Bound By The Heart

by Canham, Marsha

  "My...fits?" She cast a cold eye in Michael's direction.

  He coughed. "Yes indeed. You were thrashing about something awful in your sleep, babbling all manner of nonsense about balls and Court and tea with the queen. Oh, this does look splendid Thorny. And the pudding looks jolly ripe indeed, not at all like the watery syllabubs we had on board the Vixen."

  "Aye. Cook 'as a regular fine 'and when it comes ter sweets." He paused and his lips moved while he counted off the faint rings of the ship's bell. "Right. I'll leave ye to it then. Cap'n'll be wantin' me on deck."

  "Thank you again," Summer said. "Oh, and Mr. Thorntree—?"

  "Aye?"

  "If it would not be too much trouble, could you arrange to have some hot water sent in? I should like to take a bath. Michael will be needing one as well."

  "Eh? A wot?"

  "A bath, Mr. Thorntree. Where one steps in and has a wash with soap. You do have soap on board, do you not?"

  "Bleedin' 'ell." Thorny muttered and scratched his head. "Next ye'll be wantin' a fancy ball gown."

  "As a matter of fact," Summer said, pulling the bedding up to her chin. "I would appreciate some manner of clothing."

  "Cap'n already said as 'ow ye could 'ave one of 'is shirts." He blinked as if astounded a body could want for more.

  "I can hardly walk around wearing nothing but a shirt."

  "Ye can't walk 'round a-tall!" Thorny informed her. "Cap'n's orders."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Cap'n says 'ee don't want ye topside. Bad fer the men ter see an 'arf nekkid woman traipsin' up an' down the decks. N'owt that they'd mind the sight, it's just ye're only a wee thing. N'owt enough o' ye ter go around fer the whole crew, so it's best ye don't go wavin' it in their faces."

  Summer turned an impressive shade of scarlet. She heard a second, warning cough from Michael but it was too late.

  "You can just go and tell your captain that I shall go topside when and however often I choose, and that if he or any of his degenerate crew attempt to dissuade me in any way, they shall have the whole of the Yes, sir to answer to. It is to be understood that Michael and I are travelling under the protection of Sir Lionel Cambridge, the Governor of Barbados. We are British subjects. We are not at war with America—yet—and unless your captain is prepared to suffer charges of piracy and kidnapping, we expect to have every courtesy extended to us until such time as we may leave this ship and return home. Any violation of any kind will be reported and dealt with swiftly and without recourse. Do I make myself quite clear, sir?"

  Thorny's jaw was gaping. Michael was staring at his sister in horror, wondering if perhaps she had lost her mind.

  "Now then, " she said archly. "We will have that bath...unless you have anything else to say?"

  Thorny's mouth snapped shut. He glanced at Michael, then at Summer once more before hastily retreating from the cabin. Michael continued to gape at her long after the door was safely shut.

  "Summer." Her name came out on a rush of air. "Are you sure you should have said that to him? He could come back with a cutlass and slit our throats!"

  "Oh good heavens, he wouldn't dare. And it is important that we do not show weakness. If this Captain Wade is who you say he is and if what he has in mind is indeed kidnapping and ransom, we mustn't let him think he will get away with it without creating an incident in the process. I doubt his fellow Americans would wish to see full scale war declared over a governess and her charge."

  "War?"

  "Conflicts have begun over less," Summer said with conviction. "Even privateers cannot just go around kidnapping His Majesty's subjects without suffering consequences for their actions."

  "Or without being blasted out of the water," Michael said with a grin. "Don't forget the Caledonia is lurking somewhere about. Old Winnifred...er...I mean Captain Winfield is not going to just sail away without making a jolly good search of the area to find us."

  Summer moved over to the table with the bundle of bedding dragging behind. She inspected the food on the tray, plucking at a slice of cheese. "It has been two days, Michael. We could be a hundred miles from where we were when the storm struck."

  "If we have moved fifty, I shall eat every square inch of canvas on the mainmast," Michael said emphatically. "You may have been tossing about in your sleep, but the Chimera has been riding peacefully at anchor. She suffered some damage in the storm, and I gather Captain Wade wants to be certain she is seaworthy before he takes her out into open water."

  "At anchor?" Summer licked the crumbs of a biscuit from her fingers as she went to the gallery windows and pressed her cheek to one of the diamond-shaped panes to peer out. "Where?"

  "I don't know where," Michael said. "I have asked, but no one will tell me. It is an island friendly to Captain Wade, however, for he has not troubled himself to open the gun ports."

  "You sound almost disappointed," she noted wryly, then glanced out the window again. "An island. If we only knew which one, or...or if we could somehow get a message ashore...?"

  The thought ended abruptly as the cabin door opened and slammed back against the wall. Captain Morgan Wade stood there, his long legs splayed wide apart, his hands on his hips, his jaw tensed into a hard, square ridge. His eyes were glittering like shards of black ice.

  "I understand you have a message for me," he snarled, glaring at Summer.

  She was sufficiently startled to drop the quilt from around her shoulders.

  "How...how dare you enter this cabin without knocking!"

  "The last time I looked, it was my cabin. I can enter it whenever I wish."

  Summer's chin quivered with outrage, but she remembered Michael's warning and mustered enough dignity to meet the challenge in the pirate's eyes with an equal amount of icy calm.

  "You might at least have knocked."

  "Like I said. This is my cabin. I can enter whenever I want...however I want. I am more curious to know who the hell you think you are, Governess, and where the hell do you think you are that you can order my men around like servants?"

  "Michael and I are British subjects. We travel under the protection of His Majesty's Royal Navy as well as that of the Governor of Barbados."

  "On board this ship, madam, I am the governor, the president, the king, and any other figurehead you would care to mention. I decide who does what. I decide who earns special treatment, who earns the lash, and who earns the rat watch in the bilges."

  "Indeed. Mr. Thorntree has already enlightened us on your manner of justice, Captain. I hardly think it worthy of boasting."

  He walked a few more paces into the cabin. "I might remind you that you were pulled out of the ocean in the middle of the night, from shark-infested waters, and allowed to stay on board my ship purely out of the goodness of my heart. At least ten of the so-called degenerates on board dove into those waters without thinking of the risk to their own necks." He paused and drew a breath. "For someone so free and easy with her insults, you should learn the basic meaning of the word gratitude."

  Summer was not daunted. "For someone so free and easy with his lectures, you should learn the meaning of the words common decency, which decrees that you convey us to the nearest British port immediately."

  "That is not likely to happen, madam."

  Summer flushed hotly. "Then your purpose is to detain us?"

  "My purpose is to finish repairs on my ship and resume my course."

  "Michael says we are at anchor off an island."

  "His eyesight is excellent."

  "You could easily set us ashore here, thus removing any burden we might put on your...generosity."

  Wade crossed his arms over his chest. "I could. But I doubt you would want to go ashore here. The island is full of slaves who rebelled against their overlords and slaughtered most of them in their sleep. A white woman...especially one with yellow hair...would be raped senseless before she went ten feet on shore. The boy would fare little better."

  Summer's chin trembled again. "If any harm come
s to Michael Cambridge, I will not rest until I see you hung as a pirate and miscreant."

  "Assuming you live to see anything at all," he countered evenly.

  Summer clenched her hands into fists, which caused the bedding to slip down on her shoulders again. This time it was ignored, allowing the captain an intriguing view of pale shoulders and a very skimpy corselet. "How dare you speak to me like this."

  He smirked. "Have a care I do not dare more, Governess." He cast a dark glance in Michael's direction, then turned back toward the door. "As to your bath, unless you have something of interest to barter with—other than a sharp tongue—I suggest you do what the rest of us do: Take a dive off the side in calm water."

  "Barter? We have nothing to barter with."

  He stopped with his hand on the jamb and looked back. He studied her slender body with a maddeningly contemptuous grin, lingering over the firmness of her breasts where they strained against the flimsy cloth. The wrinkled pantaloons were rendered almost sheer by the light shining through the windows behind her, outlining her narrow waist and gently flaring hips. "I can think of one or two things offhand that might interest a desperate man."

  She gasped and snatched the bedding up tight around her shoulders again. "I should have expected nothing better from you, Captain. I was told you Americans were all brutish little men with few values and no moral fortitude. I can see now the evaluation was, if anything, charitable."

  Wade's eyes narrowed to slits. He kept his gaze fixed on Summer for several moments before flicking it toward Michael. "Get out, boy. Now."

  "Michael, stay where you are," Summer ordered.

  Michael's eyes widened as he looked from the captain to his sister and back to the captain.

  "I said now, boy, unless you care to feel the back of my hand helping you on your way."

  "He would not dare put a hand to you," Summer said evenly.

  Wade expelled a long breath and in two strides was beside Michael. His fist curled into the boy's shirt and he half-lifted, half-dragged him to the door.

  "Out!" he commanded, "before I put my boot to your arse!"

  Summer took a step forward. "You have no right to order him to do anything!"

  "Shut up!" Wade roared, "or, by Christ, you'll both be feeling the bite of my hand!"

  Summer gasped and retraced her step. Michael exchanged a last, apologetic glance with her, then dashed out into the corridor. Wade swung the door shut with a bang then reached up onto a shelf of the bookcase for a brass key. He twisted in the lock, then turned the full force of his midnight eyes on Summer.

  "Wh-what do you think you're doing?"

  He strode across the cabin to where she had pressed herself back into the corner, and, before she could react, he curled one arm around her waist, the other beneath her knees and swept her off her feet. He carried her struggling and shrieking to the berth and dumped her unceremoniously on top.

  Summer scrambled to cover herself and pushed as far back against the wall as she could go. "What are you doing?"

  Wade grinned slowly as he unfastened his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. "Showing you just how brutish we Americans can be, Governess."

  Summer stared in horror at the sun-baked expanse of his chest, at the bands of hard muscle that flexed and bunched as he began unfastening the lacings of his breeches. It took her a full moment to realise what he was doing...what he was intending to do...before she gasped and pressed even further back.

  "You wouldn't! You wouldn't dare!"

  "Keep saying that, Governess, and I will keep daring."

  Her eyes were fixed on the bulge at the junction of his thighs and were only jarred loose by the sound of his laughter. Her cheeks flared red and she lifted her arm but he reached out and caught her wrist before she could slash her nails across his face. He caught her other wrist and twisted both arms down and behind her back, dragging her forward so that she was pinned tight against his naked chest.

  "No!" she cried, squirming to break his hold. "No, damn you!"

  He silenced her by covering her mouth with his. The kiss was long and bruising. It not only smothered her cries but seemed to suck the very breath from her lungs. One of his hands raked up into her hair and held her head in such a way she could not turn away or avoid the plundering lips. An attempt to scream only gave his tongue an opening, which he took full advantage of to ravage her mouth, leaving her panting and dizzy when he finally relented. Her lips throbbed and the blood pounded through her temples. She was still crushed up against his chest but the grip on her wrists eased and she was able to bring a trembling hand up to wipe across her mouth.

  "Care to tell me what else I would not dare, Governess?"

  Her eyes flooded with tears, great silvery wet things that clung to her lashes a moment before splashing down onto her cheeks.

  "You are no gentleman, sir."

  Wade tipped his head back and laughed. "And you, Governess, have more spirit in you than would be safe for any man to show me."

  "Any man would not have to suffer the indignity of being held captive against his will."

  "No." The laughter faded to a wry chuckle. "He would likely be dead by now."

  "A pity you did not offer me the choice."

  "You would prefer death over a kiss?" One black eyebrow arched with amusement.

  "From you, yes."

  "Damnation," he murmured. "It was not even a very good kiss. You have the pout and disposition of a child—a spoiled child at that—and I have never found much pleasure in disciplining children." His eyes roamed lower. "You've a fine enough shape, I suppose, though I prefer my women with larger breasts and wider hips."

  Summer's mouth fell open. "Your arrogance is not to be believed."

  "Nor is your ignorance, Governess, for any other ship's captain might not stop at a mere taste of that insolence. He might put you on your back, naked, with your legs in the air, and that lovely mouth of yours bleating for salvation."

  Summer flushed so darkly and was so completely stunned by the vulgar image that she was rendered speechless.

  Wade chuckled and was about to turn away when he heard an involuntary gasp as she tried to gather a blanket around her shoulders. The thought of naked, spread legs forgotten, he frowned and snatched her hands forward, turning the palms up.

  "What the devil—?" She started to curl her fingers tight and pull them away, but he glared a threat and yanked them forward again, keeping a firm grip on her wrists. "Let me see."

  "Leave me alone," she cried softly. "Can you not just leave me alone?"

  "I could," he nodded. "But then your fingers would start to suppurate and turn green. Even if we managed to halt the poison by cutting off your hands, chances are some of it would have spread up into your arms and we would have to cut them off too. Now then, would you like me to have a look or not?"

  Summer blinked through the fresh wetness that was blurring her vision and slowly unclenched her hands.

  "Did Thorny not leave you with any salve?"

  "I don't...I think perhaps...maybe, but..."

  After muttering a comment about the lack of wits blessed upon the female species, Wade walked over to the washstand. The pot of oily brown salve was there, where Thorny had left it. Wade poured water into a washbowl and found a reasonably clean scrap of towelling. He carried them, along with the salve, back to the berth where he took each of her hands in turned and cleaned off the old, crusted scabbing and dabbed gently at the burns...so gently she found herself studying him warily from under the sweep of her lashes.

  She had already come to realize Morgan Wade was not as tall as her memory had allowed. He was certainly well above average, but not the towering giant that had been branded on her mind from the initial sighting on deck. The strength in his massive chest and arms was real enough, however, and it frightened her. He had made her feel crushable. Crushed. And where the crisp black hairs had chafed her breasts through her shimmy, it had seemed as though there was no layer of cloth at all b
etween them.

  She felt a blush ebb and flow in her cheeks and she forced her eyes to travel up the column of his neck and concentrate on his face. His jaw was square and sharply defined even through the three-or-four-days growth of black stubble. His nose was regal, his mouth wide and expressive; the cold blue eyes were guarded by long black lashes. Shiny waves of thick black hair fell unfettered to his shoulders, the cut as indifferent as his manners.

  Summer thought of Bennett Winfield's golden blond hair, how it was neatly brushed back and clubbed at the nape of his neck, with just the right amount fashioned into flat curls on his brow and cheeks. She strongly doubted if he would ever be seen unshaven, or if his uniform would ever be a notch from perfect. His whites would be snowy white; his boots polished to a sheen. His bicorne would be centered straight and true over his handsome face, announcing to all his absolute authority and rigid standards.

  "I gather I am not comparing favorably," Wade murmured, seeing the wry twist to her mouth.

  The blush spread down her throat and into her chest. "I am sure I do not know what you are talking about, Captain."

  He glanced up from smearing more of Thorny's disgusting-smelling unguent on her palms. Her eyes did not flinch when he met them. If anything, the color seemed to deepen, to lose much of the softness of the gray and draw attention to the darker sparks of green. They were an odd color, unlike anything he had noticed before...but then, he rarely looked into a woman's eyes when there were more intriguing points to notice. Her hair was dulled under a film of salt, but he suspected it would wash out clean and bright as sunlight itself. Her skin was smooth and creamy white, another oddity in the tropics, and not likely to last overlong. The lush fullness of her mouth had stirred an unexpected response in his body, one he had not anticipated, but it was her eyes that held him, and the more he looked into them, the more he could feel them luring him in, like quicksand, to danger.

  "You will need to keep putting this salve on every couple of hours. It should help with the pain as well as staving off any infection."

  "Your concern is touching but I'll not be doing anything to get them infected."