Sea of Desire

by Christine Dorsey

  His breeches were wet, clinging to the taut muscles of his buttocks and thighs. He reached down to unfasten the flap and Merideth gasped in her breath.

  The captain turned quickly, spearing her with his green gaze, and suddenly all that had happened—the battle, her fainting—came flooding back.

  “Well, I see you’ve come around,” he said with a lift of his raven brow. Apparently he had decided against stripping from his breeches, for he was rebuttoning his pants. But the dampness made them just as snug in front. Merideth swallowed and forced her gaze away from the muscled thighs and the obvious bulge at their apex.

  Pushing to her elbows, Merideth ignored him as he moved to the cot; she looked instead out the transom windows to where the first blush of dawn had tinged the sea a pearly pink. They were moving all right, and, by the look of their wake, at a goodly speed. And there was no sign of the British vessel. “You’ve escaped again, I see.”

  “It’s something I seem to do passably well.” His grin flashed; the dimple appeared, but it just as quickly disappeared as a cynical expression darkened his face. “Almost as well as you swoon. Is that something you practiced back in England?”

  “I never fainted before you happened into my life. And I hardly think one time qualifies me as accomplished at it.” Merideth held his stare and tried to swing her legs over the cot’s side. There wasn’t any room to get up without brushing against him. “Would you mind moving?”

  “Abner thinks you should stay abed for awhile. And this wasn’t the first time. On the beach at Land’s End you very prettily swooned away. Of course, that’s when you were trying to gain my sympathy.”

  “How foolish of me not to realize the emotion was foreign to you.” Merideth shoved against his leg, but he didn’t budge. He just stood there, arms crossed over his hair-covered chest.

  “I told you Abner thinks you should rest.”

  “Why should you care what he thinks? I’m quite sure my pretend swoon has afforded me enough time to lie about.”

  The hint of a smile tilted the corner of his mouth and lit the depths of his eyes. “I rely on Abner when it comes to the health of those on my ship. Besides, he mentioned that you worked very hard last night. He thought ‘twas only natural the blood finally got to you.”

  “But then he apparently thinks my faint was genuine?”

  “Aye.”

  “Unlike his captain.”

  “Genuine or no, it doesn’t change the fact that you tended the wounded last night.” He stepped away to retrieve the clean shirt and Merideth bounded from the bed.

  “Well, for your information, caring for the men did not cause me to swoon.” He turned, looking at her in surprise. Obviously he had thought she’d be happy with the chance to stay in bed. “It was discovering that you weren’t to be captured... this time... that made me ill.”

  Merideth advanced on him till she had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. “Knowing I had to remain in your loathsome presence.”

  Jared’s eyes narrowed. “Being rid of me is easy enough. Just tell me what I want to know.”

  “For the last time, I don’t know anything.”

  “Then there’s nothing more to discuss.” Turning on his heel, Jared slammed out of his cabin, realizing too late that he still wore wet breeches from working on the hull. But he refused to turn back, especially when he passed Tim in the passageway, heading toward his cabin.

  “Abner wanted me checkin’ on her Ladyship,” the boy began before Jared cut him off.

  “She’s just fine!”

  Scratching his head and wondering at his captain’s brusque manner, Tim watched him stalk off, his breeches wet, his chest and feet bare. He was still pondering it when he entered the captain’s cabin.

  “I’d a thought the cap’n would be feelin’ tip-top, seein’ how we done snookered them British.”

  “Maybe he fears you’ll be attacked again. The ship must be in pretty bad shape.” Merideth hoped she didn’t sound too pleased by the prospect. But Tim dashed her hopes with his next words.

  “Not much chance of that happenin’. We’ll be salutin’ the fort at the head of Morlaix Roads within the watch. Then there’s nothing more to do but sail up the river.”

  “That’s where we’re headed? Morlaix?”

  Tim nodded. “That’s where we take our prizes.”

  Including her. Merideth sighed. Perhaps it was better they were here. Someone in France had to believe she knew nothing about a traitor. Someone had to listen.

  But even as she tried to believe the best, a creeping doubt made a chill run down her spine. What if they didn’t believe her? What if her father had been involved in treason and had somehow pulled her into it?

  He wouldn’t do that, Merideth thought. But her conviction wasn’t as strong as it had been. Whatever Jared Blackstone was, a killer or not, he believed she was involved. He truly believed it.

  Shutting her eyes, Merideth leaned her forehead against the glass panes. For better or worse, they would soon be in France.

  Chapter Seven

  “What do you mean he’s not here?”

  Jared stood on the steps in front of the half-timbered house and stared at the wizened, tight-lipped woman. She simply screwed her face into more of a grimace and started to close the door.

  “No, wait, please. Pardon. I did not mean to be so abrupt.” It wasn’t this woman’s fault that Daniel Wallis wasn’t here. And even Jared’s manners usually weren’t this lacking. He’d never been as polished and courtly as his brother. But his mother had taught him better than to yell at elderly ladies.

  Smiling, Jared tried again. “Pardon,” he repeated. He never had picked up more than a few words of French. “I am a friend of Monsieur Wallis... his cousin. Do you know where he is?”

  “Non.” This time she did shut the door of the boardinghouse where Daniel had stayed, and Jared let her.

  Damn.

  What was he to do with her now?

  Jared strode down the rue du Mur, toward the docks, wondering just where in the hell Daniel could be. Jared’s instructions had been explicit. Procure the name of the traitor from Lord Alfred and return to me here in Morlaix.

  It had seemed so simple at the time... though Jared hadn’t liked the idea of it. “I’m a privateer... a sea captain,” he’d said. “Spies and intrigue are not for me.”

  But Daniel had countered smoothly... knowing just the words to say to get Jared to agree to his scheme. “You and John were more alike than you realize. Believe me, I grew up with both of you. If he were here, he’d do this without hesitation.”

  “Aye, but John is dead.”

  “And so I’m asking you. It’s important, Jared.”

  “So where are you now, Cousin Daniel?” Jared mumbled to himself as he crossed the narrow street and walked along the wharf. The warm air vibrated with the sound of mallets striking hawsing irons, and it smelled of tar and salt water.

  Morlaix was a favorite with Yankee privateers, and the packed shipyard bore that out. Vessels in various stages of repair and refitting lined the shore, their masts pointing skyward like skeletal spires.

  Jared spotted the Carolina, her ocher-and-red hull, which made her resemble an innocent merchantman, shining in the sun. It wasn’t till one noticed the sharp, sleek lines of the hull that her true beauty came to light. But that beauty was marred now, and Jared shook his head as he realized again how much.

  The crew had cleaned up the debris of shattered railings and splintered spars, but the shorn mast left a void. That and the hole in the hull made Jared recall how lucky they’d been to escape the British cruisers. But their luck didn’t seem to be holding out.

  The Carolina would be land-bound for a time... longer than Jared wished to be. And he didn’t know where to find Daniel.

  “Appears the lady’s had a rough time of it.” Padriac came up beside Jared and stood for a moment. Like his friend, he studied the schooner.

  “Aye, she has.”

  �
��But she’ll be good as new in no time.”

  Not exactly how Jared would have described it, but he nodded all the same. Together they walked toward the gangplank.

  “So, did you find your cousin ready to question our little spy?”

  “I didn’t find my cousin at all.” Jared stepped aside as a tar carrying a bucket of treenails passed by. “It seems he’s off to points unknown. At least his landlady couldn’t tell me where he is.”

  “What’s to be done with Lady Merideth?” Padriac called as Jared strode across the deck toward the hatch.

  “A good question. A good question indeed,” Jared called over his shoulder before climbing down the ladder. And one he couldn’t honestly answer. Except to know he wished to be rid of her. She wasn’t going to tell him a thing... she’d made herself clear on that point. And if she was to do the Americans any good at all, he needed to get her to someone she would talk to.

  Daniel Wallis wasn’t available. That left one man.

  “Come in.” Merideth stopped pacing the small cabin when the knock sounded. She was almost pleased to see Captain Blackstone, which was ridiculous considering their distrust of each other. But perhaps he would tell her what was going to happen to her.

  They’d been in port... a French port... for several hours, and no one had told her a thing.

  “He’s not in Morlaix.” Jared shrugged. “Possibly not in France at all.”

  “Who?” Merideth’s eyes narrowed when he scowled at her.

  “Your contact.”

  Would he never cease this silly notion that she was a traitor? Weary of even trying to explain, Merideth sighed. “Pity.” Her tone was sarcastic, but in truth she was sorry to hear the news. Perhaps a face-to-face meeting with this man who’d told the captain she and her father were traitors was needed before she could return to England. Unless, of course, Captain Blackstone planned to release her because her so-called contact was gone.

  But Merideth didn’t think there was much likelihood of that. Jared was leaning against the bulwark, his arms crossed. He was staring at her. Despite all she’d been through at his hands, Merideth had a foolish desire to smooth out her skirt and straighten her hair. Not that either would do much to improve her appearance. There were neither clean clothes nor pins to dress her hair since her abduction from British soil. Add to that the trials she’d been through, and Merideth imagined she was a sight indeed.

  She didn’t care, Merideth reminded herself as she returned his stare. What the captain thought of her mattered naught.

  “I suppose we’ll be off to Paris, then,” he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

  Paris. For a moment Merideth was a small girl again, wanting more than anything for her father to take her with him to the French capital. But she wasn’t eight, and the man before her had most likely killed her father. Turning, Merideth settled onto the window seat, almost afraid to ask, yet fearing the unknown more. “What’s in Paris?”

  “Not what... who. And the answer is Dr. Franklin.”

  Benjamin Franklin. Merideth had heard of that colonial from her father. He’d been fascinated by Dr. Franklin’s work with electricity, though Lord Alfred hadn’t completely understood the concept. “What have I to do with Dr. Franklin? Surely you don’t think that I—”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore. Daniel told me he was Franklin’s emissary. Daniel isn’t here.” Jared shrugged as if he’d explained the situation... or as if it were unexplainable. In either case he seemed tired of the subject and their discussion, not bothering to answer her inquiry as to who Daniel was. He only paused before taking his leave to order over his shoulder, “Gather your things together. We’ll leave for Paris on the morning post.”

  Her laugh made him stop. “My things?” Merideth mimicked. “Just what ‘things’ am I to gather?”

  A scowl spread over Jared’s face as he looked at her... really looked at her. He’d studied her on this voyage more than he liked to admit, her face, the blue of her eyes, the curve of her cheek. And her hair. God, how he loved to see the sun shining in her hair.

  But as his gaze drifted down over her form, he noticed the torn, bloodstained gown instead of the womanly curves beneath. What in the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t take her to Paris like this. “Hmmm.” Jared cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. “I’ll send Tim out to fetch you something.”

  “Tim?” Merideth questioned, but the captain was already out the door. Leaning her head back, she decided it didn’t matter. She doubted Tim was very accomplished at selecting ladies’ apparel. But anything would suit so long as it was clean.

  Oh, how wrong she’d been.

  Merideth tugged on the gown’s bodice. It did no good. Her breasts still seemed ready to spill over the narrow row of lace. The deep breath she took only made matters worse. “Good heavens,” she whispered to herself on a moan.

  Tim obviously had a penchant for bright colors. The gown was a vivid red, with bright-blue swans embroidered on the quilted underskirt. A dress to catch the eye if ever there was one.

  “Ain’t it a beauty?” Tim asked, obviously pleased with his purchase. He’d come into the cabin after she’d dressed, but so far Merideth didn’t have the nerve to let him see the front.

  “Yes, oh, yes it is.” Closing her eyes, Merideth turned from the small looking glass the captain used for shaving. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought. When Tim said nothing, her lashes drifted open. She couldn’t help smiling at the way the boy’s eyes bulged.

  “I... I didn’t know it were so... so red,” he mumbled, as his face turned nearly as bright as the gown.

  When the knock sounded at the door, Tim reached back and opened it without shifting his gaze from the dress.

  “Are you read—” Jared stepped into the cabin, his mouth clamping shut when he saw her. What in the hell was she doing dressed like a strumpet? A quick glance from Merideth to Tim almost made him groan. What in the hell was he thinking, sending a lad to buy her a gown?

  Without a word, he strode to his sea chest. A moment of rummaging and he pulled out a cloak. It was long and black, obviously not made for a woman, but he heard Lady Merideth’s sigh of relief when he swept it around her shoulders.

  “We shall miss the coach if we don’t hurry,” was all he said.

  Merideth followed him off the gangplank, doing her best not to trip over the hem of the too long cloak. With an unexpected feeling of regret she stepped onto the wharf. To be off Captain Blackstone’s ship should be a relief beyond words, but as she glanced back to see Tim waving from the deck, she longed to turn about and race back.

  “Don’t be silly,” she admonished herself just before stumbling over the long, fluttering hem. As she caught herself before falling, Merideth decided it was fear of the unknown that caused her foolish longing to return to the vessel. But unlike her recent experience, this foray into the shadowy future would hopefully be better. At least she wouldn’t have the pigheaded captain to contend with. He’d made it perfectly clear he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

  Jared paused to look around when he heard her mumbling... grinning in spite of his ill humor. Lady Merideth—who often, despite her angel face, managed to appear haughty—looked comedic. Beautiful, Jared had to admit, but comedic all the same. Again he chastised himself for not personally seeing to her attire. He hadn’t much experience with buying ladies’ clothing, but he could have done better than the trollop apparel she wore under his cloak.

  Slowing his pace, Jared offered his arm, which she took after a moment’s hesitation.

  The air was warm and humid, smelling of salt water and the press of humanity. The cobblestones were uneven and difficult to traverse while holding up the heavy cloak. Merideth was tired and hot by the time they reached the courtyard of the inn where they were to catch the coach to Paris. She welcomed the chance to enter the cool, ivy-covered taproom and rest.

  The barely perceptible hush of voices that accompanied their entrance las
ted only a moment. The captain seated Merideth on a bench near the door and went to purchase their passage. He returned with a short, rotund man who introduced himself as Monsieur Gerald, the innkeeper. A smile creased his fleshy face and his chins quivered as he asked how he might serve her.

  “Some tea, please.”

  “Ah, tea for the lovely lady, and for the gentleman, rum,” he said in his thickly accented English before turning and yelling something in French to a serving girl. She scurried to do his bidding so quickly that Merideth wondered if Monsieur Gerald was as amiable as he seemed.

  In any case, he appeared determined to stay about, hovering over the captain and herself.

  “Captain Blackstone tells me you are off to see Dr. Franklin.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “He is a wonderful man, Dr. Franklin. So beloved by the French.”

  “Yes, I suppose he is,” Merideth agreed.

  “But then all Americans are. Especially men like Captain Blackstone, the famous privateer.”

  Merideth raised her brow at the innkeeper’s description of her companion and saw the captain flush beneath his sun-darkened skin.

  Monsieur Gerald seemed not to notice. He went on wringing his fat hands and grinning his insincere grin. “Captain Blackstone has told me of Charles Town, his home in America. Are you from the Carolinas also?”

  “Actually, no. I live in England, Banistar Hall. Captain Blackstone kidnapped me after killing my father.”

  Merideth thought she could feel the air grow still. Jared Blackstone, sitting across the small round table from her, scowled, his jaw clenched so tight she could see a muscle jump in his cheek. The little innkeeper glanced from one of them to the other, seemingly at a loss as to how he should react. Then suddenly he laughed, tentatively at first, then with more gusto.

  “It is a joke,” he chortled. “You are making light with me.”