by Sara Orwig
“Women and high seas don’t mix well,” he said abruptly. “Stay inside.” He crossed to a large wardrobe secured to the bulkhead. Opening it, he revealed a row of dazzling dresses in a rainbow of colors. “These are yours.”
Startled, Lianna gazed at them in surprise. “And where is my cabin?”
“You’ll have to ask the captain,” he said dryly, and left.
Lianna tossed her bonnet on a desk and surveyed her surroundings with joy. She noted with pleasure the heavy oak timbers in the bulkheads, the polished deck and curving glass panes over a wide bunk. Near the bunk a washstand was fastened to the bulkhead. It contained a lavender porcelain enamel bowl and pitcher of water. Captain Raven lived in comfort. As she explored the cabin, she envisioned a man like Thomas Hardeston, Melissa’s father. He had thick white hair and a pleasant smile and his library was always as neatly arranged as Captain Raven’s cabin. It was easy for Lianna to envision another Thomas Hardeston as captain of El Feroz. She picked up a pillow. Stitched in fine linen was a lion’s head similar to the ship’s figurehead, and she noticed the same snarling emblem was also engraved on the bookcases. Nearby was a wide desk and chair, and a circular dining table and four chairs. Even the smallest items bore the lion’s head, and she wondered about this man who put his stamp so permanently on his possessions.
Along one side of the cabin was a row of hooks, several holding men’s clothing. She crossed to the wardrobe, touching fancy dresses that were beautiful as well as costly. She withdrew a pale blue silk, impressed by the fine stitching. Her wardrobe, while adequate, would be no match for these gowns. Her father’s funds could afford the same quality, but he was far too frugal to indulge her. Smoothing the material of the black dress that had belonged to Quita, Lianna smiled—the poor captain must not know how to shop for a maid.
Unable to resist the temptation to see how she would look in one of the dazzling creations, Lianna unfastened the maid’s dress, letting it fall until it billowed around her long slender legs and settled on the floor around her ankles. Since she had not exchanged underclothes with Quita, her soft cambric shift clung to her creamy full breasts and slender hips. She stepped into the blue silk dress with its scoop neck of white lace embroidered in dainty seed pearls. While slightly large at her tiny waist, it fit elsewhere, revealing the soft rise of her breasts.
Lianna swirled in a circle, enjoying the cool material swishing against her legs. Never had she worn such a creation; her father would have considered it the utmost frivolity. She could imagine his sandy brows drawing together in a frown at the sight of it.
She stepped in front of an oval mirror and was shocked at the expanse of ivory skin the dress revealed. She had commenced upon a new adventure, so she would wear it and be daring! She laughed, reveling in her independence.
Smiling, she withdrew the pins in her hair. She found a brush in her portmanteau and pulled it through silky midnight locks, humming as she watched the hair spring from the bristles and drift softly down again. With a deft movement she caught up strands on either side of her head, looping and pinning the locks high to let the remaining tresses hang down the back of her neck.
When she was finished, she tossed Quita’s black dress into the wardrobe and closed the door. A spirit of eager anticipation filled her and for the first time in months she was free of the dread prospect of marriage to the Spanish count. When this voyage ended, she might even have earned enough in Captain Raven’s employ to sail home to Edwin. Lianna realized, however, that she had already made one mistake by telling the mate that this was her first voyage. If she were truly Quita Bencaria, it would be her second voyage. She made a mental note to be more careful in the future, although little would it matter if the truth were to be discovered. What difference could it make who served the captain?
She paused beside a bookcase to peer at titles in French, Spanish, and English, then walked idly to the desk. It held a small brass telescope, ink and quill, and a leather-bound ledger. Opening the ledger, she read a sweeping scrawl. “Today we ran south. This latitude, which is 43° 30’…” Lianna closed the book. A faint smell of tobacco mingled with the cabin’s odor of damp wood and masculine scents; all were new to her.
Crossing to the bunk, she sank down and looked out to sea. As they sailed, there was a gentle rocking of the ship, an endless creak of timbers. Concerned with her problems when she had boarded, Lianna had given little thought to the Spanish name, El Feroz, and the British seamen, as well as the Union Jack fluttering in the breeze, but now she wondered. Why would an English ship have a Spanish name and sail to the New World? What mission was Captain Raven on that he needed a Spanish-and English-speaking serving girl?
She remembered Quita telling her that Captain Raven had his country’s permission to plunder Spanish ships, and guessed the name was a deception. She realized she had exchanged her allegiance from one ruthless man to another.
Without ceremony the door opened. Startled, Lianna looked up as a man filled the doorway. He halted and smiled.
It was the same man who had been on the footropes high above her when she had boarded. She looked into his sea-green eyes and felt as if she had fallen overboard, tumbling fathoms below the surface, where she could not get her breath, drowning as green engulfed her and closed over her head.
While her heart thudded, she forced her gaze from a look that ensnared with the tenacity of seaweed tendrils. She looked at a thick mane of lustrous brown hair, its stray short locks curling above a wide forehead. Skirting the devilish green eyes, she let her gaze lower to his prominent cheekbones. His strong face fit the body beneath it. His broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips and lean legs. She looked upward.
He stood lounging against the door while smiling at her, and once again her attention was captured by green eyes. The flash of white teeth and the creases in his cheeks invaded her very soul. She smiled in return.
Suddenly all of Lianna’s self-assured relief vanished. As she viewed her new employer, she felt a rising panic. With a mocking glint lighting his eyes, he gazed at her with disturbing boldness, a daring look that alternately heated and chilled her. An icy premonition of disaster shook Lianna.
9
The prolonged moment grew tense and Lianna’s mouth became dry, her fingers cold. She was sure he mocked her, and although her heart raced, she carefully rose to her feet and curtsied. “Buenos días, señor. Cómo está usted?” She asked in perfect Spanish.
“Muy bien, graçias.” His voice was a drawling baritone that soothed her with velvety warmth. Never had she heard a male voice take ordinary words and by mere tone change them to a sensuous, whispery caress. Heat diffused into her bloodstream as he asked, “Prefiere hablar español?”
Dazed, she shook her head. “No, I prefer my…” She almost said “native tongue” but caught herself in time, replying in English, “…second language, to which I have grown quite accustomed.” Her words came out in a breathless whisper, and she wondered how he could so effortlessly tangle her thought processes.
“Very well, we shall speak English.” His gaze drifted down with an audacity that made Lianna quiver. She felt as if invisible fingers had reached out to divest her of the silk dress. Slowly, carefully, his eyes lowered, then raised, pausing heart-stopping seconds on the full rise of her breasts above the soft white lace at the neckline of her dress. His deliberate study made her draw in her breath and caused her breasts to strain against the fabric, sending a heated flush to her cheeks.
Josh felt his pulse quicken. Mr. Summer had selected well. The girl was lovely, with alabaster skin, a waist which was temptingly narrow, yet breasts lush and full. Her wide blue eyes held a look of innocence that beguiled him—or did he see innocence because he wanted it so badly? he wondered, amused at himself. He leisurely closed the door behind him and crossed the cabin. “Mr. Summer succeeded beyond all my expectations. He informed me of your beauty, but he didn’t adequately convey the extent of it.”
His voice was husky, buffeting
Lianna’s senses like a warm evening wind. Lianna’s cheeks grew warmer. Her pulse became erratic and she took a step backward. As her legs bumped the bunk, she grew angry at her own foolishness. One would think she had never seen a man! She raised her chin and stood quietly, yet her heart thumped louder than the groaning of the timbers. Captain Joshua Raven was not like other men. He dominated the cabin, diminishing it. For a fleeting second she wondered at the phenomenon—his broad shoulders were overwhelming, his height was greater than most men’s, but she realized it was neither height nor width that lent him power. The man’s entire manner demanded attention. Even while standing still, he would rule his surroundings. He was born to command as surely as the sun would rise each morning.
She couldn’t look into his eyes any longer so she looked down at her dress. “The wardrobe you have for me is magnificent.”
“I see it is slightly large around the waist.”
Lianna was surprised he noticed. “I shall be able to correct that with needle and thread. The dresses are beautiful.”
“Quita. What a lovely name.”
Again she felt the rush of liquid warmth as his husky voice spoke to her. He reached out to touch her chin, and she wished he would not stand so close, for the moment his warm thumb and finger caught her jaw, raising it gently, she felt as if lightning had streaked from the heavens through the cabin, through his flesh to hers.
His fine skin was burnished to the color of teak from days in the sun. Thick lashes, long and dark, framed his eyes above a thin nose which had a slight crook in the bone. Raven was the name of a wild bird, but the symbol of a lion was far more fitting. He looked wild enough to be a pirate with golden earrings and a scar along his jaw. A curious mixture of fear and attraction tugged at Lianna’s senses.
A rap at the door broke the silence, and a steward entered. He placed dishes on the round table while the captain moved away to wash his hands. She was rooted to the desk, unable to move or think. She looked at the figure bent over the washstand, willing her eyes to avoid drifting down his back. When the steward had closed the door, she asked Captain Raven, “What will my duties be, sir?”
He turned, drying his hands, his dark brows narrowed. “I thought Mr. Summer made that quite clear.”
“Oh, of course,” Lianna added hastily. “I merely meant…at this moment, what would you like me to do?”
The frown vanished instantly. He waved a hand. “Join me while I dine, of course.” He dropped the cloth on the stand.
It was her turn to frown. Never had she known a maid to dine with an employer. It was highly irregular. But perhaps life at sea was irregular—she had no way of knowing. “I think that improper, sir. After all, I was hired to serve you.”
His smile appeared, the creases deepening in his cheeks, a merry twinkle flashing in his eyes. She wondered how many more battles had been yielded to that smile than to the cannon on the gun deck.
“Quita, I think it unnecessary to concern ourselves with propriety.” His fingers rested lightly on her arm as he led her to a chair. “Please be seated.”
With a fleeting glance at him, she sat down. Lighting a taper, he reached up to a lantern which swung from a hook overboard. His slim hip was so close, inches from her, and she was suddenly fascinated by his narrow waist, the tight black breeches which confined the fine white shirt, a sharp hipbone which thrust against the material. How could powerful shoulders taper to such narrow hips? Blushing, she looked at the covered dishes on the table. He lighted the lantern and then the candles on the table before sitting down to pour red wine from a decanter into pewter flagons. He uncovered dishes of a strange new meat, hot biscuits, steaming potatoes, and fat green peas. She noticed that a white scar crossed the back of his right hand; the small finger on his left hand was mangled, the tip missing, and she wondered about the battles he had fought.
Acutely aware of his hands moving over the table, serving her plate, touching first one dish, then another, aware of his green-gold eyes, of his arrogant features, she wondered if she could get down a bite of food. Perhaps the reason for her discomfort was the fact that it was the first time in her life she had dined alone with a man other than her father.
Carefully Captain Raven sliced through pink meat to cut a piece and place it on her pewter plate. Steam curled in a dancing spiral from the dish, but her appetite was gone. He lifted a flagon and raised it in a toast. “To our voyage, a good sea, and a memorable, successful adventure!”
When Lianna raised her drink, she looked into his eyes and became ensnared as if held by bonds. He reached across the remaining space to clink his flagon against hers, their fingers brushing lightly. Never taking his gaze from hers, he raised his drink. Spellbound, she looked at him as he sipped.
“Quita.” He looked at her flagon, and she raised it to her lips hastily, to feel the wine warm her insides as it went down.
“How delicious this looks, sir,” Lianna remarked, more concerned with the man across from her than the food before her, in spite of the fact that she had eaten little the past few days.
“Enjoy it well—the fare will change rapidly as we get farther along on the voyage.”
She bit into the meat and chewed. “It’s delicious, but I don’t recognize what I’m eating.”
“Perhaps you’d rather not know.”
She paused, saw the twinkle in his eyes, and relaxed somewhat as she laughed. “Some monster of the deep?”
“A very delectable monster from the depths of the sea.”
“Served up by Poseidon to a ship’s captain!” she answered lightly.
Captain Raven looked up in surprise. “A serving maid who knows Poseidon?”
“Not in the flesh.”
Josh laughed with pleasure that increased when her cheeks turned pink. The wench could blush! Her red lips curved and his breath caught at the sight of her smile. It was a smile to coax Poseidon from the deep! Momentarily he forgot all else. Her soft laugh was melodic, an enchanted sound that held magic to melt a man’s heart. He lowered his voice and said, “How nice your laughter is.”
“Thank you.”
“So you like to read,” he said, thinking she looked so very young and wishing he had asked Mr. Summers more about her. “What else do you like, I wonder?”
“I love to ride, and if I have a chance, to race.” Beneath his gaze Lianna felt giddy and lighthearted.
“Race? I regret we’re on board ship. But I’ll remember that when we reach land. We will race—and we will wager on it.”
“And I shall win,” she teased, beginning to enjoy herself and the challenge she saw in his eyes.
He laughed. “You’re sure of yourself when you’re months away from the event!”
“I will feel the same then. I’ve ridden since I was a child.”
“And now you’re a woman,” he drawled softly, making her tingle and grow warm. “I think I owe Mr. Summer a bonus.”
“Thank you, captain. And what monster do we consume?”
“Squid.”
“Poor monster, but it is tasty.”
“Where are you from?”
She debated how to answer, finally asking, “Sir, did Mr. Summer relate many details to you?”
“No, I know little about you, except that you agreed to this voyage.”
“I was born in Madrid,” she replied, exhaling a silent sigh of relief. “This past year I have resided in England in the employ of Charles Melton.” To change the subject from herself, she asked, “Why does this ship bear the Union Jack and a Spanish name?”
Josh shrugged a broad shoulder, a casual lift and fall that pulled his white linen shirt tightly across his broad chest. Continual effort was necessary for her to avoid looking from the dark tufts of hair revealed at the open neck of his shirt. “It will be under a Spanish flag soon. When it becomes necessary for my purpose, El Feroz will have allegiance to Spain,” he said dryly.
His explanation made little sense to her. Sipping her wine, she persisted, asking, “Why d
o you, a Briton, sail for the New World? You just said you would be allied to Spain.”
“Only to deceive them. I intend to aid in a revolution. When the time comes, I shall fight with the patriots against the Spanish.”
As if the cold north wind had blown down across the barren sea into the cabin to chill its occupants, Lianna shivered. “You’ll fight the Spanish!”
“Quita…” His quiet voice was filled with curiosity. “Mr. Summer went over the details with you, yet I have the notion that you are receiving one shock after another.”
“No!” she protested, all the while keeping her gaze averted. She drank more of the heady wine. It would be an impossible task to face his damnable searching stare and not reveal the truth. Finally she raised her head to meet his steady regard. She tried to speak calmly. “Mr. Summer didn’t make clear your reasons for traveling to the New World.”
“Have you heard of a land called Chile?”
“It has belonged to Spain for centuries.”
“Ah, you know about it!” He sounded pleased and went on to explain, “Two years ago a junta was formed and Chileans struggled for independence, but failed, and Spain dominates again. The Spaniards have plundered and conquered and enslaved. They rule with greed, draining the land of its wealth. And in particular, the governor is a cruel man, from what I’ve been told.” As he spoke, he stared beyond her as if looking into a great distance. His voice lowered, an angry note filling it. The man must hate the Spanish!
While she pondered this, her eyes, as if drawn irresistibly, drifted down the long legs angled toward her, studiously avoiding the pull of material low between his hipbones. A hot blush consumed her as she looked at the tight breeches that clung to his narrow hips, to legs that were muscled and powerful. Suddenly she realized he was silent.
Alarmed, she glanced up to meet a mocking gleam. Her blush became a raging fire, burning her cheeks, bringing a half-smile to his lips.
“You blush, Quita!” His husky voice played further havoc on her nerves. He sounded surprised, delighted that she could blush.