by Mary Wine
His gaze shifted, lowering to his wide belt. He stared at the polished handle of a hand pistol. His lips barely moved.
"Can you swim, ma'am?" He locked his hands behind his back in the formal position she'd come to expect from him. His teeth gritted but this time she recognized how much effort it took for this man to allow himself to be so vulnerable. The crew was watching them, the two ships closing the distance.
She reached for the pistol, yanking it out of his belt. The telescope clattered onto the deck. The lieutenant's eyes flickered with satisfaction even as he brought his hands up to try and grab the weapon back.
"Stay still," she ordered him.
He froze but she didn't think he was truly intimidated by her. No, not this man. The crew shouted from below them, their voices so jumbled she couldn't make any of the words out.
"Good luck," Bridges muttered under his breath before lifting his chin. "Give it back now, ma'am.
No need to do anything rash. It is my duty to protect you."
No, it wasn't. But she couldn't voice the words. Couldn't mutter the thank-you she owed this gentleman. He was everything she valued in Warren and all the things she wanted to believe her countrymen still were.
Keeping the pistol steady, she aimed just a bit off of him in case the thing fired. Backing up, she slid her shoes along the deck to avoid stepping on her petticoat. The rail pressed into her back and her heart accelerated. Lorena didn't look behind her. She didn't want to risk losing her nerve.
With one hand on the rail she pushed up with her legs. Her bottom sat on the polished wood for a mere second, but it felt like an hour. The ship rolled and gravity tumbled her right off her perch.
The pistol fired up into the air as she fell over the rail.
She smacked into the water, pain spiking along her body from the impact. It was not the smooth entry she'd come to expect from stepping off a bathing machine. This was hard, the breath
rushing out of her lungs. She sank quickly, the surface receding above her head while she fought to gain command of her aching limbs. Her lungs burned and the sunlight looked impossibly far above her. She kicked,
but her petticoat was four times its weight now, dragging her down.
But she refused to give up. Kicking harder, she reached for the surface with her hands, dragging her body up a precious few feet. It wasn't enough. Her lungs were starving, panic beginning to wrap around her.
Her head broke the surface and she gasped. Desperately dragging in huge breaths of air. Her heart hammered so hard against her ribs it felt like it might break the bones. The ships had passed one another now. The British man-of- war sailing east while the Huntress was turning in a wide circle. Crewmen were in the yardarms, taking up the canvas.
Her clothing pulled her head beneath the water again. She kicked and struggled to keep its
weight afloat. But her fingers were going numb. Whether from the cold or the hard impact, she didn't know.
Something broke the surface in front of her. Water spraying up. She struggled to keep her head high enough to see what it was. Someone reached for her and she fought against them, fearing her countrymen might have decided to retrieve her rather than face Mordaunt empty handed. But her dress hampered her efforts, and a strong hand helped keep her head above water.
"You are insane, Lorena."
Warren's voice drew a cry from her and she tried to turn to see him.
"Throw your arms over the rope."
He didn't wait for her to understand him. He pushed her forward and over a length of rope. Each end was tied through a large piece of cork. Her body weight pressed down on the rope, catching it under her arms, but the cork wanted to remain on the surface. It held her up, helping her keep her head above water.
"A fall from the command deck can leave bones broken," he growled.
"Well I certainly wasn't about to watch men fight over me."
His face was set in an angry expression. But they didn't have time to argue further. The Huntress was circling them, men peering over the rail with ropes in their hands to try and catch them. Her teeth chattered, earned her another glare from Warren.
He pulled her toward his ship. She kicked as hard as she could but the current still dragged them where it wanted. She wasn't afraid, but she should have been. They were in peril. The ocean tides far stronger than either of them. The chill bit into her flesh, making her muscles hard and painful to use. Rope ladders were flung over the rail of the Huntress. Garrick climbed down one and hung off the lowest rung not covered in water. She and Warren fought their way to him, reaching for the sanctuary the ship offered.
Warren shoved her the last few inches, Garrick capturing her outstretched wrists and pulling her up. The water felt like it wanted to keep her, sucking on her lower body in some sort of struggle between man and element.
Warren shoved her farther up with a hand on her bottom. As unchivalrous as it might be, it was still the greatest relief she had ever felt. Her entire body shook, convulsing with cold. The chill felt like it went to her core. Her hands refused to curl around the ladder.
"It appears that once again, my brother has beaten me to you, Miss St. John."
He grabbed one of the ropes dangling down the side of the Huntress and looped it around her body below her arms.
"Pray do not think I am unappreciative.. .of your company.. .sir." She hadn't thought it possible to get any colder, but the wind hitting
her wet clothing set her teeth to chattering more.
"Ah.. .balm for my wounded ego." Garrick looped the rope beneath her legs, pulling her bent knees up so she was cradled once again between two loops of thick rope. He never appeared
strained. Instead she noted the same iron strength in him that Warren had.
"Heave, boys."
The rope groaned as men above her pulled on it. They had to keep time with the roll of the ship.
When it dipped onto the side she hung from they pulled but stopped when the Huntress rolled back and she hit the hull. The rope bit into her flesh but she welcomed the pain. It told her she was alive and on her way to escaping Mordaunt.
With Warren...
She looked down to see him emerging from the water. His hair streamed back, the sunlight
glittering off his wet clothing. He looked like a myth. So strong and capable, even the sea wasn't a force to reckon with him. She was suddenly so happy it hurt. Her chest feeling so full she ached with it.
Hands reached for her. They pulled her over the rail and onto the deck of the Huntress. This time she wasn't allowed to end in a heap of tangled limbs. The crew held her, turning her so she settled on her bottom. She looked up to find most of the men tugging on their caps, more
welcome in their faces than she had ever seen aboard Lieutenant Bridges' ship. Which was sad because the man was worthy of more cheer in his life. She owed him a debt of gratitude even if it was impossible to pay it.
"Good catch, lads." Garrick winked at her, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Warren cleared the rail in a long jump. His boots braced his body in a wide stance that confirmed his mastery of his ship. He looked at her, a deep frown creasing his forehead.
"Your lips are blue."
He scooped her up, wet dress and all. Water rained down on the deck making little pattering sounds.
"Put me down."
"You can't walk as cold as you are." His tone was gruff and condescending.
"I just put myself over a railing to escape a man I didn't want to marry. Don't tell me what I cannot do, Captain Rawlins"
He carried her right down the stairs that led to his cabin, his body never wavering on the steep incline. The angle sent her arms up to clasp his neck but he held her effortlessly, setting his shoulder against the door to his cabin.
"Don't tell you what to do?" He glared at her. "You're insane. Do you know that?"
Warren snarled at her. He set her on her feet, a scowl on his face.
"I am insane for preventing a bloody battle?" Her
teeth chattered as she tried to force her body to stand still. It proved impossible, her entire frame shaking like she stood in a windstorm.
Warren reached out and boldly undid the first few buttons on the top of her dress. She pulled back a step but he followed her, working the rest of them and tugging her bodice down her arms.
"Insane for risking your neck in such a foolhardy escape. We would have won the day."
The look on his face bothered her immensely. "Do you mean to tell me you would have had me stand there and do nothing to aid myself?" It was a horrible idea. But part of her was so pleased he'd come for her that she feared she didn't look as strict as she should. He tugged her dress off and tossed it aside.
"Exactly."
Lorena couldn't hold the tide of emotions back. She slapped his wide chest, raining blows onto him while trying to avoid his hands.
"I cannot believe I jumped off a ship in order to see you again."
He caught her, binding her against his body where her hands were trapped.
"I'd follow you to Bermuda and into that damned fort if I had to." His voice roughened, dropping into a husky tone. "And I don't care if it would have branded me a pirate, I would have boarded that ship."
"You fired on them. I believe Mordaunt will consider that an act of aggression."
"Good." His eyes lit with satisfaction but she lost sight of them when his mouth claimed hers. It was a hungry kiss, his lips demanding submission from hers. But she denied him that, unable to stop herself from kissing him back. She needed to press her lips against his. Needed to touch the man she'd told herself to forget.
For the moment all that mattered was touching him.
Warren broke the kiss, his hands gripping her shoulders and setting her away from him.
"A dip in the ocean has killed more than one person. We have to get these wet clothes off you."
He wasn't asking her either. Her corset didn't pose much of a barrier to his hands. He stripped it from her in a few tight motions.
"I'm not that cold. I'll deal with it."
He flattened one hand on the side of her neck. It was boiling hot against her skin, drawing a short cry from her lips.
"Argue with me all you want, Lorena, I'm beginning to think it part of what draws us together."
She shivered but lifted her hands so he might draw her chemise over her head.
"That's rather sad." She was left in her drawers and shoes. Water was still trickling down over her calves to pool in her shoes. Warren froze, his eyes returning to hers. She gasped because in their depths was a wealth of need she never would have thought he felt. He seemed so invincible, so strong, she had never considered he yearned for her in the same fashion she did for him.
"I'm feeling a great many things right now, but I do assure you, Lorena, sad isn't one of them.
Mordaunt should be sad because I swear to God I will never let you go now that I have you again.
The man should break down and whimper like a baby for the loss I just dealt him."
He pulled her drawers off her legs and wrapped her in a blanket. He kept the edges closed with one fist, twisting the fabric. Leaning toward her he sought her mouth, taking another kiss which sent heat moving back through her veins.
The crack of cannon fire broke them apart. Warren cussed before releasing her and turning
toward the door.
"I've got to see to the safely of all hands. Get in the bunk and stay under the covers."
He was gone a mere second later. She heard him climbing the stairs and his boots hitting the command deck above her head. More than one set of boots scuffed the wood, making it
impossible to remain below. She felt like she'd go mad if she didn't see what was happening.
Throwing the blanket off, she grabbed the only dry clothing in sight. It was Warren's, but dry and big enough it covered her from neck to ankle in lumpy layers. The only thing of her own she could use were her shoes. Climbing up onto the command deck, she didn't give the surprised
looks from the crew any attention. The men didn't stare at her for long.
Mordaunt's ship was bearing down on them, its cannon ports open.
"Hold your fire, Mr. Barclay."
Garrick turned to stare at Warren. "I doubt that bastard will do the same."
Venom coated his words, his expression hard while he glared at the man who had imprisoned
him.
"As much as I'd like to send him to the bottom, we have what we came for. If he wants a fight, he'll have to start it." Warren didn't sound happy about, but he stiffened his resolve and waited.
The ship was silent except for the slap of the sails and the water hitting the hull. Those everyday sounds grew in volume until it sounded like they roared. Every second swelled up into an hour while Lorena held her breath.
"Make ready..." Commissioner Mordaunt leaned over the rail of his command deck. He gripped the rail so tight it creaked.
"Sir, you cannot mean to fire on that ship while a woman is aboard her." "Can I not?" Adam rounded on his junior officer in a full rage. "Do you presume to tell me what shall be done on this vessel, sir?"
The man stumbled back but stood his ground after his initial shock. "There is a woman aboard that vessel, sir. A British woman."
"I know there is a woman aboard that cursed ship."
His woman.
The bride he'd selected so carefully. His teeth ground together, rage making his jaw ache. But the look on the faces of his officers sobered him. At least it made him turn to glare across the expanse of open water at the American vessels.
He refused to be bested. Especially by a woman. He would have his share of St. John shipping one way or another.
"Let them keep her. Obviously she is less than virtuous if she prefers the company of renegades to a man who offers her the sanctity of marriage."
Relief showed on the faces surrounding him. The fools. Weak kneed every one of them. Might
made right on the open water. Any man who lacked the stomach for what needed doing had no
business aboard his vessel. History only remembered the names of the victorious.
"Set a heading for Bermuda."
"Aye, sir." His junior officer answered up with relief ringing in his voice. Mordaunt sneered silently at the man.
"And then on to Northfleet."
His command staff looked at him in shock. Adam looked down his nose at them.
"Gentlemen, I have been promised a bride and I fully intend to have satisfaction. One of her sisters shall serve as well as she would have. Marriage is not a matter of affection, after all. I shall not see my efforts wasted by the weak morals of one female. I believe this matter
clearly illustrates how one uncorrected act of defiance can lead to corruption."
They muttered the expected yes sirs but their voices lacked true belief. Adam didn't care. They would follow his commands or find themselves sailing under the meanest men he knew. What
mattered was returning to Northfleet.
He had a bride to claim.
Chapter Sixteen
The stars came out.
Lorena peered at them through the windows along the back of Warren's cabin. She stared at the sky, absorbing the majesty of it. She would never take a clear night for granted again. Nor a single day.
Or a kiss...
Warren hadn't returned. She tried to fend off the doubt that surfaced to torment her, but it took control, biting into her until tears flooded her eyes. It combined with a flutter of excitement that began keeping her company the moment she'd returned to his cabin. The place felt so.. .secure.
She was almost ashamed of how much relief poured over her. Just looking at the table and chairs, the window seat and the bunk felt good. So much she wanted to smile with the joy of it. She had missed it greatly. In fact, she hadn't even realized how much until she stood once again aboard the Huntress. It felt like home.
"You're wearing my shirt."
Warren startled her.
He'd entered the cabin silently once again. But a tingle of excitement raced across her skin as well. She enjoyed the unpredictability of the man.
"What? Oh yes.. .1 hope that is agreeable." She'd replaced the pants and vest she'd worn on deck because they were too bulky. But the shirt served well with the sleeves rolled up.
One eyebrow arched. "I just threatened to board one of your nation's ships in order to take you back. I doubt that justifies me becoming angry because you are wearing my clothing. Even if keeping you nude sounds appealing." There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it didn't cut through the tension clouding his eyes.
"You shouldn't have threatened to board that ship. They would have tried to kill the captain first.
You."
His face tightened but her temper flared first.
"Don't begin telling me what to do, Warren Rawlins. I'll not stand for you placing yourself at such risk."
Her voice rose in volume until she was shouting at him. He caught her, pulling her against him.
The embrace was her complete undoing. It felt so good she shuddered with enjoyment.
"If you want to tell me what to do, madam, you will have to marry me. I'll only take that sort of direction from my wife."
She wanted to. Her heart demanded she do it, but her pride refused. She looked down, trying to force her tongue to say the correct words. The polished responses she had recited to her sisters so often. Warren cupped her chin and raised it.
"I can't leave my sisters at Mordaunt's mercy."
His gaze sharpened. "We Rawlins always look after family. Garrick has already altered his course. My brother insists he owes you a debt and I believe he plans to safeguard your sisters as a way of restless it."
"He'll be an American among Britain’s."
Warren shook his head, determination glittering in his eyes. "You're underestimating my family once again. Your sisters are in good hands."
She shook. Her body feeling the last obstacle clearing away. She had difficulty believing it. She stared at him, unable to quite absorb the idea that there was nothing to stop her from marrying him just because she loved him. Her lips rose into a smile and he returned it. But she still craved his love.