“So, you were listening to me.” He smiled.
“Always, Colonel.”
His eyes sparkled pleasure at her response as he leaned on the railing and cocked his head. “Now, what of your dreams, Mrs. Crawford? I would love to hear them.”
But she couldn’t tell him that her only real dream was to escape the scorn, the hatred toward her in the South. The sun spread sparkling ribbons over waves, and she lowered the brim of her hat against its brightness. “Like you, I simply wish to put my past behind me and start over.”
“But you still have family in the States. Why have they not come with you?”
Eliza bit her lip. “We have become estranged, I’m afraid.”
“Ah.” Understanding flashed across his eyes. “No doubt your father did not wish you to become a war nurse.”
Though that was not the reason for the estrangement, it was true enough to allow Eliza to nod in agreement.
The brig rose over a swell, and he touched her elbow to keep her steady. “I’m sure he had your best interests at heart.”
She wouldn’t tell him that it was her father’s own interests, his own reputation, that led his heart. A fact that still weighed heavily on Eliza. Had he ever really loved her? Or was all his meddling, his smothering, his guiding merely a way for him to control her, mold her into the perfect daughter of a prominent solicitor?
Blake hated that he’d somehow caused the sorrow burning in Eliza’s golden eyes. Gold like the sun with flecks of silver that sparkled when she laughed. He must bring back her smile. Scanning the deck, he spotted Mr. Dodd pointing to his treasure map and spouting off to a group of passengers. “Well at least you’ve not got your heart set on a chest of gold like Mr. Dodd.”
Clutching the brim of her hat, whereupon ribbons and feathers hopelessly flailed about, she glanced toward the ex-lawman and rewarded Blake with a grin. “Indeed. I am not one for fanciful tales. Can you believe it? Treasure maps and pirates!” She chuckled.
Blake scratched his chin. “And apparently they buried their chest of gold right outside of Rio de Janeiro.”
“I hope he didn’t pay overmuch for such a forgery.” She gave him a sly look. “Though it is rather amusing.”
“Then, I take it, you don’t believe him?” Blake’s attempt at lightness fell flat when, still staring at Dodd, the lady’s face tightened. “I find him uncomfortable to be around. But if he does find gold, the better for him. Perhaps then he will keep his eyes off the ladies.”
“Yes indeed.” The man’s obsession with women had not gone unnoticed by Blake. “Let me know if he bothers you, and I will handle it.”
She smiled at him shyly and lowered her gaze. Such innocence from a married lady. He enjoyed every moment spent in her company. More than any of the ladies he had courted before the war. When he had thought himself too wounded, too damaged, for any possibility of finding a wife, Eliza Crawford had rekindled hope within him for the first time in years. If only she could overlook his weakness.
Yet the look in her eyes at the moment exuded more respect than pity. And he felt her admiration straight down to his boots. Wind gusted over them. Loose strands of her hair danced over her shoulders in a wildness that was so much like the lady herself. Brave, free, uninhibited. He’d never met anyone like her.
A shout drew his gaze to Miss Magnolia, who was scolding her slave—for some minor infraction, no doubt. After her tirade, she settled onto one of the heavy crates the captain had brought on deck for the passengers. The young lady’s gaze drifted above and remained there so long, Blake followed it to find Hayden, stripped to his trousers, his chest gleaming with sweat, working on one of the halyards.
“Odd that she stares at a man she claims to despise,” Eliza offered with a chuckle.
Blake cocked a brow at her, noting her eyes were fastened on the man as well. A spike of jealousy caused his annoyance to rise. “Our stowaway is a handsome figure, is he not?”
A coy grin toyed on her lips. “He is no match for you, Colonel.” She immediately swept her gaze to sea. “Forgive me. That was far too bold. I fear my thoughts have escaped my mouth again!”
Another endearing quality of hers. “I’m afraid I cannot forgive you, madam.” For it meant that, despite his limp, despite his mad episodes, she found him agreeable. And that alone gave him the impetus to ask her to receive his courtship. He wanted to know her better. Wanted to have an understanding between them that excluded all others. She was, after all, only one of four unmarried women aboard, and he saw the way the other men looked at her.
Yet, was it fair of him to pursue her when he had the responsibility of the entire colony on his shoulders? Yes, he’d be busy, especially after arriving at Brazil, but she’d proven herself more than capable of handling any situation. And with her by his side, with her wisdom, skill, bravery, and kind heart, Blake knew he could tackle anything.
After glancing around to ensure they weren’t going to be interrupted, he took her hand in his, heart thundering in his chest more than it had on any battlefield. “Mrs. Crawford, I know this is sudden. I know you may think me completely mad, but I would be so honored”—he hesitated, shifting his stance—“you would make me so happy”—he cleared his throat—“if you would allow me to court you.”
Instead of the expected smile, the joyful glimmer in her eyes, horror glazed over them then eased onto her face, tightening her features and parting her mouth. Tugging her hand from his, she backed away as if he’d just asked her to climb to the top yard.
CHAPTER 12
Stripped to her petticoats, Eliza ran a damp cloth over her face and arms in an attempt to rid herself of the salty film that seemed permanently glued to her skin. Though she tried, she could not get the colonel’s request to court her out of her mind, out of her thoughts. Or out of her heart. Thank God one of the sailors had interrupted them with a complaint of a rash, which was soon followed by a string of infirmities from others that had kept her in the sick bay the rest of the day. Safe from having to answer the question to which her heart screamed, Yes! but to which her mind screamed, No!
Yet … was a courtship possible? Could one tiny mistake several years in the past ruin her chances for happiness? She had thought so. “Oh Lord, I don’t know what to do,” she said out loud, not really expecting an answer. Not really wanting to know the answer if it meant the colonel was not a part of her future. Which was probably why she wouldn’t hear one. She dipped the rag back into the basin of water. The door opened, and she swerved about, covering herself.
“Oh, forgive me, Eliza.” Angeline entered the tiny cabin and quickly closed the door. “It’s terribly hard to find privacy aboard this ship.”
But Eliza had lost all thoughts of modesty when her eyes latched onto the fluffy bundle in Angeline’s arms. “Oh my.” She stepped toward Angeline and ran her fingers over the black fur. The cat gazed up at her with amber-colored eyes. “Where did you find it?”
Angeline eased into the single chair and set the feline on her lap. “Below in the hold. I went to get some flour for Cook, and I found this wee one pouncing on a rat. A rather large rat, I might add.” She chuckled, and Eliza thought how comely she was when she smiled. Which the lady didn’t do very often.
“Most women would have swooned at the sight of a rat. You impress me.” Eliza knelt to caress the cat, who began purring under so much attention.
“I’ve been exposed to much worse.” Angeline’s tone was far too nonchalant for such a statement.
Eliza squeezed her hand. “We’ve all been exposed to things these past few years that no lady should have to endure.” Though Eliza had a feeling Angeline wasn’t talking about the war at all. There was something in her demeanor, a sorrow, a worldly knowledge that had stolen the innocence from her eyes. Eyes that now bore shadows beneath them.
“I notice you don’t sleep well,” Eliza said, bringing the lady’s surprised gaze to hers.
“Forgive me for waking you. I try to be quiet.”
> “I’m a light sleeper.” Eliza sat on the trunk beside Angeline. “But that isn’t why I mentioned it. Perhaps I can find some medicine to help you rest?”
“Nothing helps. I’ve been this way since … well, since the war.”
Eliza nodded her understanding. The dreadful war had changed a lot of people—for the worse. “It must have been horrible to lose your father. Who took care of you?”
“My uncle.” The woman seemed to choke on the word. “Then I was on my own.”
Eliza wondered what happened but kept silent.
“I did many things I’m not proud of,” Angeline added numbly, as if to no one in particular.
“You are not the only one.” Eliza sighed.
Angeline’s brow wrinkled, and she looked at Eliza, first with curiosity and then with shame. Finally, she gazed down and stroked the cat.
“What will you call her?” Eliza attempted to lighten the mood.
“It’s a he, I believe. And he’s quite skinny. I fear he hasn’t been eating well.” The cat leaped from her lap and slinked around the cabin. “I’m going to call him Stowy since he’s our stowaway cat.”
Eliza chuckled and rose. “Excellent choice. If we keep him in here with us, at least we shan’t have to worry about rats crawling on us during our sleep.”
Angeline trembled. “At least not the rodent kind.”
Her words gave Eliza pause. “Has someone been bothering you?” she asked. “I can have the colonel speak to them.” She nearly laughed at her own statement. Did she think the man was her personal bodyguard to share as she desired?
“No. Nothing like that.” Angeline’s violet eyes swept to the porthole where the setting sun bounced in and out of view. “It’s just Mr. Dodd. He keeps staring at me.”
“You are a beautiful woman. I fear you’ll have to manage the attention. Especially when there are so few single women on this journey.”
“Perhaps you are right.” She offered Eliza a curt smile then brushed a lock of copper-colored hair from her forehead.
The cat wove around Eliza’s feet and then pounced on a shaft of sunlight shifting over the floor.
“Besides”—Eliza turned back to the small mirror, attempting to pin up her unruly locks—“I hear there is a celebration on deck tonight. Apparently some of the passengers and sailors brought along their fiddles and have agreed to play. I insist you join me above. After all we’ve been through on this voyage, we could use some gaiety.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.” Angeline rubbed her arms as if a chill had come over her.
“Why not?” Eliza gave up on her hair and opened her trunk, seeking her only formal gown, an emerald percale over a bodice of white muslin, trimmed in Chantilly lace. Her fingers touched something hard and cold, and she pulled out the gold pocket watch Stanton had given her. The last thing he had given her. The only thing he’d given her of a personal nature. She flipped it over to see her initials engraved on the back in fine filigree. FEW. Flora Eliza Watts. Folding it inside a handkerchief, she placed it back in the trunk and retrieved her gown.
Angeline sat back in her chair with a sigh. “I’ve never cared for parties or dancing.”
“Do say you’ll come listen to the music at least. It’s better than sitting here alone with a cat.”
“Is it?” Stowy leaped at one of the hammock ropes and began gnawing the twines. Angeline smiled. “I’m rather fond of him already.”
Yet after much persuasion, Eliza finally convinced her friend to accompany her. Sarah soon returned, begging off from the party with an excuse of exhaustion and promising to watch Stowy while they were above.
So, within an hour and dressed in their finest, Eliza and Angeline emerged onto the deck just in time to see the sun splash ripples of saffron and maroon across the horizon. A jaunty wind held the sails full and stirred the seas into frolicking waves. Everyone was in high spirits as passengers and sailors alike assembled to enjoy the festivities.
Across the deck, the colonel, with one boot propped on the gunwale, was deep in a conversation with James. His gaze traveled her way more than once, and she thought she saw him smile. Which did nothing to becalm the flutter of her heart. She knew she’d have to answer his question sooner or later, but for the life of her, she still had no idea what to say. Perhaps she could avoid him until she did. After all, there were plenty of other men to dance with. Though once the sun had set and the music began, she found her traitorous gaze wandering repeatedly toward him, hoping he would finish his conversation and approach her.
Fiddle, flute, and harmonica joined in a mellifluous melody that swirled like steam into the black bowl circling the ship. Clusters of twinkling stars spanned the inky curtain as if God himself had flung handfuls of diamonds into the sky. The main deck cleared, and couples moved in a country dance. Their efforts to maintain their balance on the shifting wood while performing the steps brought a chuckle to Eliza’s lips.
On the quarterdeck, Captain Barclay smoked a pipe and watched the proceedings. Beside him, Parson Bailey prattled on about the evils of dancing. When nobody paid him any mind, he dropped below. The Scotts joined the dancing couples, and Magnolia made her way to stand beside Eliza and Angeline. The smell of alcohol clung to her as tightly as her low-cut bodice.
“Good evening, ladies.” She greeted them with a smile. “Seems we are the only single women of any station on board.”
Eliza’s face grew hot. The audacity of the woman to attempt a friendship with her when she had threatened to destroy her life—continued to threaten her!
Though there was a hearty evening breeze, Magnolia drew out her fan, waving it flirtatiously over her face. “I find the colonel quite handsome, don’t you?”
Eliza ignored the twinge spiraling through her gut.
“However, he does have that limp.” She sighed. “And then there’s James, the doctor or preacher or whatever he is. Oh mercy me, what does it matter? Those devilish bronze eyes could make any woman swoon.”
Angeline smiled as her gaze reached across the deck to the good doctor. “I don’t believe the doctor is all that he seems to be,” she mumbled.
The ship rose, and Eliza clipped her arm through Angeline’s. “Indeed, why would you say such a thing?”
“No reason.” Her tone carried an intrigue that piqued Eliza’s curiosity.
Yet when both ladies glanced at Magnolia, it wasn’t the colonel or James her eyes were fixed on, but Hayden Gale, standing beside the aforementioned men, one boot on the bulwarks, one arm on the railing, returning her gaze.
“But you forget our roguish stowaway,” Angeline added.
“He’s a pig,” Magnolia spat.
Eliza restrained a smile. “I believe the pig is heading this way.”
Emerging from the crowd like a prince scattering his subjects, Hayden, dressed in a suit of brown broadcloth with silk-lined lapels—no doubt borrowed from one of the colonists—presented quite the dashing gentleman. Especially with his dark hair slicked back and tied in a queue and that devilish grin on his face. To Eliza’s surprise, he halted before Magnolia.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Scott?”
Magnolia stared at him as if he’d asked her to walk the plank. “I would not, Mr. Gale.” She raised her pert little nose. “Not if you were the last man on board.”
Eliza cringed at the girl’s rude behavior.
Yet Hayden only grinned as one brow rose over moss-green eyes. “Since it appears no one else will dance with you, it was only charity I had in mind.”
“Of all the nerve!” Magnolia blurted. “I have no need to beg for a dance.”
“And yet you turn away one freely offered.”
“I do not dance with ruffians.”
“And I do not dance with swaggering shrews. On board a ship, we can hardly afford to be finicky.”
Angeline gasped. Eliza hid a smile.
Magnolia fumed and stomped her foot. “How dare you?” He caught her raised hand—the one aiming for hi
s face—in midair. And after placing a kiss on it, he bowed to them all and left.
“Of all the …” Magnolia’s chest rose and fell as her gaze followed Hayden across the deck, but thankfully she stewed in silence.
The couples began a quadrille. A sailor sheepishly asked Angeline to dance, his eyes firing with delight when she agreed. Magnolia turned down the next man and the man after that before she huffed away to join her parents.
The ship seemed to sway with the music as water purled against the hull in a soothing accompaniment. Light from lanterns hanging from masts spun dizzying circles over the deck as Eliza strained to see through the miasma of twirling skirts and bobbing crinolettes. Several sailors looked her way, but it was Mr. Graves who finally approached, dressed in his usual black and looking even more sinister in the shadows of night. To make matters worse, Dodd joined him, his eyes aglow with desire. They both asked her to dance at the same time.
To which Mr. Graves frowned and waved the man off. “I was here first.”
“First or not,” Dodd replied, “it should be the lady’s choice.”
Eliza closed her eyes and prayed for a solution.
“Mrs. Crawford, I believe you promised me this dance.”
That voice—that baritone voice of assurance that caused her stomach to flip and her eyes to open. She placed her hand in his. “Indeed, Colonel. If you will excuse me, gentlemen.”
Blake led Eliza onto the makeshift dance floor, thrilled she had accepted his offer to dance. After her reaction to his question earlier, insecurity had swamped him. Perhaps he had misread her affections for him. Perhaps he had been too bold. Spoken too soon. Perhaps she bore no feelings for him outside of friendship.
“It seems you have saved me once again, Colonel.” She smiled, and the lantern light danced in her golden eyes. “First from the hail of Yankee bullets in Charleston, then from the frigate’s guns, and now from a fate far worse than both.”
Forsaken Dreams Page 13