by Lynn Hubbard
He frowned. “You should not…”
“It is done. What of your end?”
“I handpicked a crew. I made a pass along the river, judging its depth. It’s too shallow for the Maiden; we need a lighter, quicker boat. The Vixen would do nicely. It’s Tristan’s private boat.”
Sarah frowned. “A smaller boat will carry less people.”
“We can’t save them all, Sarah.”
“Well then, we will save all we can.”
“The ball may be an ideal diversion.”
“It isn’t until two weeks. I’m afraid for your brother’s safety.”
“He is tough for a youngster.”
“Alright, we will meet again in a week.”
“Sarah?” Gabriel called after her. “Be safe.”
Sarah nodded, heading back to Molly. A loan figure stood next to the mare. His red coat stood out like a beacon.
Sarah held her head up as she advanced on him. “Major Johnson, what brings you out here?”
“I was headed in and recognized Molly. I was concerned for your welfare.”
“I am fine,” she grumbled, turning her back on him and turning to mount Molly. His hand latched onto her arm and she winced from his firm grip; he smiled in return, taking a step closer.
“What are you doing out here? I told you it wasn’t safe to be alone in the city.”
Sarah was forced to look up at him. “I was looking for my aunt’s house. I thought I might find a keepsake. Something to remember her by.” Tears easily welled up in her eyes. Seeing them, he pulled her tightly to his chest. His breath raked across her skin as he buried his face in her neck for comfort. She felt a nip on her throat from his teeth and pulled away, slapping his face with her free hand.
“You should be nicer to me. I can make your life very hard,” he growled, his eyes flashing.
She laughed aloud. “You know nothing of a hard life.” Turning, she mounted her horse and hurried off. She only slowed for Molly’s sake, but he did not follow.
She felt relief upon entering the stable. She waved off the boy and tended to Molly herself. Brushing out her coat and getting her feed kept her mind busy.
She was worried that Johnson had seen Gabriel. She needed to be more careful in the future. With a final stroke to Molly’s rump, she headed inside. Needing to keep busy, she headed to the kitchen. After much persuasion, she was given a bushel of fresh beans to break. Wholesome work was good for the soul, her mother always quipped. Thinking of her parents pushed away her doubts. She was doing the right thing.
The day passed quickly and she was shooed upstairs to get ready for dinner. She dug through the trunk in her room and found a pastel, green dress. She slipped it on and checked her reflection in the mirror. After only a couple of decent meals, her thin body was starting to recover. Her cheeks were not as hollow as before, and the shadows from her eyes had almost disappeared. She hoped her men were fairing as well.
She turned her head to tie up her hair in a bun and noticed a mark on her neck. The good Major had left a bruise from his brutish assault. She considered trying to hide it with her hair, and then quickly changed her mind. She had done nothing wrong. Why should she be ashamed?
She stood and headed down when the dinner bell sounded. She hesitated at the doorway before entering. Sounds like everyone is home, she grumbled to herself. Didn’t the Major ever work? She headed to the table to find her seat moved next to Tristan’s. A dominant act of his to say the least, she sat down and nodded, she was not in the mood to speak cordially. .
Randall was directly across from her, intently watching her sip at her soup. She ate quietly, listening to the conversation around her. The entire battle was repeated and analyzed. She tried to hide her happiness as the disgruntled men discussed Washington showing up with reinforcements.
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a stiff drink,” the Colonel finished, pushing back from the table. Randall and Ryan moved to follow as Tristan excused himself to study plans in his room.
Panic clutched at Sarah, realizing she was to join him tonight. Not wanting to follow him just yet, she headed to the study. She was immediately drawn to the leather bound tomes. She chose a book of poems and sat down in a high back chair to read. The candlelight flickered across the pages and soothed her somewhat as the poems revived her spirit. After a while, her tired eyes started to droop and her head lolled back against the chair.
***
Tristan paced the floor, glancing at his pocket watch. Midnight. She had agreed. Where was she? Determined, he set out to find her. Her bedroom was dark and the door was locked. Using his key he quickly alleviated that problem. A quick peek showed the room to be empty. He growled, shutting the door quietly and heading to the stairs. He hesitated outside of Ryan’s room; the thought of Randall having her filled him with anger. He pushed the thought away and headed downstairs to search the house. He checked the front door, finding it locked. The thought of her leaving made him anxious and he quickened his pace.
He spotted the dim light from the study and opened the door. He spotted her asleep in the chair and had to catch his breath. She was beautiful, the glow from the melted down candle licked across her skin and he slowly took a step forward. He hated to wake her; she seemed so peaceful.
Not wanting to rouse her, he decided to carry her to bed. His conscious screamed out for him to treat her properly, but the devil on his shoulder had other ideas. Feeling just a bit guilty, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed.
His bed.
Seeking warmth, she snuggled into his chest as he ascended the stairs. Thankful the hallway was empty; he entered his room and laid her on the bed. He stared at her still form for a moment and pondered his next move.
She was overly dressed; surely she would be uncomfortable. He unlaced her boots and slipped them off, letting them drop to the floor. Next came her dress. He expertly released the pearl buttons down the front of her bodice and slipped it off her shoulders, revealing her creamy chest underneath. Swallowing hard, he tried to control his need. He stripped her down to her shift and bloomers. Seeing the bruise on her arm, he ran his hand over it. Doing a quick look over for more injuries he noticed the round bruise on her neck. Remembering she had run into Randall earlier, he clenched his fist in anger. He again lifted her and tucked her into the covers. Blowing out the candle he undressed and joined her.
He contemplated shaking her awake to fulfill her promise, but couldn’t bring himself to wake her. The fact that he chose her needs over his surprised him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had considered others first. The thought startled him. With a sigh, he pulled her into his arms and cradled her as she slept.
Sarah’s eyes peeked open as he settled behind her. She was afraid to move lest he know she had been awake. Hearing his steady breathing she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
She awoke at the first breath of dawn. Grabbing her clothes in the dim light, she bundled them up in her arms and snuck into the hallway. She stopped short, seeing Ryan in a similar state exiting the Colonel’s bedroom. Wordlessly they passed each other, each returning to their assigned rooms.
Sarah washed up in the basin, getting ready to start the day. She would have loved taking off on Molly again, but she needed to see the Vixen. To check out the accommodations and figure out how many men it could carry.
***
Tristan awoke soon after Sarah left; he was disappointed to find his bed empty. Perhaps he should have requested her to stay in his room, instead of just visiting? Disgruntled, he dressed before heading down the hall to Sarah’s room.
She answered his knock and stepped back as he entered. “Sleep well?” she asked.
“We had an agreement.”
“Yes, I shared your bed, now you need to show me the Vixen.”
Tristan’s expression was comical and a small giggle escaped her and she received a glare. “Sure, I would love to take you for a ride.”
He offered hi
s arm to her and guided her out of the room. He intended on keeping her in his sight today. Not trusting himself to face Randall this morning, he stopped by the kitchen and picked up a sack of food for the day. Heading to the stables, he had the carriage readied and they were on their way.
Tristan’s carriage was very nice and would fit four comfortably. She sat next to him on the front seat while he expertly guided the horses. Not wanting to talk in the open, he was quiet, just enjoying her company.
Sarah looked around as they passed the city. The Vixen was moored in a different port. She was almost relaxed while he drove the carriage. In another time, this would be considered normal. However, there was no such thing as normal in Sarah’s world.
Her world consisted of pain and loss. She wondered how long it would take for the hole in her heart to heal. Some part of her believed she would never be whole again. She couldn’t imagine a future at this time. She was just happy to survive each day. Each sunrise was a blessing.
Tristan parked the wagon, jumped down, and went around to help her. Sarah reached for his hand and he guided her down the high step. Sarah appraised him; he was dressed in flattering Navy pants, a frock shirt, and tailored jacket. He looked very dashing and her heart fluttered.
It was hard to look away, but she did with a lump in her throat. Knowing he was only helping to fulfill his own needs made her heart ache. Thank goodness her head was stronger. She squared her shoulders and held her head up high as they walked along the planked wharf.
The Vixen was one of the larger ships tethered, and clearly the most majestic. Tristan was unable to hide his pride when he introduced her.
“It’s larger than I thought,” Sarah replied, leaning her head back to take in the full view.
There was no crew on board, so Tristan made a grand show of jumping to the ladder and climbing easily to lower the gangplank for her to cross. She hesitated, taking in the water below her. The walkway was about two feet wide but for some reason she couldn’t take that first step.
Tristan, seeing her reluctance to cross, took it in two strides. “You will befall no harm with me,” he whispered, taking her hand and leading her across. Sarah wished she could count on his words.
She stepped on the deck and Tristan pulled the plank back on board. Her only exit had just disappeared.
“Let me show you around,” Tristan said, grabbing her hand. Warmth filled her at his touch and she hated herself for it. He was offering her nothing; she did not need to get caught up in girlish dreams.
He was so different than Robert, where Robert was noble and brave; Tristan was more cunning and shrewd. Of course Robert made no promises to her either. Why was life so hard?
He led her to the hold and she insisted on climbing down to see the condition. No sense in transferring them from one hellhole to another. He threw down a rope ladder into the hatch and she looked down into the darkness.
“It isn’t necessary. My ship is well maintained.”
“We shall see,” she said, throwing a leg over and grabbing the edge. She took a deep breath before throwing over the other leg. The ladder swung wildly and she hung on for dear life until it steadied.
“Wait, I’ll go and shine the light for you.”
She glared up at him while feeling with her foot for the next rung. She slowly lowered herself a foot at a time. She counted the rungs to keep her mind occupied. The darkness surrounded her as she descended, cursing herself for not bringing a lamp. As she looked up at the square light from above she could imagine the men’s terror while they were held in captivity.
Her arms were burning from the exertion. Even though she was in good shape, she was using muscles she never knew existed. Her foot slipped and she cried out in surprise, she felt gravity tugging on her, wanting her to fail. Hanging on for dear life as the ladder swung dizzily, she tried to steady herself.
Tristan’s call of concern from above only heightened her resolve to continue. The rope bit at her tender hands and she was grateful when her feet touched the bottom.
“I’m here, can you send down the lantern?”
Tristan lowered the lit lantern with a rope and Sarah grasped it in relief as the world around her materialized. She had to shield her eyes a bit from the darkness but what she did see was pleasing. The rope ladder jerked and for a second she was terrified he pulled it up as some cruel joke. Instead he grasped it with his legs and climbing sideways he agilely made his way toward her. He was about ten feet up when the ladder gave way. Sarah screamed and jumped out of the way as he hit the wooden floor hard.
He lay unmoving and she rushed to his side. Her nursing skills took over and she used her hands to examine him from head to boot. Feeling for any noticeable injuries her hands glided over every inch of his body. Finding none she returned to his head. His eyes were closed but he was unable to hide his smile as it widened under the light.
She smacked his chest. “You are faking!”
He chuckled, sitting up rather slower than normal. “I guess you aren’t the only one whom can feign sleep.”
Sarah blushed at his words. If he knew she was faking last night why did he not call her out on it? She decided to ignore him and instead looked up at the dangling ladder. It was hanging by a thin strand and she doubted it would hold one of them, much less two.
“What are we to do?” she asked.
“We?”
“Yes, we.”
“Well one rope slipped. I could shimmy up and fix it,” he suggested.
“Hmph, I don’t feel like being crushed to death by your falling body.”
“Well, you could step out of the way. Again,” he emphasized.
Sarah glared at him, turning her attention to their surroundings. Well since she was down here she might as well look around. The room was spacious and clean and she saw no signs of trash or rodents. She was quite pleased.
“How many men will this hold?” she asked.
Tristan frowned when he lost her attention. “150, maybe.”
“And how many are being held on the hulk?”
Tristan shrugged. “Maybe twice that.”
A frown fluttered across her face.
“The men on board are unhealthy, they are full of vermin and sickness. Some won’t have the strength to escape.”
Sadness over came her. She knew not all would make it; she would like to have given everyone at least a chance though.
“They won’t be strong enough to climb down. Is there any other way for them to gain access? A basket perhaps?”
“Perhaps. I would think you should be more concerned about your own welfare. You are trapped in a boat with no way out.”
Sarah smiled, “If it gets too desperate, I could sustain myself off your flesh for a week or so. Of course, I’m sure the clever Major Johnson would have discovered me gone by then. He seems to find sport in following me.”
“Humph! I suppose we could wait for rescue. Or we could just take the stairs.”
Chapter 16 Hard to see the Truth
“Stairs?” Sarah asked, her eyes narrowing as she turned on him.
“I haven’t finished the tour yet. I was going to show you those next.”
She turned her back on him as she took the lantern and walked away, leaving him in the darkness. She was so angry she didn’t trust herself to speak. If she killed him now, she may never escape this wretched boat. She headed for the wall and methodically followed it around. Finally, she found the narrow, but well-built stairs leading up to another entrance.
A hand rested on her shoulder and she jumped. “Found it all by yourself. You are quite clever.”
“And you, sir, are an ass,” she spat back, turning to start her ascent.
Tristan followed her closely, feeling a bit of remorse for his trick, but she was so delectable when she was angry. She paused at the top, trying to push open the hatch with her jelly like arms.
“Allow me,” he said, pressing in closely to her as he joined her side. Sarah was next to the thin raili
ng and she wrapped her arms around his waist in fear of falling. If she was going down, so was he.
Tristan’s hands stopped their search for the latch at her movement. Fire roared inside of him. He pulled her to him and sought out her lips. Caught up in the moment, Sarah complied, trusting him to not let them fall to their deaths.
His arms wrapped around her, caressing her back and leaving a trail of heat as they went. She leaned into him, needing more as he awakened every nerve in her body. He felt himself swaying a bit, so he shifted, sitting on the step and pulling her onto his lap.
She clung to him desperately as if her very life depended on him. She felt his hands moving down her legs and under her dress, hiking it up to her waist. She tried to grab his hand to stop him from his goal, but her attempt was feeble at best. She gasped against his mouth when he cupped her soft mound between her legs. Only her bloomers separated him from her flesh.
He used the material to add friction and help build up her heat as he massaged her passage. His lips trailed down her neck to stop at her bodice. He groaned in defeat, he was blocked at every pass. Damn these seamstresses and their London fashion.
Sarah was aggravated as well. Her heart was pounding and she so needed his touch. Taking matters into her own hands she lowered her knickers to her knees giving him full access. She was not disappointed. His long, thin fingers gently parted her folds and slipped inside, seeking her shelter. She was deliciously wet and his hardness was almost painful as it strained against his britches. Sensing his despair, she shifted slightly, reaching for his belt. After much fumbling in the darkness, which Tristan thoroughly enjoyed, he was free. Her hand grasped around his shaft and traced the length. She was thankful for the darkness to hide her flushed face. She couldn’t believe she was panting like a whore, practically forcing him to take her.
Needing him, she twisted and straddled his lap. She groaned in complaint; her feet were tangled in her knickers, reducing her movement. Tristan reached down and ripped them off in his haste. Grabbing her by her waist, he easily lifted her, trusting her to guide him along the correct path.