Love With an Improper Stranger

by Barbara Devlin

  With shoulders squared, Lenore lowered her chin. “We have a bargain, Captain.”

  “Wonderful.” He well nigh pounced on her. “Then let us seal it with another kiss.”

  As he claimed her mouth, she could only pray she made the right decision—and that he had an ample store of rum in the cargo hold.

  #

  Amid heavy snowfall and a wicked gale, the helmsman maneuvered the Tristan into position, as Blake prepared to moor offshore in Ritzebüttel.

  The boards were alive with the hustle and bustle one would expect of a ship coming into port, as the crew scrambled into the ratlines, and men of the watch perched in the tops. When the anchor slipped into the water with a mighty splash, he noted his primary charges huddled at the waist.

  “Portman, the deck is yours.” Securing his many-caped greatcoat, Blake descended the companion ladder. “Lenore, you look beautiful in your fur-lined pelisse. And little Lucy, you are absolutely charming in your blue bonnet.”

  “Lenny made me wear it, Cap’n.” The young gadling scrunched her face. “But I would love to try breeches and boots, which seem a vast deal more practical in this weather.”

  “We will make do with what we have, sister.” Lenore adjusted her tan kid gloves. “And proper ladies do not wear such things.”

  “You had better never let Caroline hear you say that.” For some reason, an image of Lenore, similarly garbed, formed in his brain, and he made a mental note to commission a special wardrobe upon their return to London. “As that is her customary fencing attire.”

  “She fences?” With an expression of wonder, Lucy squealed. “Is that even allowed?”

  “Of course, and she parries like a pirate.” Blake growled with pride as he recalled fond memories. “Just as I taught her.”

  “Oh, will you school me, too?” He could have wagered Lucy would ask that. “And do you use a real foil?”

  “Of course.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Please, Lenny.” With hands clasped beneath her chin, Lucilla pouted. “Need I point out you are not my mother, and I may do as I wish?”

  “But I am your keeper, a responsibility I take seriously.” Lenore bit her lip and glanced at him. “And it sounds awfully dangerous.”

  “Actually, we use button-tipped weapons, so it is quite harmless.” The tension about the corners of her eyes conveyed he had not answered as she had hoped. “But what say I enlist Damian’s aid, and we make it a foursome?”

  “He is your brother?” Lucy tapped her chin and narrowed her stare.

  “In every way.” Blake ushered them to the mainsail hull, where the jolly boat had been lowered. “Now, over you go, Miss Lucilla.” After she scampered down the rope ladder, he turned to Lenore. “Next.”

  “Are you sure this is safe?” With a death grip on his hand, the elder Teversham peered at the small craft bobbing in the current. “It does not seem too stable, and I cannot swim.”

  “What do you mean you cannot swim?” Bloody hell, he had not foreseen that development. Given his intent to escort the ladies about town, while the crew unloaded the injured and the dead to their homeland, he had thought only of shielding the women from an unpleasant task. “Did you never learn?”

  “Blake, you make no sense.” With her face as white as a sheet, Lenore gritted her teeth. “Had I learned to swim, I would not claim said deficiency, but I am terrified of the sea, a fact you well know.”

  “I am sorry, Lenore.” The strength of her hold underscored the intensity of her fear, which was not lost on him. Determined to spare her the grim reality of war, as manifested by the casualties, he assessed the situation. “Do you trust me?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?” She gulped.

  “Very funny.” Backing her to the larboard rail, he clutched her forearms. “Now I want you to go slow, and take your time. Step with care, and focus on my voice.”

  With a nod, she lowered her slippered foot to the rope ladder, which shifted beneath her weight, and she shrieked. “Blake.”

  “It is all right, Lenore. I have you.” The raw panic in her gaze, the lines of strain about her eyes, and her now violent trembling tore at his heart. “I am in your wake, so you need not fret for your person.”

  As she descended, he repositioned his support and sidled down with her. If he went into the drink, he would simply suffer a cold plunge, so he risked the awkward orientation. At last, she jumped into the jolly boat, and he quickly joined her. The minute he took his seat, Lenore lunged at him.

  “Shh, sweetheart.” He whispered reassurances, as she clung like a wet blanket. “I will never let anything harm you.” To Mr. Hammond, Blake said, “To the docks.”

  “Aye, sir.” The young sailor dipped his chin.

  “Can I help, Cap’n?” As usual, Lucy wanted to try something new.

  “Yes, you may.” Blake eased Lenore closer. “Hammond, give Miss Teversham an oar.”

  While the two were distracted, Blake framed Lenore’s jaw and kissed her. His aim was simple, as he meant to soothe her frazzled nerves, but instead he set his on edge, as she sank into him and returned the gesture with equal measure. Molten passion ignited beneath the gentleman’s garb, as the gentle pressure of her fingers to his chest signaled her active participation.

  Desire erupted, a brutal torture, burning through his defenses. Anticipation glimmered, a secondary torment, fueled by the knowledge that she wanted him. The fever grew, the hunger thrummed, and the longing exploded. And although he should have satisfied himself with what she offered, he could not resist blazing a trail from her sumptuous lips to the swanlike curve of her neck. When her breath hitched, in a subtle inhalation that carried on the light breeze, he came alert and drew rein.

  Aware of nothing save the repetitive splash of the oars slicing the water, Blake separated from his lady. Their current location, as they neared the docks, afforded no privacy, and he refused to besmirch, in any way, the reputation of the woman he fully intended to marry. So he would wait. He would be patient. And in the relative isolation of her cabin, he would exact proper payment for the suffering she caused. However, at that moment, her needs reigned supreme, as evidenced by her whimper of distress.

  “Come now, none of that.” He pressed his lips to the crest of her ear. “When we return to London, and I have locked you in my suite, I shall savor the warmth of your naked body, the cradle of your luscious hips, the intimate embrace of your form-fitting, untried sheath as you take me inside you for the first time, and the wonder of your virgin completion. I shall revel in your unrestrained ardor as I pleasure you, and I shall cherish every tender attempt you make to employ each salacious skill I teach you.”

  “I…I…I—are you out of your mind?” Lenore’s cheeks boasted a glorious pink shade.

  “Perhaps, especially when I am in your company.” He chuckled and tried to ignore his overpowering arousal. “Shall we disembark, Miss Teversham?”

  Glancing to her left, she discovered they had arrived at their destination, and it appeared he spiked what had been shaping up as a fine female tantrum. Then she studied him and smiled. “You distracted me, on purpose.”

  “I did.” He adjusted the bow of her bonnet and then tapped her chin, and her features softened.

  “What am I going to do with you?” She shook her head and cast an expression of reproach that fooled him not for a second.

  “Believe me, I have plenty of suggestions.”

  At that, she laughed, a rich and throaty sound that eased the dank void within him, and then he noted her enlarged pupils, her rush of breath, and her subtle shiver she could never conceal from him. It occurred to him then that she wanted him, and the attraction was no mere fancy or girlish crush. As he ached for her, she desired him in equal measure; on an innate level so deep and with an unmistakable intensity so strong it startled even him.

  “You should take care, Captain, as I almost slapped you.” With both hands resting on his shoulders, she giggled, as he lifted
her to the dock, where Lucy waited. “So what is the plan for today?”

  “Must we have a plan?” After leaping from the jolly boat, he extended an arm in escort. “I had thought we might patronize the boutiques and, later, a local establishment that boasts a succulent sauerbraten with potato dumplings and spargel with hollandaise sauce.” Then he turned to Lucilla. “And for dessert, I recommend the black forest cake, but you might like to try the obstkaltschale.”

  “What is that, Cap’n?” He found Lucy’s grin infectious, and he marveled at her composure, given their conspiratorial venture.

  “It is a decadent fruit pudding served with a heaping portion of whipped cream.” He winked. “And if you are good, you may sample both dishes.”

  “Ooh, I will be very good, sir.” She saluted.

  As they strolled the sidewalks of the city, Blake highlighted various points of interest, all with the singular goal of lulling the luscious Lenore into an unguarded state. While he had visited the town on several occasions, never had he appreciated the culture as he did in his future bride’s company.

  With his lady at his side, they ventured into numerous shops, and several merchants made assumptions about the elder Teversham, which he refused to correct. Against her stated wishes, he purchased a book on astronomy for Lucy and a small bundle of silk ribbons for Lenore. After a few hours, he checked his pocket watch and steered his quarry for the restaurant—where he would get Lenore foxed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Blake Elliott, I cannot believe you permitted that poor shopkeeper to labor under the impression that I am your wife.” Lenore shifted, draped a linen napkin over her lap, and perused the menu. Of course, she would never admit that his proprietary demeanor, which bordered on arrogance a little too much for her liking, offered formidable protection such as she had never known. “Oh, dear. This is dreadful. Everything is written in German.”

  “Shall I order for you, my dear?” The incorrigible naval man winked. “Or would that impinge on your independent toes?”

  “You can order for me, Cap’n.” Lucy furrowed her brow. “I am far too hungry to worry about my autonomy.”

  “Are we not witty?” Swallowing a morsel of pride, Lenore surrendered the bill of fare to her pompous but attractive sailor and studied the crisp white tablecloth of the elegant establishment. “And I defer to your judgment, Blake.”

  “Well that is a first.” He snickered and elbowed Lucy.

  “And it could be the last, if you keep talking.” Just then, the waiter approached, and she smiled. “Good evening.”

  “Ah, Captain Elliott.” The server bowed. “So good to see you again, sir. If you have made your selections, shall we start with your wife?”

  Just as Lenore was about to correct the attendant, Blake covered her hand with his and squeezed. “My beautiful bride and I will have the sauerbraten with potato dumplings and spargel with hollandaise sauce.” When she emitted a groan of frustration, he laughed. “And the same for Miss Lucy.”

  “Do you still favor the brown ale, sir?” The servant peered at Lenore. “And what shall the ladies drink?”

  “Have you any dragon pearl jasmine?” She perched upright. “It is my favorite tea.”

  “But, of course, Mrs. Elliott.” With that, he dipped his chin and rushed toward the kitchen.

  The title, innocently directed at Lenore, left her reeling, as she pondered what the position entailed. Glancing at Blake, who sported a pompous expression to which she would take exception if she could muster a rapier retort, she admired the angular lines of his classical features. Without thought, she relaxed and twined her fingers with his, and in that second everything changed.

  With a subtle flinch, he met her stare, searched her gaze, and whatever he spied therein brought forth an endearing smile that warmed her to her toes, and she knew she could do it. She could wed a man of estimable character determined to protect her, if not drive her mad, and live as his other half. In so doing, she could safeguard Lucy.

  When Blake engaged in his usual naughty boot work, as they enjoyed their delicious meal, she should have admonished him, and she thought about it. Instead, she giggled. “In the event I forget to tell you later, I had a wonderful time today.” Then she massaged his calf with her slippered foot, and a noticeable blush spread from his neck in sharp contrast with the crisp white collar of his shirt. “Thank you, for everything, Blake.”

  “You are most welcome.” To her surprise, he gave his attention to her sister. “Miss Lucy, if you are finished with the main entrée, perhaps you would like to visit the dessert trolley, and make your selections, but only two, mind you.”

  “Oh, sir, I should be too delighted.” Lucilla jumped from her chair, saluted, and skipped to the large bay window.

  “If I may, how old is Lucy?” Blake chuckled, as Lucilla cornered some unfortunate waiter and appeared to be interrogating him in regard to the sweets. “She seems wholly unspoiled.”

  “She is eight and ten, but she is very naïve.” Lenore admired his profile. “After Mama died, Papa and I did everything we could to shield Lucy, as she has such a gentle spirit and a precocious mind.”

  “Notwithstanding her height, never would I have imagined she had so many years.” As he studied Lucy, Lenore wondered what he would think of her age. Would he regret asking to court her? “Has she always been so inquisitive?”

  “According to Papa, Lucy was born with a magnifying glass in one hand and the concise history of John Long’s voyages in the other.” Lenore sipped her tea and toyed with the scalloped edge of the fine china. “But do not mistake her for a tomboy, as her deportment and manners are first rate. Rather, my younger sibling possesses a keen intelligence and a sense of style all her own, and she refuses to bow to the latest trends. How I love that about her.”

  “You speak as a proud mama.” He caressed her knuckles, and she found comfort in his touch. “Are you always so protective of her?”

  “Indeed, I am very proud of Lucilla.” The gadling sampled a bit of something that evidently did not agree with her, as she scrunched her face, and Lenore laughed. “But she views the world as nothing more than an endless store of learning opportunities, and everyone is a potential friend. She does not recognize the dangers in our midst, and I fear for her sympathetic nature.”

  “What she needs is a husband to guard her.” Of course, that was his answer to everything. Blake flagged the waiter. “Bring us an assortment of spiced rums.” To Lenore, he asked, “Does a particular dessert appeal to your palate, my dear?”

  “I believe you mentioned a black forest cake that I would try.” She averted her stare. “But I really should forgo such extravagances, and you have done so much already.”

  “Bring us a single large slice and two forks.” How had she known he would spoil her? “Ah, and here comes Lucy.”

  “Did you find something new and wonderful to appraise?” Thank goodness for the distraction, as Lenore needed it just then. “Will you examine your fare, as you did that unfortunate mouse in Ghent?”

  “Sister, when I study, I study.” Lucy dropped into her chair and draped her napkin over her lap with grace. “When I eat sweets, I eat sweets.”

  “Sounds like a very wise strategy, Lucy.” Blake shuffled the glasses and tempting treats, as the waiter delivered their order. Then he peered at Lenore. “All right. I want you to take it easy, as each double-shot of rum is infused with a different fruit, and you might be tempted to forget you are consuming, in essence, fancy grog.”

  “Must you resort to that crude term?” It seemed insulting to refer to such magical creations in the sailor’s coarse vernacular. “I gather this one is the strawberry variety.” She regarded the plump morsel listing in the bottom of the crystal and then sniffed the concoction. “Oh, Blake. This smells heavenly.”

  “Belay that, and take a bite.” With a healthy piece of torte resting atop a fork, he teased her. “Open wide.”

  It was strange having a man feed her, but Lenore did
not object, especially when so many flavors danced on her tongue. It was not as sweet as she had imagined, as chocolate mingled with a hint of espresso and fresh cherries, sandwiched between thick layers of whipped cream.

  And so began her ascent into fantasyland, where she devoured the decadent dessert amid intermittent gulps of rum spiced with oranges, vanilla, cherries, coconut, bananas, ginger, and mint. As time passed, which she tracked on a nearby mantel clock, soothing warmth pervaded her flesh, and Lenore soon realized she had gobbled up the cake and downed most of the rum.

  “Is it a tad hot in here?” Lenore fanned her face. “Or am I catching a cold?”

  “It could be the kirschwasser in the black forest.” Blake tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “And do you have a particular fondness for the rum?”

  “I adore the coconut.” In that instant, she drained the glass and hiccuped. “And what is kirschwasser?”

  “It is a colorless brandy, typically ninety to one-hundred proof, distilled from the fermented juice of the black morello cherry.” Then he signaled the waiter. “Bring a bottle of the coconut rum, and have a case packaged and delivered to my ship, posthaste.”

  “Yes, sir.” The attendant nodded.

  “Oh, I am so full, and I do not think I could eat another bite.” Lucy rubbed her belly. “But may I try the rum, Cap’n?”

  “Pick a single flavor, Miss Lucy.” Blake winked at Lenore. “As I can carry only one Teversham.”

  Somewhere in her foggy brain, Lenore took umbrage to his comment, but she did not wish to ruin their special evening, so she said nothing. Instead, to her chagrin, she giggled.

  “More coconut rum, lovely Lenore?” Blake refilled her glass with the scrumptious liquor. “And perhaps you might tell me of your uncle? When do you anticipate his arrival from America?”