Ransom shook his head at the memory of losing his temper over the boy’s small act of courage during the recent battle. As captain, he had to be concerned for the welfare of everyone aboard, but he knew damn well that if anyone else had cut the sail he would have handed out praise instead of ridicule. What the devil had gotten into him?
He had sailed for years in comparative peace, but ever since Cat had appeared, Ransom found his carefully structured life disturbed with alarming frequency. He was beginning to rue the day he first looked into those green eyes on the quay at Barton. What did he care if the boy was reckless above or safe below? Sailors died. That was a fact of life.
And it was best not to become too attached to any of them.
Chapter Four
Cat kicked a stone in the road, then glared, suddenly disgusted with her dirty bare feet. Her delight in going ashore with the captain had vanished when he’d excused himself to escort a couple of idiotic females to their destination. The Reckless was again anchored at Windlay, which Cat was beginning to think lay under an ill wind.
It certainly seemed that every time she looked forward to an outing there, some mishap occurred to steal her pleasure. She’d been promised a trip to the place where he conducted business in this part of the world, but now she stood forgotten, her heart in her throat, watching him walk away.
Cat had seen the women stare at Ransom, then smile and simper when he noticed them, and she had nearly retched at their coyness. Oh, she had known others to take to Ransom like bees for honey. And she had grown accustomed to some, like Sally, with garments slipping from their shoulders and bold invitations from their painted lips.
These two were not of that ilk. They wore fine silks of beautiful design and elegant hats, and they carried tiny reticules. Their voices soft and their speech sophisticated, they came from the kind of life Cat had left behind. And when she saw Ransom eye them appreciatively, the boyish disguise that allowed her so much freedom seemed about as appealing as sackcloth.
As she walked back to the beach, Cat wondered with unexpected longing what it would be like to return to female form, although it was a guise she had once decried. She knew a sudden sharp urge for clean, soft fabric to wear, a pretty ribbon for her hair, or a warm apple tart swimming in fresh cream.
Cat shook her head. She was living the life of adventure that she had only dreamed about. How could she want anything more?
With a sigh, Cat closed her eyes against the bright Caribbean sun, as if to shut out the new feelings assailing her. She had rarely given a thought to her gender, but now... She was so much more aware of her body lately, as if it had a life of its own, especially when she was around the captain. And especially when he was naked. Then her heart would trip apace, and her breath would catch in the strangest fashion.
She had thought herself mature, but now it seemed as if she suffered growing pains, odd prickles and tickles that had an unnerving tendency to strike when Ransom was near. She was taller, too, and her long, slim legs were becoming awfully shapely for a sailor.
The thought sent a shiver of unease through her, and she wondered just how much longer she could carry on her masquerade. As the cabin boy, she had some measure of privacy, but she was playing a dangerous game. And now that the Reckless was heading south toward Barbados, it would at last be over.
And yet she was reluctant to abandon the ship she called home to face an uncertain future with a relative she could not recall. The thought of leaving her newfound friends weighed upon her, making it difficult to choose the right course.
And there was Edward. Cat had been too busy and happy of late to brood upon her cousin’s treachery. But she had not forgotten it, and she had no intention of letting the man enjoy the spoils of his wickedness in peace. Justice would not be served, however, while she crewed on a privateer.
Her thoughts whirling, Cat raced toward the waves and dove in, as though the sea could wash away her confusion. Rising to the surface, Cat let herself drift.
From the very first time she’d plunged into the ocean, she had decided the best thing about sailing was the swimming. Beneath the turquoise surface lay a silent world of fantastic coral and schools of sparkling fish that begged to be explored.
Best of all, she loved to swing from a line off the ship, with the sensation of sky and water whirling about her and a lurching feeling in the pit of her stomach just before she released the rope to drop into the blue. Surely, there was nothing better on earth, Cat thought, clinging to her boyish existence.
With a sigh, she stepped from the water and threw herself on the beach, feeling torn between separate lives. As she let the water wash over her feet, she took in the sights around her, trying to imprint them on her memory forever.
Not a cloud marred the azure sky, which was almost indistinguishable from the ocean. And the only object in a world of sea and sky was the Reckless, her hull towering over tiny figures swimming by her side, and her masts soaring into the heavens.
As Cat marked the scene in her mind, she knew it would be hard to break the ties that bound her to the ship, for she could feel Ransom’s inexorable pull. Despite her yearnings - or perhaps because of them - Cat wanted to remain right where she was. And for emphasis, she dug her toes into the sand as it to take hold of the island and all it represented.
***
When Ransom returned to the ship, Cat was elated to see that he was not happy. For a moment, she hoped that one of the fine ladies had either picked his pocket or snubbed him. She set her petty feelings aside, however, when his grim expression lingered. Hearing him call for Bert, she tagged along, curious.
Neither man seemed to take note of the small figure hovering behind them as they stood on deck in the gathering twilight. "It’s worse than I thought," Ransom said so softly that Cat strained to hear him.
"What’s that, captain?" Bert asked.
"It’s not only the warehouse. I learned that two of the shipping vessels were taken by Ben Pike."
"Butcher Ben, the pirate?" Bert asked, scratching his head, as if puzzled. Cat pricked up her ears at the mention of the dreaded Ben, whose penchant for hacking his foes to pieces had earned him his nickname. "And two ships?"
At Ransom’s cool nod, Bert shook his head. "I can see that jackass having the luck to come across one, but two..." The first mate grunted. "That sounds deliberate."
"So I thought," Ransom said, his tone dry.
"What were they hauling?" Bert asked.
"Sugar."
"What the hell would Ben want with a load of sugar?" Bert scoffed.
"That’s what I intend to find out," Ransom said, and the cold determination in his voice made Cat step back. She watched Bert walk away, still shaking his head, and moved to go herself, but a voice stopped her.
"Well, did you hear all you wished?"
Ransom had not even turned around to look at her, and Cat frowned at his back. "How do you do that?" she asked.
"What?"
"See through the back of your head," Cat muttered, not daring to look at him. But Ransom chuckled, and seeing that he was not really angry with her for eavesdropping, she was encouraged to speak.
"Why would Ben take your ships?"
Ransom sighed and looked out over the waves. "I’m not sure, but I suspect Devlin’s hand in this."
"Devlin." Cat whispered the name as though it were an ill omen. "Who is Devlin?"
Ransom was silent for so long that Cat thought he would not answer, but finally he spoke, his voice hard. "Devlin has made himself my particular enemy. It goes way back... to when I was young and cocky - or foolish, depending on your choice of words," he said, his expression grim.
"One of Devlin’s people approached me with an offer to invest in some island property, and I saw myself as a grand plantation owner," he said. "The promise of riches was enticing, too, as I was rapidly depleting my inheritance. The phrase ‘rich as a Creole’ had become so widespread that it was easy to imagine fortunes were easily made.
&
nbsp; "Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who labored under this delusion. Devlin, along with others of his ilk, brought down many a man through unscrupulous investment schemes in the West Indies, and they continue to do so.
They tender the credit to purchase land, but once the land is cleared they call in their loans, leaving the hapless planter without money for stock or labour. These same moneylenders then offer to buy back the land, now cleared through no effort of their own."
"How can they get away with this?" Cat asked, outraged.
"Oh, it’s all perfectly legal." Ransom loosed a low breath. "There was nothing left to do but pay the man or lose the land. Although I could ill-afford the former, I was loath to give away the land so easily. Then Devlin was so kind as to give me a third alternative that he rarely extended to his other victims..."
His words trailed off. "He was willing to extend the loan in exchange for sexual favors."
Cat gasped, but the captain spoke lightly. "Oh, I wasn’t shocked. I had seen too much in my misspent youth for that,” he said. “But I never thought to be bought like a street whore." His laugh was humorless.
"And I’m sure that was his intention. Despite my... charms, I suspect he was more interested in gaining power over me and all that I represented. I was too young to see that at the time, however, and lost my temper. He had to call in two of his men to tear me off him, and still I nearly broke his jaw."
Ransom shook his head. "Devlin mistook his mark. I was a different bird from those previously plucked and not quite the witless carouser I appeared to be. Instead, I paid him off, put an end to my free-spending revels, and changed my life for the better."
He was quiet, seemingly lost in thought as he looked out over the ocean, but obviously, there was more to the story.
"Why does he continue to harass you?" she asked.
"I can only guess at an answer," the captain said. "Apparently, Devlin is unused to being scorned - and bested - while my subsequent success rankles."
Ransom frowned. "When the first sugar crop of my hard-won plantation was burned to the ground, I suspected, but had no proof, that Devlin was responsible. After that, there were minor incidents, and, of course, the spies, including a lovely young ‘widow’ intent on giving me the clap," he said.
"It was not until I began the shipping business and found several cargoes damaged or missing that I was able to find out for sure, by putting some... pressure on the appropriate parties." Ransom’s expression grew grim again.
"I sought him out, but he was not easily found. Finally, I came upon him in one of his warehouses overseeing the transfer of some cargo, which I simply diverted to one of my own vessels as payment due."
Cat shuddered. "That cannot have pleased him."
Ransom nodded. "But since I had a pistol aimed at his heart, he gave me no argument. I suggested that we call the game even and warned him that I had discovered some of his dealings, which would greatly interest the authorities. That was more than a year ago, and I’ve not been troubled by him since... until the warehouse was burned."
"And now the ships," Cat said.
"Yes, the ships," Ransom said. "I would like to learn more about Ben Pike," he added, finally turning away from the bulwark. “And I know just the place to look for information."
Ransom spoke softly, as if forgetting Cat’s presence, but then he looked down at her, his brow lifted. "And I think I’ve given you more than your fill of answers for one day, my lad."
Recognizing the dismissal in his tone, Cat hurried off. Although she could not like what she'd heard, the fact that he’d shared such personal information with her made her steps - and heart - lighter.
***
Cat tossed and turned in her hammock, assailed by thoughts of her captain. Finally, she flipped onto her back, opened her eyes, and listened for Ransom’s steady breathing. By the silence, she knew he was not in his bed. Sighing into the darkness, she crossed her hands behind her head.
If this was love, why did all the poets aspire to it? Ever since her self-discovery, Cat’s emotions had been tossed about like flotsam on the waves, sudden elation swiftly turning to gloom. And she was beginning to get seasick. How on earth had matters come to such a pass?
It had all started after the visit to Tortola. That’s when Ransom had slipped into her nightly dreams. Cat dismissed them, for she had no control over what went on in her head while she slept. Then the visions sneaked into her daylight hours, and she found herself imagining what would happen if she threw her arms around him or how it would feel to kiss him.
These were dangerous notions, Cat knew, and her healthy instinct for self-preservation beat back her lovesickness. But still, the images came, unbidden.
Surely he cares for me, Cat told herself in the darkness. What if I confessed all? You might be thrown to the sharks, she answered. And with a grimace, she rolled from the hammock.
On deck she spoke briefly to the watch before walking to the bulwark, where she propped her elbows and took in the glorious night. The moon was a shining sliver, and the bright stars seemed endless, while the rest of the world faded to black. The roar of the sea, the groan of the timbers, and the flap of the sails sounded eerie in the darkness.
"Beautiful, isn’t it?"
Warm flooded her chest at the sound of the captain’s familiar deep voice. She sensed him nearby, and a shiver danced up her neck. But she only grunted. "Aye."
"This is one of the reasons I stay at sea," he said, leaning into the rail. The two stood in silence for some time before Cat finally spoke.
"What are the other reasons?" she asked. She felt, rather than saw, him shrug beside her as they faced the ocean.
"It’s an honest fight," he said softly. "Can you understand that, little Cat?"
"I think so, captain." Cat paused, carefully choosing her words before she continued. "The ocean’s not for you or against you. She’s just there."
"Very good, lad," he said. "It’s all a fight, one way or the other, but out here, the fight is more elemental."
Cat stood quietly staring into the night until she was struck by a sudden bolt of insight. "You don’t have a very high opinion of people, do you?" she asked.
For a moment, she thought the captain had taken offense at her comment, but then she heard his low chuckle.
"I’ll admit there are few in this world who win my respect," he said, wryly. "Take a lesson from me: you come into this world alone and leave it the same way, and the only one you can count on in between is yourself."
Cat, ever optimistic, found his philosophy depressing, and she frowned down at the wood beneath her fingers. "Have you no family, sir? No desire to have babes of your own?" she asked, a lump lodging in her throat.
She felt him stiffen in response. "No. I have no family, and I've learned not to grow too attached to anything or anyone."
Cat turned only to see his dark figure striding away. Hurt at his rebuke, she wanted to call him back, to argue with him. But instead she tore her gaze away and blinked at the moon, disillusioned.
Although she’d never thought it out coherently, in the back of her mind she had harbored the fantasy that somehow, someday, she would blossom into a beautiful woman, Ransom would fall madly in love with her, and they would sail off into the sunset.
She was well aware of his low opinion of women and his solitary nature, but she had thought to change him. Somehow, someday, things would be different. He cared for her a little, no matter what he said. And when he found out who she really was, he would sweep her off her feet.
Ha! Cat snorted. It was all childish nonsense, she realized. She would never be anything more than a skinny girl who could pass for a boy, and he would never love any woman.
Her romantic dreams shattered, Cat put her chin in her hands and looked glumly out into the night, now bereft of all its mystery and allure.
***
Cat brooded for days after her conversation with Ransom. Even the festive mood of the crew when they made port fail
ed to cheer her. Harry tried to talk her into going ashore, but they were anchored off L’Etoile, a disreputable place if ever there was one, and Ransom had warned her to stay aboard the ship.
Chafing under her captain’s restrictions, she sulked about the deck until Bull collared her with an invitation to join him and his fellows. She was about to refuse again, but caught herself. And with a rebellious nod, she tagged along.
She was determined to enjoy the outing, but her group, louder and more boisterous than Harry’s, seemed to draw unwanted attention, and the tavern that Bull chose was filthy, even by Cat’s relaxed standards. She dared not glance too closely at the glass from which she drank, hoping that the rum in it had washed away any insects making their home in the brackish bottom.
Cat viewed the other occupants of the place with a wary eye, for they were a foul-looking lot, the kind who would as soon slit your throat as look at you. L’Etoile, a refuge for those with no love for the laws of any country, was a favorite haunt of the pirates and privateers who worked these waters. And Bull had unerringly chosen the place where the worst of them congregated.
A scuffle across the room made Cat think twice about staying, and she urged her neighbor, the odiferous Marlowe, to gather his fellows together for an early exit. But he would have none of it, so Cat searched for Bull, hoping he would have more sense than the rest.
Her faith was misplaced, for when she found him Bull was loudly insulting Napoleon in front of several Frenchmen. As soon as the words left Bull’s mouth, all hell broke loose among his audience. And before long, it seemed that everyone in the place dove into the fray, fists flying and more than a few knives flashing.
Cat managed to leap atop a high cupboard, from which she dispensed bottles of liquor over the heads of the appropriate parties. But despite her continued support, the battle seemed to be going against the Reckless crew. And Cat eyed the door, hoping for an escape.
A Heart's Masquerade Page 5