The Lady and the Captain

by Beverly Adam

  She’d sensed the moment he’d withdrawn from her that he’d purposefully held back, behaving nobly, stopping himself from becoming physically intimate with her. But did she want him to do that, to continue to hold back?

  Shaking her head, she felt a mounting frustration growing inside her. She desired him. She wanted him to touch her in the intimate manner a man did when he was attracted to a woman. She acknowledged to herself, she craved his touch. She’d enjoyed the feel of his hands on her body. What would it be like if he’d made love to her? She glanced surreptitiously at Robert as he plucked the strings of the mandolin, wondering how those same fingers would feel brushing along her skin. She blushed at her own thoughts.

  When she had been betrothed to John, she had given herself to him, knowing that they were to marry, and yearning to experience that special loving that men and women have experienced since time began. Was it wrong for her to want that again? Robert was not her betrothed, so was she behaving like one of those mistresses or dockside strumpets? Nay, she was not. That was not her way. Oh, she had always been a lively and friendly woman, but she had never behaved in an improper manner. She was a wise woman and her work was of an intimate nature, so she had always been careful of her behavior.

  What of the memory of her fiancé? Was it wrong for her to want another man’s arms around her? She had loved John, and had greatly cared for him. She had wanted to marry him. And after he died, she had mourned his death. But as a healer she had always understood the fleeting nature of life. Illness and accidents, and yes, the evil of others, could deal a cruel blow. The time they had together could be snuffed out in a moment, so was it wrong for her to want some happiness while it was here in front of her? Sarah recalled the encouraging words of John’s mother—to continue on with her life—to let herself love again . . . and she realized she was ready to move on, ready to love, and she hoped that Robert would be that man.

  She began to sway to the music, letting it envelope her, letting the tension from discovering the identity of the ghost and the murder weapon drop away as she sipped her dinner wine. She leaned against him in a companionable manner as he played the instrument, enjoying the music.

  Maybe it was the cozy atmosphere they’d created in the cabin with the music and candlelight, maybe it was because she didn’t care about propriety anymore, maybe she was drunk on wine and whimsy, but she knew, without a doubt that she wanted him. Her feelings for him had grown since she beheld him on her doorstep, with his captain slung over his shoulders. What a strong and brave man he was. She admired him greatly, but as a woman, she could not help but be attracted to him. He was just so beautiful.

  She laid her head against his shoulder and without a thought, as if second nature took control of her movements, she reached for his hand and brought it to her face.

  He stopped his strumming, and putting down the instrument, he turned fully to her and began to run his thumb back and forth over her lips. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  “Sarah, you are the loveliest woman I have ever beheld.” he said in a husky voice, looking into her bright blue eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve lain with a woman. If I stay here much longer, I won’t—that is—I want—”

  “Shhh . . . ,” she whispered, placing her fingers on his lips to hush him. “Robert, I’ve not been with a man since my fiancé died . . . I cared deeply for him, and I was true and loyal to him, but enough time has passed now, for me to . . .” She blushed and took a deep breath, wondering if he would think her too bold, but she didn’t care, because she needed him. Right now, she needed his touch more than anything. She smiled and caressed his face. “Robert, I want you too . . . please, make love to me.”

  His breath caught at the look in her eyes. He nodded, wrapping his arms around her, lowering his head, gently kissing her. She felt her blood begin to warm as his tongue opened her mouth. Responding, she opened her own, their lips and tongues meeting, entwining, while her heart pounded in anticipation.

  She wanted him. She realized that she’d desired him since the first moment she set eyes on his half-clad body in the sweat hut. She’d never beheld such a handsome and sensual man.

  Placing her hands on his naval whites, she began unbuttoning the gold buttons on the front flap of his breeches. Pulling the fabric down, she cradled his manhood, gently stroking him, enjoying the feel of the soft skin, while rubbing her fingers along the hard shaft, encouraging it to grow.

  He threw his head back and uttered a soft groan. “Sarah . . . I’m completely under your spell. You’ve bewitched me.”

  His hands moved over her body in turn, stroking her back, running up the sides of her ribcage and around to the back of her bodice. Unlacing it, he pulled the garment away from her body. She now breathed freely as his hands reached out to cup her breasts, his dark brown eyes shining with admiration.

  Bending his head, he sought out her nipples with his mouth, sucking on each in turn, playfully flicking his tongue back and forth around the dark center of the globes until they stood erect. A blooming desire overtook her as a warm, pulsing in her lower region made her crave more.

  She unbuttoned her skirt and with his help pulled it and her undergarments off, tossing them aside. She shivered in the cool night air, wrapping her arms around herself, standing before him in her garters and stockings, the only covering she wore. Although, she was no longer a shy virgin, she still felt nervous. She hadn’t lain with a man in a long time and she wanted to please Robert so very much.

  “My God, you are breathtaking,” he said in a raspy voice. He looked hungrily at her exposed body in the candlelight, in awe of her beauty.

  He got down on his knees in front of her, and placed his hands on her waist, drawing her close. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his head against her belly.

  “Breathe, my sweet,” he said in a soothing voice.

  She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. She let it out with a gasp and grasped his shoulders.

  “So much—I want you so much,” he whispered.

  He looked up at her then, his eyes full of passion and something else too—reverence. He reached out and undid the garters holding the stockings up. Slowly, savoring the undressing, he rolled each one down, placing a trail of kisses on her bared skin as he did so until she was completely naked.

  Drawing her close to him, he opened the lips of her moist center with his fingers and began to massage her there, in lazy circles. Then he moved closer and touched her with his tongue, tasting her, teasing her, making her gasp and moan, making her throb with unbearable pleasure. Pulling back, he stood up and removed his breeches, then swung her up in his arms and turning, laid her on the bed.

  He gazed down at her, losing himself once more in the beauty of her eyes. He wanted her to be sure. “Are you certain?”

  Nodding, she reached up, pulled his head down, and kissed him fervently. He moaned and kissed her back, their tongues playing and dancing. His fingers reached down between her legs once more and entered her, playing her as he’d played the mandolin earlier. Such clever fingers, she thought. And then she could think no more as he built the pressure up inside her to a bursting crescendo.

  “Robert!”

  “Yes, my sweet?” he asked with a roguish grin, as he continued to finger her slick folds.

  “Please, come inside me!”

  He was nothing if not compliant to her wishes in this regard. She grabbed his shoulders as he positioned himself between her legs. Lifting her bottom up, he thrust into her and groaned with the pleasure of it—the magnificent, hot pleasure of being inside Sarah.

  The burst of pleasure she’d felt when he was using his fingers on her was nothing compared to this feeling building inside of her now. In tune to a beautiful rhythm, they moved together, faster and faster until she could no longer stop the tide of feeling washing over her. She cried out in wonder, as he pumped in and out a few more times, before pulling out with a shout and letting his seed spill out onto the bed.
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  Lying back with a heavy breath, he held her in his arms, stroking her hair and back, and confessed, “It was as I’d dreamed it would be between us . . . I will never forget the gift you’ve given me tonight.”

  “Nor, I,” she said with a smile in her voice.

  He kissed her once more, dreamily, lazily, and brushed his fingers through her hair. Comforted by his touch and reassuring words, she smiled and fell into a deep sleep.

  In the morning, when she awoke, he was gone. He’d returned to his duties as commander of the ship. She knew better than to disturb him. When they reached England, everything between them would change. She knew it. She would return to her life as an Irish healer and Robert to his duties as an English naval captain, and they would part.

  Last night had been magical. Robert had called their joining “a gift,” and she told herself that was how she was going to think of it, as well. She would not attach any strings to it. She was not going to ruin their friendship by making any demands. It would be wrong to do so. He had a commitment and a duty to his career. And she—she had her calling.

  “Don’t expect anything more from him than that . . . be happy you had last night,” she told herself. And although her heart ached at the thought of their eventual parting, she knew it was for the best.

  Chapter 9

  In the early morning, The Brunswick arrived in English waters. The frigate tranquilly tied up without incidence in the Naval Dockyard at Port Sea, its home berth in Portsmouth. It had passed the Mill Pond, an inlet from the sea, while entering the harbor during the last moments of waning sunlight. Golden rays bounced off the water’s reflection around the small ship as its hands tied her ropes.

  Larger first-rated ships of the line with their three decks and eighty-some odd guns were anchored farther out at sea. These bulky ships of the line rarely entered the narrow harbor, which the much smaller Brunswick had easily passed.

  Off in the close distance from Portsmouth, was the Isle of Wight. It protected the harbor from the English Channel. Ships of the Royal Navy were moored in the stretch of water in between, called the Spithead, awaiting orders.

  Unbeknownst to the master and commander of The Brunswick, the crew had planned an engagement party for that evening for him and his lovely betrothed. Mistress O’ Grady, the master gunner’s wife, had taken it upon herself personally to see to it that the lady was kept well occupied with sewing and mending all day.

  So busy was she kept that Sarah didn’t have time to notice the decorations and preparations that the officers and hands were planning. Flower rosettes made from dyed blue gunny sacks were swaged along the ship’s polished rails. Paper lights were strung from wood poles to be lit as fairy lanterns at night on the top deck.

  One of the younger petty officers kept her away from the cook’s galley, a place she often visited to offer her assistance throughout the day.

  “Mr. Baker is in one of his unpredictable moods, ma’am,” said the young officer with his fingers crossed behind his back in a lie. “He told me himself that he needed to be left in peace. In confidentiality, I must tell you he’s working on a new recipe and wants to surprise you with it himself, ma’am. It would be best if you stayed away from the galley today. He wants to try out some of the fancy herbs you’ve been giving him to season the food with, ma’am.”

  So pleased was she that the cook wanted to surprise her with a new recipe using her herbs, she readily agreed not to disturb him. One of the unexpected friendships she had made aboard was with the frigate’s taciturn cook. By offering different savory herbs and potent tasting oils from her well-stocked sea chest, she had broken through the cook’s usual reserve.

  A congenial rivalry had sprung up between the two as to who could find the most interesting spices to season the usual bland offerings. As a result of their joint efforts, the meals served from the galley had greatly improved, to the general delight of everyone aboard.

  The young petty officer had spoken a half-truth. They were pulling out all the stops for supper. The cook intended on providing some savory surprises. What few remaining animals left from the officer’s pen were about to be put to good use for this special meal.

  On the menu there was to be the usual first course of vegetable soup with boiled potatoes, followed by the second course consisting of spitted venison with parsley herbs and carrots with caramelized onions swimming in cream, a delicacy the seamen had not enjoyed for several months. It was to be served with several covered side dishes of curried rabbit, ham, and more vegetables, with sweet lemon pudding.

  The last course, the dessert, was to be the highlight of the evening’s menu. As good fortune should have it, Mr. Baker had a brother who was in fact a superb baker living in Portsmouth Point. The brother had been contacted the day before by a passing fishing vessel on its way to England to prepare for this special event. Not only did the baker know how to bake bread, but had a noted delicate hand with pastry confections.

  The baker and his assistants had set about creating the small round cakes known as “maids of honor” and various fruit tarts at his brother’s request. In honor of the impending nuptials, he created a superb ginger spiced tea-cake with a sugar-spun replica of The Brunswick perched on top. How the cook had managed such a feat worthy of a high admiral’s table was much talked of by all who saw it. For it was truly a lifelike marvel to behold.

  The marine fife and drum corps assigned to the frigate would play during the dancing. It would make up the small orchestra for the party.

  The hands, delighted to be invited to such a grand affair, sent word to their wives and sweethearts living in Portsmouth and around the neighboring community of Southampton. The ladies were invited to join them for the ball to be given aboard the frigate in honor of their commander and his lovely betrothed.

  * * *

  As the guests began arriving on horseback, foot, and carriage, Sarah appeared on the top deck wearing a blindfold. Earlier that evening Mistress O’ Grady had approached her with a request from the commander and the officers.

  “They were hoping, Mistress Duncan, as this is to be for many of them their last night aboard, if ye would honor them by wearing your best gown. There’s to be a small party before the crew departs for their homes on the morrow.”

  “Certainly, I would be delighted to,” she readily agreed and set about putting on her finest slippers and best gown.

  Before she could set foot on the quarter-deck, the master gunner’s wife, with a merry twinkle in her eyes, whispered in her ear, “We have a wee bit of a surprise for you and Commander Smythe. This party has been prepared by the entire crew to honor your approaching nuptials.”

  She froze for a moment, concerned about the extent of their ruse. “Well, then we mustn’t disappoint,” she said feebly, noting that Robert had joined her.

  Feeling a pang of guilt in her stomach, she glanced a little nervously at Robert. She wondered how the members of The Brunswick would react when they later learned the nuptials had been called off. Deceiving these kind people made her feel wretched. She felt unworthy of their kindness. Despite the fact her short-lived deception was a tool for a noble cause, it nonetheless troubled her greatly.

  Robert wore his full dress uniform. She couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked. The uniform fit his broad shoulders and cinched his trim waist. His white breeches molded his muscular legs like a second skin. She couldn’t help remembering their night together— it was doubly painful to know that they were not, in fact, truly betrothed.

  He’d joined her after adjourning an officers’ meeting in the wardroom. She’d seen very little of him that day for he’d spent most of it updating the ship’s log. He’d held the meeting with the officers in preparation for dismissing the crew and turning the frigate back over to the Royal Admiralty.

  He smiled, holding out his white-gloved hand and she took it. She looked at him and wondered what he was thinking. She wondered if he felt as wretchedly as she did.

  Mistress O
’Grady blindfolded them and then one of the marines opened the door leading out to the deck. It was to be a grand surprise. Their blinds were lifted and Sarah looked out at the lovely preparations.

  She felt a lump form in her throat and her eyes filled with tears.

  No one had ever honored her in such a touching manner before. The most she could ever hope by way of thanks and recompense from her patients was to be given some livestock, a few goods, and perhaps on rare occasions, a shilling or two, but nothing compared to the delightful celebration that the crew had planned for her and their commander.

  “’Tis humbling,” she said to Robert as a sea of smiling faces looked up at them standing on the quarter-deck.

  “They’ve been a good crew.” He nodded, happy for his men, and proud that The Brunswick had safely docked after spending two years at sea. He looked down at the lovely young woman by his side and experienced a longing he had never allowed himself to feel before. Making love to Sarah had been something he had wanted to do since the moment he set eyes on the golden-haired beauty. He wondered what she was thinking and feeling? Was she regretting their night together or did she wish for more? He sighed and put his thoughts aside for now, but at some point, he would have to speak with Sarah about it.

  Suddenly, the crew let out a big cheer. “Hip-Hip-Huzzah!” Catcalls and whistles of approval quickly followed.

  Sarah stood beside him, laughing at the men’s good mood. She waved at them and their cheers grew even louder. Aye, she was in high spirits, as well, he thought, as he wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. He felt some of the tension he’d held since taking over command from Captain Jackson loosen from his shoulders. No great disaster had passed aboard the ship for which the Admiralty could blame him for. The loss of the steward’s life had been a tragedy, beyond his control, and therefore he would not be held accountable. The career he’d envisioned for himself at sea in the Royal Navy would continue onward, unchanged. However he did not look forward to informing the steward’s sole remaining relative, a spinster of twenty, of her brother’s death.