Paul Halloran was young and healthy enough, Seth proclaimed, to bunk down in the foc’s’le with the crew. Halloran didn’t say a word, but Bess could tell by his expression that he wasn’t pleased. She, however, silently agreed with Seth’s decision.
Bess was to help the women. There were only two bunks in the officers’ cabin, and she wanted to make sure that Rebecca, if not both of the new women passengers, got to sleep in a bunk.
She hung back in the door as Seth set Rebecca gently onto the lower bunk. When he turned, she avoided his gaze, unwilling to read his thoughts, but he touched her arm as he passed by her to leave.
“Thank you,” he said for her ears alone.
She shot him a startled glance. “For what?”
Seth smiled. “For your concern and your help. I’m sure these ladies appreciate it.”
Bess frowned. “One perhaps. But the other one . . .” She paused. “Rebecca—she hasn’t awakened.” Her jealousy toward the young woman eased in the wake of his genuine concern for her well-being.
Something odd flickered in his features. “Take care of her.” It was both a command and a request.
And she nodded, promising to do so.
Next, the captain addressed the minister’s wife. “Mrs. Dunnon, I’m sure that given these ladies’ condition,” he said, “you won’t mind sleeping on a floor pallet?”
Mathilde opened her mouth, looking horrified, but she must have read something in Seth’s expression that warned her to agree, for all she said was, “Of course, captain. I’ll be happy to give up my bunk.” Her tone was sullen.
Seth flashed her a smile. “You’re very kind, Mrs. Dunnon. A true Christian.”
And suddenly Mathilde was beaming at Seth as if he were an angel sent by God.
The captain left the women, then, to return to the upper deck.
“Such a nice young man,” Mathilde commented when the person in question was out of earshot, and Bess stifled a smile. “So commanding.” She fixed Bess with her beady gaze. “You’re very fortunate to have married him, my dear.”
Unwilling to discuss her marriage with anyone, even if only briefly, Bess mumbled her agreement and then went to the bunk and Rebecca’s side. Rebecca stirred slightly as Bess brushed a lock of red hair off the young woman’s brow.
“How long has she been like this?” Bess asked Clara, the aunt.
“She was fine until a short while before you rescued us,” the older lady said. “She had seemed fine after she hit her head. I didn’t think her injury was too serious . . .” She rubbed her sunburned nose, wincing when the action brought pain. “Oh, dear, will she be all right, do you think?”
Bess rose from the bunk and went to where Clara Montague had taken a seat in a chair. She patted the woman’s arm. “We’ll do all we can to help her. She’s probably just sleeping. Exhaustion takes hold of people in different ways.”
Which was true, she thought, recalling a time when Uncle Edward had worked for hours on end, all through the night, and then when he’d reached his limit, had passed out, asleep, on his feet.
But Bess didn’t truly believe her own words of reassurance to Aunt Clara. She, too, was worried about Rebecca’s condition, and would continue to be until the young woman woke up and could discuss how she was feeling.
“Cook has prepared you some food,” Bess said, moving toward the hatch. “I’ll see about getting it for you.”
“See if he has any more of those delicious biscuits, won’t you?” Mathilde piped up.
Bess nodded and then quit the cabin for the galley, wondering with annoyance how the Dunnon woman could think of her own stomach when there were others who were more in need. She pitied the two new female passengers. They would be spending the next months until the Sea Mistress reached San Francisco in close company with Mathilde Dunnon.
That night as Bess crawled onto her bunk, her thoughts were a whirl of images of the day’s events. Rebecca Montague had woken shortly after Bess had returned bringing a tray of food. The young woman seemed alert and happy to learn that she had been rescued, that she was on her way to California via the clipper ship, the Sea Mistress.
When Bess questioned her about her condition, Rebecca was frank, telling Bess about how she had felt in the time before she’d blacked out or fallen asleep. She’d felt sick to her stomach and dizzy; her head had hurt a little, but not much. Later, much later, while the two older ladies were busy playing cards, Rebecca had confided how she’d come to be on a boat, far away from home, and her story had started Bess thinking.
Voices out in the passageway drew Bess’s gaze to the hatch. Her thoughts flew to Seth then. It was late, and it had been a long day. Would he be to bed soon? And if so, would he try again to make love to her?
Would she let him?
Her breasts ached, her nipples tingling, as she recalled the gentleness of his touch, the wild sensation he aroused within her when his fingers alternately plucked and caressed each rosy tip.
Liquid heat invaded between her thighs, and she wanted him to come into the cabin at that moment, to undress while she watched and then climb onto the bunk to lie next to her. Her imagination went wild as memories flooded her mind, of the past and her boldness during their lovemaking . . . of the time she’d been the aggressor while Seth had lain submissively, telling her to do with him what she pleased. And she had.
The lantern had been dimmed, and the golden glow of the muted light fell across the floor where he usually laid his sleeping pallet. She didn’t want him to lie there anymore, she realized with a sense of shock. She wanted to insist upon his sleeping more comfortably, on the bunk, with his arms locked against her middle, his hands and fingers wandering at will.
Startled by the change in her feelings for him, Bess closed her eyes tightly, and tried to slow her racing heart. How could she stop her desire for him from threatening her sanity and the physical threads of her existence?
The handle of the door latch moved. Bess froze, feigning sleep as the hatch opened. She heard Seth step inside, shutting and locking the door. And she chanced a quick peek before closing her eyes again. In that second, she noticed many things about him, things that only a person who was both physically and mentally aware of another body would be able to glean.
Seth looked amazingly alert for someone who must have had a trying evening, seeing to the survivors’ rescue and safety, calming down any of the crew who were distressed by the addition of more landlubbers. But then Seth himself, she thought, was amazing as both a captain and as a man.
She heard him stop near her bunk, and then the rustle of cloth, and she imagined him taking off his shirt. Bess chanced a peek at him and got a glimpse of his naked back—his broad shoulders, muscular and bronzed from going bare-chested under the sun.
She curled her fingers beneath the bedclothes. He turned, and she hurriedly closed her eyes lest he catch her studying him.
“Bess?” His voice was a soft ripple of sound. “Lisabeth, are you awake?”
Seth wanted to see her open her eyes, to gaze into those glistening ebony orbs and lose himself in their beautiful depths. Bess lay with eyes closed, for all the world looking asleep. But then he saw her lashes flutter slightly, noticed that her breathing didn’t seem too steady, and he smiled. She was awake, he thought. He wondered how long she would pretend to be sleeping.
Seth’s mind was full of images of her lying beneath him naked. His body tightened with his need for her. He stood staring down at her beautiful, restful countenance, and he wanted to rouse her with his mouth and hands, take her to new heights with his body.
“Lisabeth,” he whispered. Seth lowered himself onto the edge of the bunk next to her. Drawn by desire, he extended his hand and touched her hair, his fingers gentle, trembling.
He heard a muffled sound like strangled gasp and knew that it had come from Bess’s throat. He slid his hand to her throat, to the pulsing hollow at the base. This time he detected a shuddering sigh, and he smiled and continued to caress h
er.
He traced up her neck to her ear, along her hairline, crossing her forehead. Then, he moved his finger down her cheek and back up again, over the smooth bridge of her pretty nose. “Lisabeth,” he whispered again.
Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she met his gaze with an alertness that confirmed he’d been right. She had been awake all this time. “Seth.”
His smile was tender as he stroked her cheek. “How are you feeling, love?”
She closed her eyes in the pleasure of his touch. “I’m fine . . .” She moaned softly. His hand had dropped to her throat again, delving down along the inside of her collar, soothing the soft skin beneath. She shifted, arching her neck to give him better access.
“How is Rebecca?” he asked.
Bess stiffened and opened her eyes. “She’s doing better,” she replied carefully. “Awake, but a little light-headed. Only I think it’s from something other than her head injury.”
He frowned and removed his hand from her throat. She felt the loss of his touch as surely as she experienced the cold chill brought on by Seth’s continued interest in the new and lovely female passenger.
“What makes you believe that?” he asked.
She scowled at him. “Because her aunt said Rebecca had been nauseated lately, even before the shipwreck.”
“What do you think is wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. After speaking with the young woman, Bess had a few suspicions, but she wasn’t ready to discuss them with Seth or anyone just yet. For it would do more harm than good to speak of it if she were wrong. And besides, how could she make such an assumption based only on what she’d recently learned? That in leaving Boston, Rebecca had been running away from the man she loved?
“No guesses?” Seth asked.
Seth wouldn’t drop the subject, and Bess was angry. “Does it matter?” she said testily. “As long as she’s properly cared for?”
He seemed.surprised by her irritability. Then his face changed, and his eyes twinkled. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you were jealous.”
“That’s absurd!” she said, her pulse racing. “Why would I be jealous?”
Seth arched his eyebrow. “Yes, why?” he murmured.
Seth’s amusement faded as it occurred to him that Bess was upset because she was no longer the center of male attention, something she had definitely been up to now. When he’d met her, when she was sixteen, she’d enjoyed the avid attention of many young men. During the two weeks of his stay at Metcalfe Manor, hadn’t many a beau tried to pay court to her? They had tried, until Seth had made it clear to each and every one of them that Elisabeth Metcalfe belonged to him. He also recalled how angry she’d been when he hadn’t immediately gone out of his way to try to please her.
Seth rose abruptly from the edge of the bunk. He was in danger of succumbing to her charms all over again. He could reason out his behavior, tell himself that it was lust that was driving him to her side, but, hell, it was more than that—and he’d better be careful.
“Yes. Why, indeed?” he said. “Paul Halloran perhaps? James Kelley?”
She inhaled sharply. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it?” His lips formed a travesty of a smile. “You forget I remember the old Bess, or should I say the true Bess. Only for a while I chose to be blind.”
Bess paled. “What are you accusing me of?”
Seth stared down at her, noting the men’s clothing, which did nothing to detract from her shapely form. “Just remember that you’re supposed to be my wife. I’ll not tolerate flirtations with any of the men.”
She was outraged. “Why, you sanctimonious bastard!” she cried. “I’m not the one gawking at another like a lovesick puppy!” She turned over on the bunk, facing the wall, effectively cutting off conversation with him.
Seth glared at Bess’s stiff back, angry and frustrated, wanting only to make wild passionate love to her, and he thought of her fury and her words. Then, his anger dissipated, and he smiled.
Seventeen
The ship encountered rough seas during their second day off Cape Horn. The crew had been ready for the storm for some time. The passengers had been repeatedly warned to secure their things, and should have done all they could to prepare themselves. But despite the warnings and preparations, everyone was shocked by the gale force of the winds that buffeted the Sea Mistress when the ravaging storm hit, and by the unleashed fury causing the ship to yaw.
The first blast of wind came in the middle of the night, shaking the ship, making her inner walls shudder. Bess, asleep, was jerked awake by the roar. She sat up and saw the lantern swinging precariously on its wall hook.
Seth was gone from his sleeping pallet on the floor, a fact she noticed immediately. She thought she had dreamed she’d heard the cry for all hands on deck, and now realized that she hadn’t. Something dangerous was happening, most probably they were entering the treacherous waters near Cape Horn.
Frowning, she climbed from the bunk and went to the lantern, grabbing it from the hook, concerned about fire. She recalled the survivors of the Lady Grey, and how the ship had gone down because of a spark. But if she extinguished the flame, she thought, then she would be in darkness during the storm. She lowered the wick instead as much as she could while allowing the lamp to continue to burn and replaced it onto the wall hook.
It would take several days to round the Cape, Seth had told her. Times that could be pleasant or stormy, depending on their position, the weather, and the sea itself. Bess wondered how they were going to last through the rough days, if they would complete the journey safely.
She wished Seth were here in the cabin with her. The noise of the storm was unlike anything she’d ever heard before, worse than the squall they had encountered during the first weeks after their departure from Wilmington. Bess wanted to hear from Seth’s lips that they were going to be all right, to see his reassuring smile, and feel the comfort of his strong arms about her.
The hatch opened and as if conjured up from her dreams, Seth entered, his gaze immediately fastening on her where she sat on the bunk. A sudden lurch of the ship made the hatch slam shut behind him and propelled Seth forward until he was gripping the edge of the bunk to steady himself.
“We’re nearing the cape,” he told her, his expression stern. She nodded. “This storm is going to seem like a long one, but it will actually be only the first of several. My advice is to stay below. These rough seas can wash a body overboard in a matter of seconds.”
Bess shuddered at the thought. “Will we make it?” she asked.
He smiled, a bold, dashing smile that lit up his face and made her heart palpitate like the churning wheels of a speeding locomotive. “Aye.”
But then his grin abruptly died. “Be careful, Bess. Secure yourself in your bunk. If you don’t, you’re liable to get hurt.” He bent his head closer, and his breath shivered deliciously against her neck and ear. “I’d be extremely unhappy if anything happened to you, Lisabeth.”
“I will,” she promised, and was rewarded with another smile.
A huge wave must have caught the Sea Mistress, for the ship listed to the port side before righting itself. Seth fell forward with the force of the motion, and Bess and Seth bumped against one another, Seth’s head against Bess’s shoulder. Instinctively, Bess encircled Seth with her arms, holding him as they regained their balance. She felt the warmth of him against her breasts and wished for another time and place . . . and set of circumstances.
As he pulled away and straightened, Seth caught her gaze, his blue eyes gleaming with desire. “Ah, Bess . . . if only . . .” He halted his words. “I’d best get above,” he said, apparently changing his mind about what he was going to say. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
They heard shrill cries coming from the cabin across the passageway. Earlier, upon instruction from James Kelley, Bess had stored all the loose items in the cabin safely away in
Seth’s sea chest. From the loud crashing sounds coming from the officers’ cabin, Bess wondered if the other women had done what they were told and had wisely stowed their belongings.
She saw the direction of Seth’s glance. She stood, gripping a beam supporting the deck above. “I’ll check on them,” she said.
He looked at her worriedly and as if he were going to argue. Then, his brow cleared. “All right. I suppose they might need you, but please be careful. The worse, I’m afraid, is yet to come.”
Without warning, he bent and kissed her briefly. “Hold tight, love,” he told her with a half smile playing about his mouth. Then, he went topside.
Bess’s mouth was tingling as he left the cabin, although the contact was too light and quick to be satisfying for either one of them.
Bess let go of the beam and made her way toward the hatch, grabbing anything she could on her way to keep herself steady. Once she stumbled, but she was able to right herself quickly, for she had gotten used to being at sea, and her legs were as steady as those of many of the seamen on board. She had a feeling, though, that the other women couldn’t make the same claim. She could hear Mathilde’s high-pitched screams and sobbing from the other two women. The noise they made was enough to fray one’s nerves. Bess decided that she had to find a way to calm them or the voyage about the cape was liable to be that much more difficult for everyone on board.
Bess had fallen asleep in her shirt and trousers, something she’d done every night since she and Seth had almost completed the act of love. There was no denying the sizzling energy between them, and after the last time when she’d almost given herself to him completely . . .
I love him, she realized with a sense of shock. Still. Even though he had never come back for her five years before.
Could it be that he regretted his decision not to return? She knew he desired her. But was that all there was to his feelings for her? Lust?
Bess held on to whatever she could get a hand grip on as she made her way across the cabin and passageway to the officers’ quarters. Mathilde Dunnon was inside, shrieking, the sound now drowning out any cries made by the other two women.
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