The Captain's Pearl

by Jo Ann Ferguson

Lianne surged to her feet. “Why are you telling me this? I know the state of my silly heart. Bryce is the one who refuses to believe what you are saying.”

  “Maybe I shall just say that to him when he returns.”

  “No!”

  Great-Aunt Tildy looked up again, amazement widening her eyes. “Child, you sound frightened of the very thought of my speaking to him about this.”

  “I am.” Knowing that nothing but the truth would serve now, she said, “I want to go on believing that Bryce and I will have a happy-ever-after ending like the stories in my thousand stories box.”

  “But I may be able to help alleviate your fears.”

  “No!” She grasped her great-aunt’s hands. “Promise me that you will not speak to him of this.”

  “Lianne, you are being irrational.”

  “Maybe, but promise me.”

  Great-Aunt Tildy slowly nodded. “Very well, child, if that is your wish. I promise you that I will say nothing to him of this.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I am not certain that you should thank me, child, when you are asking me to leave you in the dark about this.”

  Lianne must have replied, but several hours later when she was climbing the stairs to her room after another long session of work in her office, she could not recall what. She rubbed her aching eyes before kneading her lower back. If she did not lessen her work, she soon would be as stiff as Great-Aunt Tildy.

  Going into her room, she frowned. She was certain she had asked Hyett to have a bath filled for her tonight. Or had she? She might have forgotten in the midst of reading the reports Mr. Bergen had sent to her from Boston, where he was making the final arrangements for the delivery of the looms.

  She looked at the single lamp that was burning by the window. Apparently, Iris had already gone to bed, guessing that Lianne would not be coming here until near dawn, as she had done most nights for the past week.

  Sitting on the chaise longue near the window, she bent and drew up her skirt and pettiocats to unbutton her shoes. The wind struck the window, making the house creak. She guessed another storm was on its way.

  Not that it mattered, for she had no plans to go out tomorrow. She would not be visiting the mill until Mr. Bergen returned at the week’s end. She pulled off her shoes and set them aside.

  She stood. Pulling her blouse out of her skirt, she unbuttoned it, tossing it on the chaise longue. She reached for the ribbons holding her skirt in place.

  The lamp went out. Lianne spun. In the soft light from the room beyond the dressing room, a shadow climbed the wall and over her. Turning, she gasped, “Bryce, what are you doing here?”

  “I live here, blue eyes.”

  Not sure she should believe what she was seeing, she said, “But—”

  He stroked her cheek. “And I sleep here.”

  “But why are you here?” She gripped his arms. “Is something amiss with the China Shadow?”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart cramped in mid-beat, not just because they could not afford additional repairs. Bryce must be disconsolate about his beloved China Shadow. She looked up at him, but his eyes were shadowed. “Sweet heavens, Bryce, what is wrong with her?”

  “The problem is not with the ship.” He tipped her mouth to his. After giving her a slow, deep kiss that swirled through her with the power of the wind beyond the walls, he murmured, “The ship is doing fine. I wasn’t.”

  She drew back and curved her hand along his face. “Bryce, are you sick?”

  “Sick of being away from you, blue eyes.”

  She stared, then laughed. “You are outrageous. ’Tis a good thing that I love you enough to forgive you for scaring a year off my life.” When he did not give her a quick answer, she sighed. She had thought that, because he was here, things might be different. She was wrong. “You don’t need to cringe like a beaten dog whenever I speak of loving you.”

  “Have you considered that I fear I am unworthy of that love?”

  She laughed again. “Bryce, you do not play the humble suitor well.”

  As his arm encircled her waist and pulled her into his embrace, he whispered, “But it is the truth, blue eyes. Some folks dare to call me foolhardy to my face, saying I am willing to risk anything. How they would laugh to see me now!”

  “I do not want anyone to see you now but me.” She ran her fingers down his chest to rest on his belt. As his eyes burned with emerald sparks, she whispered, “My love is a gift freely given and asking nothing in return.”

  “Except that I offer you the joy you give me?” His gaze wandered along her, enticing her with thoughts of how his fingers could touch her as feverishly. “And you offer me so much when I explore your exquisite curves.”

  “You called me scrawny the first time you saw me.”

  “Only aloud.” He brushed her hair back from her face, loosening her conservative bun. As her hair dropped along her back, he said, “In my thoughts, I was tortured with the desire to make love with you. Even in China, you stirred my blood to a boil.”

  “Bryce—” His mouth caressed hers. The torment of the last week vanished into delight.

  His hands slipped along the shoulder of her chemise, lowering it along her arms. When she drew his shirt out of his denim trousers, she splayed her fingers across his back. He pulled her up against his rough shirt as he freed her breasts from her chemise. She groaned with the desire that was swiftly spiraling out of control.

  He pressed his mouth over hers. The yearning recaptured her as she leaned into his kiss. Although many other things were not right in their lives, when he held her, nothing was wrong. The ice of loneliness melted within her as he teased her lips to part and allow his tongue to taste the eager welcome of her mouth. His hands swept along her, illuminating her with his touch.

  As her breath became as swift as the pulse of longing within her, he whispered, “Blue eyes, you are even more delicious than I remembered. I shall explode if we delay much longer. I would swear that I have been waiting months to hold you again.”

  “As I have waited for you.”

  His smile disappeared as his craving glowed in his eyes. “Faith, woman, you look grand!”

  He gave her no time to answer as he pulled her back against his hard body. His fingers curved along her breast. When she sighed with pleasure, he captured her lips.

  Raising her arms to his shoulders, she savored his heated mouth over hers. Her fingers traced the strong muscles of his back, each touch adding to the flame searing her.

  He pushed her chemise to the floor. Her undergarments quickly fell atop them. Her breath burned in her chest as he stared at her.

  “You are so beautiful, blue eyes.” Taking her hands, he led her to her bed.

  Suddenly he swept her up into his arms and against his lips. When he wobbled, she grasped his shoulders.

  His husky laugh delighted her. “I shall not drop you, blue eyes. I don’t want to let you that far from me. ’Tis simply that the silken caress of your skin threatens to collapse my knees.” He placed her on the pillows.

  “Come to me.” Rising to her knees, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it aside. A single shrug dropped it behind him. She stared at the splendor of his strong muscles.

  Her fingers trembled, almost afraid that touching him would wake her. This was as wondrous as her most heartfelt dream. But she could not resist. Lightly she stroked his arm, letting her fingers sample his wind-burned skin. His dark hair brushed her palm as she threaded her fingers through it.

  He placed his lips in the crook of her neck. She gasped and slanted toward him, no longer content to touch him only with her fingers. With a heartfelt groan, he pushed her back on the mattress and leaned over her.

  He whispered, “All day I have wanted to return here to hold you, blue eyes.” His laugh was as uneven as his breath as she loosened the buttons on his trousers. As he kicked them aside, he added, “So I shall take all night to make love with you.”

  “All night?” Her hea
rt leapt with elation. “You are staying here with me all night?”

  “Ask questions later,” he rumbled. “Now I want you to use those lips to thrill me.”

  As his mouth took hers, she discovered he was in a playful mood and savored teasing him as he did her. She led his tongue on a merry chase while her fingertips explored his rugged back. His brawny muscles quivered beneath her touch.

  His mouth left hers and slipped along her in a sinuous path. Its trail became fiery hot as she writhed beneath him, wanting the perfection she knew awaited them. His finger fascinated her breast as he continued to relish the flavor of her skin. With her hands twisted through his hair, she moved with the rhythm of his mouth. She yearned to beg him to free her from this acute need, but no words emerged on her frayed breath.

  The pleasure became agony as he joined them into one. She drew his mouth over hers. His breath mingled with hers, matching the tempo of their eager bodies—slowly, then more swiftly with the urgency of the passion that swelled over her to drown her. For one perfect moment, she was poised with him on the very crest of a wave of rapture, before shattering into ecstasy.

  Clutching tightly to her happiness, Lianne opened her eyes with reluctance. As the wind rattled the windows, she put her fingers up to touch Bryce’s warm lips.

  “You look radiant,” he whispered.

  “Because you are here with me.” She gave him a smile. “Or is this your way of seeking a compliment about your prowess as a lover?”

  He chuckled as he bent to kiss the most responsive spot along her neck. When she gasped and softened in his arms, he murmured, “You tell me in many, many ways how I pleasure you, blue eyes. That is why I could not stay away. Not even to oversee the China Shadow.” He laughed again. “It takes far too long by land to return from Maine.”

  “You found a mast for her quickly.” She nestled against his chest.

  “No. I decided to leave that task to the crew.”

  “What?” She leaned over him, sure she had not heard him correctly. “You returned to Stormhaven before you found a mast for her?”

  “I could not wait to be with you again, blue eyes.” He smoothed her hair back from her face as he drew her mouth down to his for a lingering kiss. “I will get reports on the China Shadow while I turn my attention to the work needed on the Pacific Shadow.” He grinned. “And my wife.”

  “I’m glad.” She ran her finger along his cheek. “Tell me one thing.”

  “Anything.”

  She almost asked him to tell her that he loved her, but asked, “Why do you leave me here while you sleep in Father’s room?”

  “The truth?” His brows arched. “I feared if I stayed here, my life would get ensnared in yours. I believed it would be easier to be without you when I left with the China Shadow. Then, on the way to Maine, I discovered that denying us the pleasure of sleeping in each other’s arms while I am in Stormhaven was a hollow sacrifice. My life is entangled with yours already.”

  “Then stay with me all night,” she urged. “Don’t leave me to sleep alone tonight.”

  “Never fear, dear wife.” A roguish light twinkled in his eyes. Pressing her back into the mattress, he whispered in the moments before his lips found hers again, “I have no plans to leave you alone tonight, and I have no plans to let you sleep tonight.”

  Her laughter became a fierce desire as she was swept into rapture once more. Like him, she wanted to sample this joy again and again, until dawn arrived to find them sleeping in each other’s arms.

  Sixteen

  With a sigh, Lianne tried to concentrate on her work. No one had mentioned that her enthusiasm for the mill had dimmed since Bryce’s return to Stormhaven. She tried to focus on the mill and what it needed to get the work complete, but thoughts of Bryce and the needs he fulfilled so deliciously were a constant intrusion. The splatter of rain against the window should have been a pleasant background for her work, but she could only remember that same soft melody playing when she woke Bryce with kisses just before dawn.

  Lianne picked her way through Mr. Bergen’s nearly illegible handwriting and unique spelling. The facts were clear. The looms would not arrive for at least another month. The mill’s opening must be delayed until after the new year.

  At a knock, she stoppered the ink and called, “Yes?”

  Hyett peered in. “Mr. Simmons would like to see you, Mrs. Trevarian.”

  “Mr. Simmons?” She rose and smiled. “By all means, show him in.” She had not seen her father’s friend since the funeral.

  When the door reopened, Hyett ushered the bent man into the room. Mr. Simmons was nearly lost in his cloak that was dripping on the floor.

  “Why, Mr. Simmons, what a pleasant surprise!” Lianne smiled. Her slight motion to the butler was answered when Hyett plucked the drenched cloak off Mr. Simmons’s shoulders. The odor of wet wool filled the room. “Won’t you come in and get warm? The weather has taken an intolerable turn, hasn’t it?”

  He nodded and looked over his shoulder as Hyett closed the door. “Will we be undisturbed, Mrs. Trevarian? What I have to say is for your ears only.”

  “No one will enter without knocking.” She struggled to keep her smile, hoping he did not guess she was not being completely honest. Bryce often walked into her office, but he was busy at the harbor. “Please sit, Mr. Simmons.”

  He inched past her. She almost asked how his stiff joints were doing, but something about his strange intensity silenced her.

  When he was seated on the sofa, she reached for the bellpull to order tea. He held up his gnarly hand. “Mrs. Trevarian, I don’t wish us to be interrupted while I say what I have come to say.”

  Lianne sat and folded her hands in her lap. “What is that?”

  His smile broadened across his gaunt cheeks. “I am aware of some facts that I believe you might find interesting. I have been waiting to share this with you and you alone. When I saw Captain Trevarian busy on the Pacific Shadow, I knew today was the day.”

  Lianne stared, baffled. His words intimated that he had been watching the house. Trying to keep her unease from her voice, she asked, “Today is the day for what?”

  “Now, Mrs. Trevarian, you must think me witless to tell you what I know.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought you had come here to tell me something.”

  “I have.” He chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Let me explain. I sailed with Samuel Catherwood until the accident which left him in that wheeled chair. I stayed with the Shadow Line, hoping to have a ship of my own. Instead I watched as Davis Catherwood and your husband were given what should have been mine.” Fury deepened his voice. “I was denied a command so Captain Catherwood’s incompetent son and his bootlicking first mate could have the ship I should have had.”

  “Sir, I shall not have you speak of my husband and brother that way.” When she stood, he did the same. He caught her arm and, with a surprising strength, forced her to sit beside him.

  “Don’t reach for the bellpull,” Mr. Simmons growled, “or you will be very, very sorry.”

  “If you think to threaten me—”

  Again he laughed. When the thick odor of rum surrounded her, she realized he had been drinking. She tried to edge back, but she could not escape his viselike grip. “Dramatics won’t change what was, Lianne.”

  She frowned when he used her first name. Since she had arrived in Stormhaven, he had always addressed her as Miss Lianne or Mrs. Trevarian.

  “It is said you are an excellent businesswoman,” he continued. “Then act like one, while we deal with business left undone by that bastard.”

  “Who?” She was unable to follow his convoluted comments.

  “Samuel Catherwood!”

  “But you were my father’s friend! You came to visit him often before he died.”

  “The wise thing to do when, out of guilt, he gave me a settlement when I retired.”

  “Guilt? For what?”

  “For denying me my command.” His blue
eyes drilled her. “That money is gone. I need more.”

  Lianne dampened her lips. Better than anyone, she knew the precarious condition of Trevarian Enterprises’ finances. With the cost of the repairs of the China Shadow and work on the mill, there was very little money left from her father’s bequest. Until the mill opened and the ships went to China and returned, she must guard every penny. She might be able to find some money for Mr. Simmons, but not enough for him to live on until the next voyage to China was completed.

  “Mr. Simmons, I am very sorry about your uneasy situation.” Falling back on the trite, she hoped it would cover her confusion. “I would like to help. If you can wait for a month or two—”

  “I’m not waiting!” he snarled. Standing, he laughed. “You will pay me now. You will pay me well, or I shall tell everyone in Stormhaven what I know.”

  She rose and faced him. “I have no idea what you could say that would harm me. Everyone in Stormhaven has heard how Bryce and my brother saved me from a Cantonese brothel.”

  He raised his hand. In horror, she took in a deep breath to scream for help, then gasped as he patted her cheek. “Do not look frightened. I would not hurt you, daughter.”

  “Daughter?” Stepping back, she stared. Was he mad? “My father is—was Samuel Catherwood.”

  “Was he?”

  “Of course!”

  He chuckled. “I admit I was confused when you lied to me when we first met.”

  “Lied?”

  “You told me you were nineteen.”

  “I was—” When his smile broadened, she corrected herself. “I was by Chinese standards, where a child is a year old at birth.”

  He rubbed the fine velvet of her sleeve between his fingers. “Yet you were only eighteen years old at that time. You are my daughter.”

  Realizing that he was appraising the value of her gown, she tugged her arm away. “You are insane! My father was Samuel Catherwood.”

  “Are you sure, daughter?” He chuckled again. “Too bad your mother disappeared, for she could tell you I am being honest. Maybe she wanted to evade the truth she tried to hide for more than two decades. She was mine before she crawled into Samuel’s bed like the whore she was. You are my daughter.”