Once Upon a Midnight Sea

by Ava Bradley

  Cannon fire erupted again. A hissing sound split the air. Christian tensed, waiting for splintering wood to explode around him. Fate was merciful as a tremendous splash sounded, and water rained over the hull. Above deck, Mrs. Bailey screamed. Adriana's eyes grew wide, their black centers bottomless in the dim light. Christian glanced through the shutter in time to see the approaching steamer pass out of view.

  "Tell Henri to bring us back around portside. We're turning the wrong way!"

  She was stunned, frozen in place. Christian grabbed her arms and gave her a gentle shake. "Adriana!"

  She blinked twice and scurried up the ladder. "Henri, bring us back hard to port!"

  Christian carefully poured gunpowder into the breech. Adriana appeared beside him again as he twisted on the fuse cap.

  "Is this going to work?"

  He met her eyes. It had better work, or they were all doomed. He wouldn't let that happen, not to innocent Adriana. "Bring the lantern."

  He removed the glass funnel and carefully lit the fuse. He hadn't prayed since he was a small child, but he was praying now that they were aimed correctly. The gunpowder was still stable. That the fuse was still dry. That this rusted relic of a war gun wouldn't explode into a million pieces, tearing them to bits with razor-sharp shrapnel.

  An eternity of sea and sky passed across the tiny opening as Lady Luck slowly came about. The steamer was so close he could hear its chugging engines. The fuse crackled and smoked as it slowly burned down. Through the shutter, the far off cay slowly came back into view.

  Adriana leaned over and peered through. At the instant the fuse burnt into the reservoir, Christian realized the danger. He grabbed her around the waist and yanked her backwards.

  A stunning clap shook the hull and his eardrums shuddered as the gun went off. The crowded hold was instantly choked with smoke. His breath was kicked from his lungs and they both flew off their feet.

  They landed on top of the discarded sacks, Adriana on top of him, one sharp little elbow jabbing him in the shoulder.

  Deafening silence followed as smoke curled around them. Adriana twisted until she faced him, bracing herself on either side of his bared shoulders. Her expression was of pure shock as she stared down. Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear her through the ringing in his ears.

  My goodness. It worked.

  His ears thrummed with a dull twill and he could hardly draw a breath through all the smoke. Christian became acutely aware of their contact at every minute spot they touched. Adriana moved, sliding her body across his bare skin.

  Every place she touched him buzzed with new life. He caught his breath and she froze.

  Slowly she drew nearer. Was he pulling her? His muscles felt like limp noodles. He wasn't pulling her, but he wasn't pushing her away, either. Nor was she pushing herself away.

  He watched her lashes fan over those deep blue orbs as her gaze fell to his lips. Adriana turned her head slightly. Her mouth met his gently and softly. Her touch was more delightfully innocent than he would have ever expected. Suddenly the wily vixen was gone and in his arms was the docile young debutante he'd expected to find when he hid in her wardrobe. But neither was she the silly feline he'd expected, instead the young girl kissing him was as sensual and passionate as a siren.

  He tempted her, parting his lips. She followed hesitantly, but eagerly, sending his blood racing. The acrid smell of gunpowder disappeared as her sweet tongue slipped against his, making his world spin.

  Suddenly that world shattered. The image of oily Preston Weiss invaded his mind, destroying the beautiful sensation created by soft Adriana in his arms.

  He stopped abruptly. She drew away, a world of hurt in her eyes. He dimly realized he couldn't hear the steamer. Had he been deafened? No, snippets of shouting voices above deck found their way into the hold.

  She pushed away and stood, a mixture of shock and confusion filling her wide eyes.

  He smiled. "You kissed me." His own voice sounded a thousand miles away.

  She gaped and drew back a step. "I did not! You kissed me! And what did you mean grabbing me like that?"

  "You nearly got yourself killed," he said a bit too roughly. "Do you not know the power of a cannon blast?"

  He pointed and Adriana looked to the cannon. One of its mooring chains had snapped. It sat crookedly, having jumped one of the wooden stoppers on the floor.

  She looked back at him. Humiliation now filled those pretty eyes. She pursed her lips and then licked them, as if exploring the part of herself he had just invaded.

  "Adriana, I–"

  Shouts from above reached into the hold. Adriana turned to look through the shutter, but not fast enough to hide the upset crinkling her brow.

  He leaned over her and peered through. The steamer sat crookedly on the water, pluming with black smoke where before had been white. Nearly half the paddle wheel had been destroyed. Figures scurried about her deck, more concerned with rescuing themselves than raiding Lady Luck.

  "Mr. De la Croix, you are an excellent shot."

  He glanced down at Adriana and mapped the edge of her cheek. Her pulse thrummed at her throat. He watched her lashes fan down as her gaze fell away from the disabled ship. Instead, she now watched him from the corner of her eye–he could feel her awareness.

  He reached over her shoulder and dragged a loose lock of hair away from the edge of her jaw with a fingertip. He watched her lips part as she caught her breath.

  "By gum you got them!" Henri's voice drifted from above. It sounded uneven, surging and fading as Christian's hearing returned. "Right in the heart of that newfangled beast! Let's see that steam engine help you now!"

  Adriana stood upright and turned around. Christian grasped her upper arms. She froze, her entire body as rigid as glass.

  "You were right," he whispered.

  She pursed her lips together, watching him with those fathomless eyes.

  "I did kiss you."

  Chapter Twelve

  Edmund couldn't stand another whipped egg.

  To think, I used to love Mrs. Ling's fresh omelets cooked fluffy and light.

  He pushed the plate to the edge of the table on his wheeled chair. How he longed to bite into a pleasingly chewy substance with texture and flavor, like rabbit in Worcestershire sauce. Mrs. Ling's honey and curry glazed chicken. Roasted lamb with a dab of mint jelly. Freshly baked bread slathered with butter. Raspberry tart in flaky, light pastry.

  He turned his chair toward the window and stared at the path leading to the sanitarium's entrance. Adriana still hadn't come. He had to face the truth. She wouldn't. He would have heard from her by now, if she weren't still aboard Lady Luck.

  He turned his gaze into the deepening sky. In a way, he was almost envious of her the way he had been envious of Henri all these years. He'd spent the last decade and a half wishing he could meet Gilbert's son, wondering what the boy was like. What kind of man he'd grown into. What kind of heart he possessed.

  If only Adriana knew how fortunate she was.

  Surely she resisted associations with Christian, he knew his own daughter well enough to wager a tidy sum on it. Her blistering outspokenness had earned her many an ill relation. But even so, if she were indeed upon the Lady Luck, she was surely interacting with the young man in a way Edmund never would. Henri had made no secret of Christian's hatred for him. Edmund only hoped Adriana wasn't being cruel, fostering more rage from the young man.

  Please Lord, don't let her prevent their success. Let Henri finally bring Gilbert home.

  "I'm sorry sir," Edmund heard Miss Reynolds say. "Visiting hours have ended."

  "I'm not a visitor, I'm his employee," John Locke insisted in his brusque English lilt. "We've got business." The man pushed in without knocking. A familiar surge of fear rose in Edmund's throat.

  "'allo. I'm here to collect ye. Vincent Weiss wishes a word."

  "At n-near-ee six o'c-ock?"

  John Locke took a hold of the handles at the back of his chair and
shoved it around. "I don't know. Just following me orders."

  You work for me, Edmund thought to himself. His unease quickened. John Locke had never taken such liberty before.

  A hired coach waited at the back gate of the sanitarium. No wonder he hadn't seen John approach through the window. The first pains of true fear came to life. Neither had anyone else.

  Miss Reynolds had seen him, Edmund remembered. But how would that help? Surely it wouldn't save him, if the burly man decided to finish the job an assassin had started that cold September night last year.

  "The wharf," he told the driver. He glanced away, deep lines of guilt creasing his thick brow. "Mr. Weiss is waiting at the Windfall."

  What was Vincent Weiss doing aboard his ship? By the time they arrived at the water's edge the sun had set, bathing the docks in a murky red twilight. John Locke instructed the driver to stop near the bow of the ship. Far at the end of the pier, Preston's younger brother, Charles, was speaking to Oxford, the dock's foreman.

  Oxford must be questioning Charles about his business on my ship. Thank merciful God.

  Charles pointed and Oxford saw them. Edmund raised his hand. Come down here, Oxford. Help me!

  But the foreman only smiled as he waved back, then turned the other way toward his office. Edmund glanced around. No one else on the nearly empty pier gave them a second look.

  He planted his feet. "'at is going on here?"

  "I don't know. Vincent don't tell me much." John was lying, Edmund could tell by his guilty tone and the way he wouldn't make eye contact. "Here you go now, up here." John took his arm with a granite hand and forced him up the narrow plank.

  The ship was unmoored, her decks laden with supplies that had no doubt been charged to his account. In the water, two launch boats waited to row the hundred and ten foot Windfall out of the harbor. He could call out, but no one would understand.

  A crew of strangers worked Windfall's rigging. Vincent Weiss was nowhere to be seen.

  "Edmund, you look worried." Charles Weiss started up the gangplank at the stern. His stony expression slowly melded into a sardonic smile as he crossed the deck towards him. "I thought you loved to sail."

  "What is meaning of this? I d-demand 'o know your in-entions."

  "Don't worry old man. We've brought your invalid chair. You can sit back and relax."

  "Where are you 'aking me?"

  Charles' brows rose with mock concern. Three years younger and thirty pounds lighter marked the only differences between Charles and his brother, Preston. Charles was just as spoiled, just as seedy, but wickedly smarter. A dangerous combination.

  "Well, hmmm. I thought you'd understood. It has been two weeks since anyone has seen or heard from your lovely daughter. Father has begun to suspect she's fled. We thought it best to search for her. Poor dear, she's probably just got cold feet." Charles' expression turned deadly. "We thought it best to bring you along so you can make sure she has no reservations at all about marrying my brother."

  Oh, how could I have doomed Adriana to this nasty family?

  Edmund turned around to the sound of the plank being removed. The ship drew gently from the pier as the men in the dinghies began rowing. Through it all, John's beefy hand remained solidly fixed on Edmund's arm. Escape was futile.

  Ironically, he and Adriana were now in the same situation: captive aboard their own ships.

  * * *

  Adriana moved idly about her cabin as the kiss repeated itself in her mind over and over again. Arrogant, beastly Christian had, for the briefest moment, turned into a fairytale prince. His kiss had been soft and tender and, dare she hope, caring?

  She turned back to the wardrobe and opened its doors. Her dresses hung neatly, exactly as she'd left them. What had she been looking for? She closed the doors and sat at her vanity. It was a cluttered mess, but all of the things scattered about were items she used every day. Neatening it would be futile.

  Adriana glanced up at her reflection in the gilded mirror. She pursed her lips together. What had she looked like when he kissed her? She'd been terrified. She forced surprise into her features. She looked absolutely silly. Was that how she appeared when he'd kissed her? She hoped not.

  Her expression fell. What would she look like when Preston Weiss kissed her? Repulsed, probably. Adriana imagined herself in the beautiful veil Mrs. Bailey had made to match her wedding dress but her expression dimmed further, as it must every time she thought of Preston. Surely his kiss wouldn't be so wonderful. It couldn't. The pudgy man had thin, dry lips and always smelled of cigars and bourbon.

  Christian's lips were full, perfectly shaped, and looked so enchanting when he smiled. Before she could stop herself, Adriana imagined his eyes and those happy laugh lines that crinkled around them when he gave her a genuine smile. She'd seen it only once or twice, but she would never forget it, not for as long as she lived. Not for as long as she suffered a miserable eternity as Mrs. Preston Weiss.

  A knock came at the door. "Adriana," Mrs. Bailey called.

  Adriana rose and rattled the bolt on the door to make it sound as if she were unlocking it. She'd solemnly promised her chaperone to keep it bolted at all times.

  "Mr. Dupree wishes a word with you on deck," Mrs. Bailey said. She became alarmed when she saw Adriana. "What is it, dear? Are you frightened? Those pirates are as surely dining with King Neptune right now."

  "Mrs. Bailey, they were close enough that they could swim ashore. I am quite sure they didn't drown."

  "Well I hope the sharks got most of them! I'm certain after Mr. De la Croix's excellent display of cannonry they won't be coming after us again!"

  Adriana smiled and shook her head. "That isn't what is bothering me. Please, come inside. I must speak to you."

  Mrs. Bailey closed the door behind her as Adriana sat on the edge of her bed.

  Adriana took her hand as Mrs. Bailey sat next to her. The older woman read the worry in her eyes and fell silent.

  How could she put this into words? Nothing she could say would convince the woman from her firm opinion of him. "I have decided to assist Christian."

  The first signs of displeasure worked into Mrs. Bailey's brow. "I already knew that, when you refused to leave the ship."

  "No, what I mean is..." Adriana took a deep breath. "I plan to invest my efforts in helping him succeed."

  "Have you decided this merely because the man fired a cannon and stopped the pirate ship?" She frowned as she glanced skyward. "Who would have known he possessed such talents? Though it is hardly implausible, given his type."

  Adriana shook her head. "No. That is not the reason."

  Mrs. Bailey sat up ramrod straight. Disbelief filled her face. "You have become seduced by his pleasing appearance."

  Adriana laughed. "Mrs. Bailey, you don't say!"

  Mrs. Bailey stood and paced to the center of the cabin. "Why, I merely, goodness me." She stopped and placed her hands to her cheeks. "I may be old, but I am certainly not blind. I recognize an agreeable countenance when I see one." The matronly woman wagged a finger Adriana's way. "But his handsome good looks only make him more dangerous. You and I both know the true man beneath. He is bad, Adriana, and you should guard yourself! I've seen many a young woman seduced by the wrong type–”

  "Mrs. Bailey." Adriana stood and went to her. She took her matron's hand and stared beseechingly into her eyes. "He has not seduced me." It was not a lie. She had done this to herself.

  Mrs. Bailey's harsh expression was replaced by pity. It seemed as if she stared straight through her skin into her soul. The older woman was wise and experienced. She could see the truth with her eyes closed.

  Adriana forced her confused feelings away to concentrate on the matter at hand. "I know my father would want me to do this. I have found proof of his involvement, written by his own hand."

  Mrs. Bailey caught her breath and opened her mouth to speak, but seemed unable to find words.

  "I do not know if he bears the blame as Christian claims,
but Father did know of him, and Gilbert."

  "Gilbert?"

  "Christian's father. There is an entry in the logbook that proves it. My father wrote of his regrets, and a journey to observe Christian many years ago. All these years, Henri has been watching over him, hired to do so by Father."

  "Why, that scheming no-good sea barnacle. All this time and he could have told me–”

  "Do not blame Henri. He has merely been following my father's orders."

  "So, this voyage...?" She stared off at a dark corner of the cabin.

  "My father knows of it."

  Mrs. Bailey's gaze snapped back to Adriana. "I believed it to be a kidnapping for ransom."

  Adriana nodded. "As did I, in the beginning. But you heard them both claim that we were not supposed to be aboard."

  She watched Mrs. Bailey calculate the facts in her head.

  "Do you know what this means?" Adriana asked brightly. "Henri has not turned against us."

  Mrs. Bailey moved to the bed and sat heavily. She placed a hand to her cheek. If the woman's feelings for Henri were as Adriana suspected, hopefully this would mend things between them.

  "This is all so distressing." Her eyes still held their worry as she glanced up at Adriana. "It means your father–”

  "I do not know what it means," Adriana said quickly. "Henri has neither confirmed nor denied Christian's story." She sat beside Mrs. Bailey and stared at their two sets of feet on the floor. "But I must consider this is proof he is not the man I believed him to be, regardless of his level of guilt in the matter."

  "Oh, child." Mrs. Bailey patted her hand. "Your father will always be the man who loves you the most."

  A spike of hot fear stabbed at her middle. Adriana moved to her vanity and stared at her own regretful face.

  "As I said to Mr. De la Croix, the issue first at hand is our voyage to rescue his father. All else will be resolved when we return to Baltimore. It is futile to fret over it now."