Jared’s fists clenched. “I don’t think she is.”
“You don’t want to think she is.” Daniel stood. “Is she that good in bed?”
Jared’s fingers were clutching the front of his cousin’s waistcoat before either of them realized what was happening.
“Look at you,” Daniel said. “You’re as foolish as your brother was, letting a pretty face fog your reason.” Jared let go and Daniel straightened his clothing. “Am I the only one who can keep his wits? You curse me for not giving the lady the rope. Why should I? She’s English, for God’s sake, and most likely a spy to boot. Or have you forgotten?”
“Nay.” Jared turned away. “I haven’t forgotten.” He took a deep breath. “And if she had anything to do with John’s death... I’ll find out about it.”
“And you’ll tell me?”
“And I’ll take care of her myself.”
It was midafternoon before Merideth decided to go on deck—and then only at Tim’s insistence.
“Come on, yer Ladyship. ‘Tis a lovely day it is. Sunny and bright, a pleasure after last night.”
“I’m comfortable here... really.” Merideth settled back further on the cushioned window seat. She had washed and dressed earlier. All her clothes the captain packed at Land’s End were lost, presumably sent to a watery grave along with the deserted longboat. But luckily the gowns she’d brought with her from France were still in the cabin. She wore a simple frock of blue with roses embroidered on the underpetticoat. Her hair was brushed, and tied back in a matching blue ribbon.
She was presentable.
She had no excuse to stay below in the stuffy cabin. Except... she was hiding.
From Captain Blackstone.
When the reality of what she was doing hit her she stood, calling out to Tim as he was taking her dinner dishes from the cabin.
“I think I shall take a stroll above deck.” She was going to have to face the captain sooner or later. And she might as well get it over with. Besides, though she’d thought to discuss... things with him privately, she now decided it better to confront him in public.
After patting her hair and straightening her skirt, she marched over toward the door. “I’m ready,” she announced, and followed a bewildered looking Tim into the passageway.
The sun was warm, the wind crisp, as she stuck her head up through the hatch. Merideth had accompanied Tim to the galley with the tray, and now finished climbing the ladder so he could come up too. She tried to glance about casually—the captain wasn’t up on the quarterdeck—but apparently Tim noticed her surveillance.
“There he is,” he shouted, and pointed toward the rigging.
Shading her eyes with the back of her hand, Merideth looked in the direction Tim indicated. The sails shone blindingly white in the sun. Squinting, Merideth tried to figure out why Tim had pointed her in that direction.
Then she saw him.
High in the rigging, perhaps twenty feet up, bare feet tangled in ropes, one hand holding onto a spar, he stood. His hair, cast blue-black in the light, whipped in the wind. He was shirtless, which explained the sun-darkened skin of his upper torso that Merideth had noticed this morn.
“What... what is he doing up there?” Merideth pressed her palm to her chest. He looked so vulnerable with nothing but hard deck and endless sea beneath him.
Tim had grabbed up a long stick and was pushing a brick-shaped stone around the deck, scrubbing the wood. He glanced up and shrugged. “Looks like he’s fishin’ a spar.”
“Fishing?” Merideth knew something of the sport, and it wasn’t usually done from such an altitude.
“Fishin’, aye. He be fixin’ it. Musta cracked last night durin’ the storm. He’s usin’ an old oar as a splint.” Tim leaned into the handle and surveyed the rigging. “Look yonder. Chet’s doin’ the same.”
Merideth spared a glance toward the other seaman before her attention returned to the captain. “Isn’t that... dangerous?”
“Aw, not when yor a seafarin’ man like Cap’n Blackstone. Could do it in his sleep, if’n he’d a mind to, I reckon.”
Merideth didn’t care if he could do it in his sleep; watching him move around that high up was frightening. She moved toward the capstan, closer to the captain, and called up to him. “Captain Blackstone.” The wind caught her words and carried them aft, away from him. The next time she yelled.
“Aye.” Jared hung onto the spar and looked down to the deck. Lady Merideth, her skirts flapping in the breeze, stood staring up at him. Her expression was anxious, which surprised him almost as much as her seeking him out. He thought after this morning she’d be avoiding him like the plague.
“I’d like a word with you, if you don’t mind.”
“About what?”
Merideth glanced around to see if anyone was listening. All the crew members on deck seemed busy with some chore or another. Many of them seemed to be making repairs to the ship. “It’s rather private, if you don’t mind.”
“Private, huh?” With the heel of his hand Jared shoved a wooden wedge beneath the lashings to tighten them. Then he swung down the shrouds, hand over hand, landing on the deck directly in front of Merideth. “Perhaps we should go below if you’ve something private to discuss.”
Merideth took a step back. He stood before her, big and broad-chested, smelling of sun and sea air and sweat. She swallowed, trying to ignore the tangle of damp curls that spread from armpit to armpit and arrowed down to his breeches. And, Lord help her, she knew how the hair thatched out, forming a nest for his manhood.
“No,” she said, then cleared her throat because her voice sounded husky. “I think our discussion can be had here, above deck.”
Jared shrugged. “ ‘Tis all the same to me.”
“Fine.” Merideth crossed her arms. “I wish to go back to Land’s End. I can’t imagine what came over me last night to leave so readily, but I—”
“Nay.”
“What...?” The captain strode to the rail and Merideth followed. “What do you mean, nay? Surely you can’t be serious about taking me to the New World.”
“I am.”
“But why? And don’t give me that poppycock about someone trying to kill me. That simply isn’t true.” At least she hoped it wasn’t. Granted, she’d had a run of accidents in France—but they were certainly not the result of someone trying to murder her. Who would want to see her dead? Regardless, those incidents were behind her now. A haunting memory of her foot tangling with the underbrush—the frightening moment when she knew she was falling—came back to her. But she pushed it aside to concentrate on what the captain was saying. He turned to face her and Merideth was struck again by the unexpected clarity of his green eyes, so light compared to the thick fringe of black lashes.
“All right,” he said, agreeing quickly with her assertion that there was no killer after her. “What of the fact that your home is deserted. You have no money. Nothing.”
“I can manage.” Merideth watched as he shifted his stance to look out over the sea. “I can.” She had felt less sure the previous night when surrounded by the hauntingly empty manor. But now she recalled that except for the servants she’d been alone at Banistar Hall most of her life. Surely she could handle everything if she could just get him to take her back. But his next words made her grip the polished railing.
“It makes no difference. We’ve cleared the channel and are on our way across the Atlantic. I couldn’t take you back now even if I wanted to.” He swept her with a green-eyed gaze that sent heat curling through her stomach and lower, before adding, “And believe me, I don’t want to.”
Merideth swallowed and took a deep breath to bolster her resistance. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Her voice lowered, although a quick glance about showed that no one was within hearing distance of them. The crew moved about busily, too occupied to care about their captain and his... Merideth couldn’t imagine what word they would use to describe her.
Jared’s dark brow arched. “Wha
t is it?”
“You’re keeping me because of... because of what we do,” she finished in a rush.
“What we do?” Now both brows were raised.
“Don’t play stupid with me. You know very well what we’ve been doing.” She moved closer, and though her tone was irritated, her words came out as barely a whisper. “In Passy... last night in my bedroom...”
“Ah, that.” Jared’s lips turned up in a sardonic smile. His long, thin finger centered on his chin and he tapped the indentation there several times. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe there were other times we made love. In my cabin this morning. We very nearly did in the coach and—”
“Would you be quiet?” Merideth grabbed hold of his arm, pulling his hand away from his face and causing his smile to deepen. She swept the deck with her gaze. “Do you think I want everyone to know? Besides, we did not make love.”
“Really?” Again Jared turned to study the vast expanse of glistening white-capped waves. “What would you call it?”
“Madness,” Merideth answered without hesitation. “Madness, and it has to stop.” For several long minutes, while Merideth contemplated the harsh lines of his handsome face profiled against the backdrop of sea and sky, Jared said nothing. When she could stand it no more, Merideth continued. “Well, don’t you agree?”
“Nay.”
That single word, softly spoken, sent Merideth’s heart pounding. She dug her nails into the railing. “I refuse to allow you to continue your—”
“My what? Ravishment? Rape?” Each word hung on the air like a raindrop, crystal clear and open for examination. They both knew neither described what he’d done.
“I won’t force you, Merideth.” His eyes searched hers. “But I won’t make any ill-advised promises either.”
“What of your contention that I’m a traitor? Surely you find that repugnant enough to cool your ardor.”
“I find where my ardor is concerned, who you are or what you are makes very little difference.”
She couldn’t look away. Merideth swallowed and tried to concentrate upon her breathing rather than the desire she saw in the green depths, but it did no good. She wanted to lean into him, to melt into the hardness of his body. Even here. Right on deck, surrounded by his crew of privateers. Why had she thought herself safe from him as long as they weren’t alone?
A maverick gust of wind caught hold of Merideth’s hair ribbon, tossing it across her lips. She turned her face into the breeze, breaking the hold of his gaze, but the sensual spell he wove still surrounded her. Knowing she was retreating and not caring, Merideth took one step away from him, then another.
Merideth cleared her throat. “All that I ask is that you give me someplace to sleep... someplace other than your cabin.”
“I’m afraid ‘tis impossible.”
“But—”
The Carolina is a privateer, Merideth, not a packet. Space is limited. Passenger space is nonexistent.”
“I don’t care where I have to sleep.”
“You would if I put you in the hold, or down with the crew. But the question is moot. I shall sleep elsewhere until...”
“Until?”
He shrugged, giving her a knowing smile. “Until we reach Charles Town.”
Merideth had the strangest feeling that that wasn’t what he really meant, but she ignored it. “When will that be?” There were British troops in the colonies, she knew that. Once she reached land she would find them and somehow make her way back to England. Things were bleak, but there was hope. At least Merideth thought so until the captain answered her question.
“It will take us five weeks at best, more likely six to make the Carolina coast.”
Six weeks. How was she ever going to stay away from him on this tiny ship for six weeks?
She would have worried even more had she been able to read Jared Blackstone’s mind as he watched her walk away from him on the sun-drenched deck.
He may have had some difficulty keeping his wits about him when he’d looked into her blue angel eyes, but some semblance of logic had returned. And with it came Daniel’s description of the woman responsible for his brother’s death.
Beautiful.
Angelic.
Was it Merideth Banistar?
She seemed innocent, with her sweet face and guileless expression. But the woman who had betrayed John was wise to the ways of deceit. John may have been naive about women, but he was intelligent, and committed to the cause of liberty. He would have kept his guard up unless he’d trusted someone implicitly.
Unless he had believed in her innocence.
Jared’s fingers fisted. He knew Merideth Banistar to be innocent in some ways—at least she had been until she’d encountered Jared. She’d been a virgin when he’d first taken her. Jared was certain of that. But he was just as certain that John would not have pressed the woman he loved to fulfill his physical desires. If it was Lady Merideth that he’d adored—and Jared intended to find out one way or the other—John had done it chastely. John was too much the gentleman, ruled by a creed that Jared never could quite understand... or live up to.
For, unlike his brother, Jared had no intention of keeping his distance from Merideth Banistar. Mayhap he’d acquiesce to her request that he sleep elsewhere—for the moment. But he planned to be back in her bed soon.
And he planned to be invited.
Chapter Sixteen
Days on board the Carolina weren’t as bad as she’d imagined. To be honest, Merideth thought today was exhilarating. She leaned into the rail, watching cottony white clouds form shapes.
Turning her face into the stiff breeze, she took a deep breath of salt air, realizing how much she enjoyed the open feeling on deck. She didn’t even mind the cramped cabin anymore. Whether it was the row of windows along the transom or the knowledge that the morn would bring a chance to go above deck, Merideth now slept with the door closed.
Shutting and locking the door had nothing to do with wanting to keep Captain Blackstone out.
“As if a locked door would do any good if he really wanted in,” she mumbled to herself, then glanced about to make sure no one had heard her. The men of the forenoon watch were busy with their duties, some high in the rigging, others repairing sail and rope, or scrubbing the deck.
Merideth rested her chin on the heel of her hand, her elbows firmly planted on the polished rail, and sighed. The truth was Captain Blackstone showed no desire to enter, his cabin. For which she was extremely grateful, Merideth reminded herself. Still, it was strange the way he ignored her. And had for the sennight since their last conversation. The one when she’d warned him away.
He neither slept in nor visited his cabin. If there was something he needed, a chart or clean shirt, he sent someone, most often Tim, to fetch it for him. If Merideth passed him on deck, he nodded, and spoke, but of nothing personal. And he always kept on his way.
Twisting her head aft, Merideth adjusted the old wide-brimmed hat Tim had lent her when she’d discovered several sun spots across the bridge of her nose. She stared at the captain, who was standing spread-legged on the quarterdeck. If she were to climb the ladder and go up to him right now, he would probably make some polite comment, then stride away.
Not that she intended to go to him, of course. Forcing her attention back to the rolling sea, Merideth decided she’d had quite enough of Captain Blackstone.
But the rest of the crew was fine... for American privateers. They’d been so many places, and with the tiniest bit of encouragement they shared tales of foreign ports and exotic lands. Just last night Mr. Keefer, the ship’s bo’sun, a wiry fellow with a face as brown and wrinkled as a walnut, told her a story about the time he was attacked by pirates in the Caribbean. He—
“How are you this morn, Lady Merideth? I trust you slept well.”
Shutting her eyes for a moment, Merideth forced a smile on her lips and turned to face the one person on board the Carolina that she truly didn’t like... except for the
captain, she quickly reminded herself.
“Good day, Mr. Wallis.”
“Daniel,” he said with an ingratiating smile. “You agreed to call me Daniel.”
“So I did.” He had been telling her of the vast lands in Carolina at the time. The plantation called Royal Oak, where he lived. Where Captain Blackstone lived as well. Though Daniel hadn’t revealed that bit of information, she’d remembered hearing it from the captain earlier.
“We’re blessed with uncommonly good weather today,” he said, resting his lace-edged sleeve on the rail.
“Yes.”
He moved closer. “I wonder if you’ve given my proposal any more thought.”
Merideth couldn’t help a glance toward the quarterdeck. The captain was still there, engrossed in talking with Mr. Pochet, the ship’s carpenter. But though he couldn’t hear them, it surprised her that Daniel Wallis would bring up this subject now. Of course, it had surprised her from the beginning.
He must have sensed her unease, for he waved his fine-boned hand in the air. “You needn’t worry about Jared. He takes the running of his ship much too seriously. He hardly knows what else goes on.”
“Still, I should think if he heard of your offer to help me...” Merideth let her sentence drift off, for she couldn’t imagine what the captain might do. Any more than she could fathom why his cousin had made the proposition.
“Poppycock.” Daniel shook his perfectly dressed hair, sending a shower of powder onto the padded shoulders of his puce silk waistcoat. “I’ve a feeling Jared would be secretly pleased. He tends to run off impulsively doing things, then finding himself in a quandary as to how to rectify matters.”
“He doesn’t strike me as the wavering type.”
“Precisely why he gets himself in trouble. For instance, I’m sure he sees the error in his ways concerning kidnapping you, but he’s too stubborn to admit it. Believe me, in the end he’ll be grateful I’ve taken care of the problem. He always is.”
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