“You’re saying you know what’s best for me?”
He heard the sharpness in her voice, the underlying bitterness, but didn’t allow himself to respond to it. Her father’s death was still so close, so painful for her, and her pride, well, her father had gotten her off on the wrong path, encouraging her independence, building her pride beyond what a woman should have, and it just made matters more complicated, more difficult for him. “I was only going to point out that I’m your senior by some years and I’m very fond of you; and let’s just say that I do have your best interests at heart.”
“But you refuse to acknowledge what I consider to be my own best interests.”
“Genny, I truly don’t believe you do know what’s best for yourself right now. I think you’re very confused and uncertain about the future, about us. There are so many changes in your life, so many unexpected things you have to deal with. But I know one thing. Your father didn’t do justice by you, Genny, letting you play at being a man, roaming about the shipyard, hobnobbing with fellows no lady would admit to her drawing room.”
What was the use? she wondered, silent now, her tears firmly set aside. Silly woman’s tears. He couldn’t begin to understand, and even if he could, he wouldn’t approve. There was no hope for it. It was either marry him and accept his wager or allow the shipyard to be sold to a stranger.
She simply couldn’t do that.
Was she wrong? Had her father misdirected her? Tried to make her into the son he’d lost?
She wanted to yell that no, she was what she was, and she wasn’t wrong, and her father hadn’t been wrong either.
She wondered about Hallie. Alec certainly allowed his daughter all the latitude he’d give a son. When Hallie reached a certain age, would he draw her in, force her to learn to sew samplers and wear petticoats? Would he expect her to forget all the freedom she’d enjoyed? Genny wanted to ask him, to demand that he explain his reasoning to her.
But Alec’s fingers were moving on her belly again, easing lower, and she felt the anticipation, for she knew the ache would build. She wondered how he could so effortlessly make her body respond to a simple movement of his fingers. She wanted to ignore the feelings. She wanted to push him away. He’d come uninvited to her bedchamber and forced himself upon her.
“I don’t want you to force me again.”
Alec’s fingers didn’t stop their rhythm at the outrageous words spoken in that stony voice. “Force you? What a cheery thought. I’ll admit to getting things started, so to speak. Just let my fingers caress you for another blink of an eye and you’ll be begging me to pleasure you.”
She said nothing. The throbbing was becoming more insistent and she squirmed beneath his fingers, unable to help herself. He chuckled and she wanted to scream at him, to throw his damnable beautiful self against the wainscoting.
“Twice a night for forty years. That’s more times than I can figure out in my head. You’ll wear me out, Genny, but I’ll try to keep up with you, I promise. That’s it, love. Give over to me, Genny, trust me. I’ll protect you, take care of you. It’s all right. I’m here now. I’ll be here for you always. Will you just believe that?”
She wanted him to be here for her, but she didn’t need protection, didn’t want a man to tell her what to do and what not to do; she didn’t want to be taken care of, like an infant, like a lady, like Laura Salmon. She opened her mouth to tell him that she did believe him, but that she was also quite capable of taking care of herself.
Instead, she moaned.
She felt him shudder, then move quickly over her. He pushed her thighs wide apart and she parted them wider still; then his mouth was on her, and she knew she was completely open to him, just as he’d told her, and she knew what he would make her feel, wanting those feelings, not caring that tomorrow would come and she would look at herself, at him, in the light of day, and she would have to make a decision that would affect the rest of her life. And his and Hallie’s.
She cried out as her climax overtook her. A moment later, he climaxed powerfully, his fingers digging into her hips, his head thrown back.
He eased to the side, bringing her with him. He was spooned against her back and legs, kissing her nape through her tangled hair while his hand touched her breast languidly, almost as if he did it because her breast was within his reach and because it pleased him enough to caress it. She tried to sort through things but she was trapped in her own vagrant thoughts, thoughts that were really questions with no answers; at least there were no answers in the dark of the night after she’d been loved twice by a man who wanted to protect her and take care of her. She gave it up and fell asleep.
The truth of the matter, Alec thought as he held the weight of her breast in his palm, was that she would remain his wife regardless of the outcome of their race, not that the outcome was in any doubt, of course. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling again the incredible sensations that had engulfed him when he’d thrust into her, his hands on her hips, her breasts, her belly. He’d wanted all of her, and that wanting just seemed to get more and more powerful, and he now accepted it and silently offered his loyalty and fidelity to her until the day he died. He felt her nipple tighten between his fingers. It was so sweet. Sweet now and easy and slow. But what he’d felt moments before hadn’t been sweet, it had been hard and demanding and urgent. And the feel of his seed spurting so deeply into her, and Genny drawing him even deeper, wanting him as he did her—He could still hear her cries of pleasure, see her hair rippling down to her waist as she’d arched her back and jerked her hips against him.
If someone had asked him, he would have said with complete certainty that he’d gotten Genny with child tonight. Soon she would want to accept the fact that she was a woman—his woman. She would want to wear her woman’s clothes, she would want to bear his children, she would want him to care for her.
She would come to accept what she was meant to be. He would see that it was so.
He thought of Nesta, his wife of five years. Sweet, dear Nesta, to die so very young and all because that fool of a doctor hadn’t known what to do. Well, Alec knew now. He’d never let anything happen to Genny. Never.
How could she possibly believe she would ever beat him, even in her Baltimore clipper?
What he didn’t understand, what he truly believed was her father’s blunder, was Genny’s insistence on playing a man’s role in life. She would forget that nonsense. He’d see to it.
It was the second of November. Baltimore during the fall could be as beautiful as the Garden of Eden; at least that was what Baltimoreans always told each other and any stranger who would listen. But more often, truth be told, the weather was chilly, threatening to drizzle, the sky a murky gray, just as it was today.
Alec waved to Genny, who was standing on the Pegasus’s deck, garbed as a man, her legs planted wide apart, hands on hips. Alec felt indulgent; he felt exquisitely tolerant. This would be her final performance in men’s clothing. He allowed himself to think that she looked beautiful regardless of her loose breeches, the leather vest that hid the lovely curves of her breasts and the lines of her woman’s waist, and that blue wool cap. She met his gaze and smiled, waving back.
She was Eugenia Mary Carrick, Baroness Sherard, and he rather hoped that she was pregnant. He hadn’t asked her. He wasn’t certain even if she could know as of yet. She hadn’t had her monthly flow, at least since he’d come into her bed, and that had been more than three weeks ago. She hadn’t volunteered any information, but he supposed that a lady wasn’t accustomed to speaking of such intimate things, even to her husband. Nesta hadn’t ever, and Alec had teased her about it, eventually calling her Nonsensical Nesta. Alec felt a lump in his throat at the bittersweet memory. I’ve married again, Nesta, after five long years. She’s an American—that’s a difficult pill to swallow, isn’t it?—and an unusual girl. But she’ll become just what I need. I know that I’m the man she needs. Hallie is fond of her and she is equally fond of Hallie. You would approv
e, Nesta, I swear it. Our daughter will be just fine.
Alec was a husband of two days now.
Odd, but he’d felt no hesitancy, no uncertainty at any point about what he was doing. Perhaps it was because Genny had been such a mass of nameless fears and insecurities, dithering about like a true flighty, featherheaded female, countermanding her own instructions until Mrs. Swindel had simply told her to leave the house and the preparations to her and go finish building her ship. Alec, wisely, had not drawn any verbal conclusions, at first just reassuring Genny as best he could. When that failed, he’d finally told her what to do, told her another time for good measure in a very sharp voice, and she’d obeyed him. But she’d still been nearly incoherent until the Reverend Murray had pronounced them man and wife to the small audience gathered in Saint Paul’s Episcopal Church for the ceremony.
It was then, Alec supposed, that she’d realized there was nothing more to decide, that everything was over and done with and all she had to do was simply accept it. Alec had lifted her veil and given her a triumphant grin. Then he’d kissed her, very lightly, very gently. Her dilated eyes didn’t worry him now.
Most friends of the Paxton family had seemed genuinely pleased at the union. Relief was probably their uppermost sentiment. Eugenia Paxton was no longer an eccentric young lady to be worried about. She was now an eccentric married lady. She was also a baroness and was considered a very fortunate young woman. He wondered if Genny agreed with the consensus. He also wondered if Genny would have married Oliver Gwenn if he, Alec, hadn’t come to Baltimore. Oliver looked more down-in-the-mouth than a rejected suitor, which, Alec knew, he hadn’t been—at least Genny hadn’t considered him that.
As for Hallie, she’d accepted the marriage, saying little, merely smiling at Genny and taking her hand at odd times, giving her silent encouragement. His five-year-old daughter, the wise old woman. She’d said to him several days before the ceremony, “Papa, I like Genny very much. She’ll come about and everything will be all right. When you and she return, we’ll be a real family.”
And Alec had replied, hugging Hallie close, “Thank you, pumpkin. Just keep your eye on her, all right? We don’t want her to bolt at the last minute.”
“Genny isn’t a filly, Papa.” But Hallie had kept a close watch on her soon-to-be stepmama nonetheless.
Laura Salmon, furious and not invited to the small wedding, busily spread rumors about the baron living at the Paxton house without a proper chaperon. The rumors, of course, didn’t go far enough, but Alec enjoyed the fact that no one credited Laura’s venom, merely shaking a head at her tantrums.
Alec also made certain that all the gentlemen who counted in Baltimore knew about the wager and knew as well that it represented the final hoorah for Miss Eugenia, that he as her husband was allowing it, and upon their return from Nassau, she would become a woman and a wife and would doubtless entertain them and their wives at dinner parties. The gentlemen chose to regard Alec as a very forward-thinking man; as for Genny, all past sins were to be forgiven and this prank to be indulged because the baron had her under control when all was said and done. The baron had given his blessing to the project. Could they do less?
Had Genny known what every gentleman at her wedding knew, she would have taken her father’s old war pistol and shot Alec in the foot.
It was also the only way that Alec could secure a crew for Genny to captain on their race to Nassau. It was he who was really in charge, the sailors doubtless reasoned; the young lady was merely being indulged by her doting new husband.
Alec prayed that none of this reasoning would reach his bride’s tender ears.
This morning, both vessels were moored side by side at Fells Point. The water was smooth, calm, with hardly a breath of wind present. But Genny knew that the Pegasus’s tall masts and equally tall sails would reach those upper winds that were unique to Chesapeake Bay, and her clipper schooner would pass North Point practically before Alec could get his men up the ratlines of the barkentine. It didn’t matter, though. His skill and her lack of experience would become clear enough once they were sailing south in the Atlantic. He looked over at her again.
It was time, Genny decided. She cleared her throat and called for the men to gather around her on the quarterdeck.
She looked at the nine faces, only two unknown to her.
“Some of you—Morgan, Phipps, Daniels, Snugger—you’ve known me since I was no taller than this wheel. I hope you will tell those here who don’t know me that I am to be trusted with the Pegasus and their lives. I know you wonder at this race. I know you wonder at taking orders from a captain who is also a female. This is true, gentlemen, but I’m a better sailor and a better captain than that damnable Englishman aboard that cumbersome old barkentine over there. We are all Americans. The Pegasus is an American vessel. She’s a Baltimore clipper, gentlemen, the fastest vessel in the world. As you know, my father designed her. She has the sharpest raking bow ever built; she has the tallest masts for her size of any clipper today. This is her maiden voyage. She’ll beat that English excuse for a water-bound log and you’ll make it happen. She’s lightly stayed and heavily canvased, and the ten of us will handle her to perfection. Just look at her uncluttered decks. No ropes or braces or ties to stumble over. When we reach the Atlantic, you’ll see that she’ll sail so close to the wind that we’ll leave that old barkentine far behind, tacking starboard, then tacking port, covering about three times more ocean than we will and going a third of our distance in the same time.
“I’m proud of the Pegasus, for I helped to build her. I’m proud of her because I’m an American and she’s an American vessel. Think of this contest as being not between a man and a woman but between an Englishman and an English vessel and an American and a Baltimore clipper.”
To Genny’s infinite relief and pleasure, the men looked at one another, Snugger spat toward the barkentine, and they all cheered.
“Remember how five years ago we routed the English from our very city? We’ll do it again, this time on the water.”
Wild, frenetic shouts.
“Let’s find that wind!”
Alec, who had been watching, blinked at the loud, sustained cheering. What the devil had she said to the men? Had she offered them bribes? He curbed his curiosity, waited for the noise to die down, and called out, “Are you ready, Mr. Eugene?”
“Ready to take the wind from your sails, Baron!”
“After you!”
Alec watched the Pegasus pull away from the dock. He heard Genny’s calm voice calling out orders.
There was a light breeze on the Patapsco that morning, a disadvantage for Alec’s barkentine. However, the clipper, with its higher masts and sails, could take advantage of the stronger winds above the barkentine’s reach. Alec’s ship would slough its way out to the bay, hopefully gaining enough wind to fill the massive sails and catch up with the clipper on the one-hundred-and-fifty-mile voyage to the Atlantic. But Alec was also a realist. Even the most inexperienced captain in the world would know that real wind wouldn’t be there for them until they sailed from the bay into the Atlantic.
He would simply bide his time and he would have a lot of it to bide. It would take them a good nine hours to reach the ocean.
They passed North Point at the mouth of the Patapsco, the place where the British commander had halted for the attack on Baltimore, and turned to starboard into Chesapeake Bay.
There was a sharp wind. Alec grinned.
The Pegasus and the Night Dancer were very nearly bow to bow as they sailed past Cape Henry and into the Atlantic at six o’clock that evening.
Alec looked over at Genny, gave her a salute and a mock bow.
Genny was so happy that she simply grinned back at him like an idiot.
“The race, gentlemen, is on!”
Sixteen
Snugger was her first mate. He was short, very hairy, his upper body massive, and his voice so powerful he could be heard over the din of a gale-force storm.
Daniels stood by her side watching the men scamper down the ratlines.
“She’s smooth as a pebble skipping on calm water.”
“Aye, Capt’n, she is that. Your pa would have been so proud. Of both of you.”
He’d called her captain. She felt pleasure wash through her. She did wonder if her father would have been proud of her. Somehow she had her doubts. Ah, but she wished he were here, seeing her, approving of what she was doing.
Genny was in charge and she felt in charge. She turned the wheel over to Daniels, her second mate, saying in her best captain’s voice, “Keep her close into the wind, and that wretched bark will begin to look like she’s sailing backward.”
“Handles like a dream, she does.”
Genny grunted. There was a quarter moon overhead. The night sky was clear, the stars glittering down, silvering on the ocean waves. Genny yawned and stretched.
“Your bunk’ll feel good this night, Capt’n.”
“Yes, it will, Daniels. I’ll take the third watch. Have Snugger awaken me at two bells.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Genny grinned, squeezed Daniels’s brawny arm, and swung about to the open hatch. She took a deep breath as she descended the steps. The Pegasus was too new, too fresh, to yet smell of bilge or rats or wet clothing, or, thank God, of male sweat and unwashed male bodies.
The clipper, unlike Alec’s bark, was quieter, her timbers not creaking under her own weight as she sloughed through the waves. Since she was lightly stayed, there was no moaning of the rigging to break the silence.
Mine, she thought; the Pegasus is mine.
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