The noise and colour assailed Cassandra’s senses, and the hot Caribbean sun gilded the town and warehouses that lined the waterfront in a silver glow. Everywhere disorder reigned. A never-ceasing army of bare-chested black slaves worked laboriously, driving wagons and manning the oars of the lighters—sturdy vessels utilised to transport cargo to and from the ships anchored in the bay. They were built to carry twenty to thirty tons—and in many cases passengers and cargo would be lucky to escape a drenching.
The figures on the beach were a blur in the trembling heat haze as Cassandra was rowed in a precariously laden lighter from the ship. With no room in the boat for another person or piece of baggage, Rosa had been left with no alternative but to take the boat behind. When they were halfway to the shore, the boat carrying Cassandra began to list precariously to one side as it was tossed about on the choppy water, causing the baggage to shift. Everyone in the boat realised it was about to capsize.
Overseeing the unloading of his ship, the Sea Hawk, Stuart Marston stood on the shore, momentarily distracted from watching his cargo of much-wanted metals and broadcloth being taken to the warehouses, when his attention was caught by a female occupant in one of the boats advancing towards the shore. A wide-brimmed hat with a sweeping white plume sat on top of her silvery blonde hair, and she was lavishly attired in garments that would have graced the Court of King Charles in England, yet which looked incongruously out of place on this tropical island.
Her beauty was apparent and he could not tear his eyes away from her. She seemed to exist in a shimmering pool of silver light radiating all about her. His dark gaze swept over her features appreciatively, for like all hot-blooded men he was easily moved by the beauty of a woman. Observing that the boat she was in was about to cast her into the sea, immediately he strode into the surf and began wading through the shallow water towards it.
Taken completely by surprise as two tanned hands reached out and hauled her from the boat just as it keeled over, spilling occupants and baggage into the water and causing a general turmoil, Cassandra gasped and began struggling against the person who had taken such liberty, but it was like trying to prise herself out of a steel trap.
‘Be still,’ commanded the masculine voice of her captor, his hard arms tightening about her waist and beneath her knees, ‘or you’ll have us both in the water.’
Startled by the harsh, deep resonance of his tone, Cassandra did as he ordered, torn between amusement and a certain amount of consternation, but, on seeing her captor’s handsome features and encountering an amused dark stare, she relaxed and, reaching up, placed her arms about his neck.
Smiling up at him, she let her eyes dwell on the tiny beads of perspiration, which glistened like delicate pearl drops on his brown flesh. Nothing had prepared her for the thrill of excitement that travelled deliciously throughout her body at finding herself pressed against the broad chest of such a powerfully attractive man.
‘I realise that you must have feared for my safety when you saw the boat list, and I am grateful to you for coming so swiftly to my rescue, sir,’ she murmured, feeling the hardness of his body and the tightening of his sinewy arms supporting her, and conscious of the faint scent of sandalwood, which he favoured. ‘It was extremely gallant of you. However, I can swim and the sea in this part is not nearly deep enough for a person to drown.’
‘Then I am glad I was ignorant of that fact since it would have denied me the pleasure of carrying you to the beach. Unless, of course, you would like me to put you down into the water—which I do not recommend,’ he said, the quirk in his lips deepening into an amused, one-sided grin, and his eyes sparkling with devilment, ‘for it is not unknown for sharks to swim in the shallows in the hope of obtaining a tasty meal.’
‘Then it would appear I have no option but to remain where I am. I have no mind to be eaten by the sharks, so I am perfectly happy for you to carry me all the way to the shore,’ Cassandra replied softly, falling under the influence of the stranger’s slow and easy smile.
She was content to let her eyes linger on the deep cleft in his chin, which emphasised the strength of his jaw. His mouth was wide, his lips firm, and she conceived that it denoted humour as well as hardness. The only imperfection was a small scar, which curved down one cheek, yet even that could not mar his handsome face. His eyes were impressive, fierce and black, their smouldering depths seductive and enticing, and totally alive.
Cassandra judged him to be in his late twenties or early thirties. There was a certain arrogance and aggressive quality to his features, and he was self-assured and attractive enough to turn any woman’s head. His hair was thick and unruly and shining black, and a heavy wave fell with careless unrestraint over his brow. His skin shone with a bronzed, smooth, healthy glow and he looked magnificently virile and masculine.
Feeling himself undergoing her close scrutiny Stuart looked down at her. Their eyes met, his bolder and more penetrating than any man’s who had looked at her before. They openly and unabashedly displayed his approval as his gaze ranged over her face. The slow grin that followed and the gleam in his dark eyes brought a stinging heat creeping over Cassandra’s skin and her heart turned over beneath the warmth, the power of it. Realising she was staring at him with a brazenness that was immodest, she lowered her eyes. Her sudden discomfiture broadened his smile, displaying two even rows of white teeth.
‘Do I unsettle you?’ he enquired quietly.
‘No. Not in the least.’ That was not quite true, for he did unsettle her. Having no experience of men like this, she was not at all sure how to handle the incident.
‘If so, I beg your pardon. You are an extremely beautiful young woman—indeed, it would be ungracious of me to say otherwise—and I fear I have been on board ship too long. My manners appear to have deserted me,’ Stuart confessed, looking down into her eyes raised to his, bright and vivid blue—periwinkle blue, the bluest eyes he had ever seen, the pupils as black as jet. From that moment he was intrigued.
Held in his arms, she was as light as swan’s-down and he could feel every slender curve of her body, hinting at hidden delights. The fresh delicate scent of jasmine rose from her skin that was burned golden brown, which intrigued him more, since all the young ladies of his acquaintance deemed it shocking to expose one’s flesh to the sun.
But Stuart suspected this was no ordinary young woman. He sensed in her an adventuresome spirit, which had no room for convention or etiquette. There was nothing demure about her, as was the case with the young ladies who flitted in and out of his mother’s circle back in England, whose eyes would be ingeniously cast down, even among those they knew, which was proper. This young lady showed none of the restraint instilled into young girls of good family. She stared directly into his eyes. Her own glowed with an inner light and hinted of the woman hidden beneath the soft innocence of her face.
Around the slender column of her throat she wore a diamond-studded velvet band that matched her oyster silk gown. Despite the searing heat of the day and the heavy clothes she wore, she looked cool and completely at ease, not in the least embarrassed or discomfited at being carried in the arms of a half-dressed sea captain in full view of sailors and townspeople, or concerned by the capsizing of the boat, which its occupants were trying frantically to correct.
‘So—you are English,’ he said at length, his curiosity matching his growing ardour.
‘Does that surprise you?’
‘Considering we are on the other side of the Atlantic in the West Indies, then I have to say it does, Mistress…?’
‘Everson.’
‘I am most pleased to meet you, Mistress Everson.’
‘I am here to visit my cousin, Sir John Everson.’
‘Is he a planter on the island?’
‘No. He is a director and shareholder of a mercantile company based in London—the Wyndham Company. Perhaps you know of it.’
‘There are few in the trade who don’t. Its commercial success has attracted understandable en
vy and admiration from its rivals. The Company has expressed an interest in expanding eastwards—to the Spice Islands and India, I believe.’
‘Maybe so. I couldn’t say. John doesn’t often discuss Company business with me. For myself, I had a mind to pay him a visit—to see something of the West Indies and widen my horizons. Should I find Barbados as pleasant as it’s been portrayed, then I shall be in no hurry to leave,’ Cassandra told him lightly, as if she were speaking of nothing more interesting than visiting the county next to the one in which she lived in England, instead of an island on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.
‘And you live in London?’
‘More or less. I live in the village of Chelsea.’
‘Then being from Chelsea, you’ll find this climate and its people very different.’
Bathed in a tropical heat, Cassandra gazed along the shimmering line of sand. It was a vibrant and colourful scene, an unfamiliar one, with people who were strangers, not only white but black, too. These black people were slaves, of a different culture, who spoke an unintelligible language, brought over from Africa to work the labour-intensive sugar plantations.
Slavery might have economic advantages but it involved cruelty. It was a system that restricted the human rights of individuals owned by the white planters. John had explained that without slaves the plantations could not exist, which was the sad reality of the island’s success. It was a system Cassandra found abhorrent, and she was glad the Wyndham Company’s operations did not extend to the triangular route.
The triangular route began in Europe with ships loaded with trade goods bound for Africa. These goods were bartered or sold for slaves. The second leg of the journey—known as the Middle Passage—was across the Atlantic to the Caribbean, where the slaves were offloaded and sold at auctions or privately. Laden with tropical produce, the ships then returned to Europe on the third leg of their journey.
Cassandra knew that in the weeks ahead she would see slavery in all its ugliness, but today, beneath a blue sky and the white-capped sea pulsating with the forces of wind and gravity all around her, the island seemed to hold a special allure. Already she could feel herself falling under its spell. She breathed in the air of the future in the making, the strange, unfamiliar scents borne on the breeze that blew from inland, which in her ignorance of a place she had only a rudimentary awareness of she could not put a name to, but which, altogether, became the essence of the Caribbean. It was exciting and made her feel vibrantly alive and set her blood racing.
‘Oh, I think I shall come to like it very well,’ she finally replied quietly. She eased against the stranger as he continued to wade through the shallows, intensely aware of the immediate effect of her movement as she heard him catch his breath and felt his arm tighten about her waist. How was it possible that the warmth of that corded arm burned through her dress and into her flesh? She looked at his face, just inches from her own, and the bold gleam in his eyes almost halted her breath. ‘And you, sir? What is your business on Barbados?’
‘My ship, the Sea Hawk, is chartered by a mercantile company back in London—the Wheatley and Roe Company—not as successful as the Wyndham Company, I grant you, but it does well enough. I am Captain Stuart Marston, and glad to be of service.’
They had reached the shore but he continued to hold her, seeming reluctant to put her down—and it shocked Cassandra to find she was thoroughly enjoying the experience and the sensation of having him hold her so close.
She smiled up at him through her long, thick lashes. ‘We have reached the shore, Captain Marston. I think it’s quite safe to put me down now. Do you know my cousin?’ she asked as he set her down on the sand, experiencing a feeling of regret when he relinquished his hold on her.
‘No, I can’t say that I do. I did not arrive myself until yesterday.’
‘But you are no stranger to the West Indies?’ she asked, smoothing her skirts and quite unconcerned that they had been doused in seawater, for they would be dry in no time in this heat.
‘I have made frequent trips over the years—both to the Indies and America.’
‘And accumulated exciting tales to tell, I don’t doubt,’ Cassandra teased. ‘What a pity I don’t have the time to stay and listen to them. I do so enjoy tales of adventure and valour and daring-do.’
A lazy grin swept across Stuart’s tanned face, and he smiled deep into her eyes. ‘Would you make of me a braggart, Mistress Everson?’
She inclined her head in response to his disarming smile. ‘I would not be so bold, Captain Marston. Tell me, as someone who is familiar with the island, what do you think of Barbados? Can you recommend it? My cousin says you have to experience it for yourself, to take in the powerful flavours of the island, and form your own opinion. Would you agree with him?’
‘Your cousin is right. It is true that the Caribbean Islands are quite splendid—unique, in fact—and you must be prepared for a strange new experience. Their mystique has attracted travellers from all over the world.’ He glanced at the Spirit of Enterprise out in the bay, squinting his eyes in the sun’s glare. ‘I see you sailed on the Spirit of Enterprise, commanded by my good friend Samuel Tillotson. I’m glad he made it after being blown off course, when he might have fallen into the hands of buccaneers that infest these waters. Unfortunately these lawless, uncontrollable desperadoes are capable of attacking and stripping some of the greatest ships when they’re without the protection of the convoy, and think nothing of slaughtering everyone on board.’
His words were spoken with some deep-felt emotion, and there was an underlying bitterness that was not lost on Cassandra. Her conscience smote her and she averted her eyes, her thoughts locked upon her own involvement with such men. ‘Yes. We must be thankful he made it.’
‘And are you travelling alone?’
‘No,’ she replied, moving a little away from him, finding that being in such close proximity was curiously disturbing. He was uncommonly tall, a little over six foot, she thought. He wore a loose-fitting coarse linen shirt, which flapped open to expose a broad expanse of bronzed chest covered with a dusting of black hair. A thick leather belt with a silver buckle circled his waist, and beneath his black breeches, rolled up above his knees, his calves bulged and the sand stuck to his wet feet. She had seen men on board the Dolphin similarly dressed, but none had affected her in quite the same way that he did. ‘I—I have a companion with me.’
‘A lady?’ he asked, cocking a quizzical dark eyebrow.
‘But of course,’ she laughed. ‘I could not possibly travel halfway across the world on a ship with no companion other than seamen, now could I? It would be unbecoming for me to travel unattended.’ Suppressing a smile, she wondered what his reaction would be if she were to tell him she was no stranger to life on board a ship with only hard-bitten pirates for company. No doubt he would be horrified and want nothing more to do with her.
‘And your cousin—he is expecting you?’
Cassandra’s eye’s clouded and her expression became serious, for she was apprehensive of what John’s reaction would be on seeing her. ‘On the contrary. In search of adventure and to carve myself a mark in the world, when I left England I cast aside the security of home and family, knowing I faced the censure of my cousin John, who is also my guardian. I dare say he will be horrified to see me and his anger will be ferocious indeed, especially since I have no defence for my actions.’
‘And you don’t expect to escape retribution.’ Stuart’s eyes scanned her face, the twitch of his mouth revealing his amusement, while at the same time the thought did cross his mind that the young lady might be in love with her cousin.
‘Unfortunately no. I fear the consequence of my actions. John will be unable to refrain from showing his displeasure—and no doubt I will be thoroughly admonished for my unsuitable, impetuous behaviour. But once he is over the worst of his anger and has calmed down, I know he will be pleased to see me.’
A breeze rippled through the plume in the brim of
Cassandra’s hat and she turned her face better to feel its coolness on her cheeks, offering some relief from the heat and humidity, finding as she did so that her eyes were drawn to Captain Marston’s irresistibly. His steadfast gaze held hers so she could not look away. She saw his face was not lacking in interest for he was beginning to realise he had met a real phenomenon.
‘So, your stay on Barbados is indefinite, Mistress Everson?’
The smile returned to her lips. ‘It is my wish to remain for as long as possible—but then, regrettable though it will be when the time comes, I must return to England with my cousin. How long that will be I can’t say until I’ve seen him. And you, Captain Marston? How long are you to remain on Barbados?’
‘When my ship has been relieved of its cargo I have to go on to Jamaica. I have relatives there I wish to see, and I have to collect a fresh cargo—mainly sugar. I expect to be gone several weeks, but I shall return to Barbados in time to join the convoy back to England.’
They turned to watch the boat that had capsized being hauled on to the beach, and the one carrying Rosa and the young midshipman Captain Tillotson had ordered to escort her followed close behind.
Stuart looked at Cassandra. His black eyes narrowed as he studied her with unnerving intensity. ‘I am reluctant to see you go, Mistress Everson. Perhaps you will allow me to escort you to your cousin?’
Cassandra averted her eyes. Being flesh and blood, she could not remain unmoved by the attentions of such a devastatingly handsome man. The feelings he roused in her were unsettling and outside her experience. ‘Thank you—you are most kind, but—Captain Tillotson has instructed one of his midshipmen to take me directly to him,’ she explained hesitantly, watching the young man of whom she spoke assisting Rosa from the boat.
‘And you know where he is to be located?’
He moved closer to her, a towering masculine presence who filled her sights. Close to, his ruggedness seemed more pronounced, and the broad expanse of his chest and arms reminded her rather forcefully of how his powerful body had felt pressed against her. Unexpectedly Cassandra found herself the victim of an absurd attack of shyness, and she suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable with the dark way he was regarding her, his gaze narrowed and assessing.
The Pirate's Daughter Page 3