San Francisco, 1850
“Joel, come to bed,” the woman said. “I’m lonely for you.”
Joel Johnson closed his ledger book and smiled with affection at the lovely middle-aged woman who stood, poised, at the threshold of his study. “Can’t sleep?” he asked softly.
She nodded. “I need you,” she purred. “Come to bed.” And with that remark, she moved into the room and stopped within a few feet of his desk chair. She lifted her breasts with her hands so that the heavy tops swelled over the open neckline of her linen night gown. “Please . . .”
With a flame in his eyes and a bulge in his trousers, Joel got up from his desk and came to her. He ran a finger over the one lush mound, before he dipped it into the valley between her breasts. He watched as her eyes closed and she shivered with pleasure and desire.
Kate Blanchard had been not only his lover but his friend for the past three years, ever since the day he’d come to her home for orphaned children looking for help. Since that day, when he’d brought the child who’d been in his sister’s care, he and Kate had taken to seeing each other. From friends, they became lovers within one week of knowing each other, and then, after two wild and wonderful years in Kate’s bed, learning what love was all about . . . and what new and inventive ways there were to make love, Joel asked Kate to be his wife. She accepted, and they’d been together ever since.
Joel Johnson, who had decided to retire from his position as captain of the Sea Mistress because of an accident on board which had taken his right leg from below the knee, had finally found a new life. If not for the child who had been his sister’s charge, he would have given up completely, for he had mourned the loss of his leg deeply. But his sister’s death had left a little babe who needed someone to take care of him. Joel had tried for a while on his own, until he’d realized that the child needed more care than an old sea captain could give him.
He had taken the babe with him to California, for it had been vital to stay away from the East . . . and the dark secret of the child’s birth. He’d done well with the boy, but a two-year-old took a great deal of energy to raise.
Then he’d heard of the Blanchard Home for Young Orphaned Children. If anyone could help him, it would be Miss Kate Blanchard, the mistress of the home. A fellow from the Horsehair Saloon had told him. “Any woman who can handle fifteen young’ns beneath one roof is a saint and an expert on child rearing,” the man had said. Perhaps she could advise Joel on what was best for the child— perhaps it would be better if he simply left the babe in her care.
Joel called on Miss Blanchard and was immediately encouraged by her warm nature. What old Karl Jenkins had said was right. As he watched her effectively handle several small children who played in the same room with them, Kate Blanchard was most definitely a saint, he’d decided.
A saint with the body of a temptress.
Now, as he stroked her right breast, cupping the mound and rubbing her nipple, Joel recalled his shock upon first seeing her. He’d expected a prim and proper spinster, but the woman who had stood before him had the face of an angel and the warmth of a roaring fire on a cold winter’s night.
She’d been instantly attracted to him, he could tell. He’d stood on his one good leg and she’d smiled an alluring smile and then her eyes had dropped down to inspect him . . . to see the wooden post attached to his right knee. He recalled the flicker of her soft black lashes against her cheeks, but to her credit, her smile never faltered when she saw that he wasn’t a whole man. He’d seen the sympathy in her brown gaze; but it was gone before the look became pity. He’d begun to fall in love with her right then.
Kate had invited him into her house that day, and he nodded, then reached to one side to scoop up Matthew where he’d left the child playing in the grass.
“Come on, Mattie,” he’d crooned to the toddler. “Uncle Joeson wants you to meet a nice lady.” Somehow it had seemed right to have Bess Metcalfe’s child call him by her pet name for him.
The boy looked so much like Bess it was eerie at times, but his eyes were a clear blue, like the sky on a sunny spring day. He had Seth’s eyes.
Joel loved Matt, but he hadn’t been certain at the time that being in his care was best for the child. He thought again of his first meeting with Kate. He recalled how her eyes had widened as he’d carried Matt into her home.
“My, my, who do we have here?” she had crooned, her finger stroking the baby’s soft cheek.
“Mattie,” Joel said. “Matthew Garret.”
“Well, sir, come right in. I can see now why you’ve come to good old Auntie Kate.” She smiled. “A nephew, is it?”
“In a matter of speaking, Miss Blanchard,” Joel had said.
“Good, you know who I am.” The woman placed her hand on Joel’s arm. “But please call me Kate, Mr.—”
“Joel,” he replied, returning her grin.
“Well, Joel,” she said with a soft purr. “Let’s go into the parlor and discuss this dear little boy of yours, shall we?”
And Joel did so, telling her about the circumstances of the child’s birth, and the paternal love he had for little Matthew’s young mother. From that day forward, Matthew Garret stayed with Kate. Joel Johnson came to visit the boy— and Kate—daily until the day he married the woman and moved into her home. They’d been happy together for two years now. Joel, who had been a confirmed bachelor for the past 55 years, suddenly had a family. He became a father to sixteen children overnight, and he was a good one, with a patience that surprised even him.
Joel was content. Only one thing kept him from being totally at peace—the dark secret that had eventually led him to marrying. Matthew Garret . . . His mother thought him dead, and the child’s father wasn’t aware of his existence.
Joel had been talked into secrecy by his best friend, Edward Metcalfe, forced to take part in a scheme that would save a young woman’s reputation, but ultimately break her heart, too. But Edward was dead now; the past could no longer hurt him. And, in truth, the man had been sorry for what he’d done, but he’d been too afraid to rectify the matter and lose the love of his niece.
Joel embraced Kate with desperation born of knowing that there would be pain in the near future, that, in righting the wrong, he’d lose not only little Matt, but the love of young Bess. . . his little Da-niece.
“Honey,” Kate gasped as her husband’s big arms tightened about her. “I can’t breathe.”
He released her instantly, flushing. “Sorry, love,” he whispered.
She eyed him with concern. “Are you all right?”
Joel nodded, and then smiled. He was lucky to have this woman, and despite what might happen in a month or two, to have found her made it all worthwhile.
“It’s Matt, isn’t it?” she said.
He scowled. “Can you always read my mind?”
She gave him a slow, sexy smile. “No,” she said. “But Bess Metcalfe will be in San Francisco someday soon and you’re worried that two of the people you love will turn against you, blaming you for Edward’s mistake.”
“But it was my mistake, too. I should never have agreed to keep the secret. Oh, I know it was to protect Bess’s reputation, but I should have done something to help Bess. And I could have told Seth about the baby.”
“Honey love,” Kate crooned. “You did the only thing a man could do for his best friend. You kept Edward’s secret, because you knew that it would hurt not only Edward, but Bess, too.”
“But it could have been different! Seth and Bess could have married.”
“But didn’t Edward say that Bess refused to consider marriage to a young, penniless sailor?”
Joel frowned. “Yes, he did, but Seth had a right to know about his son.” Guilt about his own part in Edward’s scheming had kept him silent. He had taken the child to his sister to raise.
Kate stroked his cheek. “There now. Stop your worrying. You did what you had to do.”
But the retired captain had his doubts about Edward’s s
tory. He had never actually spoken to Bess about her relationship with Seth. For years now, he’d wished he had confronted Bess and, if need be, convinced her of Seth’s worth. Seth Garret was a good man whose sense of honor was unquestionable. If she’d only been willing, Bess could have been happy as Seth’s wife.
It was too late now to change that, Joel thought. The only thing he could do for Bess was to introduce her to her young son.
But would Bess forgive him for helping Edward? For denying her her son all these years?
“Ruth, my sister, had so wanted a child . . .” Joel murmured. “She loved Matt. If anyone had taken him away, she would have been heartbroken.”
Kate ran her fingers through his graying hair. “It was a gift for you to have taken the child to Ruth,” she said. “Surely Bess’ll be grateful that her son was cared for by people who loved him?”
Joel’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he rewarded his wife with a grateful smile. “You’re a balm for this old seaman’s aching soul, Katie.”
“Then come to bed, honey love, and let me comfort you as you deserve to be.” She lowered her hand to the front of his trousers, rubbing softly until his shaft swelled against her palm.
He moaned with pleasure. “Ah, Katie, what you do to me . . .”
And when she led him toward the door, he went willingly and gratefully. For the present, life was good for Joel, and he would enjoy it.
When it came time for her to go below, Bess went gracefully, for she’d been granted those precious extra minutes in the warm sun and breeze, and she understood the danger of a crew without the authority of a captain to protect her from harm.
Eight men were going ashore first, Seth and John Reeves among them. That would leave eight crew members on board, for there were fifteen seamen in all to man the clipper ship. Bess understood that all the men would get their chance to visit Pernambuco. Though it angered her that she wasn’t to be allowed the same privilege, she kept silent on the matter in the hopes that she could eventually soften Seth and be allowed to visit their next port of call.
Bess and Reeves discussed the acquisition of marketable Brazilian goods, and decided that Reeves would see what the country had to offer, buying sugar and anything else that Reeves thought would be coveted in California, that might turn a hefty profit. They had limited funds to work with, so Reeves had to be very careful in his choices. Bess wasn’t concerned, for she knew Reeves well and had the utmost confidence in him.
Still, Bess longed to go with him. Would the ship make other stops? Would she ever have a chance to see a foreign port? She’d have to speak with Seth. She was, after all, the head of E. Metcalfe Co., and although she couldn’t tell Seth that at present, she could be assertive in what she wanted, promising retribution from “her cousin” if he didn’t comply with some of her wishes.
Surely it couldn’t hurt for her to go ashore for a little while. An hour or so. He could certainly spare Mr. Kelley as an escort for an hour, and if not Mr. Kelley, John Reeves would be her protector. Armed, he would be a worthy adversary to any man.
After the men had gone and she was safely locked inside her cabin, Bess lay on her bunk, reading a book which Seth graciously sent her. Surprised, but delighted that she now had something worthwhile to occupy her time, she’d sent him a message of thanks for his generosity, before he’d gone ashore.
Mr. Kelley had thoughtfully brought her an oil lamp so that she could have better light by which to read. She had set the lamp beside the bunk on the floor decking, and had been pleased and satisfied by the increased lighting.
With half of the crew gone and the other half busily occupied with duties about the ship, Bess read in peace and then dozed for a time, until she was awakened by a sound outside her cabin door.
She felt her breath catch in her throat. Someone was trying to get in her cabin. Who would attempt to do so, and why?
“Mr. Kelley? James?” she called.
There was no answer, but the latch jiggled and then was silent.
Bess frowned as she climbed from the lower bunk and moved the lantern to the officers’ chart table against the far wall. She looked about the cabin for a weapon to defend herself. It had not been her imagination that the lock had moved, and since whoever had been outside had refused to identify himself, she could only assume that the man meant her harm.
The only weapon she could find wasn’t a weapon at all, but her chamber pot, which was fortunately empty at the moment. She went to the hatch with chamber pot in hand and pressed her ear against the wood to listen. She was sure she heard movement of some kind outside the door. Someone was indeed out there. Should she open the hatch and see?
Bess hesitated. What if it was only someone checking on her safety? What if they hadn’t heard her and wanted only to make sure the hatch was locked, so that no one would bother her?
She stood silently with her ear against the door, her heart racing, concentrating on keeping her breathing steady. Bess waited several moments, and, when she still heard nothing, she decided whoever had been out there was gone. She returned to her bunk and her book.
A knock resounded on her hatch a short time later. Without thought, Bess rose and went to answer the summons.
“Yes?” She was wise enough not to open the hatch immediately.
“It’s James,” said a low muffled voice.
James Kelley, Bess thought, pleased at the idea of a visit with the first mate. With a smile already in place, she opened the hatch.
“Hello, Mr. Kel—” she began and then froze, her eyes widening in horror. She started to slam shut the door, but Geoff Conrad forced himself in. The man’s evil eyes glinted, his mouth curved upward in a feral grin, as he gained entry into Bess’s cabin.
“Miss Metcalfe,” he said with a sneer. “There are a few things I need from the trunk.”
Bess was taken aback. “Oh.” She shot the trunk a glance and remembered that she had been allotted the officers’ cabin, so it was feasible that some of the clothes stored in the trunk belonged to the second mate. She nodded. “You may take what you need.”
Conrad’s eyes flashed for a brief second before he went to the trunk and threw open the lid. “So tell me, Miss Metcalfe,” the man said as he rummaged through the trunk, “are you enjoying the voyage?”
She didn’t answer him, but he didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t want to carry on a discussion with the man. The only thing she wanted was for him to hurry up and leave.
“Nice,” he murmured, and Bess saw with horror that he’d lifted a thin, linen garment from the storage trunk. Her nightgown.
His eyes gleamed as he caught her gaze. “Yours, I take it?”
“Mr. Conrad,” she said, “if you would just take what you need and leave.”
His face contorted with anger, but the look was so brief, Bess wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it. Conrad had bent his head again as he continued to rummage through the trunk.
Bess became impatient as she waited for Conrad to find his belongings. She understood that the cabin usually housed three men, so the trunk actually held the clothes of more than one crew member. She thought of her earlier trouble with this man, the consequent punishment he’d suffered because of her, and she grew increasingly concerned.
Besides being flogged by the captain himself, Geoff Conrad had been stripped of his position as second mate, humiliated before all the crew. Her uneasiness intensified. He seemed to be taking an awfully long time to find his things. Bess eyed the hatch, and silently prayed for Mr. Kelley’s return.
“If you could tell me what you’re searching for?” she suggested politely.
The lid to the trunk lowered enough for him to eye her directly with his cold, gray eyes.
“Perhaps I was mistaken,” he said. He closed the trunk, and she felt herself tense with the threat of his presence. “I was looking for me extra shirt, but maybe Reilly’s got it.”
Bess heard herself sigh as he headed toward the open hatch.
�
�Thanks for letting me check.”
She nodded, anxious for him to be gone. It suddenly occurred to her again that he’d gotten inside by false means, by claiming to be James Kelley. Why? Her pulse raced with nervous fear. She followed him to the door, ready to shut and lock the hatch behind him. The next time she would have to be more careful.
Geoff Conrad was halfway out the door when Bess grabbed the edge of the hatch to close it. Suddenly, the man shoved her back inside, and then he was there in the cabin with her, with the hatch securely closed against help and the outside world.
“So, Miss Metcalfe, you want me to take what I want and leave, eh?” The man wore an evil smile, his gray eyes gleamed with wicked intent. He stalked her about the cabin.
Bess gasped, horrified at her ghastly mistake, knowing that she had only the most meager of chances of being rescued.
“Touch me and you’ll be sorry,” she said, evading the man’s grasp. “Once Seth learns of this—”
“It will be too late.” He laughed and lunged for her.
She jerked out of his path, bumping her elbow in the process against the edge of the officers’ chart table. “But he’ll be back,” she said, “and you’ll pay.”
“Will I? Why? Will you tell him? I think not, for I’ll tell him that you invited me into your cabin, that you used your womanly charms to lure me to your bed.”
“You’re insane,” she gasped.
“Insane, hardly,” he said. “Intent on revenge, yes, but insane? No. I can assure you I know exactly what I’m doing.” He grinned, displaying rotten teeth. “You did invite me into your cabin, didn’t you, Miss Metcalfe?”
“You wanted to get your shirt—”
“What I want is you, Miss Metcalfe, and I intend to take you now.”
“Where’s Conrad?” Richard Reilly asked one of his fellow crew members.
Alf Feather looked up from the sail he was mending. “Haven’t seem ‘im recently. Thought I heard someone say something about him goin’ to the officers’ cabin to fetch a few of his things.”
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