Lord Of The Sea

by Danelle Harmon

  “Which is precisely the reason we should go. We can even take the new sloop, the one you designed and built for Kieran, see how she handles, see how fast she is, and heaven knows she’ll need to be fast to get us past the British blockade—”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Come now, it’ll be fun. For that matter, Kieran can go, too, as he hasn’t seen his sister since her wedding to Sir Graham and that was what, eight years ago now?”

  “If Kieran goes, he’ll be itching to take every British merchant ship that hoves into sight.”

  “Not if you captain her.”

  He smiled, his fingers moving ever closer to Mira’s nipple, and she turned within his arms, cradling his dear, handsome face within her hands as she gazed down into his warm and laughing eyes.

  “Please, Brendan?”

  The corner of his mouth turned up into a helpless smile, for he had never been able to deny her anything in the past, and he certainly wasn’t able to do so now.

  “Barbados it is, then,” he murmured, and set about the business of making her so warm that the wind howling outside, the cold drafts seeping beneath the window casements, were soon forgotten.

  Chapter 4

  “For heaven’s sake, Rhiannon, there are other things to look at besides Connor Merrick,” Alannah Cox said with a mixture of both exasperation and worry as she followed the direction of her companion’s gaze. “I’m beginning to think I’d have been wiser to leave you back in England.”

  “Oh, come now. We’re having an adventure.”

  “An adventure I’ll be glad to see reach its end.”

  Throughout the previous afternoon and all through the night, the Yankee schooner had cut through the long ocean swells like a knife through butter, raising Barbados as dawn had painted the sea in glorious colors of salmon, pink and silver. Under a flag of truce, Captain Merrick had brazenly sailed her into the turquoise waters of Carlisle Bay and dropped anchor amongst the British men of war there, almost within the shadow of Vice Admiral Sir Graham Falconer’s mighty flagship, Orion.

  Alannah was gazing down into the sparkling waters, so clear and crystalline a blue that they could see the anchor resting on the sea floor seven fathoms below.

  “Look at the fish down there, Rhiannon,” she said, shading her eyes against the sun as she peered down at the colorful marine life darting just beneath the surface.

  Rhiannon didn’t answer, and Alannah glanced up to see her charge still staring at the Yankee privateer.

  “Rhiannon!” she said sharply.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “Stop looking at him!”

  “But he’s taken his shirt off. I can’t help but look.”

  “He’s a damned pirate!”

  “Privateer.”

  “Same difference. It’s men like him who are capturing our merchant ships and driving up insurance so high that England is likely to go bankrupt before this war even ends. Why my brother even tolerates one in his waters, let alone right here under his nose in a British port is beyond my understanding.”

  “I am sure he’s caught in the middle, being married to Captain Merrick’s sister. One must keep the peace at home, you know.”

  Rhiannon’s gaze slid back to Connor Merrick, who, standing barefoot on the deck and clad in nothing but belted pantaloons cut off at the knee, was munching an apple while he directed the furling of the sails. He seemed not in the least bit concerned that he’d placed an American privateer squarely in the midst of the Royal Navy’s Caribbean fleet.

  If seeing his bare feet and calves the previous day had stolen her words, seeing so much more of him bare now was stealing the very breath from her lungs. In the strong tropical sunshine his hair was a burnished red-chestnut, thick and curling and just touching wide, powerful shoulders that were bronzed and glowing with the faintest hint of sunburn. Hard-muscled arms, a lean and tapered torso laddered with muscle, and long, long legs completed a picture of perfection that, had the day not already been as hot as it was, would have elevated the temperature of Rhiannon’s Welsh blood considerably.

  And she’d thought his bare legs and feet were distracting?

  Compared to this?

  As though feeling her admiring gaze upon him, he glanced over, grinned, and saluted her with his apple before returning his attention to his task.

  Rhiannon swallowed hard and wondered yet again what it would be like if he kissed her.

  What it would be like to have him look at her the way he’d done when she’d taken off her bonnet to the wind.

  Her mouth went dry, and she wished she could touch those bare arms just to see if the muscles beneath were as hard and powerful as they looked. . . .

  There was movement from shore. Already, a flurry of boats were coming out to meet them carrying customs officials, painted doxies, dark-skinned vendors selling fruit, and God only knew what else.

  “I hope we’re not stuck here too much longer,” Alannah said, trying to get Rhiannon’s attention on something other than the American. “I don’t know about you, but I’m just dying for a cup of tea and the chance to see my little nieces and nephew.”

  The captain, still munching his apple, walked toward them. “They’re my little nieces and nephew, too,” he said. “So what does that make us when it comes to relations, Mrs. Cox? Aunt and uncle-in-laws?”

  She just shot him a quelling glance. “We are not related.”

  He laughed and winked at Rhiannon, whose own lips began to twitch in response. Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement, and turned her head.

  “Oh, look,” she said, pointing out over the water. “There’s another boat, and that one sure doesn’t look like it’s carrying fruit!”

  Captain Merrick followed her gaze. “I’d beg to differ,” he said wryly.

  Amidst the small flotilla making their way toward them this one stood out for what it was, a British naval vessel. Smartly dressed tars in striped shirts and round hats managed each stroke of the oars with perfect precision and in the stern was an officer, his blue coat tightly buttoned, his gold epaulets blinding in the sun, his face in shadow beneath his oversized hat.

  “Well, would you look at that,” Alannah said proudly. “My dear brother has sent not only a smartly turned out boat and crew, but an actual officer to meet us!”

  “Who doesn’t have the sense to strip down in this heat,” Captain Merrick quipped, taking another bite of his apple.

  Alannah glared at him, but he merely shrugged, one corner of his mouth lifted in a teasing grin as he chewed.

  “Would you stop baiting her?” Rhiannon scolded playfully. “Make her angry enough and she could have that same officer take you off in chains.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I have all kinds of ways of making Mrs. Cox angry,” he said, and as though to prove his point, let his fingers brush Rhiannon’s shoulder; Rhiannon blushed, Alannah started sputtering, and at the moment, the Royal Navy boat was hailed.

  Soon enough, the officer, resplendent in his blue and white uniform with its blinding gold accents, was aboard the ship and striding purposefully toward them. He was tall, with cool gray eyes that, with the sunlight bouncing off the waves and striking light into the irises, looked almost amethyst. Upon seeing the women, he respectfully removed his hat, revealing curly black hair that was drawn severely back from his face and caught in a short queue. His shoulders filled out his uniform in a way that cut through Alannah’s sourness and brought a little smile to her lips, but it was clear, as far as Rhiannon was concerned, that he was a dull stick indeed; his mannerisms were older than his years, and he had a tightly reined-in air about him, one that did not invite conversation, familiarity, or even idle chit-chat about the weather.

  He looked at the shirtless Yankee captain with faint disgust, thinned his lips, and snapped, “Don’t they issue clothes in America, Connor? One would think you’d don some in the presence of two ladies, but then, your manners are as barbaric as the country that spawned you.”r />
  “And yours haven’t improved despite the fact you’re now Sir Graham’s flag captain.” Captain Merrick bit into his apple. “Heat getting to you, Delmore?”

  Alannah raised her brows. “You two know each other?”

  “We’re cousins,” said Connor Merrick, grinning.

  “Don’t remind me,” muttered the Englishman.

  “How many cousins do you have, Captain Merrick?” asked Rhiannon, looking from one to the other and trying to find a resemblance.

  “Nathan and Toby are the sons of my Uncle Matt and Aunt Eveleen in Newburyport. Captain Lord here is from the English side of my family. His mother is first cousin to my father, so I guess that makes us second cousins?”

  “Your manners, Merrick,” said the Englishman, tightly.

  “Yes, of course. Miss Evans, Mrs. Cox, this is Captain Lord of His Britannic Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

  Mollified, the naval captain bowed stiffly, formally, and with military precision to them both. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances, ladies. May I be the first to welcome you to Barbados.”

  “Just so you know, Del, Mrs. Cox is Sir G’s sister. I’m sure he’s expecting her? They were traveling aboard the merchantman Porpoise, but got attacked by pirates,” Captain Merrick said, offhandedly.

  Alannah drew herself up. “And then attacked by you.”

  “Come now, Alannah, he didn’t attack us,” Rhiannon insisted. “He rescued us.”

  “After he attacked us!”

  Captain Merrick grinned, and his gaze met Rhiannon’s.

  The Englishman, whose irritation had increased at the American’s deliberately casual use of his and his admiral’s names, stiffened. “And where is the merchantman?”

  “On her way to a prize court in Mobile,” returned Captain Merrick. “Ought to fetch me a good price at auction there, I reckon.”

  “You will not practice your privateering in Sir Graham’s waters, or I’ll have something to say about it!”

  “Say it, then, and be done with it. It won’t affect my actions and you know it.” Captain Merrick took a last bite of his apple and pitched it casually over the rail. “And now, can we get this tedious business underway? Perhaps you’re comfortable, buttoned up to the chin in that uniform, Del, but me? I’m restless, hot, and fancy a swim.”

  Chapter 5

  Shortly afterward, Rhiannon and Alannah were safely aboard the boat and being rowed away from Captain Merrick’s sleek black schooner.

  Rhiannon looked back with longing. Already she felt bereft, being away from him. His restless energy and high spirits had buoyed her and in their absence, she felt suddenly empty in a way she couldn’t fathom. He was likable and fun and had taken great delight, it seemed, in recklessly tormenting his stiff and starchy English cousin.

  She would have liked to have stayed and watched him have his swim. . . .

  Oh, yes. She would have liked that very much indeed.

  She was aware of that same English cousin sitting in the stern sheets and studying her from beneath the shadow of his hat. His gray eyes narrowed, and the faintest of lines appeared between his brows as he noted the direction of her gaze.

  “I see that that notorious rogue has caught your attention,” he said tightly. “A pity that his sister married my admiral and that he enjoys the protection of that worthy man here in British waters as long as he behaves himself. Personally, I hope he doesn’t. Behave himself, that is, for I would take great delight in blowing that schooner right out from under him for all the damage he’s caused to British shipping.”

  Rhiannon raised her brows in surprise. Perhaps the naval captain had some fire in him after all.

  “I take it there is no love lost between you and your cousin?”

  “Oh, we get on just fine,” the officer said tersely, but his face had gone a little darker and there was now a thin sheen of perspiration forming on his skin, not surprising given that every button of his uniform was done up, a starched white neck cloth was all but choking him, and he had to be close to dying, dressed as he was in that long-sleeved coat, tight breeches, and buckled shoes. He pulled out a perfectly folded handkerchief and dabbed at his upper lip, then, with a smile that never reached his eyes, looked out over the water, courteous and rigidly in control of his emotions once more. “I’m sure you’ll see more of that lamentable rogue at Sir Graham’s dinner table tonight.”

  I can hardly wait, Rhiannon thought with a private smile, her gaze going once more to the schooner growing smaller and smaller behind them.

  * * *

  Rhiannon had met the charismatic Admiral Sir Graham Falconer some months earlier when he had come to Portsmouth on leave with his wife and family. In the small drawing room of their rented house in that seaport city, the admiral had been woefully out of place with his black hair, piratical hoop of gold in one ear, and commanding presence, but here in his spacious house on Barbados he seemed right at home.

  “And how are your sister and Lord Morninghall doing?” he asked, ushering them all toward the back of the house where a beautiful veranda, bathed in sunshine and swept by the warm trade winds, ran the length of the house and commanded a stunning view of Carlisle Bay. Coconut palms rustled in the breeze, and the scent of flowers filled the air. “Quite a scandal, that. I’m glad it’s all over with. All’s well that ends well, I suppose.”

  “Yes, and thanks to Captain Merrick for his part in saving Lord Morninghall,” Rhiannon said, hoping that she could smooth the way for the American based on the animosity she already sensed toward him from Captain Lord. “If it weren’t for his letter to the Prince Regent confessing himself to be the Black Wolf, I’m not sure Lord Morninghall would have been pardoned and allowed to return to England.”

  Beside her, Alannah shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It would seem, Gray, that my young friend here is hopelessly smitten with your brother-in-law. I tried to dissuade her, I really did, but it was a losing battle.”

  “And I’m supposed to assume your guardianship while you’re here, am I?” asked the admiral, a twinkle coming into his blue eyes as he took the letter the marquess had sent along to him in the care of his sister. He quickly scanned the contents. “Sounds like I’m going to have my hands full, keeping the men away from you.”

  Across the table, Captain Lord suddenly blushed beneath his hat and hurriedly looked down.

  Rhiannon laughed. “Surely you exaggerate, Sir Graham!”

  “Surely I don’t.” He smiled and folding the letter, put it down on the table. “You are most welcome to stay as long as you like, Rhiannon, and when Maeve gets back from her walk with the children I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you—as am I—but I must confess, I’m a bit surprised that you’re here. I thought your sister was in the family way?”

  “She is, but the baby’s not due until spring. She and Lord Morninghall are very much in love, and I wanted to give them some private time after all they went through, and besides, I . . . well, I wanted an adventure. Gwyneth, my other sister Morganna, even the women in the books I love to read . . . everyone has had an adventure, except me. So when Alannah and I formed a friendship at a house party at Morninghall Abbey, and she said she was going to come here to get away from the damp English winter and asked if I’d like to go along, I jumped at the chance. I’m sure I’ll be home in time for the birth of my little niece or nephew.”

  “Did I hear my name mentioned?”

  At that moment, Maeve, Lady Falconer, swept into the room with a twin toddler on each arm and her oldest son trailing behind her. Now that she’d met the brother, Rhiannon could see the resemblance between the two siblings—both had rich, lustrous hair of mahogany, though Maeve’s had more red in it and, unlike her brother’s, was as straight as a board; both were tall and lean and had the same lines to their cheeks and chins, but where Captain Merrick’s eyes were a startlingly clear green, his sister’s were gold, like the glowing eyes of a tiger.

  She bent down and hugged Rhiannon, then Ala
nnah, as greetings were exchanged and her young son flew into Alannah’s wide-open arms.

  “Auntie!”

  “Ned! My, how you’ve grown!”

  “Auntie, I’m so glad you’re here! Did you know that Papa and Mama are going to give me another little brother or sister soon? At this rate, they’re going to run out of pirate names to give us!”

  “That is right, you are Edward after the infamous Blackbeard, and your little twin sisters are Anne and Mary, after Anne Bonney and Mary Read. Really, Gray, can’t you come up with a decent and respectable English name?”

  “Sounds decent and respectable enough to me,” he said a bit sheepishly.

  “My second name is Horatio,” young Ned said, sticking out his chin. “After Papa’s famous friend, Lord Nelson.”

  Maeve, however, was standing at the railing and looking out over the glittering turquoise waters of Carlisle Bay. Absently, she put the two toddlers down and plucked a telescope from a nearby rack.

  “Damn if that’s not Kestrel,” she said softly. “What brings my brother to Bridgetown?”

  “Us,” said Rhiannon.

  “Yes, he took the ship we were on as a prize just as brazen as you please, sent her off to Mobile, and brought us here himself.”

  “I hope he’s planning on giving me my schooner back,” Maeve said, still holding the glass to her eye. “I miss her.”

  Rhiannon, studying the ex-Pirate Queen’s frowning countenance, decided to keep to herself her suspicions that Connor Merrick would not be parting with the schooner any time soon.

  The rest of the afternoon passed with catching up between the families, news from back home in England, and laughter over the antics of the children. Eventually, Rhiannon pleaded fatigue and was brought to a spare bedroom by a servant and there, spent the hot afternoon napping, and dreaming of being carried off in the arms of Kestrel’s half-naked captain.

  * * *

  Rhiannon awoke feeling as though she hadn’t slept a wink. Still basking in the memories of her strange dreams, she accepted the assistance of one of Maeve’s housemaids to tidy herself up and, peeking out over Sir Graham’s magnificent veranda just outside, saw that the sun was well on its way down to the horizon, casting long shadows and a bright orange glow over everything.