by Sara Orwig
“I can’t free you, Mrs. Raven,” Fletcher said coldly, emphasizing her name. “If I could, I would, but I have my orders. I’ll put you down, but if you scream, I won’t hesitate to do as the captain ordered.”
“I won’t scream,” she whispered. He set her on her feet, and Lianna walked to the window.
“The captain is a damn good man,” Fletcher said coldly.
“Good, perhaps, to his men.” She turned to look into angry gray eyes. “You don’t like me, do you, Fletcher?”
His dark scowl gave her an answer before he spoke. “Women are pure trouble if they’re pampered!”
“Pampered!” she rejoined bitterly, wondering at Fletcher’s dealings with women. He was handsome in the same rugged way as Josh, and now that she knew about their blood relation, it was easy to see the similarities in their features. Their wild life showed in their dark skin and the determined glint in their eyes. She guessed Fletcher to be several years younger than Josh. After a long silence, she said, “He owns me. I’m a mere possession and he won’t give me up, but I mean nothing to him.”
“You don’t know him,” Fletcher said harshly. After a moment he said, “He took me out of nothing—out of misery and shame and squalor. I was an outcast with the village children, my mother…was degraded by the duke. Josh took me to London and placed me in a home with people who cared for me. He saw to it that I had the education he never had.”
The door opened suddenly and Josh reappeared. “Thank you, Fletcher. They wanted to thank us for saving the men from the sinking bark—or so they said. They invited the entire lot of us to a banquet to celebrate, and I accepted.”
“You what?”
“Only to gain time. If you’ll go above now, we can sail. Let’s do so quickly. When they see us go, they may come in pursuit.”
“Aye, sir.”
After Fletcher left, Josh stood with his feet braced, his fists doubled on his hips, staring at Lianna. He looked as angry as he had the night he had produced the rawhide whip, and her heart beat just as wildly because she felt him capable of violence, yet she faced him steadfastly.
“I need to go above,” he said in a flat voice. “A storm brews, and we’re in for a rough sailing. ’Twill be choppy leaving the harbor.”
“Please, let me return to England.”
“And our marriage?”
“It means nothing to you. Have it annulled.”
“You know I can’t. It was consummated and it was entered into willingly enough.”
“Can’t! You won’t!” Fury shook her and she wanted to penetrate his stubborn arrogance. “I don’t love you! I love another man.”
He swore and left, slamming the door and setting a lantern swinging.
Lianna stood stiffly with her fists clenched while tears burned her eyes. Finally she pushed her disheveled hair from her face and noticed Quita’s note lying on the floor. She picked it up, smoothing the crumpled paper in her lap to finish reading: “…I know if you return to England, my risk deepens, but now there should be no reason for you to betray me. Protect me from your side of the sea. I wish you well. Now you have all you want. Your servant, Q. Bencaria.”
Lianna crumpled the letter, crying over her father and her home. Shortly she rose to stride back and forth in the cabin, her fury mounting over Josh’s treatment. He could have taken a wife so easily, one that would love him. The man was handsome and had his charming moments, but he didn’t love her, and he courted danger as if it were a lady. She thought of her English home. Her inheritance—what would happen to it if she didn’t return to claim it? Captain Joshua Raven, his revolution, stood in the way of home and England.
Topside, Josh crossed the deck angrily to take the wheel, to give his stormy thoughts over to the immediate problems and try to forget the woman he had locked in his cabin.
The black clouds on the horizon had billowed and moved faster than he had expected, and already the sun was hidden. Whitecaps topped the rising waves, and breakers crashed when they swept in against the wharf. Judging from the looks of the sky, it would be bad through the night and next day. Word circulated that a ship had been lost some hundred miles to the north of La Coruña—and the storm clouds were moving to the southwest swiftly.
Josh turned the wheel, maintaining a grim silence. No one was allowed to speak to the helmsman unless giving orders, and there was no one to give the captain an order. No one save the fiery temptress locked below. He swore, glancing at Fletcher standing beside the binnacle, making compass readings. The wind carried El Feroz swiftly out of the harbor, and Josh set a due westerly course to try to outrun the fury of the storm. Finally he turned the wheel over to the helmsman, then went to the rail to peer ahead gloomily. He braced his feet, riding the ship with each rise and fall. Fletcher stopped beside him, handing him a spyglass. “It is as bad to the west as it is in the north.”
“We’ll be caught in a gale.”
“Captain…”
Josh turned. “Put her on board an English ship and send her home. There are others who are gentle and loving.”
“It’s my business, Fletcher!” he snapped angrily, his throat tightening until it felt raw as he thought about Fletcher’s suggestion. Guilt over keeping Lianna tore at him. He should give her her freedom, but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes while pain constricted his chest. He couldn’t let her go. She was in his blood, as necessary as breathing.
“Aye, sir,” the mate said.
Instantly Josh said, “Sorry.”
“Aye. Women are like cats; they hold allegiance only so long as ’tis convenient. And they have claws.”
“I shouldn’t have coerced her into this marriage, but I thought…” He ached as if he had received a wound. “Damn, I can’t let her go, no matter how much I know I should!”
A fork of lightning streaked across the sky, and the first spatters of cold rain hit Josh in the face. “The air grows worse by the minute. We’d better batten her down and get set to ride it out.”
“Aye, captain,” Fletcher answered, and started to turn away. Josh dropped his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder and squeezed.
Josh clutched the rail as the ship canted. A cold wave rose and fell, splashing over his boots. Lianna had never been in a storm. Now, from the looks of it, her first storm at sea would be one of the worst. “Dammit!” he swore, the wind catching the expletive. Lianna was a natural sailor; he suspected she would ride out the storm wrapped in her fury. Most women would be in screaming hysterics. He gave a sardonic laugh as he clung to the rail. How cruel fate could be! He was lost to a pair of wide blue eyes, to silky raven hair. The thought of her slender arms around his neck, her mouth raising to meet his, made his blood sing, and he clenched his fists angrily. Damn the Englishman! Damn him to hell!
With a resounding bang, the cabin door slammed against the bulkhead, and Josh swept in, bringing a rush of cold air. He peeled off his wet coat and faced Lianna while the lanterns swung, making the light dance wildly. His linen shirt was damp, clinging to his powerful body, molding rippling muscles that looked fit to combat a storm. Lianna stood beside the table, her fists on her hips.
“You will drown me at sea, confound you!”
He laughed, his spirits lifting merely at the sight of her. Her blue eyes flashed with fire, and he ached to reach for her.
“I knew I would encounter anger! Most women would have fainted dead away or be in screaming fright by now. Instead, you rail at me for getting you into the storm while you stand as coolly on a rolling deck as a seasoned sailor.”
She thought she detected a note of respect beneath his sardonic words. Thank goodness he didn’t know how fearful she had been minutes earlier as she had peered through the porthole at the boiling clouds and sea! She watched silently while he changed his boots.
“We’re in for it this night,” he said. “Secure the cabin, love.”
“Wouldn’t it be safer to sail back to La Coruña?”
“No, the wind sweeps us on. Besides, it will be
hazardous at dockside. Ships slam into each other and break up. I suggest you eat, because it may be the last chance you have until the storm abates. We’ll need all hands; the cook can do little when it gets rough.” He stripped off the damp linen shirt to drop it on the oilskin, and orange lantern light flickered over his broad chest.
“It’s dreadful to wait helplessly and not be able to do anything!”
He gave her an unreadable glance; then his voice changed, coaxing softly, “Lianna, forget our differences for a moment. Give me a farewell kiss. I could be washed overboard so easily.”
“Saints of heaven! You’ll survive, and you don’t need a kiss. Why should I kiss a scoundrel who’s brought me misery?”
Creases fanned from his eyes, his lips twitched, and he looked as if he were attempting to smother his laughter. “Lianna, after last night? I go above to face the cruelest danger.”
She blinked, staring at him. Was the man jesting or in earnest? The tossing ship made her believe him.
His voice lowered to that husky baritone level that could cajole honeybees away from flowers if he wanted. “Come, love. You can give me one kiss.”
Cautiously she stepped to him and wound her arms around his neck, conscious of his broad bare chest. Suddenly he seemed a bulwark against all fear, and she clung to him.
He wrapped his arms around her, and his eyes glittered with an expression she couldn’t understand. “Give me a kiss to remember when I go out into the storm. I may not return. Please, Lianna,” he urged, ignoring a twinge of guilt over his lie. The storm would be rough, but he would survive. Of that he had no doubt.
“Josh, surely…”
“One kiss.”
She stood on tiptoe and placed her lips over his, feeling their warm firmness. His arms tightened, and he pulled her against the length of his body while his tongue slipped into her mouth in a heated kiss that made her momentarily forget their danger and their disputes. The ship tilted, and his thighs pressed against hers as he braced his legs. When his lips moved away, she opened her eyes.
“Full worth it,” he whispered. “That was a kiss a man could store in memory and go to the bottom with a smile on his lips.”
She moved away, far more disturbed than she had expected. Why did his kisses always shake her to her soul? Was he in mortal danger? She turned to watch him through narrowed eyes as he picked up the dry shirt.
“You’re a brave one, Lianna.”
His soft words were her undoing. All the calamities and fears crowded upon her, and she closed her eyes.
He was at her side at once to scoop her into his arms. He sat down on the edge of the bunk, holding her close.
“Josh, I said some cruel things to you…”
“Perhaps we’ve each dealt wickedly with the other. I survived, Lianna.”
Shocked at his admission that he might have treated her unfairly, she held him tightly while his hands stroked her back. His gentle touch, the emotional upheaval of the past day, took their toll. Suddenly she burst into tears and tightened her arms around his neck.
“My home, Josh. My father, my home, England—all are gone.”
He rocked her, stroking her hair and holding her. “I swear to heaven, I’ll try to make it up to you. Lianna, I want you.” He buried his head in her thick black hair, and his words were muffled while her sobs came without check, and he knew she didn’t hear when he whispered his love for her.
The ship rolled, rising, tilting, then dropping with a shuddering crash that slammed them both down on the bunk. As they sat up, Josh pulled away. “I’m needed above. You may have to tie yourself in to keep from rolling about the cabin.” He handed her a coil of rope.
After dropping a shirt over his head, he lifted down another oilskin coat. He crossed the narrow space to take her chin in his hand. “We shall ride out this storm, but ’tis a vastly different way than I hoped to spend this night.”
He gazed at her, and she felt the silent challenge. For the past few minutes she had seen another side of him, a gentle side. She reached out to touch his hand shyly.
Josh’s brows narrowed, and he leaned down to give her a swift, hard kiss. His voice was hoarse as he searched her eyes. “Lianna, I’ll make it up to you,” he said, and his voice sounded firm with the promise. “I have to go above.”
As he crossed the cabin, she followed him toward the door. Then the ship rose, and the quadrant slid across the surface of the desk. Lianna snatched it up and knelt to place it in the chest. She raised the lid and pushed aside a folded shirt. Her hand brushed something cold, and she looked down. A golden ring of a striking serpent with a blood-red ruby eye lay on the shirt.
Gasping, Lianna yanked her hand away, her eyes shifting to Josh.
“What happened?” he asked.
Her mouth felt dry, and she shivered, looking again to see if imagination had tricked her, but the evil serpent was there, the dark ruby eye glittering. Lianna didn’t want to touch it. Josh came to look down, and picked up the ring. “You know the Marchenos’ ring.”
“I gave one like it to Quita.” She stood up as his expression became flinty.
“Someday I’ll return this ring and exact payment from the Count of Marcheno.” It lay in Josh’s palm, and he ran his thumb across it. “A serpent ready to strike.”
“How did you acquire it?”
“They placed it on my brother so I would know beyond any doubt whom we had crossed,” he replied. A pained expression played over his features. His voice was hoarse as he said, “They carved the serpent in Phillip’s flesh.”
“Oh, no!”
“I’m needed above, Lianna,” he said roughly. He dropped the ring in the chest, slammed the lid, and left. The creaking of the ship and the violent rise and fall increased along with the noise of whistling, howling winds and waves beating El Feroz. Lianna clung to the bunk in terror.
Finally, chilled to the bone, she pulled on one of Josh’s woolen capes. She rushed to the porthole to gaze outside, and pure cold terror gripped her. A solid wall of black water beat against the pane, blurring the glass. Was the crew on deck—or washed overboard? She despised waiting helplessly. Nervously she pulled the woolen cape close beneath her chin and opened the door. Water splashed down the ladder and eddied in the passageway, and she wondered how the ship held together. It seemed impossible that men could be on deck facing the raw elements of nature.
The ship canted and she lost her footing as a wave crashed down the companionway, knocking her off her feet. Thoroughly soaked, she struggled into the cabin and slammed the door.
Shivering from the cold, Lianna changed into another woolen dress and climbed into the bunk, to cling while the ship rode out the storm.
Later, her own wild cry stirred her out of sleep. Her breath came in ragged gasps caused by a nightmare. Instantly arms went around her. “Lianna, shh, love! ’Tis but a dream.”
She shivered violently, clinging to Josh, yet only dimly aware of him. His cool hand rested on her temple. “You burn with fever.” He held her close, cradling her in his arms as his warmth flowed into her chilled limbs.
She dozed, then awoke to fling off covers from her heated body. The bed was empty as she moaned softly, the cabin suffocating in its warmth. Nights and days melded, became unreal. She lost all sense of time, the grip of sickness blotting out all else.
Occasionally she was aware of gentle hands moving her, helping her to sip hot broth, washing her face, but reality blurred into her dreams and nightmares. Once she dreamed she rode down the lane at home behind Edwin as they used to do when children. He raced ahead on Taddie, his sorrel gelding, while she followed on Midnight, only Edwin’s eyes were green and his hair dark. He raced into a hedgerow and she couldn’t find him.
Finally she opened her eyes and gazed at sunlight pouring through the panes. Lying still, she became more alert and cognizant of her surroundings. The ship rode quietly. Josh sat by the table, his unreadable green eyes watching her carefully. “Lianna?”
“
Good morning.”
He stood up, unfolding his long frame with an easy grace to come sit beside her on the bed. “Ah, perhaps the fever has cleared. You sound better.”
“Better? How long did I sleep?”
“The storm was five nights ago.”
“Five!” she exclaimed, looking at the stubble on his chin. With a shock, she realized he must have given constant attention to her. “Josh, you look as if you’ve slept little.” She scooted up to look at him more intently. “You do care for me,” she murmured.
He caught a lock of her hair to run across his cheek as he lowered his head, and she couldn’t see his eyes. “Yes, I care,” he said roughly.
Her heart felt as if it were unfolding to a dazzling warmth. “Josh,” she whispered, and framed his face in her hands. Her heart pounded as she looked into eyes red from sleeplessness. She slipped her arms around his neck to hug him. “You do care! Oh, Josh, perhaps we can have happiness.” Shyly, with a degree of uncertainty, yet filled with hope and gratitude, she whispered, “I love you.”
His hands stroked her face while his eyes searched hers. “I see uncertainty and I pray someday you’ll say those words to me and mean them with your whole heart.”
He crushed her in his arms, holding her while he buried his head against her throat. He knew he ought to tell her not to say the words unless she meant them absolutely, but he couldn’t. They were the best words he’d heard in his life and he wasn’t about to break any tenuous hold on her heart. “I love you, Lianna,” he whispered, and prayed the two of them could let love unfold.
Her arms tightened around his neck and he turned, his mouth seeking hers, but she pushed him away.
“Josh, I’m a fright and you might catch something.”
He smiled at her and stroked her forehead. “I’ll wait, but you’re not a fright.”
She laughed, feeling a giddy happiness as she smiled at him.
He kissed her knuckles, watching her. “Soon you’ll be well and you can sleep in my arms, exhausted by fever of another kind.”