My Runaway Heart

by Miriam Minger

  "Good morning, Captain. My, isn't it a marvelous day?"

  Chapter 17

  Jared caught Walker's openly admiring glance before he turned from the railing himself; he clenched his teeth against the resentment twisting his gut. But it was nothing to the effect Lindsay had upon him when he faced her, her brilliant smile hitting him like a blow.

  He hadn't seen her smiling so gaily since London and he realized at that moment, much to his displeasure, how much he had missed it.

  "Yes, it is a lovely morning, Miss Somerset," came Walker's pleasant reply. Jared felt suddenly like an ill-mannered school boy, that his friend had been made by his silence to answer for him.

  "Forgive me," he muttered, glancing darkly from Walker to Lindsay, whose smile hadn't dimmed. "Miss Lindsay Somerset . . . my second-in-command, Mr. Burke. Walker Burke."

  "So nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Burke. I've never met an American before. You are an American, aren't you?"

  "I am."

  "Well, you're quite a long way from home."

  "My home is this ship, Miss Somerset. And I've never met a baronet's daughter before . . . or seen a young woman dressed so fetchingly in breeches."

  Jared looked, too, realizing that he'd been so focused upon Lindsay's winsome smile and the playful look in her eyes that he'd given little heed to her attire. He scowled when she spun for them as if displaying the latest London fashion, though he'd never seen any gown, no matter how sheer and clinging, accent a woman's form to greater, or more dangerous, perfection.

  "The legs were a little long, so I rolled them up a bit."

  Jared sucked in his breath at the snug fit of his doeskin breeches against her pert rump, scowling all the more when she stopped her pirouette to hook her thumbs in the strip of lilac silk cinched tightly around her slim waist.

  "And the shirt was far too big for me, but tying the ends into a knot resolved that problem."

  As she glanced down proudly at her handiwork, Jared couldn't take his eyes off the ripe swell of her breasts beneath the ivory fabric, wishing now that he hadn't torn her corset in two.

  Wishing, as a stiff breeze rippled through her silken hair, startlingly white in the sun, that he'd held his ground and kept Lindsay in his quarters, where she belonged, and not on deck, where she could tempt the very devil.

  "So, Captain, what do you think? I'm quite pleased myself. I never dreamed men's clothes could be so comfortable."

  Her sparkling blue eyes lifting to his, Jared could see plainly that her pleasure was genuine, while he felt as if he didn't trust himself to speak.

  What did he think? Was the wench daft? Blind? Couldn't she see . . . even sense . . . ?

  Walker clearing his throat was Jared's rescue, though his compatriot's voice held no small trace of humor.

  "I think, Miss Somerset, that you might have Dag accompany you around the ship and then return you to your cabin—"

  "That won't be necessary. I'll accompany her."

  Lindsay gasped, Jared taking her arm so abruptly and hauling her alongside him to the companionway that she practically had to run to keep up.

  "You—you don't have to rush so!"

  "No, Miss Somerset? Has it slipped your mind that I've a ship to captain, my time not to be frittered away escorting a prisoner on a ridiculous promenade?"

  His tone was so harsh, Lindsay felt much of her delight fading at being temporarily free of the cabin's confines, and she started when he shouted brusque commands that rang from bow to stern.

  "Walker, see that the men continue their watch, everyone's eyes on the sea. Dammit, we've ships to hunt or they'll be hunting us! Dag, go below and get some rest. A rotating detail will guard Miss Somerset from now on—to change every eight hours. And no one enters the cabin but Cooky with her meals. Have I made myself clear?"

  Apparently Dag thought so. As Jared pulled her after him down the ladder to the lower deck, impatiently grabbing her around the waist to lift her clear of the last few steps, Lindsay glanced up to see the big Norwegian hastening to leave the quarterdeck as well. And Walker was ordering sailors to climb the rigging to keep a lookout, and then he turned himself to study the distant horizon with a spyglass, making Lindsay marvel that Jared's men were so quick to obey him.

  Wondering what could have earned such loyalty in a man so foul-tempered—although she imagined her presence was only making things worse—she thought to tug her arm away from him as he hustled her along the deck's perimeter. Then she remembered her determination to enjoy herself. The sun was bright with not a cloud in the sky, the sea a deep, mesmerizing blue, the weather surprisingly warm, so why not? With a deft move she wound her arm through Jared's, ignoring his frown as she drew fresh salt air into her lungs with great exaggeration.

  "Ah, Jared, how lucky you are to be surrounded by such wild beauty every day! I've rarely been on a ship before, only a few times, and that was compliments of Captain Oliver Trelawny, a good friend of Corie's. He has a fine ship, a cutter called the Fair Betty, though I haven't the faintest notion how he came upon the name. His wife's name is Rebecca and his daughter's was Sophie, so it really doesn't make sense—"

  "And what if I told you I've no bloody interest whatsoever in whether you've ever been aboard a ship and what its name might have been?"

  Lindsay shrugged lightly, telling herself that she wasn't going to take any unkind thing Jared said to heart; no, she simply wasn't, not anymore. "I don't understand at all how you can be so sour on such a glorious day." She grinned when his frown only grew deeper. "I feel wonderful and these breeches are so remarkable! I'm certain more women would wear them if they'd just give them a try."

  "Give them a try? That would be a revolution I doubt the world—or its unsuspecting male population—is quite ready for."

  She glanced at him, as astonished by his lighter, albeit sarcastic, tone as that he had finally slowed his pace to what could be considered a comfortable walk.

  "Yes, I suppose you're right. What would happen to all the poor dressmakers and corset makers— Oh, Jared, I think I just saw a fish jump! A big silvery one!"

  Lindsay let go of his arm and ran to the railing, where she scanned the glistening waves. She was so engrossed that she scarcely realized Jared had come up beside her until she felt his hip grazing hers. Heat flared in her cheeks and she turned her head to find he wasn't looking for any fish but was studying her intently.

  "Does it really take so little to delight you?"

  She gave a small shrug, his scrutiny coming very close to unnerving her, his eyes were so incredibly blue in the sunlight. But she sensed no malice in his query which made it easy to answer candidly. "I suppose. I've always loved sunny days—we have a lot of them in Cornwall. I missed that in London, but I liked the damp and fog, too. And all the people and the bustle of the place. It was so big and grand."

  "Did you like Tom's Cellar?"

  She laughed, tilting her head. "Truly?"

  At his nod, she flushed, wondering why he would want to know.

  "Well, not at first. The noise, the smoke, but I grew used to it. It reminded me of the Trelawnys' inn in Porthleven, actually, and that was often a merry place."

  "So you had been to a tavern before?"

  "A few times, yes—"

  "I should have known. A young woman who freely admitted to sneaking from her father's house at all hours? No wonder the blasted place didn't upset you."

  Jared's tone sarcastic again, Lindsay nonetheless did not allow it to daunt her. "That's not entirely true. I did feel sorry for that doctor everyone was teasing."

  "Dr. Foote."

  "Yes, poor man. But I didn't want you to think I wasn't enjoying myself, because I was, truly. It was so wonderful to be with you, yet I—"

  "Damnation, woman, I thought we were done with that romantic nonsense! Remember, no games, no illusions? Have you learned nothing yet from what's happened to you?"

  Lindsay stared at him, stunned and doing her best to swallow the sudden l
ump in her throat. "You . . . didn't allow me to finish. I didn't know then you weren't a spy."

  "And what if I had been? I've never met any other young woman willing to risk life and reputation to follow me into God-knows-what danger, only you! You'd have done better to pen your ridiculous dreams and fantasies onto paper and sell them as Gothic novels than to come after the likes of me—"

  "My dreams aren't ridiculous!" Realizing she had shouted, Lindsay also knew she didn't care, she was so angry and hurt, too, tears jumping to her eyes. "Who are you to judge anything about me? You don't know me any better than I know you, yet you have the gall to—to—" She spun around to the railing, the lump grown so big that she couldn't swallow it down or finish what she'd meant to say. Instead she stared blindly at the waves, her joy in the morning all but fled.

  So much for not allowing Jared to upset her. So much for not taking anything he said to heart.

  "Lindsay."

  She brushed at her wet eyes with the palm of her hand, not answering.

  "Lindsay, it's true. I have no right to judge you."

  Still she didn't answer. Even when she heard him sigh, she refused to look at him.

  "Be angry if you will, but I've simply tried to impress upon you that your dreams have gotten you into trouble. Could get you into more trouble. You're too trusting—"

  "Oh, and what was I supposed to think when I heard you were a military spy? That it wasn't true, when obviously everyone else in London believes it, too?"

  "A rumor easily started and then circulated by frivolous, idle people to explain my sudden appearances and disappearances—quite credible, I'm pleased to say. The ton is so preoccupied with its own bloody amusements that it pays little heed to what is truly happening in the world, anyway."

  His voice had grown undeniably bitter. Lindsay hazarded a glance to find him looking not at her but down at his hands, which were balled into fists. But it was his expression that drew her, his handsome face appearing almost haggard, as if some secret pain had been exposed. Touched in spite of herself, she felt some of her hurt melting away.

  "But they're paying heed now, Jared. I heard more talk of the Phoenix than anything else in London, and with the reward—"

  "They'd sooner think I had left to capture him myself than guess at the truth. Besides, the fools believe the Phoenix to be American, and never would they think him so bold as to frequent their parties, their insufferable balls."

  "Funny, I thought they were insufferable, too. At least until I met you at the Oglethorpes'—"

  Lindsay fell abruptly silent, realizing when Jared met her eyes that she was talking in circles. And she had no wish to hear him attack her again about how foolishly romantic she was, or to hear him reveal any more of himself to her, either.

  Fearing the more she knew about him, the less likely she might be able to convince him to release her, she set off along the deck, not surprised when he caught up with her and grabbed her arm. This time she tried to wrest herself free, but he held her fast; she'd become a prisoner to him again, which stung her as much as anything he'd said.

  "You needn't worry, Captain. I'm not going to take a running leap into the Channel. I tried that already and it didn't succeed."

  "We're not in the Channel."

  She stopped, glancing out to sea before darting her gaze back to his face. "Then where—?"

  "The Atlantic. We cleared Land's End early this morning, so if you did jump, it would be a very long swim to Cornwall. But I suspect that's not where you want to be, anyway."

  "What are you saying? Of course I wouldn't mind Cornwall if it freed me from you!" Desperation seizing her, she scanned the horizon, but the only thin strip of land she could see was far to the east. England.

  "But what of your stepmother, Olympia? From what little you've mentioned of her, she sounds unpleasant enough. She's in Cornwall—"

  "I know she is and I hate her! But that doesn't mean I'd rather stay aboard this bloody ship!"

  Jared almost released Lindsay's arm, he was so surprised at her vehemence, her lovely eyes filled with turmoil and passion. He glanced up to see that many of his men were watching them, but one dark look and they quickly fell back to their work, while he drew Lindsay into the shadow of the mainmast.

  "Easy, Lindsay, we don't have to talk about the witch. I take it she is a witch?"

  Lindsay turned her face away, her chin trembling, which, oddly, made Jared want to press her further. He wasn't sure why, but her outburst that he didn't know a thing about her had moved him more deeply than he cared to admit.

  "She must have treated you quite badly to make you feel the way you do."

  "It wasn't so much me but my father," came her small voice, though Lindsay still would not look at him. "He married her five months after my mother died, and everything changed. He changed, our plans changed . . ."

  A tear trickling down her cheek made Jared's throat tighten. "What plans?"

  "Our grand tour. Papa had promised my mother for years we would go—it's what she always wanted. She'd never left Cornwall herself, but she'd always dreamed of faraway places. She'd read me books. . ."

  A ragged sigh escaped her, her trembling fingers swiping away tears from her flushed cheeks. Flushed cheeks that Jared suddenly wanted to touch but didn't, waiting.

  "A fever struck the village, Corie's mother, my mother. She made my father promise, right before she died, that he'd still take me to the Continent, even if she couldn't be with us. I heard him promise—I was hiding behind the door. But he married Olympia and she wouldn't hear of any grand tour. Only this year, when she thought it was time I found a husband, did she allow me to finally go to London. A husband to suit her, not me. Someone she could bully like my father, not a bold adventurer who'd stand up to her. But you wouldn't have suited her at all—"

  Lindsay froze before Jared's eyes as if realizing how much she had revealed, yet in the next instant she faced him and grabbed his hands, her gaze pleading.

  "Oh, Jared, please take me back to England. I promise I won't say a word to anyone about you—I swear it! And if you did, I might still have a chance to find— Oh, please!"

  He stared into her beautiful, tear-filled eyes, feeling so close to relenting at that moment, even though his gut was telling him he could not.

  He could not take the risk of trusting her; he had his men's lives to consider, and his own mission was still so far from being done. He had only to think of his parents and Elise . . . and of Sylvia and Ryland Potter's treachery, damn their souls to hell, to know it wasn't possible. Slowly he shook his head.

  "I can't let you go, Lindsay. I'm sorry."

  Chapter 18

  Lindsay almost couldn't believe her ears, she'd felt so sure, so full of hope that he might find it in his heart to— The blackguard! And she was such a fool!

  It happened so fast, the ringing sound of a slap echoing around them even before she realized she'd struck him. Her gaze widened in horror at the bright red handprint on Jared's face. But what seemed worse was the unearthly quiet that had settled over the ship. Lindsay glanced wildly around her to see that all eyes were upon them, Jared's men as stunned as he looked.

  Until his grim astonishment suddenly faded to fury. Lindsay stumbled backward when he reached out to grab her.

  "Merchantman approaching from the north, Cap'n!"

  She gasped; he stiffened, his narrowed gaze looking past her to scan the sea. It was her turn to be astonished when she saw a smile of such dark intent touch his lips that she felt a chill. Before her eyes, Jared had suddenly become both pirate and predator. And never had she thought him so frighteningly dangerous as when his cold gaze once more settled upon her.

  "You must forgive us, Miss Somerset, but we've a hunt to commence. You'll have to finish your promenade another time."

  He caught her and swept her off her feet so abruptly that Lindsay didn't have time to shriek. Nor did she think to fight him as he carried her to the hold, his fearsome expression alone paral
yzing her in his arms, his roared commands deafening her.

  "Every man to his station! Cowan, raise our colors!"

  As the entire deck exploded in commotion, Lindsay caught a glimpse of the flag being hoisted above the quarterdeck just before Jared dropped with her into the hold.

  A huge white flag with a resplendent golden bird at its center, wings outspread, the yellow silk flashing brilliantly in the sun.

  But what made her heart pound was the blood dripping from its beak and claws, the emblem enough to strike fear into the soul of any beholder. As Jared strode with her into the deserted crew's quarters, she wondered if the sailors aboard the hapless merchantman had yet sighted the Vengeance; she could already envision their panic.

  "Dag, wake up. I need you to guard the prisoner until I send another man to replace you."

  The groggy Norwegian unfolded himself from his bunk with a quickness that belied his size. Lindsay winced when Jared set her down roughly and began pushing her along in front of him. She had never felt more wretchedly a prisoner than at that moment, relief filling her when they reached Jared's quarters.

  She ran inside and took refuge behind the chair, but he didn't step past the threshold. Her face grew hot as he gave a short laugh upon seeing the books she'd arranged neatly atop the desk, the pillow plumped on the bed, a pretty Indian shawl, in which she'd found wrapped two volumes of poetry, draped over the sea chest—her valiant attempt to make the cabin more livable.

  "Good. At least you're keeping yourself amused."

  Bristling, she would have thrown a book at him if he hadn't slammed the door shut with a finality that sounded like he had thrown away the key.

  ***

  Almost two weeks later, Lindsay was convinced Jared had thrown away the key and forgotten about her entirely.