by Lady Vixen
"Morning, Nick. Looking for the Captain?"
Nicole liked Mr. Higgins. His brown button eyes were always merry and he appeared to have a soft spot for her, because more than one time he had covered up some minor transgression of hers from the captain's gimlet eyes.
"No. Not really. But I thought I should report back to the ship. I've been gone all morning," she admitted with a guilty smile.
"Well, the Captain's gone visiting." A sly grin wrinkling his already creased face, Higgins murmured, "And we know who he's visiting, don't we?"
"Louise Huntleigh," Nicole said flatly, wondering why the news depressed her.
Higgins nodded, his brown eyes twinkling. "Ah, yes. If the Captain isn't careful, his sea-roving days will be over."
"I hardly think so," drawled a deep lazy voice unexpectedly from the doorway.
And turning around, Nicole felt her heart lurch in her breast as she met the amber-gold gaze of the Captain. Lately it seemed the sudden sight of him always did that to her, and she resented it—resented, too, his unashamed masculinity as he stood in the door of the cabin, a brief towel tied around his lean hips. His skin was burned a deep dark bronze, his chest wide and well-muscled with a mat of fine black hair, his legs long and lean like the rest of him, and he reminded Nicole vividly of a sleek, untamed tawny-pelted panther, his gold eyes gleaming mockingly between thick black lashes. He had obviously just returned from a swim in the sea, for drops of salt water were staining the wood floor of the deck. Disregarding the two occupants, he casually undid the towel, and Nicole swiftly averted her eyes from the sight of that tall, broad-shouldered, naked figure as he walked with a lithe nonchalance to his private quarters.
Higgins saw her instinctive movement and there was a question in his eyes. Nicole sent him a feeble smile, and after a minute, still wondering at her shyness, Higgins shrugged and went back to studying his map. But before she could escape from the Captain's disturbing presence, his voice halted her. "Nick, where the hell did you put those black breeches I bought in Boston last trip?"
With a resigned sigh, knowing the hours of freedom were over, Nicole reluctantly walked into Saber's private quarters.
Saber, still naked, was standing with his back to her, before an oak chest with one drawer open, as he rummaged through the clothes that filled it. And for a moment Nick was caught by the sheer beauty of that sun-coppered, undoubtedly hard, masculine body. He was tall, an inch or two over six feet, a perfectly proportioned Apollo from the crown of his well-shaped black head to the soles of his aristocratically narrow feet, and she wished desperately that she could view his nakedness, his almost pagan beauty, with the same indifference that she gave any other member of the crew. But she couldn't. Saber unsettled her, making her un- consciously aware of her hidden femininity, and lately those unwelcome feelings had increased to a point that rendered her normally confident movements clumsy.
This time was no different, and as Saber turned and glanced impatiently over his shoulder at her, she crossed the room and stumbled over a small wooden stool. Saber's quick action, as he leaped and caught her by both shoulders, saved her from falling flat on the floor in front of him.
"Hold it, youngster. Just because I'm in a hurry doesn't mean I expect you to fall at my feet," he grinned at her, his teeth very even and white in the blackness of his neat beard.
Again that unwanted breathlessness assailed Nicole and she was so very conscious of his naked body, of the warm, sea-scented nearness of him, that for one horrifying moment she thought she would melt into his arms and turn her mouth up to the hard experienced fierceness of his recklessly curved lips. But with a suppressed gasp she quickly recovered herself, as her brain clamored—remember he thinks you're a boy!
Jerkily she moved away from his arms and muttered, "Those breeches are here in the sea chest, right where you told me to pack them."
"Oh, so I did," he returned carelessly enough, but there was a puzzled frown between the sardonically carved black eyebrows as he accepted the garment in question from her. "Something wrong, Nick?" he asked unexpectedly.
Finding her tongue swiftly, she mumbled, "No. I'm just having trouble finding my sea legs this trip." She breathed a sigh of relief when he dismissed her after a hard look from narrowed eyes.
She would not have been so relieved if she had known his gaze followed her, the puzzled frown deepening as she slipped from the cabin. What the devil was the matter with the boy, Saber thought. Nick had been as jumpy as a gigged fish lately, and he damn sure wanted to know why. Thinking of it, he finally decided that he had better ask Higgins—Higgins seemed to know everything that went on with the crew. And recalling all the years he and Higgins had spent together, he smiled.
They had been companions from the moment the older man had shielded a bewildered and confused young man, thrown suddenly into the less-than-tender embrace of the British Royal Navy. Those first months had been hell, even with Higgins running interference for him. His back bore the results of those times when Higgins, himself a felon convicted of forgery, had not been able to prevent his hot-headed young friend from coming to grief. Looking back, Saber often thought he would have gone mad if it hadn't been for Higgins's quiet and cool counsel. But even Higgins had run afoul of the brutal system, and when Saber had vowed to jump ship, Higgins had come with him—their roles suddenly reversing, for it was now Saber who led and Higgins who followed. There were few men and, at the moment, no women whom Saber would ever trust, but Higgins was one—the other, people would have been surprised to know, was a black ex-slave named Sanderson.
Sanderson, too, had known adversity, when Saber and Higgins had come across him shortly after their own desertion. He had been on the slave block in New Orleans, and was being sold, it was said, for insolence to his master. It was by accident that the two were there in the square that hot, sunny morning, but the sight of that powerful body, wearing his chains with pride, affected Saber deeply, as he remembered his own recent chains. Pooling their resources, they had bid on the man and shortly found themselves close to being penniless, their only asset a slave noted for his undesirable traits.
It had been a strange trio that had walked away from the slave sale—a little gnome of a man, a tall, broad-shouldered youth, and a sullen, slender negro. Their steps took them to the Lafitte Brothers' smithy, and there, his mouth twisting in a grimace of distaste at the sight of the heavy iron shackles around the man's ankles, Saber had demanded that they be struck off— all of them. The task done, he had roughly pressed the purchase papers along with his last gold coin into the startled man's hand and told him that he was free. In that instant he gained a slave for life.
His lips curved in a relaxed smile, Saber shrugged off thoughts of the past and sauntered into the office of the ship. Higgins was still there, and the recent scene with Nick on his mind, Saber asked, "Higgins, have you noticed anything odd about Nick lately? The boy regards me as a monster and I can't figure out why."
For a moment Higgins hesitated answering him, instantly recalling the peculiar shyness that seemed to overtake the boy whenever the Captain, clothed or not, was around. Finally he said, "Can't say that I have, I think the boy is just growing up and maybe feeling a bit resentful of being no more than your skivvy. Mayhap Nick has ambitions."
Saber snorted. "I doubt it. He's either being downright cheeky to me or trying to blend in with the bulkhead. But you may be right. I'll have to give some thought to his future."
Nicole would have been horrified at the thought of the Captain planning her future, but fortunately she didn't know of this conversation or the expressed opinions of the two men. Consequently she went about her daily tasks as if nothing had altered, although she was conscious that Saber seemed to watch her more closely, and once again she worried that he had discovered her deception. At night while lying in her hammock, thoughts of the Captain invaded her mind and angrily she cursed him. Damn Saber! Even when he wasn't around he possessed the power to distress her.
&nbs
p; Some days later the thought occurred to her again, as once more she lay on the warm sands of yet another private little cove. She was alone this time, and she had partially recovered from the fear that struck her heart the first time she had entered the sea after the shark attack. The abject terror was gone, for she believed that it had been a fluke and was not likely to happen again. But she avoided the lagoon where it had happened and she never swam too far from the shore—something she felt certain that the Captain would mock as lily-livered, if he knew. Sighing, she shifted her naked body on the warm sand, wishing that her thoughts didn't always drift to the exasperating and commanding Captain Saber.
Until recently she had not given her relationship with Saber much thought. He was just there, in the background. Reflectively she admitted silently that she had admired him intensely during her first few years on board La Belle Garce—he had been that godlike creature who had made her wildest dreams come true, who had lifted her from the Markhams, and who had rilled her life with excitement. It hadn't been until the war with England that she bad begun to question her emotions.
It was odd, she thought suddenly, that in the five years they had been together, he had never shown any curiosity about his young secretary-cabin boy. He had never evinced any interest in why she had wanted so badly to go to sea or even if she had any family to worry over her.
She supposed it was partially due to the fact that one didn't question the motives or backgrounds of the hard-eyed, grim-faced individuals who sailed on the privateers and pirate ships, and he had merely extended that same lack of interest to her. It was an unspoken rule that no one, not even the Captain, pried into a man's reasons for wishing the anonymity of life at sea. Saber had never paid any attention to her beyond seeing that she did as he wanted. He had never been unnecessarily cruel, although he had been a demanding taskmaster. She never questioned their relationship on the ship, nor the way he ran La Belle Garce, and somewhat to her confusion she discovered that there was a great deal to admire in him. But that was before, she thought grimly, before he had displayed his complete coldbloodedness.
It had happened just three months ago—one of the crew, a youth not above eighteen, had smuggled a woman aboard as they left port from France for New Orleans. The woman was a whore, one of the many who walked the waterfront areas, and Nicole had often wondered how Tom, the youth, could have been so enamored by the hard-faced, sly-eyed creature. But he was and, worse, had allowed himself to be convinced by the woman that without him her life was nothing. He was so blind with love and cleverly manipulated by the older woman that he broke one of the cardinal rules of the ship—no women on board when on the high seas. They were two days from France before the whore was discovered, and Nicole shivered remembering the cold rage that had emanated from Saber when Tom and the woman had been brought before him. Tom, he dealt with swiftly—thirty lashes before the crew and the remainder of this trip in the brig.
Nicole had watched the flogging without flinching, the boy's back a mass of torn and bleeding flesh by the time it was over. The punishment was harsh, but Tom had known the risks, and Nicole was uncomfortably aware that an iron hand was necessary to enforce the rules the privateers lived by. She might have disagreed with Saber's punishment, but she didn't hold it against him. No, it was his disposal of the woman that sickened her.
The flogging done, Saber's cold gaze had fallen on the woman. He stared at her a long time, as if undecided what to do with her, and then his eyes had narrowed when she misinterpreted his interest and threw him a coy look of invitation. Watching her, his face expressionless, he said softly, "Take her below and for this trip let the crew enjoy the services of a resident whore!"
The woman's eyes had widened with shock, and pleading and screaming, she was forced below by a group of leering and grinning crewmen. Then, knowing what was in store for the woman, Nicole was well and truly sick. Saber, she decided angrily, was a cold, brutal, unfeeling beast!
Nicole's heart had bled for the plight of the whore. No woman, she thought fiercely, not even a woman of the streets, should be forced to service unceasingly the demands of the entire crew of La Belle Garce.
Recalling the incident in vivid detail, she fidgeted unhappily on the beach. It distressed her still and gave her a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Men were such savages, she thought contemptuously. Then a slow slight smile curved the wide, generous mouth—no, not all of them, not Allen.
Thinking of Allen, Nicole's face broke into a pleased smile. Dear, dear Allen. It had been Allen who had apologetically suggested to Saber that it wasn't precisely quite the thing to have Nick exposed to all that went on in the Captain's quarters. Saber had thrown Allen an icy golden stare, and then those thickly lashed eyes had fallen on Nicole's interested young face. And no doubt remembering the many times he had entertained ladies of less-than-moral character in his room while Nick supposedly slept dreamlessly in the corner, Saber's mouth had quirked in a lazily amused grin and he had ordered Allen to find something nearby for the boy. Consequently, shortly thereafter Nicole found herself the proud possessor of a small cupboard next door to the Captain's quarters.
It really had been a cupboard, but Allen had ordered the ship's carpenter to make some minor revisions. And so Nicole had a tiny room just large enough for her hammock and a small leather-bound chest in which she kept her few belongings. As the months passed she was frequently thankful that Saber had taken Allen's suggestion.
The sun was becoming too hot to remain lying motionless any longer, and Nicole stood up and walked slowly to the edge of the beach. The last vestige of fear of shark attack left her, and she waded out till the silky water was nearly waist high and then swam a short way out into the beckoning blueness. She swam until she felt pleasantly tired and then lazily propelled herself toward the shallows. Thinking herself to be unobserved, she was as natural and unself-conscious as only the young can be, and laughing, she stood up, turning her face up for the kiss of the sun, the green-blue waters swirling about her slender hips like some glorious gown of shimmering satin. But Nicole was not alone.
The man who stood transfixed by the sight before him was hidden by the lush green undergrowth of the tropical forest, and frozen into immobility he made no sound. At first astonished and stunned, he could only stare at the tall laughing girl in the water, her dark auburn hair like a damp mantle of sable fire about her shoulders.
Nicole had grown up into a tall, slender girl, a very tall girl, but not ungainly. She was small boned and finely formed, with beautiful sloping shoulders and a high, proud upthrusting bosom—not voluptuous, but still very womanly. Observing the slender waist and delicately rounded hips, the watcher wondered sardonically how anyone could have been in ignorance of her sex! And as she waded to the white sandy beach, the long, supple legs flashing wetly golden in the sunlight, his breath caught in his throat at the sheer, long-limbed beauty of her. The smooth apricot-tinted skin was unblemished, and her full-lipped, almost sultry mouth unleashed a desire to capture her in his arms and taste the sweetness of those tempting lips. He started forward when a sound to his left halted his step, and he recognized instantly the man who stepped out onto the beach.
"Goddamnit, Nick! How many times do I have to warn you? Anyone could come along and discover you!"
Startled, Nicole glanced up apprehensively, but seeing who it was she grinned. "Oh, Allen, you fuss far too much. The ship is on the other side of the island and the men never leave the town—they're too busy getting their fill of rum and whores. Why on earth would they come this far?"
"That's not the point! Someone could and then we'd really be in the soup. I've told you time and time again that if you want to go bathing let me know, so I can at least be on the lookout."
Grimacing and completely unconcerned about her nakedness, Nicole grumbled, "I think you worry overmuch."
Allen shook his head disgustedly. "I don't think you realize the risk we're running. Get some clothes on!"
Good-naturedly,
Nicole scrambled into the long cotton pants, and not taking time to bind her breasts as she usually did, she slipped on her coarse white linen shirt. "There, satisfied?" she challenged.
A smile crossed his darkly tanned face and, a twinkle in his blue eyes, he laughed, "Yes, I'm satisfied. But I think I'm man enough to much prefer you the way you were! Now come over here and let me do something with that tangled mane of yours!"
Obediently Nicole walked over to him, stopping directly in front of him. He seated himself gingerly on one of the boulders of the rocky outcrop that formed the encircling arms of Nicole's cove and, forcing her to kneel in the sand in front of him, proceeded to untangle the heavy auburn hair. Then ruthlessly he scraped it back from her face and bound it tightly in a long braided queue that hung down her back. Finished, he stood up and reached down a hand and helped her to her feet. Gazing into the wide-spaced topaz eyes, their darkness intensified by the heavy black lashes and golden sheen of her skin, he wondered uneasily how much longer this masquerade could last. Her mouth was too sensitive and full to be manly; her nose, with its straight purity of line, only broken by a slight, ever so slight, tip at its end, was much too feminine.
The fact that she had left off three years of her age originally helped enormously, and he supposed a delicate youth of fifteen could look like Nicole. He smiled at her, but couldn't help asking seriously, "How much longer do you think you can continue to carry out this disguise, Nicole? Sooner or later, you'll have to end it. You don't plan on turning into an old salt, do you?"
Nicole hunched a shoulder and turned away from Allen's probing gaze. Staring off into the ocean, her eyes squinting against the glare off the water, she said slowly, "If I were to do as you say and return to England, I would have accomplished nothing but to have given myself a five-year respite. I'm still underage, female, and the Markhams would still have control of my person and my money! I have only two courses—to wait until I reach my majority or to marry." Spinning around she asked with a teasing note, "Will you marry me, Allen?"