Sea Mistress

  Without a word, Reeves stared at her, his expression mirroring his pain and anger.

  “John?” She needed his support in this. She didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t have John Reeves to help her at a time when she was going to need a friend the most.

  He shook his head as if shaking himself from his somber mood. He gave her a forced smile. “I’m sorry,” he said huskily. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that I can’t help feeling that somehow Garret has ulterior motives for asking you to be his wife. A motive other than what he claims.”

  Bess had to silently agree.

  “I only wish it could have been me,” he said. “That marrying me would protect you. I still wonder—”

  “Why, John Reeves, what a lovely thing to say!”

  He flushed. “Yes, well . . . I’ve got to go below to check on the condition of our goods.” He seemed anxious to be gone, and quit the cabin.

  Bess was, in fact, more than a little nervous about the situation. Marriage to Seth! Once the idea of marrying Seth had been her greatest desire, but that had been before he’d left—before she’d learned his true nature.

  Relax. It’s not as if things will change much after you’re married, an inner voice said. You’ll still be in your cabin while he’ll be in the captain’s quarters across the way . . .

  Bess relaxed. It was true. What did she have to be concerned about? As long as the marriage wasn’t consummated, then they would have no trouble getting it annulled. The key was in not allowing Seth to touch her—to ignore the physical attraction between them and keep the man at a distance.

  And as long as Seth didn’t learn of her position in the E. Metcalfe Company . . .

  Seth had gone back to Pernambuco to make arrangements for their wedding. Soon he’d return and bring the missionary with him, the man who was to perform the wedding ceremony. Would this George Dunnon be willing to marry them with no questions asked? She knew little of the laws of marriage, but she was aware of the posting of the banns. Were things different here in Brazil? Would the man accept the unusual circumstances of this union and go ahead with ceremony? Or would he refuse to marry them until the proper time passed for the banns? How ironic that she should be marrying Seth now, hastily, under these strange circumstances!

  Bess examined her mannish clothes. She didn’t look like a bride-to-be. Seth said that they would be playacting, that it was important that everyone on board ship believed that they were in love. A happy bride-to-be would want to look her best for her intended; the shirt and trousers would never do for the wedding ceremony. It was then that Bess thought of the gown that Reeves had unearthed from the goods in the cargo hold.

  She felt a moment’s alarm. Had Conrad made a mess of the simple, but pretty gown? She pictured the dress as a crumpled ball inside the trunk, touched by the former second mate’s hands.

  Bess hurried to the trunk and threw open the lid. She hadn’t looked inside since her encounter with Geoff Conrad, but someone else had, and she suspected that it had been Reeves. Or Seth’s steward, young Mark Hawke, who was the brother of one of the other crew men.

  All the clothes had been refolded and arranged neatly. Bess’s blue gown was on the top, and she lifted it out carefully, shaking the garment so that the skirts fell freely. She inspected the gown with a critical eye and was satisfied that, except for a few minor wrinkles, it appeared presentable. She had already repaired the garment, stitching on all the buttons she’d accidentally torn off when she’d taken the gown off. If she could hang it somewhere until the ceremony, the weight of the skirts would remove most of the wrinkles. She took the lantern down from its hook and hung the gown in its place.

  Eyeing the dress, Bess found that she was anxious to don feminine apparel again and to arrange her hair differently so that the style was less severe. She wanted to look like a woman for a change and not a girlish-looking young man. She thought longingly of the oil-scented baths she used to take in the privacy of her bedchamber, and the desire for such a soak overwhelmed her now.

  The Sea Mistress was in port. Why couldn’t someone arrange to have a bath brought for her? A real bath with fresh water, not salt water from the sea.

  Bess decided to ask James Kelley. She was going to be Seth’s wife; surely, they could accommodate this one wish of hers. It was the least they could do since she wasn’t allowed to go ashore like everyone else on board.

  Bess felt relatively safe stepping outside her cabin to search for the first mate. Geoff Conrad had been permanently put off the ship, gone in the dinghy that had taken Seth back to shore and most of the men but for the anchor crew were in Pernambuco. She didn’t think anyone would bother her. She went to the ladder and climbed to the upper deck, certain she’d find James Kelley.

  Bess became instantly aware of the intense heat of the tropical air as she surfaced from below. It was so hot she decided she would surely suffocate if not for the gentle stirring of a breeze that blew in from over the land. All thoughts of the first mate fled for a moment as Bess sought a relief from the heat. She grabbed her shirt front, pulling the collar and fabric away from her neck and skin.

  Bess searched the deck for James Kelley, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. Either he was in the galley or the fo’c’sle where he had slept with the crew since they had left the Port of Wilmington. Perhaps he too had gone ashore, but Bess thought it was highly unlikely that Seth would allow all the officers off his ship.

  “Miss Metcalfe,” a male voice said from directly behind her. “Can I help you with something?”

  Bess spun, startled. “Oh, Mr. Hawke! Mark, isn’t it?”

  The sixteen-year-old steward beamed. “Yes, miss. Yes, it is.”

  “I’m looking for Mr. Kelley. I thought he’d be about the main deck, but . . .”

  “He’s in the galley, miss, helping cook store some fresh supplies,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Bess blushed, suddenly embarrassed by her intended request. “The captain . . . he’s gone ashore to . . .” She stopped, uncertain whether or not she should mention the wedding.

  “Aye, miss,” Mark said. “I heard.” He grinned. “Congratulations, miss. The captain is a lucky man.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She paused before continuing. “Mark, I’d like to have a bath. Do you think it would be too much trouble? I want a real bath with fresh water.”

  “For the captain’s missus, it would be no bother at all,” the young man replied. “I’ll have it sent to your cabin as soon as the water’s ready.”

  She nodded and then wondered if she should wait below.

  “It’s all right to wait topside, miss,” Mark said, accurately interpreting her thoughts. “There’s no one on board to bother a lady.”

  She smiled with relief and told him she would do that. While she waited for Mark’s return, Bess studied the shoreline and wished she could visit the foreign community. From this distance, it was difficult to see much of anything but rooftops and sandy beaches, but the land was beautiful.

  She walked the main deck, taking note of the length and breadth of the Sea Mistress. She had seen the vessel many times over the years when it had been captained by Joel Johnson, but she’d never before been on her deck. Behind her was the quarter-deck, where the ship’s helm was located. It was here, she thought, that Seth must spend a great deal of his time.

  Her gaze followed one of the ship’s tall masts, the center in a line of three, which was the main mast, according to Mr. Kelley. Bess had learned that the two other masts were the foremast, which was the one up front, and the mizzenmast, which was the one in the rear. Whatever they were called, Bess mused, they appeared as tall, straight tree trunks with their sails furled, the vessel’s yardarms their branches.

  The sky was a bright azure. The only clouds this day were a few white fluffy clusters in the far distance over the sea. The breeze she’d noted earlier was pleasant, but not enough of a stir to take away the day’s humidity. She could feel the damp
ness of her shirt and trousers, and wished she could take off her clothes to cool herself.

  A half-hour later, Bess stood by the tin tub that some of the crew had brought to her cabin. The bath water was warm, not hot, and she was anxious to wash away the sweat and grime and wear something truly feminine again.

  Now, as Bess eyed the small tub, she recalled her life in Wilmington and longed for the happy times she’d spent there. She stripped off her clothes, remembering the long, leisurely soaks she’d enjoyed at Metcalfe Manor, and her maid Mary, who had washed and fixed her hair. Mary had left years before, after her Uncle Edward had first become ill. What was Mary doing now, she wondered. She hoped the servant was happy in her new position, wherever that was.

  The tub was only a hip bath, and when Bess sat down, she had to sit with her knees raised against her breasts. Although it wasn’t as nice as her tub at the manor, Bess was grateful for the bath anyway, and the thoughtful crew members who had prepared it for her.

  Bess glanced down at her naked body, saw the changes that had occurred since she’d carried the child. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered how her breasts had swelled and her stomach had filled out as the babe had grown within her.

  She no longer had the body of a girl. Her hips were more rounded, and there were small almost indistinguishable marks left from the growing babe, but she noticed them—there, on the underside of her breasts, and tiny threadlike ones on her abdomen.

  She chose not to linger in her bath as she would normally have done at home, but enjoyed fifteen minutes in the water. Then, she got out, dried herself with a coarse towel, and leaned over the tub to wash and rinse her hair. As she towel-dried her hair, she smiled, recalling Mark Hawke’s apology regarding the roughness of the towels he’d provided her with. As if she cared how soft the towel was!

  While she allowed her hair to finish drying naturally, she dressed in a chemise of soft cotton, put on a petticoat, and then sat in a chair to comb out the snarls from her wet blonde tresses. She donned the blue gown.

  Would Seth be surprised to see her in a gown? Would he be angry or glad that she’d considered her appearance for their wedding? Farce or not, the wedding must look real; the crew must believe that she and Seth were in love . . . were happily bonded together for life.

  If only this wedding was for real. If only the past five years had never been and Seth had never gone away . . .

  Bess still couldn’t believe she was marrying Seth. Was it all a dream?

  But the knock that resounded on the cabin door late that afternoon told her that the wedding to take place was real enough, as was the man who stepped inside at Bess’s invitation.

  “Bess,” he greeted her casually. He looked very tall and extremely masculine in a stark-white linen shirt with full sleeves, and tight black breeches that hugged his thighs and calves, tapering down to tuck into snug black boots.

  His eyes gleamed with appreciation as he took note of what she was wearing. “A gown? It’s very becoming.”

  She flushed. “Thank you. Reeves found it among the goods in the cargo hold.”

  Seth glanced down at his hand, and Bess realized for the first time that he was carrying a parcel.

  “I guess you won’t be needing this then,” he said, unable to stifle a wave of disappointment. “I bought you a gown.” She looked lovely in what she wore, but he wanted to give her something special, and he had gone to a great deal of trouble to find a gown in Pernambuco that was appropriate. What good was a surprise gift that wasn’t needed?

  Bess’s curiosity was piqued. He had bought her a gown! His thoughtfulness disturbed as much as it pleased her. What kind of gown would Seth chose for her? “May I see it?”

  He stared at the package before he met her gaze. She could feel the rapid thumping of her heartbeat as he gave her a silent nod while handing her the bundle. Bess carefully carried the package to the table where she usually ate her meals.

  The bundle was a fabric wrapped package. She set down the object and undid the muslin fabric.

  “Oh, Seth . . .” Bess gasped, stunned by what she found. The garment was a lovely creation of yellow taffeta, adorned by ribbons and laces and tiny satin flowers. “It’s—it’s . . . breath-taking!”

  “On you, perhaps,” he said, and she felt her face heat anew. “Do you like it?” he said, as if he couldn’t tell how much she loved it.

  She nodded. “It’s beautiful. May I try it on?”

  “Of course.” He turned his back so that she could take off the blue gown and don the yellow one in its place.

  “I’d like you to leave.” Her heart raced as she kept her eyes on Seth, on the dark hair that curled against his white shirt collar . . . at the broad expanse of his muscled back. “Please.”

  He faced her, studying her intently, before he nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

  Her fingers fumbled over the garment she wore until finally the buttons were free. The blue gown fell to the floor and Bess stepped out of the way of its skirts. She tossed the discarded gown on her bunk and reached for the one of yellow taffeta.

  She was struggling to get the garment over her head when suddenly Seth was beside her, taking hold of the gown. “Allow me,” he said.

  “I didn’t tell you to come in!” she gasped. “I’m not dressed yet!”

  He smiled wickedly. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  Which was true, she thought. He had seen her naked, touched every quivering inch of her aroused body. Still, she was annoyed and embarrassed as he helped her into the gown.

  He adjusted the skirt so that it fell easily to the floor. The bodice fastened up the back. Seth’s hands went to work on the tiny hooks, and Bess’s skin warmed with his touch. Her breasts tingled at the memory of the last time he’d caressed her intimately . . . when he’d made her whole body come alive.

  “There, that does it,” he said, and Bess felt the loss of his titillating touch.

  She stood back so that he could eye her critically. Self-consciously, she touched her hair, wondering if it had become mussed as she’d dressed. “How do I look?”

  “Looking for me to tell you how beautiful you are?” he asked.

  She was horrified at the suggestion.

  “I’m only teasing you, Lisabeth,” he said, his tone gentle. “You look . . .” His blue eyes glowed. “. . .. very beautiful, and very desirable.”

  Bess swallowed against a suddenly tight throat. “Thank you,” she said, “for the compliment— and the gown.”

  His smile was genuinely warm. “You’re most welcome.”

  She was aware of the intense physical tension between them, and she fought to dispel it. This new side of him was dangerous to her state of mind. Don’t give in to the attraction, she thought. You’ve too much to lose.

  “The minister is waiting,” she said.

  He nodded. “Aye.” Seth appeared entranced with her appearance, and she was pleased. He extended his arm toward her. “Shall we go?”

  In answer, Bess put her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her from the cabin, toward the ladder to the upper deck.

  He warmed her hand on his arm with his fingers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You make a breathtaking bride, Lisabeth,” he whispered.

  She felt her throat tighten as she thanked him again.

  With his help, Bess climbed the ladder to the top deck. She heard voices and was discomfited by the realization that anyone below could see her ankles. Seth was holding up her dress so that she could ascend the ladder without tripping. As she came to the top of her climb, the sight of the men lined up on the main deck waiting to greet her made her forget her embarrassment.

  James Kelly came forward to assist her last step. “Miss Metcalfe,” he said, “you look lovely.”

  The sentiment was immediately echoed by members of Seth’s crew.

  “Thank you, James,” she said. “Gentlemen.” She was aware that Seth had climbed up to stand behind her. She frowned, aware of the sudden
tension in Seth’s lithe frame, but unable to explain it.

  “Are you ready?” Seth said softly.

  She faced him. “No.” She gave him a twisted smile and saw his mouth tighten.

  Seth noted the sheen of tears in Bess’s eyes. He saw her lips tremble, and experienced a surge of sympathy for her. His intended was more than a little nervous, which was understandable. After all, she believed they were marrying not for love, but out of necessity. How would she act if she knew the truth? He wanted her in his bed. Before the voyage was completed, he would have her there.

  “I must admit I’m a little scared about this,” she said to him alone.

  He touched her cheek. “Don’t be. Just think of the freedom you’ll have on board ship.” He led her toward the rail. “Come. The minister is waiting.”

  Bess strained to see him. “I can’t see him.”

  “He’s waiting for us on shore.”

  “On shore! But you said—”

  “I know what I said, but this is different. I’ll be with you, and several of my men.” He lifted a silky strand of her hair. He grinned. “I thought you would prefer marrying on solid ground.”

  “Amusing, Seth,” she said, and returned his grin. “You think you know me so well.”

  He sobered. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I know you very well at all.”

  Chilled by Seth’s reply, Bess rubbed her bare arms.

  The dinghy was on the starboard side of the vessel, manned by Mark Hawke and another seaman. Bess eyed the distance from the rail down to the small boat. How was she going to climb down?

  “Mr. Kelley,” Seth said.

  Immediately, the first and second mates appeared at Bess’s side, ready to lift her over the ship’s rail.

  “Wait!” She was afraid. “You’re not going to throw me like you did that man in Wilmington?”

  The men chuckled. The captain appeared startled. “I don’t believe so,” Seth said, his amusement returning. “Are you, mates? You’re not going to toss her overboard?”