Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

  The hour was late and crossly Nicole tossed off the light covering that lay across her body. She didn't want to think about it anymore. She was tired and slightly fuzzy from the unaccustomed amount of wine she had drunk tonight. Thinking about the evening, a pleased smile curved her lips and she sighed deeply. Sleepily she wondered if Saber would have been impressed by the change in her, and then angrily chastised herself for even thinking of him in such a connection. What did she care what Saber thought—about anything? She already knew what type of woman appealed to him—dainty little blonds like the lovely Louise—not a tall auburn-haired minx who was more comfortable in boy's clothing than in silks and laces.

  CHAPTER 7

  Nicole was glowering at Saber. It was something she did frequently, but since they had left Bermuda it seemed to her that he had gone out of his way to annoy her. He kept her on her feet continually, racing first after one object and then another that he needed immediately! When not running useless errands, he had her painstakingly copying in her neat copperplate hand a complete duplicate list of every cargo they had taken for the past year. Nicole could see no need for this task and suspected angrily that he wanted it merely because it kept her chained to the table where she worked. But what really grated on her nerves was his sudden slipshod manner. He took delight in deliberately creating havoc. Then instead of leaving her alone to get on with it, he lounged in the doorway and watched critically as she straightened his quarters, daring her to complain. Nicole bit her lip and ignored the challenge in his eyes as she finished the rumpled bed. "Will that be all, sir?" she asked woodenly.

  "Hmmmm, I suppose for now that will do."

  Nicole, glad to escape his increasingly disturbing presence, took a few steps forward, but he remained in the doorway. She halted a short distance from him, uncertain of his mood and slightly uneasy. There was a strange glitter in the yellow-gold eyes, and she didn't like the way those same eyes were regarding her. The assessing quality of his gaze fed her growing uneasiness and nervously, hating herself for the nervousness, she inquired, "May I pass, sir? Or is there something else you require?"

  Saber straightened slowly, his tall form filling the doorway, his gleaming black head almost brushing the wooden beam. "How old are you, Nick?" he asked abruptly.

  Startled, the topaz eyes grew wide and she stuttered, "Eigh—fifteen!"

  An unpleasant smile flitted across his face. "Fifteen, mmm. A bit old for a cabin boy, wouldn't you say?"

  Momentarily caught by surprise, Nicole watched him warily as he walked past her to an array of sturdy decanters that sat on his desk. After splashing a goodly amount of dark Jamaican rum into a glass, he turned and half sitting on the desk, one long leg swinging aimlessly above the floor, stared back at her. For a moment she was filled with a curious trembling in her mid-region as she looked at him. He was, she decided erratically, one of the most vital, virile creatures she had ever seen. And just now, with the white shirt opened nearly to his waist, revealing a muscled chest covered with dark curling hair, the slim hips and long legs clad in black form-hugging breeches, he made Nicole uncomfortably aware of him as a man—a man of extraordinary appeal to the opposite sex! Certain intimate memories of him with other women in this very room crowded her thoughts and an uncontrollable blush suffused her features. Furious with herself, she glared at him and asked aggressively, "Are you telling me, you no longer require my services . . . sir?"

  "Did I say that?" he drawled, that unpleasant smile curving his lips once again. Tautly he added, "If you would listen to what I say Nick, as readily as you do everything Allen says, things would be much easier between us. But that aside, I merely stated that fifteen was a little old for the duties you perform. I probably should assign you to the ship's carpenter, or perhaps you might be interested in training for a gunner's mate. Would you like that?"

  It was what at one time she had longed for passionately, but now she was appalled. She could not continue her masquerade in close proximity to the crew. The first time she was unable to carry out a task that required only simple masculine muscle the fat would truly be in the fire! Trusting that her face had not betrayed her, she lifted her chin pugnaciously and said brazenly, "I would like it above all things! Particularly being apprenticed to the gunner's mate."

  His mouth tightened disagreeably at her brave words and the challenging tone. Setting the glass down sharply, he replied acidly, "Well, you can forget it! After five years I've grown rather used to your insolent efficiency!"

  Unreasonably angry at the fright he had given her, forgetting again as well the danger of letting her ready tongue rule her, she placed her hands on her slender hips and snapped, "You were the one that brought the subject up. I was merely proceeding with my usual insolent efficiency!"

  "Careful, Nick," he said softly. "Don't push me too far or I'm likely to treat you as you deserve."

  Recalled to her senses by the underlying menace in his voice, she dropped her eyes from his and said expressionlessly, "I apologize, sir. If you'll excuse me, I'll continue working on the cargo lists?"

  The lists she had been working on were still scattered over the desk, and after pulling out a heavy oak chair, she sat down stiffly and began to write. She found it an enormous effort to concentrate with Saber just a short distance away. She was too distracted by his lean maleness and loose-limbed strength. From the corner of her eye she could see one sun-browned hand playing idly with a bit of twine that lay on the desk and she wished vehemently that he would leave. She knew he was watching her, knew he was staring at her down-bent head; she could feel it and the muscles in her neck tightened. Worse, she could have sworn aloud when she noticed a slight tremble in her hand as she reached for another slip of paper.

  "Relax, Nick. I won't bite, you know." His amusement was obvious and Nicole gritted her teeth. Then once again forgetful of the role she played and ruled by the fire in her hair, she shot him a venomous look.

  He grinned back at her, a mocking gleam in the amber-gold eyes. "Young Nick, it occurs to me that in spite of five years' close association, we know very little of each other. Now why is that do you suppose?"

  Forcing herself to reply calmly, she said stiffly, "I doubt that most captains are greatly concerned with their cabin boys." Unable to control the impulse, she added sarcastically, "All we have in common are dirty linens, slop jars, and unmade beds—hardly exciting topics of conversation. There is little to know about me as long as I perform my duties satisfactorily."

  "But you don't," he said darkly. "You're insolent and you dislike me—a fact you make little effort to hide, I might add. Considering I took you to sea at your very urgent request, I should think you would have a certain liking for me." His voice hardening, he inquired, "But you don't, do you, Nick?"

  "I didn't think my likes and dislikes were that important to you," she said cautiously. "You have never commented on my attitude before and if my . . ." She hesitated a moment before saying, "Dislike was as apparent as you seem to feel it is, surely you would have said something previously." Boldly she finished, "I think, sir, you imagine things."

  "Do I, Nick? Did I just imagine the look you flashed my way not too many seconds ago? And have I been imagining those baleful glances that frequently follow me from this room?" he asked dryly.

  Oh, God, where was Allen? she thought uneasily. Where was anyone who could interrupt this strained conversation? Steeling herself, her eyes met his and she said quietly, "I can only apologize if you have found my manner less than pleasing. I'm sorry to have annoyed you, and I shall try in the future not to give you cause to complain."

  It was pompous and she knew it, but she wanted this meeting over with and she wanted Saber gone from this room.

  Saber's lip had thinned at her words and slamming down his glass on the desk, he snapped harshly, "I don't want your apologies, damnit! You're very adept at avoiding questions, my friend!" Leaning forward, his face inches from hers, he growled, "Now tell me, young Nick, why you find service with m
e so distasteful? I want an answer this time—not an excuse or an apology!"

  Staring at the hard bearded face so close to hers, Nicole was assailed by a variety of emotions. Uppermost was an acute awareness of him as a man, with the faint scent of tobacco and salt sea air clinging to him. Unbearably conscious of the fact that his mouth was barely a breath away from hers, she wondered foolishly what his reaction would be if she were to lean forward and press her own tremulous lips to that firm mouth.

  "I'm waiting, Nick."

  His words shattered her erratic thoughts and brought her back to the matter at hand. All wide eyes and innocence she said slowly, "I think that all boys have times when they are rebellious and resentful of those who have authority over them. If I appear to dislike you at times, it must be because of that."

  An exasperated snort from Saber preceded his words. "Clever, Nick. An answer that is not an answer." He moved back into his original position and picked up his glass. "Some day soon, you and I must have another little talk. You are after a fashion my . . . er . . . ward, and it has occurred to me that I have not been doing my duty by you. I think perhaps that I shall take more of an interest in you in the future . . . more interest in you than I have in the past."

  He stood up, having downed the remainder of his rum. Staring down at Nicole's astonished and faintly dismayed features, he smiled sweetly and said, "You'll enjoy that, I'm sure!" He sauntered from the room.

  For several seconds Nicole stared after him. Now what the devil did he mean by that? she wondered. With a sigh she turned back to the cargo lists but found she was unable to concentrate. It wasn't like Saber to probe, and she could have sworn, before this morning, that he was hardly aware of his cabin boy's existence. What was behind his odd mood?

  She hadn't liked the way his eyes had wandered over her body either. He had seldom glanced her way in the past, but today there had been, at least to her mind, a searching quality in his gaze. Had he guessed? Was her face now too obviously feminine? Had that discerning golden-eyed stare discovered a flaw in her disguise? She glanced down nervously at her flat bosom; her breasts as usual were bound tightly beneath her shirt. No, if anything he would only wonder at her lack of manly muscle. So her disguise hadn't failed her, she was certain . . . almost.

  Perhaps, she concluded, he was just bored and enjoyed baiting her. If he had known or even suspected, she wouldn't now be seated before her table. A shiver snaked down her spine as she recalled the red-headed whore's fate and grimly she set about her work.

  She worked steadily for some time. The room was quiet and there was only the soft splash of the sea against the hull of the ship and the pleasant whisper of the wind in the sails to disturb her.

  La Belle Garce had been built four years ago to Saber's specifications. She was a four-masted schooner, long, low, and rather narrow. The ship was three hundred and nineteen tons of menace, carrying twenty twelve-pound carronades with two long eighteens as chase guns.

  The room where Nicole was working was clearly his office; despite the fine rug on the floor and the damask curtains that hung on the portholes across the stern, the heavy oak desk in the corner as well as the charts and maps that lined the wall gave evidence of this. Nicole's table was on the starboard side of the ship, and in the center of the room was another highly polished table with several squat leather chairs pushed beneath it.

  The sound of a door opening caused Nicole to look up sharply. "Thank God, it's you, Allen," she muttered.

  Settling himself on the edge of the table where she worked, he laughed. "What's the matter, Nick? Has the Captain been annoying you again?"

  Nicole threw down her pen and asked seriously, "Allen, do you think Saber knows that I'm a girl?"

  The twinkle in the blue eyes vanished instantly. Concerned, he inquired, "What makes you ask? Has he said something?"

  She hunched an impatient shoulder and muttered, "He's acting damned strange, I can tell you that! This morning he talked a lot of nonsense about our not knowing one another and taking an interest in me."

  A soundless whistle came from Allen. Frowning, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Mmmm, I don't like the sound of that! Saber is no fool and anyone that took a careful look at you would tumble to your disguise. Nick, this settles it. When we reach New Orleans you have to let me take care of you."

  "Oh, Allen, not that again! He can't know. If he knew, you can be assured I wouldn't be sitting here now."

  "Don't be too sure. He resembles a cat in more ways than one, and he's not above playing with a auburn-headed little mouse. I'm serious, Nick, when we reach port this time you're disembarking with me and I'll make the arrangements for you. My mind is hard on this thought, Nick—you are not continuing as you are! If you balk me you'll leave me no alternative but to tell Saber."

  Dismayed, Nicole stared pleadingly at him. But his face was set and there was an iron cast to the firm chin. "I mean it, Nick. It's over as soon as we reach New Orleans."

  Silently she regarded him. It was curious that he was at last using the ultimate threat. And she wondered why he chose now to use it. Of course, she could retaliate . . . "Aren't you forgetting what I can tell Saber . . . about you?"

  Allen's face froze and an ugly look gleamed briefly in the blue eyes. "Are you threatening me, Nick? I should warn you not to. You can run to Saber if you like, but you can't prove anything, and you can be assured that your masquerade will be revealed no matter what you do. On the other hand," he continued smoothly, "you could keep your mouth shut about whatever you suspect and let me keep you until you're in a position or frame of mind to return to England." Gently he added, "I like you, Nicole, and I'll see you safely to your family the instant you say the word."

  "I see," she said coldly. "Very well, I'm afraid I have no real choice but to accept your kind offer." Her voice grated on the word kind and Allen winced.

  He reached for Nicole's hand and held it between his own. "Don't take it like this, Nick. If you think about it, you know that I'm right. It's the only solution now and I should have demanded it long ago. You mustn't mind too much that I shall be paying your bills—I'm happy to do so. If you dislike it excessively you can keep an account and repay me once your own affairs are settled." Coaxingly he begged, "Let us remain friends, Nicole. We have been close companions too long to part in anger—especially when I'm only thinking of your welfare."

  An unwilling smile curved Nicole's mouth. "Oh, damn you, Allen! Have your way. I'm tired of fighting you and perhaps your plan is wiser." Ruefully she admitted, "I've certainly got nothing to lose by it. But I shall repay you—every penny."

  There was a discreet cough behind them, and jerking around, Nicole stared aghast at Saber leaning against the door; his arms folded across his chest, he was watching them. Caustically he drawled, "Something wrong with Nick's hand?"

  "Allen dropped the member in question as if it had suddenly become a red-hot coal, and standing up abruptly he muttered, "Er . . . Nick thought he had a boil coming and I was merely checking."

  Sarcastically Saber murmured, "A physician too, no less. I must tell the ship's surgeon when next he requires an assistant that you will be happy to oblige." Then pushing away from the door with one lithe movement and opening it, he said icily, "You're needed on deck, Ballard. In case you haven't noticed, there's a great deal of activity going on. We've sighted another ship and I think it's a damn sight more important than a possible boil on Nick's hand. Besides," he added silkily, "Nick, is my concern— not yours!"

  Allen's face was carefully blank, but his mouth compressed at Saber's parting shot, and there was a rigid cast to his shoulders as he walked past him. When Allen was gone, Saber slammed the door shut with a violent motion and spun around to face Nicole. "And how often does that go on?" he asked harshly.

  Fencing, she fought to keep her expression unworried. "What? I don't understand what you mean." Innocently she asked, "Is Mr. Ballard not supposed to be in here?"

  Saber strangled an oath and glared at
her. "Don't play me for a fool! I think, young Nick, we'll have that talk very soon, a nice, quiet, private, personal talk—just you and I!"

  A rapid pounding on the door forestalled any further conversation. Throwing the door open, Saber barked at Jake, who was standing there before him, "Yes, what is it?"

  "Sir, we're closing fast. The ship is an English packet heavily armed, but trying to avoid a fight. Do we go after her?"

  Saber grinned and clapped Jake on the arm. "Now what do you think?" he teased.

  Then throwing Nicole a look over his shoulder, he commanded, "You stay here! I don't want to see your face topside. Understand?"

  Nicole nodded, a knot already tightening in her stomach. Overhead she could hear the sound of the barefooted men as they prepared for action and the rumble of the carronades as the guns were positioned and primed. The sharpshooters, their rifles loaded and ready, would already be climbing up into the riggings, and Nicole knew the main deck would be a hive of industry as every item not needed for the coming battle was cleared and stowed below decks. Saber, from his vantage point on the bridge, would be bellowing out last-minute instructions as the two ships came closer to one another.

  She didn't mind when they fought a Spanish ship or even a French one. But when the ship was English, she was at war within herself. Afterward when the prisoners were brought on board and the prize crew transferred to the beaten ship, she felt troubled and shaken that she should join in preying upon her own countrymen.

  Trying to ignore what was happening around her, she forced herself to work on the cargo lists. But unable to ignore the thunder of the carronades and the raging noises of battle, she watched the fight from a porthole.

  The battle that followed was fierce. The roar and boom of the guns reverberated across the sunlit sea, and the air was filled with smoke and the cries of the wounded. As Nicole looked on, the packet, in a desperate attempt to cripple La Belle Garce, unloaded a tremendous broadside. But it did little good for she hadn't the range of the carronades of La Belle Garce, and Saber, having guessed her captain would try such a maneuver, had already ordered La Belle Garce to jibe sharply and the shots never reached their target.