Regency Admirer/The Merry Gentleman/The Gentleman's Demand

by Meg Alexander

  It was just unfortunate that she had tumbled into his arms. After that, he had forgotten everything but her nearness, and the strength of his longing. He could remember now the surging joy as he held her close, and the beauty of that little flower-face as she lifted it to his. It was that which had finally undone his resolution.

  He frowned and shook his head. He was making far too much of this matter of a single, stolen kiss, so there was little point in torturing himself.

  Elizabeth herself thought nothing of it. She had made that clear. Even so, her reactions had surprised him. She had neither fainted, nor given way to strong hysterics. Indeed, she had melted into his arms as if to kiss him was the most natural thing in the world. And that moment had been sweet. Honesty forced him to admit it.

  Of course, she was little more than a child, and quite without experience. God help the man she met when she realised her own powers.

  A reluctant smile touched the corner of his mouth. What was it Chris had called her? A siren? The word described her perfectly. It would be as well to remember that sirens were known to lead sailors to their doom.

  A child she might be, but that kiss had roused emotions which were new to him. Behind the urgency he had been aware of a special tenderness, a longing to protect her. He shrugged. Doubtless at this moment she was making plans to escape from him as soon as they docked in England.

  He was mistaken. Escape was not at the forefront of Elizabeth’s mind at that moment. She was hugging her new-found knowledge to her. In that kiss, Perry had given himself away. Now she could better understand his constant rudeness, and his apparent dislike of her. He had been fighting his own feelings, unwilling to admit that he was strongly attracted to her. Perhaps he was afraid of an entanglement.

  She had given him no encouragement. In fact, she could not remember ever behaving so badly in her life. She had sniped at him, insulted him, and done everything possible to make his life a misery. Her sense of wonder grew as she recalled the passionate insistence in his lips. In that embrace some spark had passed between them. She could not be mistaken, though it seemed impossible that he could ever grow to love her.

  She thrust the thought aside. Perry was her enemy, and she must not forget it. It would not suit her plans at all to find herself in love with him. The idea was ridiculous.

  She picked up her book again, but it did not hold her interest. She read the same lines several times, distracted by the memory of a pair of dark blue eyes, and the fascinating smile which made them crinkle at the corners.

  She did not know how long she had been dreaming, but the growing darkness told her at last that it was time to light her lantern.

  She heard a bustle on the deck, but this time it didn’t startle her. When the guns went off she put her fingers to her ears to shut out the noise.

  The training of the gun crews did not last for long. Then Chris came to join her.

  “Released from your duties?” she asked with a friendly smile.

  “Yes, ma’am. I brought your supper for you.”

  “What is it?” Elizabeth sniffed appreciatively at the aroma from the steaming bowl.

  “Kid stew. I told the cook that I was busy with my report, and would eat it in my cabin.”

  “But I shall rob you of your dinner,” she protested.

  “Hanley knows my appetite. He’s given me enough for two.” With a look of triumph Chris produced another plate, and began to divide the meal. “I’ve acquired a taste for goat...for kid, I mean... though I hadn’t eaten it before I came to the Mediterranean. Try it! You’ll find it very good.”

  Elizabeth needed no persuasion, and they soon cleared their plates.

  “You were not frightened by the guns?” Chris asked at last.

  “No...Perry has explained. Are you pleased with the results of the practice?”

  It was enough to set him off on a detailed explanation of the gunner’s art.

  “I wish you could see the men at work,” he told her. “It’s a splendid sight. The guns are rolled out and primed. Then the men stand by with lighted matches, waiting for the order to fire. The starboard crew won the prize this time. They blew the casks clear from the water.”

  “It must be very different during an engagement with the enemy.”

  “Of course. Then it is also a matter of good tactics and good seamanship. Captain Robsart is a master at the game. His tally of prizes is enormous, and he’s sent many a vessel to the bottom.”

  “But the men?” Elizabeth was distressed. “You don’t leave them to drown, I hope?”

  “No, we fetch the prisoners aboard. Some are sent back to port with the prizes, in the charge of one of our officers. On the next occasion, I may be chosen.”

  “Oh, I hope not!” she exclaimed. “That would mean you leaving us. I confess that I should miss you.”

  “Would you, Elizabeth?” His face grew rosy with pleasure. “It may not happen. Perry is likely to be sent before me.”

  “Oh, I had not thought of that.” Elizabeth said blankly. The possibility left her with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Don’t worry! If he goes, you know that I’ll take care of you. Besides, from here any prizes will be sailed to England.”

  Elizabeth nodded. His words should have been a comfort, but they weren’t.

  Chris was determined to persevere. “We’ve talked it over, Perry and I. If he should be injured, or carried off by a stray musket-ball, I’m to see you to your aunt.”

  “Thank you!” she murmured in a faint voice. “That is indeed a consolation.”

  “Of course, it is unlikely.” A glance at her pale face warned Chris that he had said too much. “Perry has more lives than a cat, though he does make a splendid target for the enemy snipers in the rigging. Up to now, he hasn’t received a scratch.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Elizabeth was trembling.

  “Why, I could tell you of the times they’ve missed him by an inch—”

  “Please don’t!” She made an effort to change the subject. “Won’t you tell me about your family instead?”

  She succeeded in diverting his attention, but when he left her she found herself a prey to hideous fancies.

  Perry must not be killed or injured. She could not bear it. The thought of that fine body lying mangled on the deck was dreadful beyond belief. She bent her head, choking back the tears. What was happening to her? Why should she care?

  The truth came to her slowly, and when it did, it shocked her. She could deceive herself no longer. She loved him, and to be without him would be merely to exist.

  He must never be allowed to know, or he might be tempted to use her love against her. The small voice of her conscience asked if she had not planned to do the same. She ignored it, ashamed of her own weakness. Things had come to a pretty pass when a handsome face and figure could lead her thoughts so far astray as to make her wonder if to return to Italy was what she really wanted.

  She wasn’t thinking straight. She was tired...tired of living in this tiny cabin, tired of the degrading necessity of throwing her slops from the cabin window after dark, tired of monotonous food, and tired of being forced to wash in sea-water.

  She pulled a face at her reflection in the mirror. Short though it was, her hair had lost its gleaming beauty. It felt unpleasantly limp, which wasn’t surprising. It hadn’t been dressed for weeks.

  She had never washed her own hair in her life, but something must be done with it. Sea-water would not serve.

  She said as much to Chris on the following day.

  “I’ll see what can be done,” he promised. “Our fresh water is normally kept for drinking, and it is strictly rationed.”

  “Then I’ll save my ration until I have enough,” she told him.

  When he mentioned it to Perry, that young man snorted in disgust.

  “She has forgot. She doesn’t have a ration. She ain’t even supposed to be aboard. Of all the nonsensical ideas...”

  “It isn’t
much to ask,” Chris murmured. “She ain’t complained of anything else, and ladies have these notions.”

  “Bird-witted creatures, all of them!” Perry announced harshly.

  Chris glanced at his face. The truce between Elizabeth and his friend seemed to be over. They must have quarrelled again.

  “Elizabeth ain’t bird-witted,” he objected. “Perhaps if you explain about the water?”

  “For God’s sake, give it to her! Supplies ain’t running low. She can have my share if she wants it.”

  “Generous of you, old chap!” A suspicion was growing in Lord Christopher’s mind. An old quotation came to him. It was just a thought, but it struck him forcibly. Did the gentleman protest too much?

  “It ain’t generous at all. I’d do anything to keep her quiet.” Perry’s reply was unconvincing. “See what you can do. I shan’t be much in her company from now on.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too much to do!” Perry looked both unhappy and bewildered as he went up to see the wheel relieved, and to check their course.

  Later, he returned to the same subject.

  “Well?” he asked. “Has madam washed her hair? My God, as if it mattered! What will she think of next?”

  “She wouldn’t take your ration.” Chris grinned at him.

  “She used her own? Now, I suppose, she is drinking wine.”

  “It can’t harm her,” Chris said mildly.

  “You think not? She ain’t used to it, for all she says. Suppose she takes too much?”

  “It would only make her drowsy.”

  “Or ill. Before then she could take to singing, or kicking up a rumpus. That would be all we need.”

  “Perry, you sound like the village parson. If you are so worried about her, why don’t you tell her so?”

  Perry turned away. His face was set, and Chris realised that further argument would be useless. He went on deck to arrange another gunnery practice.

  In the event, it did not take place. With a heavy sea running, it soon became too dangerous to handle the guns. In the best of conditions they were a threat to the crews who manned them. Once loosened from their mounts and free to crash about the rolling deck, they could cause more havoc than a dozen cannonballs. Deaths, or at best crushed limbs, were commonplace.

  Within an hour they were struck by the full fury of a sudden storm. Elizabeth had listened with rising alarm to the sound of the wind as it screamed through the rigging like a soul in torment. From the port she could see only huge green walls of water as the Artemis sank deep into the trough of one wave after another.

  The ship righted herself, only to fall like a stone once more, and Elizabeth lost her balance.

  A pair of strong hands picked her up.

  “Didn’t I tell you to lash yourself down securely?” Perry demanded. “You had best lie upon the bunk. We’re in for some heavy weather.”

  Before she could protest he laid her down, and threw the coverlet over her. The rope was quickly knotted about her person until she could not move.

  Perry looked down at her, and then he smiled at the look of outrage on her face.

  “You don’t care to be trussed up like a turkey-cock? You’ll thank me later, madam.” With this dark prediction he hurried away.

  Elizabeth soon realised that he was right. The Artemis battled on bravely through the storm, but as the hours passed she became convinced that no vessel in the world was capable of surviving such a battering. Timbers creaked as the ship heeled over at a terrifying angle. Then she heard a crash. She closed her eyes, certain that they were about to founder.

  By then she had decided that it no longer mattered. She felt so ill that she could only pray for a speedy end to her sufferings, yet the storm continued unabated.

  At length, worn out by terror and exhaustion, she fell asleep.

  When she awoke it was to find Perry by her side, busying himself with the ropes which held her. The Artemis was bobbing along like a gull upon the waves.

  “Is it over?” she asked weakly.

  “All over! We have sailed out of it.”

  Elizabeth struggled to a sitting position. “I was sure that we must go down...”

  “It was just a blow,” Perry told her carelessly. “Here, drink this!” He slipped an arm behind her and held a glass to her lips.

  “What is it?” She eyed the glass with deep suspicion.

  “It’s brandy. You are used to it, of course?”

  “Naturally!” With a defiant glare at him she swallowed rather more than she intended. It made her cough until the tears came to her eyes.

  “Not your usual brand?” he murmured smoothly. “My apologies, ma’am. We try to please, but our stocks are sadly limited.”

  Elizabeth looked up with a sharp retort upon her lips, but his smile was so disarming that she left the words unspoken. Her heart began to pound. Would he kiss her again? Unconsciously, she nestled back into the hollow of his shoulder, unaware that she was putting temptation in his way.

  Perry knew it. His self-control was being sorely tried. He withdrew his arm, rose to his feet, and held out the glass again.

  “Won’t you finish this?” he asked gently. “You’ve had a shaking, and it will restore you... Later, you may wash your hair.” He gestured towards a small cask which he’d laid beside the sea-chest.

  This was a peace-offering indeed. She smiled at him in gratitude, but then she hesitated, remembering Chris’s words.

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t make use of the water,” she said doubtfully. “It does seem selfish.”

  “A few gallons won’t make any difference,” he assured her, in direct contradiction to his previous strictures. “Do you feel better now?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I’ll leave you to your toilette.”

  He was loath to go. She had courage, this one. Though the storm had been severe, she hadn’t complained about her sufferings.

  Unwilling admiration made him take her hand in his. He kissed her fingers in tribute, and left her.

  It was a touching gesture, and her spirits rose. She walked over to the port to find the winter sun sparkling upon waves touched only by a slight breeze.

  Then she shivered. The heavy weather must have driven them well to the north of the coast of Spain, and the temperature had fallen. She lifted out her warmest clothing, and set about the task of washing her short curls.

  Not for the first time, she was glad that she’d insisted upon the latest “Sappho’ cut, in spite of her father’s objections. As it was, the feathery tendrils were soon dry, and having regained their usual bounce, they clustered charmingly about her face.

  That was better, she decided. Now she was ready to face the world, even though at present it consisted only of two young men.

  She took up her book again, resolved to spend no more time in thinking of her companions, but her good intentions failed her.

  Chris was a dear, but it was Perry who filled her mind. He seemed to have forgotten his ill humour. Why had she ever imagined that Englishmen were lacking in kindness, charm or warmth? His smile alone was irresistible, and when he held her in his arms the world was lost.

  She could not know it, but Perry too was deep in thought. In spite of all his resolutions not to do so, he had taken her in his arms again. This time the lapse was excusable. It was simply to help her to sit up. Even so, the brief contact had overwhelmed him with desire.

  The urge to caress that milky skin, to kiss her neck, her eyelids, and to find her mouth again had been strong, but he had stopped himself in time, thank God!

  It would not do. Elizabeth was beginning to occupy his mind to the exclusion of all else. It was a relief when Captain Robsart sent for him. Chris was already making his report.

  “Well, gentlemen, are we ready for the enemy?” Captain Robsart wasted no time on pleasantries.

  “We suffered only minor damage in the storm, sir. Repairs are well under way...” Perry hesitated.

  “Yes, Mr Wentworth?�
�

  “One of the men was injured when a gun broke loose. His foot was crushed to a pulp.”

  “Next time he’ll be sharper to jump clear.” Captain Robsart turned to Chris. “The gun crews have improved, I see, and not before time. You may tell the men that their efforts are like to save their skins.”

  Perry and Chris sighed with relief. This was the closest that the captain would come to admitting that he was pleased.

  Now the crew of the Artemis had honed their skills to a peak of perfection. They had seen no sign of an enemy vessel, but that meant nothing. In these northern waters mist could lie low upon the sea, sometimes lifting to reveal a warship at close quarters.

  When it came, the attack of the French frigate took them by surprise. She rose out of the mist like some legendary ghost ship, firing as she came.

  Chapter Seven

  Elizabeth sprang to her feet at the sound of splintering timbers. Then she heard the cries of injured men. Was this another runaway gun? A second shot convinced her otherwise. The Artemis shuddered from the impact. They must be under attack.

  Horrified, she rushed over to the port to find the frigate bearing down on them. It looked enormous. She could see the flashes and the clouds of smoke as the guns were fired in quick succession. The vessel was so close that she could see the features of the men perched in the rigging. Looking at their muskets, she guessed that these were the snipers, looking for a likely target.

  Oh, where was Perry? He had promised to release her. Was he already lying injured? Sick with dread, she ran over to the door, tugging at it wildly. To her surprise it opened.

  Either Perry had unlocked it earlier or the jamb had broken during the bombardment. She stepped outside and almost fell over the prone figure of a seaman at her feet.

  The man was unrecognisable, his face a red mask as blood flowed from a scalp wound. One of his legs was shattered from knee to ankle.

  Elizabeth bent over him in time to catch a murmur.

  “Help me!” he whispered. “Can you get me to the surgeon?” His pain-filled eyes were pleading.