Within A Captain's Fate

by Lisa Olech

  Seeing him, Jocelyn climbed to the quarterdeck. She moved with a fluid grace, raising her hems to negotiate the stairs. Her delicate ankles reminding him of a single pale thigh which continued to haunt him. A painful ache settled in his crotch. Ric stifled a moan as his body scored a direct hit.

  “Captain, it seems I’m to be forever in your debt.” She smiled at him. Her hair catching the reds and oranges of the setting sun behind her. His wits suffered another blow. She was stunning. When he stood like a simpleton and forgot how to speak, she continued. “The room? A bed? A place to call my own?”

  Ric struggled to get enough blood back to his brain. “A bed?”

  “Oui, and a door, with a lock.” She made it sound as if he’d given her gold and pearls.

  He cleared his throat. “Couldn’t have you sleeping on the deck another night.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the image of her draped across him rushed through his mind.

  “Might have been the abundance of rum, but I slept quite well on your deck.” She touched his sleeve. “Of course, I had you to keep me safe and warm all night.”

  The battle within him intensified. Another round of fire off his port…his brain returned fire. “A door and a lock will keep you twice as safe.”

  Jocelyn leaned close and whispered. “But not nearly as warm, no?”

  The sudden pulse of blood to Ric’s cock had his brain raising the white flag of surrender. All hands were lost. He closed his eyes, gripped the pegs of the ship’s wheel and held tight. “I’ll see you get an extra blanket.” Retreat! Retreat! “So…how is the crow?”

  “I bound his wing, and now we wait, and hope. I left him with Tupper. Her request. It might do her good to care for him.” She smoothed the overturned cuff of his shirt.

  Her touch sent more heat to those areas he was desperate to cool. “How is Tupper?”

  “A bit better, I think. I didn’t find her on the floor. She’s a strong woman, and wise. She spoke to me of choosing such a life as this. With all its dangers and risks.”

  “Some would call her foolish.”

  Jocelyn gripped one of the pegs of the wheel as if getting a feel for steering the ship. “I wouldn’t agree with them. I think she’s tenacious and brave.”

  He noted the way her slender fingers curled around the polished oak pegs. “This is a hard life for a woman.”

  “How much harder would it be to stand on the docks and watch your husband sail away and never know his fate? I remember my mother crying for days after Father left. At least Tupper got to live her life by her husband’s side.” She blinked up at him.

  “And she’s fought and battled, survived storms and all manner of hardships.” Part of him reveled in her innocence. She had no idea. She’d not seen the horrors of the world. It hadn’t hardened her. Tainted her. “Don’t lose sight of the thousand of ways to die aboard this ship.”

  “That only makes it more incredible having such a woman aboard. I envy her,” she sounded wistful.

  He shot her a sharp glance. “She just lost her husband. Why would you envy her?”

  Jocelyn let go of the ship’s wheel to brush a disobedient curl from her cheek. “Because she has lived…” Her rich gaze met and held his. “…and loved. Two things I have waited my whole life to do.”

  Ric turned his focus back to the horizon. “You still have plenty of time yet.”

  “I’ve never been a patient soul.” She once more teased the tip of one of the pegs.

  He cleared his throat and reminded himself for the thousandth time who she was. “Once you’re reunited with your father, you can begin a whole new life.”

  Jocelyn was quiet for a moment before crossing her arms over her chest. “A whole new life,” she reiterated. “Married to a stranger, left standing on a dock. Who would envy me?” She left his side but called over one shoulder. “Thank you again for my room. I think I’ll find MacTavish.”

  Ric watched her walk away. Arms crossed, chin tucked low. She might not be looking forward to what awaited her, but romanticizing what life was like aboard this ship was misguided. If she envied Tupper so much, perhaps she should be the one to try to set the girl straight.

  He’d been putting off talking to Tupper, wanting to respect her time of mourning, give her some space and time to come to grips with what had happened. But by Jocelyn’s account, she was feeling better.

  The sun dropped red into the fire-tipped sea. It was a promise of clear skies ahead. Perhaps it was a sign they had left the worst behind. He’d talk to Tupper tonight. Set things to right. Ask her to do something to quell Jocelyn’s starry-eyed notions of life at sea…and him.

  * * * *

  Tupper bid Ric come in and took the bowl of rich stew and bread he’d brought. “I’m not an invalid. I heard the bell. I could come to the galley on my own. I’ve no interest in food.” She pulled a crystal decanter of brandy off the desk and poured him a glass and refreshed her own.

  “Eat anyway.” He pointed to the food. “Can’t have you becoming weak. We need you.”

  Tupper ignored his urgings to eat. “I hear they voted you captain.” She lifted her glass to him in salute and drank it down.

  He followed suit. The brandy warmed his chest. His belly. “What’s left of them. I was the lesser evil. Had MacTavish known how to read a chart, we’d all be wearing tartan now and braiding our beards. And I’m only filling in until you say otherwise.”

  Tupper paused as she refilled their glasses. “Me?”

  “It’s agreed. We all want you to take Quinn’s place.” Ric saw the flash of raw pain pass over her face at the mention of his name. He held up on hand in apology. “It’s still too soon, but when you’re ready there’ll be no debate. Already been voted.”

  Tupper leaned on the edge of the desk and stared into her glass for a moment. “Bump tells me you’re doing well. He was here earlier. It’s been hard for him, losing Gavin. He feels guilty.” She sipped her drink before meeting Ric’s gaze. “Said he could feel something wasn’t right the moment you all set foot in town, but didn’t know what was coming. I think he saw it all happen, but won’t say. He holds things so tight inside. He may never tell me.”

  “Don’t push him.”

  She nodded and took another swallow of her drink. “Thank you for keeping him busy.” Tupper frowned into her glass and rubbed a hand over her mouth. “And…thank you for…keeping him safe. I’m glad he was with you when…” She pulled a shuddered breath. “He could have been with Gavin. Had you not been there, he would have stayed with him, and… I can’t imagine if I’d lost them both.” She lifted pained eyes to his.

  “I’ve had Bump’s back since he was four years old. I’ll always have his back.” Ric swirled the liquor in his glass. “It’s been hard for all of us. So many were lost. We’re still reeling. I think once we find our feet again, we need to honor them somehow. Do what’s right. Proper. Commit them all to the sea with or without a body to slide into the wake. They deserve the honor bestowed as if they’d died in battle. Captain Quinn, especially, deserves nothing less from us.

  Tupper nodded and gave him a watery smile. The air in the room seemed to pause and take a breath. Ric waited as Tupper got lost in her own thoughts.

  She gave a quick shake to her head then emptied her glass and looked about the room. “I’ll get busy and pack up my things. If you’ll give me one more night, I can be out of here tomorrow.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ric frowned.

  She waved a hand, sweeping the room. “This is the Captain’s quarters. It’s only right you have it.”

  “No. I’m not kicking you out.” He glanced around the room. Quinn’s presence still filled each corner. They’d occupied this cabin together for years. It was only right Tupper stay here. “You know, the last time I saw Quinn…I joked with him about wanting to be captain of the White Witch. He said I wasn’t ready.”

  “You’re ready now. He’d be proud of the
way you’ve stepped up. The others may think I could fill Gavin’s boots someday, but maybe when the time comes, the rest of the crew will want you to stay on.”

  “With White, Summer, and MacTavish leading the charge? I doubt it.”

  A rustling off to one side of the room brought Tupper to her feet. She placed her glass on the desk and crossed to one of the trunks.

  Ric hadn’t noticed it when he came in. Frankly, he’d forgotten all about the crow until Tupper pulled a cloth off the crate he’d given Jocelyn for the bird.

  “Are you going to keep quiet now?” Tupper fed him a bit of bread.

  Ric joined her and was surprised to see the bird awake…and angry by the look of him. “Hey, he’s alive.”

  “So it seems.”

  The white of the bandage stood out against the bird’s sleek black feathers. He fluffed his plumage impatiently and pulled at the linen with his broad beak. “I wouldn’t have given him much of a chance.”

  “Stubborn thing. Came to after Jocelyn left and got to squawking. Got him to eat a bit, and drink. Only way to stop him from making a racket is to cover him. Makes him think it’s night. He settles right down.”

  “Could take him to the galley if he’s bothering you.”

  “No, I don’t mind him.” Tupper fed the bird another tidbit.

  Ric went back to leaning against the side of the wide oak desk filling the space. “Glad you mentioned her. We need to talk about Jocelyn.”

  Tupper covered the crate again. “I don’t mind her either. She’s been kind. Not anything like her bastard father.”

  “Shouldn’t we tell her how well we know her father?”

  “I will. I haven’t had the opportunity.” Tupper sat before her meal, pulled a hunk of bread from the loaf Ric brought earlier, and dipped it into the stew but seemed to lose interest after that and set it aside. She brushed her hands and refilled her glass instead.

  “She’s taken with you.” Ric moved the bottle of brandy away from her and pushed the stew closer. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Thinks you’ve led some fanciful life.”

  Tupper pushed the bowl away again and flipped a hand. “She’s young. Naïve.”

  “Maybe you can explain things.”

  “Why?” She leaned back in her chair, tipping onto its two back legs, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do you care what she thinks? What are you afraid of?”

  “Nothing.” He scratched at his chin before pointing to himself and back to her. ”But she’s looking at the two of us like we’re some grand adventure.”

  Tupper shrugged a shoulder. “To her, I’m sure we are.”

  “This isn’t some fairy tale, Tup, with pirates and mermaids. She’s going to get hurt.”

  Her eyebrow rose as she settled the chair back on all four legs. “Putting a twist in yer britches, is she?”

  Ric waved the absurd suggestion away. The fact it was true didn’t make it any less ridiculous. “No. It’s not like that.”

  “Really?” Tupper smirked. “So she’s attracted to you. Why should she be different from any other woman? Do what you always do. You’re still ‘love-‘em-fast, leave-‘em-faster’ Ricochet Robbins aren’t you? I’ve known you to hightail it away from a woman before you’ve finished buttoning yer britches.”

  “It’s different with her.” Ric dropped his empty glass on the desk.

  Tupper eyebrows rose toward her hairline. “Is it now?”

  He pushed away from the desk and began to pace the room. “I can’t explain it, but yes.”

  “You know,” Tupper suggested. An amused smile played at her lips. “It might be worth taking her for a quick tumble to see the look on Beauchamp’s face when we deliver his less than lilywhite daughter.”

  Ric looked back at her as if she’d gone mad. “He’d draw and quarter us and use our bits for bait.”

  Tupper scoffed. “If he catches us, he’ll do that anyway.”

  “I won’t use her to get back at him.” He shook his head and gave Tupper a hard glare.

  “He killed six of our men,” she reminded him, anger sharpening her words.

  Ric pointed an accusing finger. “You took his eye.”

  Tupper shrugged and filled her glass again. “Just one.”

  Chapter 12

  Ric met Jocelyn in the dark, narrow galley way. He’d been with Tupper more than an hour. He needed to secure things topside before finding his bed for the night.

  Jocelyn carried the same hank of rope he’d seen her with before. It made him curious to know what she’d been up to.

  “Good night, Captain.” She met his eye as she moved to pass him.

  “Isn’t your door with the lock in the other direction?” He jerked his chin toward the bow of the ship.

  In the tight passageway, she needed to press close to pass. “You know it is. I thought I’d stop to bid Tupper a good night and check on Leviticus.”

  “No need. Just left them both. Tupper’s drowning her pain in her cups, and the bird has been eating, drinking, and causing a ruckus, but she got him quieted down to rest.”

  “I’m sorry about Tupper, but I’m pleased to hear about Leviticus. I won’t disturb them. I’ll save my visit for morning.” She shifted direction, bumped her hip against his and tripped over the toe of his boot.

  Ric caught her as she stumbled. His body’s reaction to holding her once more in his arms was instantaneous. You’d have thought he was a green lad with no control over such things. Powerless. He pulled the scent of her deep into his lungs. “You’ve been in the magazine,” he whispered.

  Jocelyn breath came in quick puffs. “Pardon? H-How can you tell?”

  He slid a hand up her arm and smiled at the way his touch caused her to tremble. The blatant admiration from her dissolved into a maiden’s timid nerves at his simplest caress. “You smell mildly like MacTavish’s lair…black powder and sulfur.”

  Her eyes widened. “I smell?”

  Ric lifted a lock of her hair to his nose. Taking a moment to test the silkiness of its curls between his fingers. He loved her hair. The way the sun caught each wave and separated the rich brown strands from the reddish-gold ones. The wildness of it matched her personality, as did the softness. A potent combination.

  “Just a hint.” He murmured. “The last time I was this close, you smelled of sunshine and sweet warmth.”

  “And rum,” she reminded him.

  “Aye, and rum.” Asleep in his arms, that chaos of hair trailing across his chest. A bare thigh cradling his hip. Her stocking had slipped past the bend of her knee. He may have been hung over, but he remembered it well. Each torturous detail. His traitorous body pulsed with the memory.

  “I think I learned my lesson last night. No more than three sips.” She lowered her gaze to his mouth. “It’s not rum you’ve been drinking tonight.”

  “Brandy. Quinn’s favorite. We were toasting his memory.” He wished she would stop watching his mouth. It was if she were silently begging him to kiss her.

  “There is a lot of drinking here.”

  He tipped one corner of his mouth in a grin. “A drunken crew is a happy crew.”

  “Are you happy?” The gentle lift of her eyes to meet his cooled some of his ardor.

  What kind of question was that? When had anyone asked him such a thing? Only an innocent would ask something so ridiculous. Or was she asking if he was in danger of passing out again on the deck? He answered it with a shrug. “I’m not all that drunk.” Ric let go of her hair but brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers and contemplated his happiness. “Just enough, on both counts.” He released her and continued on his way toward the ladder leading to the upper deck. “Good night, Jocelyn.”

  * * * *

  The following morning burned bright. Ric had watched its brilliant arrival off their starboard bow hours ago. Last night’s close encounter below with Jocelyn had caused a night of questions, restlessness, pacing, and aching fr
ustration.

  He’d never encountered a woman who could yank him in twelve directions at once. Perhaps it was due to the fact he’d never given a woman enough time to wind their way into his thoughts the way she had.

  Tupper’s description of him had been true. Love ‘em fast, leave ‘em faster. It was a fair motto for him. But none of those women he’d been loving and leaving with reckless abandon had been living in such close quarters. And none of them had ever been so off limits.

  Was the thought of her being forbidden driving his sudden insanity? Wanting what he couldn’t have? What he shouldn’t have. Was that the cause of this irrepressible attraction?

  Ric huffed an exasperated breath and cursed at the rigging. “That’s such a load of gull crap.”

  He began to pace the deck once more.

  “Talkin’ to yerself, are ye?” MacTavish met him coming from the galley with a tall leather mug of ale.

  Ric kept walking. “Beats talking to you.”

  To add to Ric’s aggravation, MacTavish fell into step and kept pace with him. “Ye look like shite.”

  “Always the flatterer,” Ric grumbled.

  “What’s got ye marchin’ the boards and shaking yer fist at the sky so early in te morn?”

  Ric stopped and pointed an accusing finger at MacTavish’s chest. “What’s Jocelyn been doing in the magazine? With you?”

  MacTavish knocked Ric’s finger aside with a sweep of his hand and laughed. “Jealous?”

  “Curious.”

  MacTavish laughed again. “Sounds jealous te me.”

  Ric narrowed his eyes. “Answer the question.”

  The Scotsman ran a smoothing hand over his beard and down the stained front of his shirt before hitching the belt securing his kilt. “I ain’t one to kiss and tell.” He notched his chin and strolled away before doubling over and slapping his bare knee with laughter.