Into His Arms

by Paula Reed

  He shook his head grimly. A woman on board a ship of unruly men was bad enough, but a pretty one was sure to be trouble. He wondered what the cap’n would make of her. By the look of her dress, she was a Puritan, and likely a virtuous maid.

  That might offer her some protection from men who respected such qualities, but Captain Hampton was a different story. He and Geoff had been friends since they were mere cabin boys, and Geoff had always thought women to have but one purpose. There was only one thing for it, Giles decided, and he bent down to scoop her up and move her to his own quarters. Ere he could do so, the arrival of the ship’s commander stopped him.

  Giles and Geoff were of an age, a score and seven years. Both wore boots and breeches, and like Giles, Geoff’s hair was pulled back into a queue. But the resemblance ended there. Where Giles’s eyes were gray and serious, Geoff’s were nearly gold and held a perpetual hint of recklessness. Giles’s deep brown locks would never dare escape the ribbon that held them in place, where strands of Geoff’s lighter mane had pulled free in several places. Despite all of this, the captain appeared the elder, his features sharper, his mouth more cynical.

  Geoff strode purposefully to the bunk, a question upon his lips, but he paused when he saw the woman who lay there. A look of recognition lit his eyes.

  “What is it, Cap’n?” Giles asked. “Do you know this girl?”

  “Aye—well, nay. That is—we’ve met, but I do not know her.”

  The cryptic answer did little to sate Giles’s curiosity. “What on earth do you suppose she was doing in our hold?”

  Geoff tilted his head and gave her an admiring look. “I think I have a notion, old friend.”

  “Don’t hold back! What’s this about?”

  The captain only smiled slightly. He reached down and pulled the limp coif from her head then freed her shimmering locks from their restraining pins. “Ah, Giles, this one’s made for where we’re bound.” He twisted a nearly silver curl around his finger. “Her hair, it puts me in mind of a fine, white beach in the moonlight. And well I remember the color of her eyes, blue as the Caribbean itself.”

  Giles set his jaw and crossed his arms. “Hold there a moment, Geoff. I’ll not argue that she’s a lovely little thing, but she’s hardly given you leave to run your fingers through her hair. I was thinking perhaps she’d do better in my cabin.”

  Geoff laughed, and though ‘twas a sound that usually lightened Giles’s serious demeanor, now it did but rankle. The Cap’n’s laughter died down to a chuckle. “Your cabin indeed. Doubtless you’d find some nobler purpose for laying hands on the lass.”

  “Actually, I thought we’d share your cabin and give her a bit of privacy.”

  Geoff seemed to ponder the idea earnestly, but he couldn’t fool his oldest friend. Giles knew Geoff would find some excuse to disagree.

  “She’ll be safer with me,” Geoff said at last. “No man would dare breech my door. And much as I like you, old friend, I’ve no wish to be your bunkmate this voyage. This arrangement is better, for I’ll protect her well.”

  “Protect her, will you?” Giles asked.

  Geoff gave him a dark scowl, one he saved crewmen who crossed him and the captains of vessels they seized. “‘Tis my decision as cap’n,” he said, “and ‘tis final.”

  Unintimidated, Giles frowned back. Geoff seldom pulled rank between them, and he didn’t appreciate the fact that he had chosen to do so now. It looked to be a stormy passage indeed!

  *

  Faith continued to drift through unreal darkness. At first, she was caught in a complete void that neither light nor sound could penetrate. Then, the blackness erupted into flames, and she stood on the bank of a lake of fire. She was consumed by thirst, but the molten lake offered no relief. From the darkness beyond, Satan tempted her in a voice she vaguely recognized from somewhere, though she couldn’t quite place it.

  “Here, love, take a little sip,” he cajoled, holding a chalice of some evil elixir to her dry, parched lips.

  She knew she should resist, but when the cool liquid touched her mouth, she swallowed against her will. Sweet, cool water flavored with rum trickled down her raw, burning throat, but it came from the devil indeed! He gave her enough to whet her craving, but not nearly enough to quench her prodigious thirst.

  “More,” she croaked, heedless that its price could well be her soul.

  “Nay. I know you’ve a powerful thirst, but you must go slowly to keep it down.” He reached over and tenderly brushed a tendril of hair from her brow. The touch of the devil was soft, not at all the searing brand she expected.

  She still could not see his face for the flickering shadows of the inferno around them, but he wore an ostrich feather upon his hat. “How odd,” Faith murmured. This was hardly the horned and cloven-hoofed image of Old Scratch painted by the passionate preachers who had warned of his trickery.

  At intervals, she floated slightly from the darkness that enveloped her to partake of more liquor-tinged water, and in time, her throat was soothed and she fell into a peaceful sleep.

  She awoke more fully herself and found herself in a room lit by a window through which filtered soothing, gray light. Beneath her was a soft mattress in a fairly roomy bed that was bolted to the floor and against the wall. Still, she rocked, but it did not seem as violent as before, or she had grown accustomed to it.

  She sought to familiarize herself with the rest of the chamber, but her gaze was arrested by the alarming sight of a man seated at a heavy desk, his unshod feet propped upon its scarred surface. He appeared to be sleeping, and though she could not recall where she had seen him, she knew that they had met.

  Either he slept lightly or slumbered not at all, but when he opened his eyes and grinned at her, she knew at once who he was. He looked altogether different without his hat, his hair pulled back. The lace cravat and velvet coat had given way to a plain, loose-fitting shirt, its collar left open at the throat. He had doffed the boots and left his legs and feet bare from the knees down, sinewy calves resting casually on the desktop. Nonetheless, this was unmistakably the sea captain with the silk!

  “Awake, are you?” he asked.

  “Aye,” she answered nervously as she sat up. “This is your ship then?”

  His brows shot up in puzzlement, and he lowered his legs. “Aye. Did you not know that when you came on board?”

  “Nay. I knew only that this ship, Destiny, was bound for Jamaica, and I have a need to go there.”

  “You wound me,” he teased. “I did think ‘twas my devilish good looks and chivalry that lured you here. But tell me, now, what’s in Jamaica?”

  Faith hesitated. Perhaps it was unwise to tell him everything. In truth, if she never arrived, no one would know what had become of her. Even should her parents think to look for her in Jamaica, it was most unlikely that they would trace her to this ship. If he knew that, it might not go well for her. Instead, she thought it prudent to change the subject.

  “You gave me water,” she said.

  He smiled, but the expression only served to make him look a bit dangerous. “Not going to tell me? So be it. We’ll be at sea at least three weeks, possibly four. Neither of us is going anywhere, and there will be more than enough time for questions.” He shrugged with cat-like grace. “For now, aye, I gave you water. You were sore in need of it.”

  “Is this your room?”

  “It is. Only the quartermaster, Giles, and myself have our own cabins. The rest of the crew sleeps where they can. A man may lay claim to one of the hammocks, but he’s likely as not to lose it gaming.”

  His answer certainly raised its own problems, but Faith wasn’t ready to contemplate them. At the moment, he was addressing her kindly and didn’t appear immediately threatening.

  “Are you not angry with me, then, for sneaking on and stowing away in the night?”

  “Well, if you were a man, your welcome would be altogether different,” he conceded, his golden eyes sweeping over her.

  A j
olt of fear raced through her, and she looked away. To her horror, she realized that her own clothing had disappeared, and she was covered only by an oversized man’s shirt made of white lawn. The neck was not completely fastened, so it slipped over one shoulder, and the hem reached only the middle of her thighs, leaving her legs exposed amid the tangle of bedclothes. With a small gasp, she tucked them in and pulled the sheet to her chin.

  “Modesty?” He chuckled. “‘Tis a fetching trait in a pretty wench, but who do you think washed the sickness from you and changed your clothes?”

  Faith’s entire body went hot with shame, and she thought that surely fear would make her sick again. Oh, what could she have been thinking? She had boarded this vessel knowing nothing of its captain and crew. They could be pirates for all she knew! He didn’t look like a pirate, though. She had seen them at the harbor, a dirty, hairy lot. Still, his hard, lean face seemed suddenly sinister. She clutched the bed sheet in her sweaty fists.

  He rose from the desk, appearing to fill the room with his tall form and broad shoulders. “Good God, woman! Do not look at me like that! Most women think me a handsome fellow, and I’ll have you know I’ve yet to have to use force to get a wench to share my bed.”

  This pronouncement did little to calm Faith’s consternation. “But you—you saw me!”

  “Don’t trouble yourself over it. It was no chore, I assure you, and I wasn’t about to leave you in my clean bed as you were. Your dress was covered in rat filth. I doubt me ‘tis even worth saving.”

  “I have another in the hold.”

  “In no better shape, I fear.”

  “They’re all I have! I’ll wash them myself, but I must keep them!”

  The captain seemed to ponder that a moment. “Aye, you could do that, but laundry must be done on deck, and what will you wear while you do it?”

  An image popped in her mind of herself in the lawn shirt, washing her clothes while a ship full of men watched on. Tears stung her eyes, and she buried her face in the covers.

  “Now now, love, I was only teasing.” He sank onto the mattress next to her, and she scuttled backward to the wall with another gasp.

  “Damn!” he muttered under his breath, and he stood up and crossed to the window. “‘Tis a good thing you found your way here and not on board some other ship. For God’s sake, girl! Did it never enter your mind what you risked stowing away on a ship of men far from land and female company?”

  Her cursed willfulness flared inside of her. She had been through too much to be chastised and sworn at. Without a thought for the consequences, she snapped, “I didn’t think they would ever know I was there, and I wish you would not do that!”

  “I promise, I’ll stay all the way over here,” Geoff replied.

  “Nay, not that. Well, aye, stay over there, but I wish you would kindly keep the third Commandment.” He stared at her incredulously, and Faith thought that surely she had pushed too hard. He had not done her any harm, thus far, and it would not do to anger him, so she did as she had always done when faced with another’s displeasure. She cast her eyes down and whispered, “If you please.”

  “What the hell is the third Commandment?”

  “What? What sort of Englishman does not know his Commandments?” She risked another glance at him, and saw that he regarded her with one brow lifted in disdain.

  “The kind of Englishman who captains this ship and decides your fate. Humor me. What sacred commandment have I broken?”

  Another chill of dread made her shiver. Keeping her voice and manner meek, she replied, “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.”

  Geoff snorted. “He’s your god, you keep his commandments. Me, I’ve no use for him or them.” He strode to the bedside and lifted her chin in his hand. “And why do you do that?”

  She tried to pull free, but he kept her chin in a gentle yet firm grip. “Do what?” she asked.

  “You did it at the dock, too, when that pompous, overbearing preacher interrupted us. You tuck your chin down and go all meek and mild, but in your eyes there’s something completely different. Why do you hide yourself?”

  Was she really so transparent then? No one had ever seen it before, but first Reverend Williams and now this man had divined rebellion in her.

  Instead of answering, she sought to change the subject again. “I have forgot your name,” she said.

  For a moment, he contemplated her face, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “All right,” he said at last, “we’ll drop that, too, for now. I am Geoffrey Hampton, captain of this fair vessel, and you are Faith Cooper.”

  “How did you know? I’m sure I never told you.”

  “‘Twas how your betrothed addressed you. How likes he your trip to Jamaica? Is he to join you there, stowing away on some other ship?”

  Faith dropped her gaze to the sheets.

  “Damn it! Look at me when we speak, Faith Cooper!”

  She gasped in alarm, but fury surged through her, as well. Who did this man think he was to speak to her so?

  When he spoke again, his voice was treacherously soft. “Do I frighten you, Faith? Well I should. But I anger you, too. I like a wench with a bit of fire in her. I take it your affianced husband didn’t approve. Prefers his women mild as milk, does he?” She glared at him, and he laughed. “Go on. Tell me about your holy husband-to-be.”

  “Throw me into the ocean, if you will, but I’ll not return to that man!” Embarrassed by her own passionate outburst, she looked away, but then looked right back for fear that he would yell at her again.

  “So, ‘twas not exactly a love match, was it?”

  He spoke gently now, smiled sympathetically, and Faith found herself suspicious of the sudden change. Still, it would do no good to try to pretend otherwise, and it was a sin to lie.

  “Nay, not for either of us.”

  Geoff shook his head in disbelief. “Your betrothed did not wish to marry you?”

  “He wished to marry me, but ‘tis sure he never loved me. He didn’t even pretend to like me. Now, why would a man do that, set his mind to marry a woman he didn’t want?” she wondered aloud.

  “Mayhap ‘tis true he didn’t like you, but he would have to be made of stone not to want you,” he answered.

  The compliment brought a blush to her pale cheeks, but again, she dropped her gaze. “You are too bold.”

  “What now, Faith? My words please you, and yet you would hide from me.”

  She tucked her chin shyly against her shoulder, causing silky strands of flaxen hair to spill forward. “Pride is a sin,” she replied.

  Geoff rolled his golden-brown eyes cynically. “Spare me. Nothing wrong with a wench who knows her worth.”

  “A woman’s worth lies not in her face!” Again, she realized that she had responded more sharply than intended. Again, she cast her eyes down, only to bring them up quickly before he could comment. What was it about this man that made her so forget herself? More calmly she added, “I mean, her value is in her obedience to God and her family. Which means I am of no value at all.”

  The captain’s tone was as sharp as hers had been. “That preacher is not God!”

  “Nay, but he is one of God’s own men, and I have scorned him. I—I don’t like him, not at all. There, I have spoken it! I don’t know how this happened to me. I’ve long curbed my rebellion and my tongue, and now it seems I shame myself at every turn.” She looked up into his clearly irritated countenance. “Forgive me. I do not mean to trouble you with my woes. You have been so kind already.”

  “Do you really believe all your sanctimonious prattle?” he asked, shaking his head.

  She knew not how to answer. She had never before spoken to anyone who questioned the teachings she had learned from infancy. It struck her as dangerous, this conversation with a man whose heretical words mirrored too closely her own thoughts of late.

  Despite her worries, she spoke her mind. “He does not strike me as godly,” she admitted. “And honestly, some
times I think I confuse thinking I ought to be ashamed with actually being so.” Giving voice to these thoughts left her somehow lighter inside, and she felt a sudden, odd trust in this man who listened without shock or dismay. “What think you of that?” she asked, lifting her chin defiantly.

  “I think, Faith Cooper, that you are a singular woman. And,” he added, “I’m thinking that I’ll have to see that you do away with shame altogether someday soon.”

  Chapter 6

  Giles might have missed the heavy footsteps of the captain behind him on the deck, but for the sullen looks upon the faces of the men who had gathered ‘round him to voice their complaints.

  “Cap’n,” he began, his voice all business, any warmth of friendship banished. “Word of our new passenger is out, and there’s some question as to what’s to be done with her.”

  “And you’ve explained that the decision’s already been made?” Geoff asked.

  “I have,” Giles assured him. “But there are those who would contest it.”

  Geoff met and held the gaze of each man who surrounded him. Many an enemy had likened his golden orbs to a lion’s in battle, and one by one, the men looked away. “Then which of you will step forward and voice your questions to me, instead of sniveling to my first mate?”

  Pete Killigrew stepped forward. He was a bandy-legged sailor with long, greasy hair, rotting teeth, and a nose that was at once grotesquely humped and skinny. He sailed for profit, not patriotism, and he made sure all who met him knew it. Though he stood directly in front of his commander, he studied the main mast behind the man and grumbled sorely, “Keepin’ ‘er fer yerself, are ye, Cap’n?”

  Geoff kept his face carefully bland. It was this complete absence of emotion that had chilled the blood of his enemies, even before his cutlass spilled that very blood upon the decks of their ships. He raised his left hand, from which dangled a weighty cloth bag.