"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Murray," he said, giving her a small bow. "I was rude."
Daphne frowned at him.
"Dr. Murray should look at your arm, Captain. You're bleeding."
"I can see that," the captain said dryly. "I know from experience though that it is just a scratch. But what about my face? I feel a cut, but I cannot tell how deep it is without a mirror. Will it scar, Mr. Murray?"
Alexander looked up then. There was blood on Captain St. Armand's forehead, but it wasn't pouring down.
"I'll tend to the captain, and since his wounds do not look severe, you can return to the cabin, Daphne."
"Wait," St. Armand said. "Turnbull is preparing a bath in my cabin. Go there and wash up. Your usefulness today is appreciated, by me and my crew, Miss Farn--Mrs. Murray. This is one small way I can show our appreciation."
Daphne smiled at him, and he blinked in that confused way men sometimes did when she smiled at them, then started to step toward her, but Alexander said, "Your arm, Captain?"
"Um, yes," St. Armand said, turning back to the surgeon.
Daphne exited the cabin at that point, and leaned against the door to regain her bearings. There was bloody sand on the deck, tracked out from the sick bay. Footprints in the blood went in all directions, but above her she heard the men singing and felt the ship moving as it ought to move, not tilting around and weaving back and forth as it seemed to during the battle. When she entered the captain's cabin Turnbull was pouring hot water into the tub. He paused and gulped when he saw her.
"Do I look that bad, Mr. Turnbull? Captain St. Armand said I could bathe in here."
"Don't look in the mirror, ma'am," he said seriously, his own face still blackened with powder and grime. "Wait, don't climb in the tub yet."
He brought more water and rags from outside the door, and an empty bucket.
"Wipe yourself down first with this seawater before you climb in the tub so you're not sitting in that mess."
After he closed the door behind him--and she made sure it was latched--she followed his advice. She didn't know what to do with her clothes, or if they could even be salvaged, so she left them in a pile near the door. Of course, that left the problem of what to wear out of the cabin. There was plenty of toweling for her to wrap herself in but she did not want to parade that way around the ship.
Whatever happened, Daphne knew she'd think more clearly if she was cleaned up, so she wiped herself down, staining the seawater red, and tried to remove as much of the gore as possible before climbing in the tub. She was scrubbing herself vigorously with the captain's lemon scented soap when there was a rap at the door.
"Daphne, are you in there?"
"Yes, Dr. Murray. I am bathing."
"I have some fresh clothing for you. If you're almost done, I will wait here and pass it to you."
She hurriedly finished and toweled herself off, then opened the door a crack.
"Quick, come in, Alexander. You can use the bathwater before the captain returns."
He didn't argue with her but entered the cabin, shucking off his own clothing while Daphne climbed into the sailor's outfit he'd brought her.
"How was Pompom?"
"Shaking, but the animal appeared well."
"Poor baby! I need to give him extra cuddles tonight after his scary day."
"Pass me the towel, Daphne."
Daphne turned, and paused. Alexander was standing in the tub, and she did not often have the opportunity to admire him as nature intended him to be showcased. She put a hand on her hip and studied him.
"Do you know, Dr. Murray, the more time I spend with you the more attractive I believe you are?"
To her delight he blushed, and her blatant perusal of his physiognomy--and the rest of him--cause that reaction in his body that made her want to clap her hands in delight. Really, it was an even better trick than Pompom dancing on his hind legs!
Then he shook his head.
"I must follow up on my treatment of the men, and make sure they're being cared for properly. Do not pout; duty before pleasure."
The door rattled.
"Miss Farn--Daphne? Are you still in there?"
Before Daphne could answer the captain Alexander spoke up.
"Mrs. Murray is almost finished, Captain."
There was a silence from the other side of the door, then St. Armand spoke again.
"That answers the question of your whereabouts, Mr. Murray."
Alexander wrapped the toweling around him, and Daphne figured he would not be worried about the men seeing him nearly undressed. When he was decently covered, she opened the door.
Captain St. Armand stood there, a bandage on his arm where his shirt had been ripped away, and a scowl on his handsome face. There was a plaster on his forehead, but it did not detract from his looks. He studied the nearly-naked surgeon for a moment, smiled dismissively and turned to Daphne.
"Join me for supper later--" He flicked a glance in Alexander's direction. "Both of you. We will celebrate our victory today."
"I do not know if I should, Captain St. Armand. Who was it you robbed?"
"Robbed? I robbed no one, madam!" the captain said indignantly. "That ship attacked us first. They are pirates and we were only defending ourselves."
"Truly?"
"Were you up on deck to swear otherwise, Mrs. Murray?"
This was said in a soft voice that nonetheless sent a chill down Daphne's spine. She glanced at Alexander. He was poised as if he was ready to leap at the captain bare-handed, and Daphne knew she had better be the Daphne that Captain St. Armand expected.
"Of course, if you say they were pirates then they must be pirates, Captain St. Armand! It was silly of them to think that they could take on a ship full of brave, strong men like you and your crew!"
Captain St. Armand relaxed, but he wasn't the one Daphne was worried about.
"Oh, Dr. Murray, I am so upset over everything that has happened today. Please, take me back to our cabin before I have nervous palpitations!"
"Of course, my dear."
Looking as dignified as the toga-clad statue of some dead Roman that Daphne had seen in a museum, Alexander gave the captain a nod before taking Daphne's elbow to usher her out. He used his foot to nudge their disgusting garments outside the door, telling her they'd be picked up and cleaned for them later.
Chapter 21
"Captain St. Armand is pretty, but he's a dangerous pirate, isn't he, Alexander?"
"Yes, he is. We must act so he doesn't believe we're a threat to him."
"I'm not very good at pretending," Daphne said in a small voice.
"Just be yourself, Daphne. Be sunny, and smile, hum, and Captain St. Armand will be friendly to you."
She looked at him intently.
"In other words, act like a ninny, is that what you're saying?"
Alexander opened his mouth, then shut it. There were no safe responses he could make to that question, not and be honest.
"If the captain does not feel threatened by you, he will not harm you," he said lamely.
"What about you, Alexander? He knows you are not a ninny."
"I am useful to him. It's sufficient to keep me from harm's way."
"I hope so."
She pulled Alexander's coat closer over her sailor shirt as they prepared for supper. They were in colder waters now and, barring catastrophe, would soon be back in England.
The day had been exhausting, and Daphne had been amazing. Out of all of the women in the world he might expect to be helpful and useful in his surgery, Daphne Farnham would have been at the bottom of the list. Hell, she would not have been on the list at all! Today she'd shown pluck and mettle worthy of the most stalwart of helpmates, soothing the wounded men, assisting him without dramatics, doing the filthy work of putting men back together when they'd been blown apart.
He turned his head and looked at her. Truly looked at her.
"Is there a smut on my nose?"
"Let us join the capt
ain. The sooner we finish supper, the sooner we can return here."
The look she gave him made his own pulse race in response.
The captain's cabin was crowded with crates and boxes, some open and spilling out a collection of odds and ends--china dishes, wine bottles, silver.
"Pardon the mess," St. Armand said. "We're still rearranging the hold to store everything."
Tonight St. Armand was dressed casually, wearing a knit sailor shirt much as his men wore. St. Armand's shirt was of a much finer weave and outlined his limber frame as if had been designed just for him. For all Alexander knew, it had been. The pirate's trousers were tight and cut high on the leg, revealing muscular calves and bare feet.
"Is that French writing on those boxes, Captain? Were they French pirates?"
"That is it exactly. French pirates. Fearsome creatures, but we routed them, Miss Murray."
Mr. Fuller joined them then, and the crew brought in supper as they crowded around the table. Captain St. Armand apologized for it not being up to their usual standards, but the cook was pressed into service during the battle, the galley cold during the fight. They dined on slices of ham, served with hastily prepared rice flavored with island spices, and the last of their tropical fruit.
"Your help today was of great value to me, Mrs. Murray," the captain said as he passed her the rice.
"I learned so much, Captain St. Armand! Dr. Murray even took the time to teach me new words, like ligature and trephine!"
"Do you intend to be a lady surgeon, Mrs. Murray?"
Daphne giggled. "Me, a surgeon? That is just silly, Captain St. Armand! Knowing what the word means is not the same as knowing how to do something as expertly as Dr. Murray does. Dr. Murray just enjoys teaching me new words."
"Does he now? How very pedantic of him," St. Armand said. "Now that you mention it, the surgeon does remind me of an elderly tutor I once had. Dried up stick of a man, but his head was stuffed full of knowledge."
Now it was Daphne's turn to look puzzled as she mouthed "pedantic," and Alexander knew he'd have to define it for her later.
"I will miss this in England," Daphne said as she bit into a mango that was only slightly overripe.
"If the weather holds we will dock in a few days," Captain St. Armand said, "and you will be able to eat those dishes you haven't enjoyed since you left home."
Daphne frowned and put down her fork.
"So soon?"
St. Armand smiled his smooth smile that did not reach his eyes. He leaned over to pour her more wine, but she shook her head.
"Why Miss Farn--Mrs. Murray. I would think you anxious to return to England. Think of what you are missing. The fashions, the theater, the entertainments. No doubt Mr. Murray is looking forward to taking you to all of your usual haunts so your friends can see you and you can retake your place in society."
The words hung in the cabin like knives poised to strike. Mr. Fuller seemed oblivious and continued to shovel food into his mouth, but Daphne looked at Alexander and her face paled. Captain St. Armand sipped his wine, his eyes glittering as he watched his guests.
"I do not know--would you excuse me, Captain? I have a headache."
She jumped to her feet and ran out of the cabin and Alexander was on his feet a moment behind her, but a hard voice said, "Sit down, Mr. Murray."
Alexander looked over his shoulder. Captain St. Armand was watching him, as was Mr. Fuller. Fuller's hand was beneath the table, and Alexander would not be at all surprised if he pulled it out holding a pistol. St. Armand looked at the mate and said, "Leave us."
"Are you sure?"
A corner of the pirate's mouth twitched.
"I can handle the surgeon."
Alexander turned as the mate left, and looked the captain square in the face.
"I must go to my wife. She is ill."
"She has a headache. Women have survived headaches well enough without you. No doubt you've caused as many as you've cured."
Alexander leaned on the table still set with supper, looming over the pirate.
"I am not in the mood for conversation."
"If you attempt to leave I will shoot you before you unlatch the door. Then who would take care of the lovely Daphne?"
"You would shoot me in the back?"
"I find it is every bit as effective as shooting people in the front. I'm surprised you do not know that, being a surgeon."
Alexander sat. The two men studied each other in silence, St. Armand's too-pretty face wearing a supercilious smirk that made Alexander's hand clench into a fist below the table. He broke the silence first.
"Now that I have traveled with you across the ocean, and seen you and your men in action, do you not fear me giving testimony against you?"
St. Armand steepled his fingers and studied the surgeon.
"Not really, no. You could identify me and make all sorts of wild claims about me, but you are not that foolish. My crew aboard this ship are not the only men loyal to me. I have friends ashore you would not care to meet. If I came to harm through your testimony, you could find yourself in a dark alley missing your spleen. More importantly, they could mistakenly harm your lovely companion because of your stupidity, and that would be a tragedy.
"But enough of such gloomy talk. What I want to know, Mr. Murray, is what you and Mrs. Murray intend to do after this ship docks. Will you be returning her to her father's house?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Curiosity. Simple curiosity. I have come to care for my two castaway passengers over these past weeks, and would want to know that you are safe and sound. In particular, I want to know what will become of Daphne Farnham...Murray. Such a sweet young lady."
"I fail to see how it is your concern, Captain St. Armand. Mrs. Murray is my wife and my responsibility."
"Is she?" the captain said softly, giving him a brief flash of teeth. "Forgive me if I am a bit skeptical. After all, there has been confusion in the past over Miss Farnham's status."
Alexander studied him.
"What would it be to you if she is not, in fact, my wife? Do you think her father would favor a pirate over a surgeon?"
St. Armand smiled again. It was most aggravating.
"A pirate? Maybe not. But I have other charms, my dear Mr. Murray. Let us be frank. I am the answer to a maiden's fantasies, particularly maidens who read ridiculous novels and fervid poetry. You...well, you are a handy man in a medical situation, but you cannot possibly compete in this arena. Not against me.
"Regardless, I can help you arrange transportation if you wish to travel to London. You will be without funds when you arrive and I imagine you will not be able to put your hands on money quickly. I can advance you that money."
"Why in heaven's name would you help me?"
"I wouldn't. But I would help Daphne return home."
Captain St. Armand couldn't know that a canny Scot like Alexander always had a little something tucked away for emergencies, gold in a hidden pocket of his surgical chest.
Alexander had thought long and hard about what would happen when he returned Daphne to her father. He did not delude himself that Mr. Farnham would offer a navy surgeon his daughter's hand in marriage in gratitude for taking responsibility for her. He couldn't imagine the pirate faring any better, and wondered what his game was.
"I will keep your offer in mind, Captain." Alexander stood, then paused. "I spoke with Mr. Fuller about the wounded. Arnold is holding on, but I will know more about his condition over the next days--if he survives that long. I will keep watch over him."
Which meant Daphne would sleep alone. It wasn't the first time Alexander spent the night at a patient's bedside, but he'd seldom done it with such regret.
"You are more of an asset on this voyage than I anticipated, Mr. Murray. I am relieved nothing happened to prevent you from fulfilling your duties."
"What would happen?"
St. Armand looked at him, a tad regretfully.
"The usual mishaps. Falling over the side, ac
cidentally getting yourself stabbed, that sort of thing. No matter. What's important now is finishing this journey and returning your companion..."
"My wife."
"If you say so--returning her safely to England."
* * * *
The lantern was turned low, but when the door creaked open Daphne opened her eyes and favored Alexander with a smile.
"I did not drink too much wine tonight, Alexander."
"I noticed your abstemious behavior, Daphne."
Alexander sat on the bunk beside Daphne, who looked sleepy and tousled and delicious. She also looked deliciously bare beneath the covers pulled up to her naked shoulders. He took her hand in his.
"Today's work in the surgery was only part of the job, Daphne. I need to stay with Arnold, and to check on the other men overnight."
"Is it always that way?"
"It is for me."
"Must you leave right now?" she asked with a plaintive note in her voice. He brought her hand up to his mouth, the small, delicate hand which had assisted him so capably, and he turned it over and kissed her at the pulse at her wrist.
"The crisis usually comes deep into the night. It is early yet."
"So you will stay with me?"
"For a little while."
"I'm glad," she said.
He caressed her wrist, content to sit beside her for a moment, smelling her sweet fragrance, healthy and strong and womanly.
"Are you feeling my pulse?"
"I am, actually. It is something I do almost without thinking about it." He brought her wrist up to his mouth again, felt the steady beat as he rested his lips there. He caressed her with the tip of his tongue, which made her lips part on an indrawn breath. And made her pulse race a touch faster.
Those lips were an invitation no man with blood flowing in his veins could resist, and Alexander gave in and put his mouth on hers, enjoying the taste of Daphne, the sounds of Daphne as she responded and put her arms up around his neck. When they broke apart, her eyes were dreamy and half-closed.
"You never finished your examination, Dr. Murray."
He looked deeply into her eyes, then nodded.
"You need an intense, thorough, and probing examination, Miss Farnham."
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