Promise Me Forever

by Kimberly Nee

  "I do seem to remember you saying something about making up,” she said softly, tapping her forefinger against her lips as if deep in thought.

  "So, would you care to?"

  "To what?"

  His eyes softened as he took her in his arms. “Make up."

  "Now?"

  "Why not? The lights don't always have to be out to make love, my lady. And I have a few new love words to try on you."

  "Oh, I don't know..."

  He kissed her lightly. “Think it over..."

  She screwed up her face, as if concentrating with all her might. Drew laughed and began nibbling at her throat, teasingly chanting, “Think it over..."

  With that, she burst into laughter, winding her arms about his neck and squeezing. He didn't wait for her reply, but lifted her easily to spirit her to the bed.

  Sixteen

  As she had asked, Drew found her something to do to keep her busy during the days. He brought her a basket of clothing in dire need of mending. Though she wasn't terribly skilled with a needle and thread, she learned quickly and soon became quite proficient at sewing. She spent many a pleasant hour curled up in a chair by the stove, stitching seams and mending tears for the Aphrodite's crew.

  The nights were spent cradled in his arms. As they moved into the chilly waters of the North Atlantic, she was especially grateful for the warmth his body offered, and he did put out an awful lot of heat. She hardly needed blankets when she snuggled against the solid bulk of his body. It made for a most pleasant night's rest and she slept better than she had in months, perhaps even years.

  They had been at sea for twelve days now, and she settled into a comfortable routine. After breakfast on that twelfth day, Drew escorted her topside to take in the sunshine. She took a deep breath, enjoying the tangy salt air and the gentle spray on her face. It made her hair stiff, but she didn't mind. She would bathe that evening and scrub off all of the salt.

  Turning to him, she said, “This is so much nicer than a storm. So much better, indeed."

  He chuckled, gazing out over the water. “I imagine it is to you. Sometimes though, there is nothing that compares to doing battle with the elements. Man versus nature and all that. Makes you appreciate what life has to offer."

  She didn't miss the look he gave her as he said the last part. She gave him a tender smile. “Is that so?"

  "Very much so. A man facing death learns an entirely new appreciation for life."

  "Well, I prefer to not face death, if it's all the same to you,” she said with a pert shrug.

  He laughed, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. “You have nothing to fear, my lady. I promise to never put you in harm's way if I can possibly avoid it."

  She melted into the warmth of his embrace, not doubting him for a moment. In the time she'd known Drew, she learned his temper was fierce, but not nearly as fierce as his will to protect those around him. She could not see him doing anything that would jeopardize his ship, his crew, or her.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Would you care for a tour?"

  "I would love one."

  "Captain Kennedy!"

  He sighed as Jeremy came loping across the deck. “What is it, Mr. Allen?"

  "I just spoke to Mr. Mason. Henry's been asking for food."

  "Ah, so his hunger strike has come to an end, I see. I have to admit I am impressed,” Drew said thoughtfully. “I never would have suspected he had it in him to deny himself anything for nearly two weeks."

  "Should I send Nick down with a tray?"

  "Might as well. I would hate to pull into port with a corpse and have to explain that to the harbormaster."

  "Aye, Captain. I'll see he is fed at once."

  "Do so, Mr. Allen.” Drew's expression became one of concern. “But, make certain he has only one hand free at a time. And no sharp utensils. He's gotten far too unpredictable of late. I'd hate to see Sam in danger."

  "Of course, Captain.” Jeremy smiled at Heather. “A pleasure to see you this morning, Miss Heather."

  She returned his smile. “As it is to see you, Mr. Allen."

  Jeremy bobbed his head and made his way to the steps to head towards the galley.

  Heather turned to Drew. “You don't think he will cause a problem, do you?"

  "Jeremy?"

  She couldn't help but laugh at his puzzled expression. “No. Henry."

  His brow furrowed. “I'd like to think not, but as I said, he has gotten most unpredictable. I should hate to be mistaken and put anyone in danger.” He gave her a reassuring smile and tucked her arm through his. “Now, how about that tour?"

  It proved to be a most fascinating afternoon for Heather. Drew took great pride in showing her his ship and was most patient in answering even her most inane questions. She was impressed with his wealth of knowledge and by the great respect his crew showed towards him. She had the distinct feeling that these men would actually put their lives on the line for their captain, without hesitation and with no questions asked. Each man addressed the other with great formality, but she could feel the camaraderie and friendships lurking beneath the politeness and respect.

  It was interesting to see what made a ship such as the Aphrodite run. Each man had a very specific duty—right down to who cared for the sails and yardarms. And each man took his job with the utmost seriousness.

  The only person Heather had yet to meet was Sam Mason—the ship's surgeon. When she asked about him, Drew shook his head and said, “I don't want you anywhere near his cabin. That's where Henry has been remanded and I do not want you anywhere near that man. Is that clear?"

  She didn't miss the hardness coming to his eyes and wondered what it meant. “Yes, Drew."

  "It's only for your safety, Heather. If, by some chance, you need Sam, I'll bring him to you. You are not to go anywhere near his cabin."

  She felt a shiver run down her spine. “Do you think something might happen? You've already told Mr. Allen that Henry is not to have both hands freed."

  "As I said, he is becoming more and more erratic. I don't wish to take any chances."

  "Well, of course I won't go anywhere near him.” She turned to look out over the water, remembering the hateful words he'd muttered to her. “He is the last person I wish to see."

  Drew eased an arm about her waist and said, “Remember what I told you, my lady. You are not what you seem to believe you've become."

  She took a deep breath. “And you need to remember where you met me, Drew. Whether I was innocent or not, people will always assume the worst. As far as anyone will care, I was a strumpet."

  He gave her a gentle squeeze. “And I shall rearrange the face of anyone who dares call you that,” he replied mildly.

  She didn't doubt for a moment he would do just that and that offered some comfort. She didn't answer him, but continued staring out over the water. He kissed the top of her head once more. “I do need to get back to work, love. Why don't you go down below and take a nap?” His voice grew soft. “I plan on keeping you up far too late this evening."

  She couldn't help but chuckle, especially as she felt only a hint of heat in her cheeks. Apparently, she was becoming used to his teasing remarks. “Very well,” she said, nodding. “I will leave you to your work."

  "Ah, today I belong to the Aphrodite. But this evening, love, I will belong solely to you."

  He brushed her lips with a kiss and strode off towards the quarterdeck. She watched him walk away, admiring the grace with which he carried himself. It was no wonder he was regarded with so much respect, she thought with a smile. He automatically commanded it by his very presence.

  She turned back to face the water. There was something so very peaceful about the endless ocean around her. The sunlight sparkled as it danced off the water's surface. Occasionally she would see a spout of water burst up, which always brought a smile to her face. The first time she saw such a spout, Drew explained it was a whale, and since then, she scanned the water's surface in the hopes of se
eing the elusive creatures up close. But she never saw more than the spray.

  She moved away from the railing, crossing the deck to the doorway leading below deck. She'd become quite adept at walking on board, something Drew referred to as getting her sea legs and now barely felt the movement of the ship. Except at night, when the gentle rocking helped her drift off to sleep.

  Descending the stairs, she moved along the narrow corridor towards Drew's cabin. She was coming to know the layout of the Aphrodite quite well, but she'd never ventured beyond the captain's cabin. The corridor went beyond that, ending in a T that led to a hallway to the left, and one to the right. The one on the right led to the galley, and hold. The one to the left led to another row of cabins. Mr. Mason's cabin was down this hallway and she had no desire to venture down there. She had very little trouble making that promise to Drew. She wanted nothing to do with the sullen bosun's mate.

  Lost in thought, she twisted the knob to Drew's cabin and pushed the door open. She stepped in, closing the door behind her. A nap sounds wonderful, she thought, smiling at the rumpled bed. She normally made it after rising, but this morning she'd simply felt too lazy.

  She never heard the footsteps behind her, but suddenly she was hurtling across the cabin, shoved from behind. She crashed into the bed, knocking the wind from her lungs. Gasping for air, she rolled onto her back. Fear tore through her as she found herself looking into icy blue eyes beyond the barrel of a pistol.

  Seventeen

  Heather's stomach clenched as Henry lowered the Flintlock, an arrogant sneer curling his lip. “Happy to see me, whore?"

  Dear God! How had he gotten out of the doctor's cabin? Heather's eyes tore about the room in search of an avenue of escape. But, he stood between her and the door. There was no escape. She felt her blood run cold as he spoke, and she couldn't force her tongue from the roof of her mouth to answer him. All she could think about was that closed door and the fact that Drew was far out of earshot.

  "I asked you a question,” Henry snarled, taking a step closer. “I asked if you were happy to see me."

  "Y-you leave me b-be,” she stammered, eyes riveted on the pistol in his hand.

  "Oh, I don't think so,” he sneered, shaking his head. “You're only a whore after all. Captain won't mind sharing you. Why, I'll wager he's probably shared you with dozens of men. I ain't no different."

  She lifted her eyes to his, a chill going through her at his flat, cold stare. “You are wrong. Th-there have be-been no others."

  "Of course there ain't. But, you're a whore,” he replied evenly, shrugging. “Who can believe the word of a whore? I'm sure the captain jollies you along. Tells you what you want to hear. He likes to think of himself as some terrific gentleman."

  "He is. He is very much the gentleman, I'll have you know."

  "Please,” he snorted. “You think you're the only whore he ever brought on board? Christ, lady, you are dumber than you look. He nails ‘em all the way across the ocean, then off you go once we reach port. You ain't special to him, you know. You have no reason to think you are. I'm surprised he ain't passed you around already. It's what he usually does."

  She didn't want to believe the horrid things he was saying. She couldn't imagine the gentle, considerate man she knew treating anyone so callously. Surely, she could not have misjudged Drew so terribly, could she?

  Henry took a step closer. “Take off that fancy gown."

  "No."

  He cocked the flintlock. “Take off that gown and get into that bed before I tear it from you and take you on the floor. Make no mistake, whore. I will have you. And I will have you now."

  She scooted back across the bed, pinning herself to the wall, unable to take her eyes off the pistol trained on her. Never before had a weapon been pointed at her, but she had no doubt that he wouldn't hesitate to fire.

  He lunged, grabbing her by her bodice. He yanked, lifting her from the bed and sending her flying through the air. She hit the floor with a resounding thud, a scream tearing itself from her lips as he pounced on her. His knee dug into the small of her back as he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. “Next time I give you an order, you obey me. Understand? Just like you do the captain."

  Tears spilled over her lower lashes. “P-please, n-no ... d-don't..."

  "Shut up, whore."

  She let out a squeak as he jammed the barrel of the flintlock between her shoulder blades. A cold sweat broke out over her entire body and it was becoming more difficult to catch her breath. Dark spots danced before her eyes as the sound of tearing fabric reached her ears.

  "No!” she screamed, trying frantically to throw him off of her back. “God! Someone please—help me!"

  "Quiet!” Henry roared, cuffing her upside the head.

  Bells clanged in her skull and her vision swam. The breeze blowing in the window skittered across her bared back. He grabbed her shoulder, tossing her over onto her back. This time he grasped a fistful of the front of her gown and tugged. Shame flooded her as the silk split in a jagged slash down the middle.

  She gagged as he clamped a hand over her mouth. He hadn't bathed in over twelve days and the stench rising from his unwashed body made her choke. She managed to swallow her disgust long enough to sink her teeth into his hand.

  He howled, yanking his hand away and then backhanding her with fury across one cheekbone. Her teeth rattled as her head jerked to the side, a low moan of pain rising from her. The blow stunned her, and he took advantage of it to set to work shoving up her skirts and unfastening his grimy trousers.

  They both froze when someone rapped on the door. “Heather?"

  A rush of relief washed over her as Drew's voice reached her ears. She struggled to crane her neck to look at the door. “Drew! Help! He—"

  The knob rattled. “Heather? What's going on? Why is this damned door locked?"

  "You shut up, bitch,” Henry hissed, slamming his palm over her mouth again. “I'll kill him. I swear I will. And then I will kill you."

  Fury surged through her as she took another chunk from his hand. “Drew! God, help me! Please!"

  "Heather!” Drew's voice rose to a shout and a series of thuds and crashes echoed throughout the cabin.

  Henry scrambled for his flintlock, which he'd set on the floor beside his left leg. He grabbed it just as the door gave, shattering beneath the force of Drew's body. The splintered wood sagged on its hinges as he burst through.

  "Drew, watch—!"

  Her warning came too late. Henry, hands shaking furiously, grabbed the flintlock, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. Heather screamed, but Drew kept coming at them, grabbing Henry by his shirtfront, heaving him up from the floor. Henry let out a terrified squeak, which was followed by a sickening squelch as Drew's fist slammed into the center of Henry's face.

  But Drew wasn't finished. He was like a madman, pummeling Henry over and over until the man was hardly recognizable. The thunderous crashes must have been audible overhead, for within moments several of the Aphrodite's crew swarmed into the cabin.

  She scrambled away, backing up against the wall, horrified as she watched Drew punish Henry repeatedly. Holding her destroyed bodice closed with one hand, she covered her eyes with the other as blood spattered over the wall and spilled across the floor.

  Finally, between them, Bobby and Jeremy managed to pull Drew off Henry. The bosun's mate was a bloody pulp, barely managing a pathetic moan as he was dragged from the cabin.

  "I want him in chains, in the hold,” Drew thundered, drawing the back of his hand over the trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. “I will deal with him and I alone will do it."

  Jeremy looked for a moment as if he was about to argue with him, but backed down when he saw the fury in Drew's eyes. He motioned for Bobby to take Henry from the room, following behind.

  Drew spun about and, seeing her flattened against the wall, he rushed to her. Dropping to his knees beside her, he gathered her in his arms, demanding, “What happened?"r />
  "I—I don't know,” she murmured in a shaky voice. “I ca—came down here to—to nap, as you suggested, and h-he was w-waiting for m-me."

  He crooked a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. A scowl darkened his features as he gently touched just below her left eye. The sudden throb made her gasp and he nodded. “You're going to have one hell of a black eye come morning, love.” Another gentle stroke, and he growled, “I will kill that son of a bitch,” he growled.

  That now-familiar sense of safety surged through her and she threw her arms about his neck, tugging him closer still. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so relieved to see someone, the last time she actually shook from fear as she did then. She clung tighter, willing the shaking to stop as she choked, “Thank God you came down here."

  He wrapped his arms even tighter about her as he got to his feet, then staggered slightly, a breathless oath leaking through his teeth. His hold on her loosened and, for a moment, she thought he was about to drop her. His face went suddenly ashen and she stared in disbelief. “Drew?"

  He fell back to his knees, spilling her from his arms as he grabbed his side. He pulled his hand away, staring down in horror at the blood smearing his palm.

  She picked herself up, gasping as she saw the scarlet stain spreading over his shirt. Henry hadn't missed at all. His bullet had found its mark.

  Eighteen

  Gathering the tattered remains of her gown together, Heather got to her feet and dashed through what was left of the door to run to the surgeon's cabin.

  The door to Sam Mason's cabin was closed, but she paid no heed as she pounded on it, calling out, “Mr. Mason! Mr. Mason!” between thumps.

  He appeared within moments, his gray eyes serious as he said, “What is it?"

  "Please, you must come at once!” She grabbed his arm and dragged him back towards Drew's cabin. “Henry had a pistol! He shot Drew!"

  "How the devil—” Sam sputtered, grabbing a black leather bag. “How did he get out of the hold? Mr. Allen wouldn't tell me when he brought Mr. Donaldson to the infirmary, only that Captain Kennedy nearly killed him."