“No, it’s not!” Madeline snapped. “This is a real problem, one I must deal with before I can marry the man of my dreams.” She took Brazos’s hand. “If you can hear me in there, Mr. Sinclair I want you to know that I accept your offer. If we are ever rescued from this place, you are more than welcome to move into my bed.” Because then, no matter what he intended, she’d convince him to make a minor adjustment in this platonic idea.
Madeline planned to use Brazos to rid her of this pesky problem called virginity.
A RATTLING at the hatch woke Madeline from a light sleep. The door swung back, and sunlight poured through the casement, along with the strident sounds of Lillibet Brunet’s voice.
“I tell you man, when I last saw her, Madame Sinclair planned to enter the hold. It’s been almost two hours, and no one I can find has seen either her or her husband. She’d never leave her baby with me for that length of time without informing me of her intentions beforehand. You must remove that lock and open the hatch immediately!”
“Thank goodness!” Madeline exclaimed, relief rushing through her body as sunshine warmed her skin. Immediately, she looked at Brazos. Light illuminated a ravaged face, and slowly he began to stir.
“What the hell—” he said hoarsely.
Lillibet peered down at them and squealed, “Oh, Madeline, Madeline. I knew it. I just knew you’d been trapped in that dank and dreary old hold. Bless your heart. Are you all right? Thank heavens you had Monsieur Sinclair to take care of you; otherwise, I imagine you’d have been scared to death.”
The beam of light was a brilliant sword plunging into Brazos’s eyes, burning into his mind and lighting the darkness within. Oh, Lord, it’s happened again. Frozen in place at the foot of the stairs, he grimaced against the shame that flushed his body. She’d seen him like that.
A crew member stood beside the hatch, babbling questions and comments as he extended a hand to assist Brazos to the deck. Brazos ignored the man’s scolding tone and tried to orient himself. He didn’t remember. The steps, he’d gone down the steps. Then the void. That damnable darkness.
Brazos turned and grabbed Madeline’s outstretched arm, pulling her up to stand beside him. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, meet her gaze. His grip on her hand was punishing, he knew. He forced his fingers to relax. What else happened down there? Please, this time, just this one time, let me remember!
The ship’s captain approached. “Monsieur Sinclair, Madame Sinclair I am relieved to see you both are well. I am aware that in their carelessness, two of my men left the hatch open. What I do not understand is why you and your wife entered my hold without permission, thereby risking your lives when my men belatedly returned and locked the door.”
Brazos stiffened and cleared his throat, praying he’d be able to talk, when Madeline spoke up. “Captain, I’m afraid it’s all my fault. I went to retrieve my daughter’s special toy, and Mr. Sinclair only came down when I discovered the…”
From the corner of his eye, Brazos noted Madeline’s sharp glance. “Captain, I’m afraid we have made a terrible discovery,” she said. “There is a man down there. He’s dead.”
Dead. Holy hell. Confusion, anger, and fear swirled around inside Brazos like a Texas twister as he searched the emptiness of his memory for an explanation. He strained to keep his expression impassive, but inside his mind was screaming, What did I do!
“What is this?” the captain demanded, fixing his stare on Brazos.
“Please, sir,” Madeline asked, “if I may have a cup of water? Is my daughter all right? I need to see her, this has been such an ordeal. I must sit down.” She tugged on Brazos’s sleeve until he looked at her. She jerked her head toward a crate to their right, and he took her unsubtle hint, lifting her to sit upon it. His hands trembled.
The captain considered them for a moment then asked, “Where is this body?”
Madeline answered, “Near the foot of the steps. He’s between two crates.”
“Sailor take a lantern and see below,” the captain ordered the man who had opened the hatch. “Madame Brunet, if you would please bring Madame Sinclair her daughter?” He turned to another crewman, who watched the proceeding with interest. “Wilson, water for the Sinclairs.”
As those addressed scrambled to do the captain’s bidding, Brazos kept his hold on Madeline’s waist. He looked past her shoulder, unwilling to see what knowledge lived in her eyes. Yet he continued to touch her. He feared that Madeline had become his lifeline to sanity.
The sound of the sailor ascending the steps rang a death knell in his ears. He was handed a cup of water just as the lantern held above the man’s head broke the plane of the deck. He tossed back his drink as though it were the greenest of home-brewed beer and braced himself.
“Well?” the captain asked.
“Stowaway, sir. Must have run out of water. His tongue is as thick as a halyard.”
I didn’t kill him, Brazos realized, relief washing through him.
The captain muttered, “Desperate fool.” Then, “Take Jenkins here and deal with the body.”
The sailor snapped a salute as Lillibet rushed up with Rose in her arms. “Here she is, dearling, all ready for her mama.” Madeline scrambled from the crate and enfolded the child in her arms. She raised misty eyes to the captain and asked, “Sir, may we go?”
He frowned. “I trust, Monsieur and Madame Sinclair that in the future, you will restrict yourselves to the passenger areas of the Uriel?” After they nodded, he said, “Good. You may leave.”
“Brazos?” Madeline said with surprise when he turned to leave her.
He refused to meet her eyes. “Take Rose to the cabin and get some rest, Madeline. I’ll see you later.” He took a step, but her hand on his sleeve stopped him. She stared at him with a challenge in her eyes.
“Yes, you will see me later. I agree to your proposition, Brazos Sinclair. Feel free to move your belongings into my cabin whenever you like. I’ll be waiting for you tonight.”
“Forget it,” Brazos said, shaking off her touch. Hell, he was too embarrassed to even look at her. No way in hell could he crawl into bed with her. Not now.
Without looking back, he crossed the Uriel’s deck and stood beside the ship’s railing. As he stared down at the frothy white splash churning beside the hull, he had the strange thought that perhaps his mind was like the sea: deep, dark, empty of humanity, teeming with a life of its own. Something, someone plagued him. It had been born in the bowels of Perote Prison, and it scared the bejabbers out of him.
YOU ARE right to be afraid, Weak One. I live and breathe within you, like a tethered hellhound straining to be loosed upon the protected part of yourself. I am what you are, stripped of everything but the instinctive will to live. I am death and life from death. I know the secret that will be your death. Oh, Lucifer, I am hungry.
Chapter 6
THE LANTERN ON THE wall swayed in its brass gimbal, the rhythmic squeak of comforting sound in the lonely cabin. Madeline lay awake, waiting for Brazos. She knew he’d find it harder to come to her, but she believed in the end he’d find it hard to stay away. Brazos would want company tonight, and she would be here for him.
The bed sheet rustled as she rolled onto her side. She tugged the satin binding of her blanket up to her chin and curled into a ball in an effort to keep warm. The night had grown bitter cold. “Good,” she murmured. All the more reason for him to seek her bed. Then she’d offer him the comfort of her voice and of her touch, but she’d wait a few days to ask for something in return.
A good thief understood that preparation was simply part of the job.
It was after midnight when she heard the cabin door creak open. The smoky yellow glow of lantern light failed to soften the hard edges of Brazos’s expression as he stood in the doorway, silently waiting.
Madeline reached up, twisted the latch on the porthole, and pushed it open. The dank fragrance of wet wood and the briny scent of the sea swept inside with the cold air.
He appeare
d almost angry as he took a short rope from his pocket and tied open the door. With jerky movements, he yanked off his boots and shrugged out of his shirt and pants. This time he wore long underwear beneath his clothing.
Madeline hid a smile as he climbed into bed beside her. Did he believe he went to war, did he sense this bed might become a battlefield? She thought of his insistent declaration, Platonically, of course. Perhaps a suit of armor made of cotton, dyed red, and soft as Rose’s skin made him feel less vulnerable. Silly man.
They lay without touching or speaking until Brazos finally asked gruffly, “You want the light on or off?”
“Whichever you prefer.” She heard his teeth grind together as he sat up and turned down the lamp wick. When he lay back down, Madeline snuggled next against him and fired her first salvo, saying, “I’m glad you came tonight. I’ve been thinking about home, and I’m a bit lonely. I’m really not in the mood to argue moral issues; I hope you don’t mind.”
Brazos was as stiff as Mistress Poggi’s corset. A soft laugh escaped Madeline at the comparison. It must be his nearness; she’d best be careful, or soon she’d say something utterly Texan.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked in a defensive tone.
“I was thinking about someone from home,” she answered. “Well, it wasn’t truly a home, just the place where I grew up. I was raised in a boarding school in England. The headmistress was terribly strict, and I was forever running afoul of her.” After tugging her braid out from beneath his shoulder, Madeline related a brief story involving her, Lord Carruther’s daughter, Regina, and a turkey destined for the dinner table that mysteriously disappeared. As she talked, she felt the stiffness begin to seep from his limbs.
“But the funny thing about it,” she finished, “even as I was misbehaving, I wished so badly to please her.”
“Children do that,” Brazos said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. And just because someone is an adult, that doesn’t mean they’re right to be supervising young’uns. Your Mistress Piggy sounds to me like she should’ve had another occupation.”
“Mistress Poggi,” Madeline repeated. “And she wasn’t terrible to live with, just difficult. She meant well. She always tried to protect her charges.” Madeline laughed again. “Once every fall and again in the spring, she would summon all the girls over the age of five and warn them about rakes and rogues.” Because Brazos seemed to have relaxed, she dared to tease him. “Are you certain you’re not acquainted with Beatrice Poggi, Brazos?”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “England? What part?”
“Brighton.”
“Hmm, thirtyish, dark brown hair?”
“Sixty if she’s a day, and she’s been gray as long as I’ve known her.”
“Well…” he sank back onto the mattress. “There was one older woman…”
Madeline punched him in the side and said, “You, sir, are a scoundrel.”
“Yeah,” he clasped her hand and held it against his chest. “And I’m proud of it, too.”
They fell silent then, and Madeline felt cozy and warm as sleep stole over her. The last thing she heard before drifting off was Brazos’s gentle whisper, “Thanks, Beauty.”
The next few nights passed in a similar manner and Madeline believed she was progressing splendidly toward her goal. Each morning she woke to find limbs intertwined, and invariably, his hand cupped either her breast or her buttock. Of course, as soon as he awoke, he was out the door in an instant.
But with each evening that passed, Brazos relaxed and opened up a little more. He even seemed to listen to her ideas concerning the issue of women’s equality. Madeline had been surprised to learn that many of the problems women faced in Europe apparently were not issues of controversy in Texas. “On the frontier,” Brazos had explained, “there are times when every warm body matters, and nobody checks to see whether that pair of helping hands is wearing a dress.”
She made no headway, however, when she argued that women were disenfranchised. “Women don’t need to vote, Maddie,” he’d claimed. “As a whole, women simply can’t grasp the complex issues involved. Besides, they’re free to express their opinions to their men.” He’d grabbed the hand ready to hit him. “Now, stop that sputtering. I said on the whole; I’ll admit you have a good-size brain in your head.” He’d flashed her a grin, kissed her knuckles, and winked at her. At that point, Madeline shut her mouth, rolled over and went to sleep.
On the fourth night, the conversation took a surprising turn. He’d been telling her about Texas, describing the land in the section of the state where La Réunion would be built. They discussed the details of the Europeans’ plan for building their Utopia, and Madeline mentioned she hoped to live in her own house.
“Where else would you be living?” Brazos asked. “Is ol’ Emile gonna make you live with his mother or something?”
“No, Brazos.” Tonight the lantern inside the cabin remained lit, and his disgusted expression made Madeline smile. “The majority of the colonists will live in a phalange. It’s like a large dormitory, and families will all live together.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He lay with his hands clasped beneath his head, elbows outstretched. He slid her a look from the corner of his eyes and said, “But at least, you’ve some sense; you want your own house.”
He rolled over to his side, facing her. She smelled the faint scent of brandy about him and that musky, masculine scent so uniquely his. His fingers lifted the end of her braid. “What kind of house do you want, Beauty?”
Madeline licked her suddenly dry lips. She watched his fingers move across the twists in her hair, and she had trouble remembering what he had asked. “What?”
“A cabin made of wood? A mansion made of stone? What’s the house of your dreams look like, Maddie?”
Immediately, the picture came to mind. She’d built this house a hundred times in her thoughts. How strange that Brazos would ask about it; he couldn’t know how much this dream meant to her. She said, “It’ll be comfortable. Not stone, that’s too cold. My home will be warm and welcoming with a fireplace in every room. And flowers. Pink roses. I want pink roses planted beneath my windows.”
“You’re just like my mama. She’s planted so many flowers in the gardens around the house that every spring my pa threatens to hunt up a perfumer to come harvest the crop.”
Madeline heard the wistfulness in her voice as she asked, “Tell me about your family, Brazos. Are your parents nice people? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
His eyes sparkled like sunlight on blue water. “I’ve the best folks in the world. My people are planters, mostly cotton, a little sugarcane, although Pa’s real passion is horse racing. Mother’s mission in life is to guard all her little chicks from harm, and believe me, with fourteen of us, not to mention all the grandchildren, she has plenty to keep herself busy. And on the rare occasions when all of the immediate family is doing fine, there are always the cousins to see to. Yep, the rate my family’s growing, soon there won’t be a town in Texas that doesn’t have at least one Sinclair living there.”
Madeline could hardly speak past the lump in her throat. “You have thirteen siblings?”
He nodded. “Seven brothers, six sisters. We’re split ten to four; married to not.” He lifted his hand and gently brushed her bangs off of her forehead. “That’s counting me on the bachelor side. Anyway, by the time you add in all the children, there’s a regular passel of us.”
“How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Madeline asked, wondering if he had any idea just how lucky he was.
“Hmm. That’s hard to keep up with.” He frowned in concentration. “I’ll name ‘em. You keep count. John has Charles, Edward, and Mary Ann. Mark has Daniel and Sarah. Ann has Catherine, Michael, Holly, and Christopher, Mary has Joe and Molly.” He paused and looked at Madeline. “You should see Molly. That girl’s gonna be a beauty when she grows up, but I pity the man who tries to handle
her. Hardheaded—I think she might could give you lessons, Maddie. Let’s see, who am I forgetting?” He nodded. “My brother Paul has Stephen, another Michael, and Christina. That’s how many?”
“Fourteen.”
“That sounds about right. Of course, by now, we could have a couple more. It’s hard keeping track when you’re so far away.”
“How long were you in Europe, Brazos?”
“Almost two years.”
That surprised her. He didn’t seem the sort of man to stay away from home for so long. “That’s too much time to spend away from your family,” she said, disapproval obvious in her tone. She must have struck a sensitive chord, because Brazos abruptly stiffened.
“Don’t you think I tried to go home?” he snapped. “I couldn’t, Madeline! Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m yellow through to the backbone to set foot aboard a damned ship.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“But I found out they’re in trouble, big trouble. That’s what it took to get me on the Uriel. My family needs me, Madeline. That’s the reason I married you, why I walked aboard this floating hellhole, and how I came to be lying here wanting you so badly that my teeth hurt and not doing a damned thing about it.” He roared as he repeated, “My family’s in trouble, and they need me. Now, hush up and go to sleep!”
Her eyes were as round as an owl’s at midnight. My heavens, she thought, watching the tick of muscle at his temple. There were depths to this man she had never suspected.
Madeline silently turned away, sensing his immediate relief. She needed to think. He’d said he wanted her. Wanted her so badly that his teeth hurt. For Brazos, that sounded like a lot. Well, her next step was obvious. She closed her eyes and prayed that sleep would come swiftly.
Tomorrow she’d do her utmost to seduce him. She couldn’t wait for the morning to arrive.
Brazos lay awake well into the morning hours. Along with the usual nightly problem of convincing his body to ignore the proximity of such a beautiful, desirable woman, tonight he’d even more difficult problems to consider. While his worries concerning the children and Juanita always hovered at the edges of his mind, the conversation tonight had brought them roaring to the forefront of his thoughts.
Capture The Night Page 9