Sea of Desire

by Christine Dorsey

  But it had been fun to throw his things around the room. It reminded her of all the times she’d wanted to grab the decanter from her father’s unsteady hands and slam it against the paneled wall of the library. To show Tim, Merideth retrieved one of the ill-folded shirts from the trunk and gave it a toss.

  Tim looked at her as if he thought her ready for Bedlam.

  She threw another.

  “Here, you try it.” When the lad shook his head vehemently at the breeches she offered, Merideth flung it over her shoulder. “We have to refold these anyway,” she said, pushing a blue silk waistcoat into his hands.

  “Oh, I couldn’t. Cap’n would have me hide sure.”

  “He won’t know. Goodness knows I shan’t tell him. Besides,” Merideth said with a conspiratorial smile, “I’ll help you put everything away again. I promise.”

  “Nay,” Tim said, but Merideth could tell he wavered. “ ‘Twouldn’t be fittin’.”

  “Like this,” Merideth coaxed. She sent a shirt flying across the cabin.

  It was followed by the waistcoat.

  When Merideth turned, Tim had a big grin on his face. With no more than a nod of her head as prompting, he grabbed up another shirt and tossed it high. It caught in the rafter and hung like canvas in the doldrums.

  “That’s the way of it.” Merideth scooped up another garment, laughing as she threw. Tim’s giggle joined hers, and before they knew it they were competing to see who could throw the fastest. And having a grand time doing it.

  “What in the hell is going on?”

  Merideth and Tim turned in unison toward the doorway when they heard the captain’s booming voice. Apparently their laughter had hidden the sound of his entry. But he now stood, feet apart, arms crossed, surveying the disarray of his cabin.

  His dark features looked even darker than usual. His expression, harder.

  Merideth caught only a glimpse of Tim’s beet-red face before she grabbed his thin shoulders and thrust him behind her. “It was my fault, Captain Blackstone. I made him do it.”

  “I’ve no doubt of that,” Jared said, though it hadn’t looked like she was twisting the boy’s arm.

  “ ‘Tain’t true, Cap’n.” Tim squirmed around Merideth, though she tried to keep him out of harm’s way. “I done it, and I’m ready to take the consequences.”

  Jared rubbed his chin to hide a grin. The boy showed courage, but then Jared had thought so from the time he’d found Tim alone and hungry down by the wharf in Charles Town.

  “Just exactly what do you think these consequences should be?” Jared asked, his expression serious.

  “You won’t flog the boy. I won’t allow it!”

  Jared went from amusement to annoyance at the sound of her voice. His brow arched. “You won’t allow it? I didn’t think you were in a position to allow or disallow anything.”

  Merideth felt heat flood her face. How could she have done this? Poor Tim. She’d only wanted him to have a good time because he’d seemed so serious. But if anything happened to him it would be all her fault. And the captain was right. There was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

  “I’m ready to take me punishment, Cap’n sir.” Tim’s shoulders straightened.

  Jared’s attention focused back on Tim. There was no sense frightening the boy just to scare the woman. “Cook’s making bread pudding tonight. I think you should forego yours.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And to bed with you early tonight. I should think by two bells in the second dogwatch.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And Tim?”

  “Aye, sir?”

  “You’ll have to clean this mess up later.”

  “Oh, aye, sir. Is there anything else, sir?”

  Jared smiled at the boy, his dimple deepened, and then he tousled Tim’s blond hair. “Nay. Now run along while I have a word with Lady Merideth.”

  “Aye, sir.” Tim bolted for the door, but paused, his hand on the latch. “Cap’n Blackstone, sir? We didn’t mean no harm, neither of us. We was just havin’ a bit of fun.”

  Jared nodded and Tim escaped through the door.

  When the captain’s stare focused on her, Merideth realized her mouth was agape and closed it with a click of her teeth. She had expected... Merideth wasn’t certain what she had expected the captain to do to Tim.

  Whip him? Yes, hadn’t the boy said the captain would have his hide if he caught them? But he hadn’t so much as raised his voice... to Tim, anyway. And the punishment, if you could call it that, was more one an indulgent father would pass on to his son.

  It surprised her, this different side of the captain.

  But though his attitude toward Tim seemed friendly enough, Merideth doubted she’d receive similar treatment.

  “Now would you mind telling me what all that was about?”

  His tone was calm, but Merideth didn’t miss the agitation behind it. She swallowed, wondering how she ever convinced herself the captain didn’t frighten her. “We were straightening your cabin,” she said, her voice as firm as she could make it.

  Jared said nothing.

  “Well, we would have gotten around to it eventually. We were simply... Oh, for goodness’ sakes, you know what we were doing. We were throwing your clothes about.

  “Might I inquire as to why? Or is this simply a penchant of yours?”

  Merideth shot him a look that clearly showed her regard for his wit. “I thought Tim might enjoy it.” Merideth decided the truth couldn’t get her any deeper into trouble than she already was.

  Tim obviously had. Jared had rarely seen the boy so animated as during the ruckus. Not that he hadn’t tried to get Tim to enjoy himself. He had. The boy loved sailing on the Carolina, and would do anything for Jared and the crew. But Jared had never seen that childish glee in Tim’s eyes until minutes ago.

  He supposed he had Lady Merideth to thank for that.

  But there were still many reasons to distrust her. Jared pulled his thoughts to the problem at hand. “I imagine my shirts are in need of a good scrubbing after all they’ve been through.”

  “Most of them are clean.”

  “That was before they were used for your amusement.” Jared hesitated a moment. “I want them washed... by you.”

  “I’m not your servant.”

  “No,” Jared agreed. “My servants are in Charles Town. I think, though, you shall do in a pinch.” Jared held up his palm when she started to protest. “They need to be cleaned before they can be put away. And I need the cabin straightened before Tim’s punishment ends.”

  He was using the boy as leverage. Merideth saw through his scheme straight away. She also felt fairly sure that the captain wouldn’t do anything to harm Tim. But she wasn’t absolutely sure, so in the end she narrowed her eyes and agreed to do his wash.

  His grin of satisfaction was harder to swallow than the thought of washing his shirts.

  “Sorry, I can’t do nothin’, but the cap’n, he made me promise not to help ye none.”

  “That’s all right. I’m nearly finished.” Merideth sunk her hands into the murky rinse water. Wringing out a white linen shirt, she took considerable pleasure in pretending it was the captain’s neck. She brushed hair from her cheek with her shoulder and plopped the shirt over the makeshift clothesline that crisscrossed the cabin. She’d strung it earlier, when rope, along with two buckets of seawater and a bar of soap, was delivered to the cabin by a smirking sailor.

  She imagined the entire crew knew of her escapade with Tim, as well as their punishments. When Tim arrived shortly thereafter to watch her wash the captain’s shirts, he confirmed her speculation.

  Not that she cared one way or the other. Getting off this vessel and returning to Land’s End were all that concerned her.

  And punishing her father’s killer.

  “Guess ye ain’t used to this, ye bein’ a lady and all,” Tim mumbled as he bit into an apple.

  “Actually, sometimes ladies have to do more th
an you might think.” Merideth dragged another shirt through the wash bucket.

  “Ye mean ye washed clothes before?” Tim stopped munching and looked at her wide-eyed.

  “Not exactly,” Merideth admitted. “But I have helped Belinda. She’s one of the servants.” One of the few servants left. If indeed there were any at Banistar Hall now.

  “Hmmm.” Tim seemed to ponder this as he took another bite of his apple.

  “What about you? Was your punishment so bad?”

  “Nay. Cap’n had a talk with me about how important it was to follow orders on a ship. Me bein’ sent down to clean up and not doin’ it was goin’ against orders, he said. ‘Tweren’t so bad this time, but durin’ a battle it could be real dangerous.”

  He quoted the captain as if it were the Gospel. Merideth reminded him of the rest of his punishment.

  “Aye, well, Cook didn’t give me any puddin’—which I felt was right and just. But when I was cleanin’ up the dishes cap’n said he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth tonight, and that I could eat his if I’d a mind.”

  Merideth straightened, drying her hands on the skirt of her riding habit. “He gave you his bread pudding?”

  “Aye.” Tim started straightening the charts on the desk. Merideth just stood, her mouth open in disbelief.

  “But you said he’d skin you good. You were so afraid to cross him. And he gave you his dessert?” She didn’t receive any bread pudding with her simple fare of pork and potatoes last night.

  “He did. And the cap’n’s one who likes his desserts,” Tom proclaimed in all sincerity. “But the cap’n ain’t like old Luke was. The cap’n, he ain’t the kind to go hurtin’ ye.”

  Such a shadow of dread came over the young face at the mention of Luke that Merideth moved toward the desk and touched Tim’s arm. “Who’s this Luke?”

  “Ain’t nobody important.” He shrugged off her hand, and Merideth imagined it was more to keep her from seeing how afraid he was than because he didn’t want her touching him.

  From the open doorway Jared watched them, Lady Merideth and the boy. He hadn’t heard what they were discussing, but he knew he didn’t want the woman getting too close to Tim. She may have made him laugh yesterday, but she wasn’t to be trusted. Not with her country’s secrets. And not with Tim.

  “Mr. Padriac’s looking for you, Tim.” They both turned, and Jared thought he saw a flicker of guilt flash across Lady Merideth’s face.

  “Time for me lessons?” Tim asked, his face contorted into a scowl.

  “ ‘Past time’ would be more like it.”

  “Sorry, Cap’n. I was just gettin’ a start on yer cabin. But I weren’t helpin’ her with the laundry none,” he added quickly.

  “Didn’t think you were.” Jared jerked his chin in the direction of the companionway. “Better get along with you now.”

  Merideth hoped the captain would follow his young charge, but he only leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his powerful chest, acting as if he had all the time in the world.

  Well, she wouldn’t be intimidated. There was naught wrong with honest work. If he wished to watch her launder his shirts, so be it. She grabbed the last garment. This one he’d worn recently. His scent clung to the soft linen. Annoyed that she’d noticed, Merideth plunged it into the water, doing her best to ignore her captor looming so close.

  She’d removed her jacket. Her shirt was cut in a man’s style, though made of a softer, finer fabric. It became her. Even with the sleeves turned up and her arms near elbow-deep in sudsy water.

  Jared considered leaving. He didn’t like noticing the way she looked. His interest in her was simple; discover the name of the spy. He thought now that she felt defeated was a good time to try again. He was prepared to offer her a quick return to England. Certainly she wished to return to where servants did the laundry.

  “Did you want something, Captain Blackstone?”

  She didn’t sound defeated. “Nay. I just wondered how you were enjoying your captivity. Thinking perhaps you might wish to barter for your freedom.”

  Merideth’s head shot up and she swiped damp curls from her forehead with her arm. “My captivity is barbarous, sir. But as for bartering, I have nothing to trade.” Merideth grabbed up the shirt and slung it into the rinse bucket. Water splashed out in a crystalline arc, sloshing over the captain’s boots.

  Merideth heard his sharp intake of breath and tried unsuccessfully to keep from smiling. With an enthusiasm she hadn’t felt before, Merideth proceeded to slosh the shirt around in the bucket. Then, before he could comment on his wet boots, she seized the sodden shirt, gave it a perfunctory squeeze, and flung it over the rope.

  Water splattered everywhere, but nowhere so much as on the captain.

  Merideth glanced up in time to see anger flash behind his green eyes. All thoughts of mischief fled as he lunged toward her.

  Overturning the wash bucket with its load of soapy water was an accident. But as he jumped from its path, Merideth knew she’d never convince the captain of that. He rounded on her and she darted, thrilled that for the moment she had escaped him.

  But the deck was slick, and as she headed for the open door her half boots skidded. She threw out her hands as she fell, catching onto the captain’s sleeve at the last minute.

  Instead of breaking her fall as she hoped, clutching the captain threw him off balance just enough to slip on a sliver of soap that had sloshed from the bucket into the puddle of water. They fell together, amid petticoats and curses, onto the wet deck.

  “Hell Almighty!”

  Water sopped through Jared’s shirt as he landed on his back, Merideth atop him. Her hair cascaded about them, curtaining their faces. And her expression, instead of penitent, revealed an irreverent smile.

  Why he grabbed fistfuls of her golden curls he wasn’t sure, but the next thing he knew, he was tugging her closer and her amusement had vanished.

  Kissing her was everything he remembered. Hot and wild, and so impossibly erotic Jared didn’t know what kept him from rolling her over and taking her on the water-covered deck. She opened to him immediately, welcoming his tongue and moaning when he swept it through the honeyed interior of her mouth.

  His hands slid down her back, molding her body to his. Her legs spread, and she seemed to wrap herself around him. A promise of the ecstasy to come.

  Years of sea duty, years of war, caused the loud rattle to penetrate his passion-drugged mind. He heard it, and his hands stilled.

  “What is that?”

  She raised her head and looked at him, her angel eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth rosy and wet.

  “The call to battle stations,” Jared answered, already pushing to his feet and pulling her up with him. There was no time to say anything more, and that suited Jared fine.

  For he had no idea how in the hell to explain away what had just happened... again.

  Chapter Six

  “Don’t ask!” Jared said as he strode across the quarterdeck. His shirt and breeches were soaked and he didn’t want to explain to Padriac how they got that way. And from the expression on his friend’s face, Jared assumed that question was on the tip of his tongue.

  Scooping up his spyglass, Jared focused on the armada of sails dotting the horizon. “My God,” he breathed, slowly lowering the brass tube.

  “Rather impressive, wouldn’t you say?”

  “ ‘Disastrous’ is more the word I’d use. Pile on the topsails.”

  Padriac relayed the order, then leaned forearms on the rail. “What’s your guess? Have they spotted us?”

  “Spotted? Aye. Whether or not they choose pursuit is another question. Perhaps they’ll think us of too little consequence to bother with. But regardless, I’d wager we’re dealing with the British Grand Fleet here.”

  Padriac only nodded as the Carolina’s crew set about skimming the vessel across the water with all haste.

  By the beginning of the next watch the question was answered. The British were in p
ursuit. Not the entire fleet. However, two cruisers had peeled off and were gaining on the American schooner.

  “Damn.” Jared pounded his fist on the railing. “I was hoping they’d consider us unimportant.”

  “I think they recognize the Carolina. Your reputation comes back to haunt.”

  “Very amusing,” Jared said as he studied the sky. “ ‘Twill be twilight soon. If we can hold them off till then, we might have a chance to lose them in the dark.”

  But two hours later, as the shadows lengthened and the ocean lost its sun glow, the British vessels drew closer. The two cruisers each sported more guns than the Carolina, and as Jared watched from the quarterdeck the British tars were busy opening the gunwales.

  “They mean to make a battle of it,” Padriac said, coming up behind where Jared paced from the wheel to the rail.

  The Carolina was a whirlwind of activity. Cannons were rolled into place, and sand strewn on the deck. But the American ship sported only sixteen guns, all four-pounders, and thirty swivels. No match at all for the heavily armed British duo.

  “We have maneuverability,” Jared said, a worried frown creasing his forehead, “but they certainly have us beat in firepower and speed.”

  It had been hours since the captain left his cabin. Merideth had sopped up the soapy water, and waited. If there was to be a battle, it was certainly taking its time in coming. Earlier, from the transom windows, she’d noticed two ships. But now she couldn’t even see them.

  She was tired and hungry and bored. And more than a little curious to find out what was going on. No one had brought an evening meal, and Tim hadn’t come back to see her. After testing the door and finding it unlocked, she decided to go above deck.

  Merideth stepped through the hatch just as the first broadside hit the Carolina. The evening twilight was brightened by an explosion of orange-gold light as the thunderous roar split the silence. Men screamed, and as Merideth watched, stunned, a sailor threw down his comrade and rolled him on the sand-strewn deck, extinguishing the flames that licked up his back.