The Captain's Caress

by Leigh Greenwood

  “If this is the result, I don’t want to understand it,” she said pettishly. She swept her arm around to indicate the whole ship, and nearly hit Brent across the chest. “Oh!” she gasped, and jerked her arm back to her side.

  “Is the countess preaching sedition and trying to foment rebellion?” Brent chuckled.

  “I was just trying to explain how a captain and his crew work together,” Smith explained.

  “I’ll wager she didn’t understand,” Brent said. He smiled at Summer in that superior way that made her long to hit him. “I’m sure she feels that you indulge me too far, and take my commands with too much complacency.” Summer flushed deep red at the accuracy of his words. “She probably believes that a little well-timed opposition would do me a world of good, that it might even keep me from becoming too spoiled and set up in my own conceit.”

  Summer started to turn away, but Brent grasped her wrist and forced her to look at him in the eye.

  “Am I right?” he said, giving her that galvanizing glance that never failed to set her pulses racing.

  “The countess did feel that the men might express themselves a little more freely,” Smith said smoothly. “But I pointed out that she would need to spend more time at sea before she could appreciate the relationship between a captain and his crew.”

  “And what did the countess have to say about that?”

  “At that point you came up, sir.”

  “Too bad I didn’t wait a little longer. Her answer might have been very revealing.”

  “As to that, sir, I wouldn’t venture to say,” remarked Smith.

  “You’re a wise man, Smith. I suppose that’s why I put so much trust in you.”

  “Thank you, sir. I deeply appreciate your confidence.”

  “Be careful not to lay it on too thick,” Brent chuckled humorlessly. “You’ll have the countess fairly bursting with indignation. She might even accuse you of licking my hand like a whipped dog.”

  Summer was so blazingly angry that she nearly gave utterance to the first incautious thought that came to her, but she managed to check her tongue. “I would never refer to Mr. Smith in anything like those terms,” she declared.

  “What kind of words would you use to describe me?” Brent asked, his strong white teeth bared in a full smile and his enormous eyes twinkling with wicked pleasure.

  “I wouldn’t demean myself by using the words capable of describing you.” Summer’s suppressed anger made her voice quiver. “But I can assure you I don’t share the crew’s feeling.”

  “I’m glad of that,” Brent retorted. “I wouldn’t be able to turn my back if they felt like you. But then they’re sound men, of good moral character and well brought up. They’ve been trained in the common civilities, and have been taught to obey those who know more than they do.” He noted that Summer’s eyes nearly jumped out of her head at the intentional brutality of his words. “They understand loyalty, as well as how to exercise a little common sense. That does give them the advantage over you, doesn’t it, Countess?”

  “Of all the loathsome, cruel things to say.” Summer’s entire body was shaking with fury. “You should be tied to a rack and pulled apart with hot tongs.”

  “I would love to continue this conversation, but Smith thinks we should get on with our business.”

  Smith studied his lists and didn’t look up at the mention of his name.

  “And I have to get ready for the next event because I’m in it.”

  “You despicable…”

  “Don’t waste it all,” he said in an infuriating whisper, a knowing glint in his eye. “You can save the rest for tonight.”

  Summer thought she would either die right there or break out into blood-curdling screams. Only Smith’s presence enabled her to keep from throwing herself at Brent and clawing his smirking face to ribbons.

  The effort she made to control her wrath was so intense it was visible, but she turned to Smith and said in as normal a voice as possible, “We’re late. We’d better get started before the men begin to wonder what’s wrong.”

  Chapter 12

  “You need to move to the rail, milady. The swimming trials are next. They’ll finish between the ship and that boat off the bow. We’ll start just as soon as the men get into the water.”

  Smith moved away, and Summer was glad to have a few moments alone; the day had not gone as she planned. You certainly haven’t succeeded in getting Brent out of your mind, she lectured herself. If anything, you’re worse off than before. You can’t even look at him without going to pieces, and all he does is make fun of you. She thought of the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed, and a slow smile spread across her face dissolving her ill will.

  She turned her face into the wind; the breeze cooled her brow and whipped her long tresses back from her face, causing their copper highlights to glisten in the sun like something alive.

  Brent saw her from where he was preparing to dive into the water, and the sight of her profile destroyed his concentration. She looked like a Norse goddess carved into the prow of an ancient fighting vessel. She leaned forward from the waist, one hand raised, her thrusting bosom outlined against the horizon. The wind swept her hair behind her so that it looked like the flowing mane of a wild stallion, and her thin gown, plastered to her limbs, revealed the clean lines and delicate curves that made her allure almost too powerful for Brent to endure.

  “Get her off the rail before she starts a riot,” he shouted to Smith before diving into the sea to conceal his own inflamed condition. The cool, invigorating water slowly drained the heat from his loins, and he climbed back up the ladder with lithe, powerful movements, vowing all the while to get Summer out of his system.

  Since he’d captured her, a conflict had been growing within him. He was only now beginning to recognize it; it threatened to outstrip his control. Every day he came closer and closer to surrendering to an overwhelming desire to put aside his responsibilities and capture this entrancing young woman, to give in to the powerful attraction he felt every time his eyes rested on her delicately chiseled face or her slim, rounded body. So far he had resisted this temptation, but each day his feeling of unrest grew, and he was finding it more and more difficult to appear uninvolved, to sustain the lighthearted banter that masked a molten volcano of passion. It was a good thing their journey was almost over. He climbed onto the deck, relaxed once more, and, as far as anyone could tell, was completely in control of himself.

  The swimmers started about thirty yards off the starboard side of the ship, crossed in front of the bow and swam the length of the ship about thirty yards off the port side; they then crossed behind the stern and turned again. From there it was a straight shot to the finish. The men could choose to compete in the sprint, one lap around the course, or the distance swim of four laps. Brent had entered both.

  Summer called the preliminaries easily. The lengths of the races and the increasingly rough water resulted in the distances between contestants being greater than in the foot races. By the time Brent won his second race, Summer had cooled off enough to be able to call his name without feeling that she was choking on the words. She couldn’t help but admire the clean strokes and powerful kicks that propelled his body through the water with an ease that belied his speed and power, and she found it impossible not to gaze longingly at the lean, powerful body that allowed him an easy margin of victory.

  “You have no backbone, Summer Ashton,” she muttered into the breeze that blew her words out to the secretive sea. “You’re a foolish, giddy, shrewish-tempered, simple-minded fool who sighs and moans at the sight of his body. If you don’t start using your head instead of your emotions, you’re going to make a pathetic spectacle of yourself.”

  “Did you say something to me, milady?” Smith had come up behind her as the last set of swimmers had rounded the boat off the stern to head toward the finish of the race.

  Summer yanked her mind back to her task. “I was talking to myself. I guess I got into that ha
bit from being alone so much.”

  “Sailors do it too. It can get very lonely at sea, especially if you’re the captain.”

  Smith looked at her with sympathetic understanding and her eyes suddenly filled with moisture. She dashed her hand across her face to brush away the teardrops shimmering on the ends of her long lashes.

  “I’d better pay attention to my job before I do something terrible.” Summer tried to smile.

  “There’s no surprise in this race, ma’am. Young Lane is at least twenty yards ahead. If he swims like this tomorrow, he’ll give the captain some real competition, especially if he persists in entering both races.”

  “Don’t the men resent Brent’s beating them so often? He must have won half a dozen times today.” It was exactly seven, and she knew it.

  “The crew takes pride in the captain’s accomplishments. They’re very proud to have been asked to serve under him.”

  “But he treats them like slaves, ordering them about, shouting at them if they don’t get the job done exactly as he likes the first time.” Her temper was rising again, and she tried to calm herself, knowing it was useless to become enraged over a situation she couldn’t change. “I don’t understand how they can listen to the sound of his voice without becoming angry.”

  Smith searched for the right words. He knew it was important that Summer understand the captain, not in his role on the ship, but as an ordinary person. It was senseless to deny the evidence of his own eyes. These two were deeply in love and were groping desperately, trying to come to terms with something neither of them had wanted or anticipated.

  “If you could see the captain when we’re in a hard fight, or when the ship’s in danger, you might understand what the men feel and why they gladly accept his abuse with cheerful smiles.”

  “They’re mad,” she snapped.

  “Not at all,” said Smith, with a rare smile. “Though I guess you could be pardoned for thinking so. The captain’s the first one on deck when there’s any sign of trouble. He never holds back or spares himself because of his position. He’s in there with the rest of us as long as there’s any danger to the ship or the crew. You might think the men were talking about some imaginary hero if you could hear them bragging about him in port, but you’d be in no doubt over how they feel about him.”

  “I still think you’re all mad,” Summer said, refusing to be mollified. “I don’t see any sign of the courage and consideration you’re talking about.” She ground her teeth at the memory of the last weeks. “All I see is an overbearing, egotistical bully set upon having his way and running roughshod over anyone who doesn’t say yea to his every wish.”

  “I know he’s really not like that,” Smith said, abandoning any hope of making Summer understand. “But I imagine in your present circumstances you can’t help feeling unhappy and resentful.”

  Summer’s eyes flew to Smith’s face, then quickly turned away. She had no doubt that everyone knew exactly how things stood between her and the captain, but to have it put into words, even in a vague allusion, was mortifying. “Isn’t it time we ate?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Yes, but we still have a lot of work to do before this afternoon’s events.”

  “Why can’t we wait until tomorrow? Everyone’s worn out.”

  “We can only give two days to the games. Tomorrow’s events are so grueling the men would need several day’s rest before they could compete again, and by that time we’d be in port.”

  “When do we start again?” she asked wearily.

  “About six o’clock.” He looked about the deck. “It seems we’re going to be late,” he said realizing that they were the only ones standing about. “Everybody else has already gone.”

  “Then let’s hurry,” she urged. “I don’t want to give his holiness any excuses to get on his high horse.” She hastened away without waiting for Smith to follow, her angry strides evidence of the embroiled state of her emotions.

  I don’t know what the captain did, Smith thought to himself, but he certainly went to work the wrong way this time. Unless I’m greatly mistaken, they’re crazy about each other, but neither one of them will admit it. I wonder if they know it themselves.

  The midday meal was a quiet affair. Except for some light banter about awkward spills and lost footing, the men concentrated on their food and excused themselves as quickly as possible. Everyone still had a day’s work to squeeze in before the games resumed.

  “I’m afraid we’re rather dull company this afternoon, Countess,” Brent said, eying her with an inquiring look. “You seem rather quiet too.”

  “I apologize for failing to bring mirth and sunshine to your table, but I don’t seem to be quite myself today,” she replied with a brittle smile. “Probably too much excitement.”

  At those words Brent’s eyes narrowed and his concentration sharpened. “I wasn’t aware that anyone had given you cause for immoderate excitement,” he said, his glance less pleasant.

  “If it comes to cause,” she burst out, unable to contain herself now that they were alone, “your treatment of me has given me ample reason to feel more than immoderate excitement. I can’t think of a single thing you’ve done that doesn’t cause me to tremble with rage.”

  “Then let me give you a few examples,” he said, laying down his knife and fork and fixing her with a glance that was merciless and unyielding. “You are a captive, an article of war, a piece of property if you will, that I, the stronger player in this game, have captured and may use to my advantage.” Summer turned white with fury, but he swept relentlessly on. “By the rules of the game, I may use you as I like. The most common use for a female is to be thrown on her back to satisfy the crew.”

  “Since that’s how you’ve used me, I fail to see the reason for my supposed gratitude.”

  “Then be still and I’ll tell you.” Summer had half risen in her chair, but at those words she sat down hard, unable to believe that he had actually spoken to her in that manner. “You have not been left to the mercy of the crew. On the contrary, you’ve been spared any regular contact with them. You are housed in the best cabin, and are allowed to move about unhindered. You dine at my table, enjoy my officers’ company, and you are treated by them in a manner befitting your rank and station. In allowing you to judge their contests and confer the prizes, the crew has signaled you out for a special honor. You even have the right to make virtually any request it is within my power to grant.”

  “Except for release and freedom from your disgusting attentions.”

  “You aren’t stupid, so don’t talk as though you were. What would you do if I let you go? Swim to Havana? I had thought,” he went on, the wicked smile she found so difficult to endure curling his lips, “that my attentions might partially compensate you for the inconvenience of your captivity.”

  “I can hardly believe my ears!” Summer gasped. “I never thought anyone could be so conceited, so blind to the way I feel. Do you think that your attentions could be anything but a purgatory I pray nightly will be quickly ended and fully revenged?” The gold in her eyes was gleaming as they changed to a tawny yellow, in them a molten, incandescent glow.

  “It must be that in your inexperience you don’t know how to appreciate what you have,” he said, mocking her almost beyond reason. “My attentions have always been welcomed, and by ladies of higher stations than yours. It has been said, I’ve been told, that to lie in my arms is heaven on earth.” He laughed at her fulminating rage. “I gather you don’t agree.”

  “Agree with the wanton, abandoned women you find in back rooms and filthy alleys?” She almost choked on the words, and her body became rigid with fury.

  “I don’t have to look for my women in alleys or anywhere else,” he said, interrupting her with a leering grin. “A lingering glance, a whispered promise, light kiss—and they can’t wait to search me out.” He stood up and took a step toward her. “They’re all too willing to bring their bodies, and their honor, to my bed.”
r />   “You fiend!” she cried, recoiling in unfeigned revulsion.

  “But I accept only the most beautiful,” Brent crooned, stalking her like a large sleek cat. “They cry and moan, but they can’t wait to come back for more.”

  “Well, I for one don’t want any more. Keep away from me,” she exploded, backing around the table.

  “I must not have treated you very well. I’ll have to make sure I do better tonight,” he taunted her, the greenish tint of passion beginning to light his eyes. “Or should we start right now?”

  “Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, wrenching open the door. “I’d rather drown first.”

  “But I’m such an excellent swimmer I’d be sure to save you.”

  “Beast!” she stormed at him, and ran from the room, to hear the echo of his rich, mocking laughter in the passage.

  Chapter 13

  Summer was ready to resume her position by six o’clock. A long nap and an afternoon of solitude had done much to calm her temper and soothe her irritated nerves. Besides, she thought to herself, if I don’t go up on my own, he’ll send someone after me. Or even worse, he’ll come drag me on deck himself.

  That last thought reminded Summer of all the reasons she had to be angry with Brent, and she renewed her resolve to drive all warm feeling for him from her heart. But there was no evidence of his earlier pique when she reached the deck. He came toward her immediately, his face transformed by a devastating smile.

  “Did you have a restful afternoon? The roses are back in your cheeks.” He brushed her face with his fingertips, and her initial resolution to strike his hand away was recast into a longing to press his smiling, self-assured face to her heart.

  “You were a little worn down at midday. You shouldn’t have let us tire you so.”

  The unmistakable sincerity in his voice caused Summer’s will to dissolve even further. Instead of telling him that the only things that tired her were his constant demands, she struggled to keep her determination from melting completely under the warmth of his gaze.