door when the release of the bolt caught her attention. “I don’t want to see anyone,” she called as the door began to open. When it continued to fan into the room she turned away and rubbed at her tear-stained face, wanting to refuse the intruder the sight of her despair.

  “You do not have any choice in the matter, Captain Danty,” answered the man she would have stood by. He shut the door and the bolt was immediately thrown into place on the other side. “There is a guard in the companionway,” Cloud told her when she raised questioning eyebrows. “You do not have to fear because I am locked in here with you.”

  “I don’t fear you,” said Alexis. The fingers hidden in the folds of her dress trembled from a fear she could not identify, but not one caused by the man standing over her, crowding the small space with his presence.

  Cloud did not comment on her swollen eyelids or reddened cheeks, wanting her to form the impression that either he had not noticed or that he cared nothing for it. His eyes fastened on the dress she was wearing and he wished she had changed her clothes. She looked vulnerable inside the yards of material. He thought it only briefly. Her eyes locked on his and her vulnerability vanished. She was not a helpless creature to be pitied. Her golden eyes reminded him of that even as they reminded him she was the woman he wanted and could not have. His voice was without inflection when he spoke.

  “There are some things we had better straighten out, Captain Danty. Harry told me you would not speak to him or John when they brought you here. I won’t have you treating my men as if they are of no account. They respect you and you’re making them feel miserable about what they’ve done.”

  Alexis was off the bunk immediately. She stood with her hands on her hips, feet firmly planted, and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she raised her chin defiantly. “Yes, Captain Cloud, we will straighten these things out. First, I was not aware a prisoner was expected to make witty conversation with her jailers. Second, I refuse to take the blame for their guilty feelings. It is their own reluctance to go through with this that is making them feel guilty.”

  Cloud did not answer her. She had echoed the sentiments of everyone.

  Alexis calmly walked past him and went to her bag. She motioned to him to have a seat while she began to take out her clothes. She saw him hesitate and she laughed. “You will have to sit on the bunk, Captain. The accommodations you have for your prisoners leave no room for visitors.”

  Cloud stretched out on the bunk, placing his hands behind his head. He was unaware Alexis wanted to scream at him for the possessive manner in which he took over her space. “It may not be much,” he said, glancing around casually, “but it’s secure.”

  “If you say so.” She smiled derisively. “Tell me, Captain. Why didn’t you let me go after Travers? You knew I was close. You could have waited and taken me afterward.”

  “You might have been killed.”

  “That was always my risk to take.”

  “Not when my orders make me responsible for bringing you back alive.”

  She did not answer and continued to fold her clothes.

  Watching her, Cloud found himself fascinated once again by the easy grace with which she moved, the fluid elegance of her limbs. She smoothed out the legs of a pair of fawn-colored trousers with her slender fingers, folding them gently, and laid them in a drawer; then she turned and retrieved another article and went through the same process again. He could not take his eyes from her hands caressing the material any more than he could resist recalling what it was like to have those fingers touch his naked flesh.

  “I’ve missed you, Alex,” he said suddenly. He was instantly sorry. Her reaction to the words he spoke was quick although she said nothing. She halted in midmotion, her profile frozen. He saw her, kneeling on the deck, one arm outstretched reaching into her bag. It was only a second. She pulled her hand out quickly and composed hers
elf.

  Alexis had heard him speak, but it was not only what he said that produced her reaction. The coldness of sharp metal beneath her fingers had also taken her by surprise, and sudden clarity almost made her laugh. Peach, of course! Silently she thanked him for his effort; then she placed her hand inside the bag again, this time deftly sliding the dagger into one of her boots before she retrieved them. As she placed them at the foot of the bed, she remembered Cloud had spoken to her. The full weight of his words clutched her. He was still watching her, curiously now, at odds with his admission.

  Alexis stared at the man occupying her space so easily, so naturally. His thick, copper hair was a little longer, curling at his neck, feathered back at his temples. Beneath his dark blue jacket and white trousers, she knew his muscles were as firm and tight as she remembered and his flesh just as warm. The open collar of his shirt revealed the pulsing of his blood through the vein in his neck, and as she stared she saw it grow stronger while his chest heaved suddenly, then was still as the breath caught in his throat. His sea green eyes were like whirlpools that drew her closer even while she fought against them. His lips were parted as if he were going to speak. Or kiss her.

  Alexis turned sharply and went back to her task. As she bent over the black silk trousers and shirt of her time aboard Dark Lady she whispered softly, “I missed you also, Cloud.”

  He closed his eyes and stared into the blackness provided. She could not have wielded more pain if she had carried a whip. He wondered how much it would hurt to hear her response to what he’d held back. The silent I love you.

  His eyes opened wide when he heard her small gasp. He sat up and saw her pulling a shirt from the depths of the bag. His shirt! Alexis glanced over and saw he recognized it. She wanted to take it and fling it in his face, but she could not bring herself to part with it. Where was it? Where was the disgust she professed to have for the man who had stood in her way once too often? Why did she not feel it deeply? She struggled to find the emotion, but it was not there. Neither was love. The desire to tell him what she had felt for two years had been obliterated the moment she’d seen him on board her ship, but she could not stop wanting him. No! It was a silent scream; her mouth, as if by its own volition, formed the word on her lips. It hung there as Cloud stood and crossed the distance to her. He took the shirt from her trembling fingers, noticing the patched elbows and shiny, threadbare material.

  “You have worn this often?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes.” She tried to retrieve it. Her hand brushed his and the contact seared their flesh. She pulled her hand away at the same time he did, and the shirt fell to the deck between them. Alexis watched it fall and settle in a careless heap. She bent to pick it up. Two strong hands, insistent yet gentle, prevented her downward movement. She paused, looking up into Cloud’s face.

  “Why?” The simple word when it left his mouth brushed against Alexis’s cheek, warming it, and Cloud imagined he could see the imprint of his breath there.

  Alexis touched her cheek lightly with the palm of her hand, then removed his hands from her shoulders, taking a step backward at the same time. She felt suffocated by his closeness and his questions and her own brief response to his touch.

  She stooped, gathering the shirt in her hands and folding it with more care than any other article of clothing. “It was the only thing I had of yours. The only thing to remind me you were not of my imagination.” She paused, turning her back on him as she put the shirt with her other belongings.

  “I only wore it at night, Cloud. To sleep in. I liked to think I was sleeping with you.” Her last words were barely audible.

  “And that has changed now?” It was hardly a question; only the tiniest inflection at the end made it so.

  “You know it has,” she answered, turning once more to face him, letting the hammer drop with hushed grace.

  There was nothing more to say. He had known there could be nothing between them until this assignment was over, only he knew now that he had never wanted to accept it. Abruptly he turned, no longer able to look at the soft light, sheathed in pain, emanating from her amber eyes. He rapped loudly on the door and the silence, already broken, was further split by the bolt sliding across the catch. He left the cabin without looking back and Alexis felt, rather than heard, the shudder of the door as it slammed closed. Heavy steps in the companionway assured her that her words had had their anticipated effect. Barely conscious of the movement she bent over her boots and took out her dagger. With a calculated flick of her wrist she sailed it across the cabin to sink into the blank wall of her prison.

  When the hilt had ceased vibrating from the force of her toss Alexis threw herself across the bunk and stared at the porthole, willing her lips to stop trembling and her tears to stay unshed.

  Hours later Cloud brought her dinner. He did not stay while she ate and he sent Frank to get her tray. The porthole continued to provide her one diversion until the sun went down and the light disappeared, plunging her prison into darkness and obliterating even the opening to the sea from her view.

  She closed her eyes and pulled her knees close to her chest, covering herself with a blanket. When she fell asleep she did not dream of Washington, her escape, or Cloud. She dreamed of a young girl whose world was the color of soot.

  As she slept Cloud kept watch for some sign of her ship. She might believe her men would not come after her, but he was not so sure. He had seen the way they’d all looked at her, recognized their respect and admiration and their reluctance in the very end to submit without a fight. She had been magnificent while she told them what was happening. There was no martyred look, no indication she was sacrificing anything for them. Her voice had been calm, self-composed, and margined with just the right amount of firmness to give her unquestionable authority. He stared out over the water. Her men would come, maybe not now, but they would try to help her, sooner or later. Cloud hoped it was sooner.

  He thought of her in his shirt, naked beneath the soft, white linen, tugging at the sleeves the way she always did, trying in vain to uncover her hands as the material slid past her fingers. He thought of how she looked when only moonlight shared the cabin they slept in, casting its delicate blue light over the shirt, causing shadows to reveal the curves beneath. Her smile could only be seen in her eyes, her willingness apparent in the slight tilt of her head, the position visible only because it was followed by the gentle swing of her hair, soft and blue-gold in their silent companion’s light.

  He stopped, inwardly bracing himself. No matter what she meant to him she was still Captain Danty. If her men came it would be the captain he would have to fight for; Alex was not his any longer. Maddeningly, wonderfully, she still belonged to herself, a prisoner only by virtue of the four walls and locked door he had forced upon her.

  “I’m your relief, Captain,” Landis said, jerking Cloud back to reality.

  “Good. I was getting tired.”

  “Do you think they’ll come?” he asked as he took over the watch, allowing Cloud the freedom to close his eyes for a moment.

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes. So would Harry and Mike and everyone else.”

  “Then why should her men be any different?”

  “I’m not looking forward to it,” Landis said, shaking his head.

  Cloud laughed weakly. “You think I am?”

  “Yes.”

  Cloud’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “What makes you think that?”

  Landis peered straight ahead through the darkness, the palest sliver of moon aiding his search. “You know as well as the rest of us she can’t hope to get away this time, no matter what she says. Her men would provide an easy way out for all of us.”

  Cloud’s voice was sharp and cutting. “Let’s stop this immediately, Mr. Landis, once and for all. Feel free to pass it on to the rest of the men. The woman below is Captain Danty and that is who we are taking back to Washington. Forget Alex ever existed. Stop feeling at odds with your assignment. It d
oes none of us any good. As long as any man feels guilty, we’ll have trouble. We’ll get careless. And she’ll use it against us. I’ll have the first man who so much as hints at turning her loose hung on the yardarm without a moment’s hesitation.” He strode away, missing the smile that sprang immediately beneath Landis’s silver beard.

  Landis looked up at Tom Daniels at the wheel, and from the shrug of Tom’s shoulders, Landis knew he had heard the entire conversation. Individually they wondered if the captain could take his own advice.

  As Cloud readied for bed he thought about what he had said to his friend. Who was he trying to convince with his outburst, himself or Landis? How could he expect his men to forget the Alex they knew existed when he could not? How could they pretend the prisoner was Captain Danty when he could not bring himself to do it? She could not be split apart like that. She was both things to all of them. He fell asleep, dreading, then praying for the moment when her men would make their move.

  Several days passed, monotony the thread holding them together. Alexis knew the number of planks forming the deck of her cabin. She had named all the knothole faces in her ceiling. She could tell who was coming to replace the guard at the door or to bring her meals by the step he made. There was a step indelibly etched into her memory to go with each face. Frank Springer was the light, airy bounce, just like his name. Mike Garrison was the heavy plodder. Harry Young had a hesitant shuffle that somehow seemed to match his lopsided grin. Tom Daniels was slow grace, his drawl and his fencing skills combining to make a whisper step. She never could visualize Forrest’s approach. He announced himself with loud grumbling instead.

  Cloud rarely came, but she knew his stride better than those of the others. His was a step that issued a quiet challenge, a step that announced itself with unassuming arrogance. It had the sound of unsought applause.