Passion's Tide

by Sarah West

  “You will each have the chance to speak your mind, and when you are finished, Lyle may say something in his own defense. After that, we will hold a vote, and the verdict will determine whether he remains a member of my crew, or if he is to be marooned. Let’s begin.”

  A sailor stepped forward. “Lyle was a lying, cheating, son of a bitch. Marooning him would be too generous.”

  “Well, I don’t know…” another added uncomfortably. “He wasn’t too bad when he was sober.”

  The first man laughed. “Yeah, on the very rare occasion when he wasn’t drunk he could be a regular angel.”

  A third man chimed in. “Remember two weeks ago, when we were sailing back to the colonies? Have you forgotten what he did to Anton?” The rest of the crew nodded.

  “David’s lying. I didn’t do nothing that the bastard didn’t deserve,” spat Lyle.

  Logan glared at him, his eyes cold and vehement. “It’s not your turn to speak. David?”

  David pushed forward a large black sailor that Amber assumed was Anton. “Show them,” he ordered.

  Anton hesitated, then unbuttoned his cotton waistcoat and pulled off his shirt. Amber gasped. His whole back was covered in angry red cuts that could have only come from a whip. Logan stepped forward and inspected the wounds.

  “These are infected,” he said, calling over Piers and pointing to a nasty cut in particular that had started to green. The doctor pushed his glasses farther onto his nose and leaned in to better see in the dim lantern light, as Anton hung his head and clutched his shirt to his broad chest.

  Piers straightened. “I would like to examine the boy more closely, and treat these lesions, if I may.”

  “If it were my choice I would agree,” said Logan, “but I believe Anton should have a say. Would you like to go below deck right now and have the doctor take care of your back, or would you rather stay and watch the rest of the trial?

  Anton tugged his shirt over his head, wincing as the rough linen chaffed his back. “I’d like to stay.”

  Logan nodded. “I don’t blame you. Tomorrow I’ll set you up in the kitchen helping Abe.”

  “Now, I don’t want to be shirking my duties,” Anton said, straightening to his full height.

  Logan grinned. “Don’t worry lad, I’ll still work you hard, but those wounds need to heal. You’re no good to me dead.” He sobered. “Anyone else have anything to say?”

  Amber watched as one by one the sailors stepped forward to state their grievances towards their former first mate. Almost no one had anything kind to say about him, and Lyle’s grimace only became more pronounced as he listened to them. Amber’s attention was torn between watching him, listening to the sailors, and observing Logan from the corner of her eye. From what she’d seen he appeared to be a natural leader, a mix between compassion and severity, ensuring that his ship ran smoothly and without complications. His men seemed to respect him and honor him, all while silently fearing him.

  So intent was she in studying him she didn’t notice he was speaking to her until Eli nudged her in the side. Her head shot up and she blushed. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “I asked if you would like to add anything to the men’s accounts.”

  “I was only on the ship for a day, but I can tell you what I saw, if you think it would help.” Logan nodded, and Amber continued, careful to avoid meeting Lyle’s threatening gaze. “The second I stepped on deck I felt like he was watching me, and it made me uncomfortable. I had a feeling he didn’t want me there, and although I knew many of the men were hesitant to have me on board,” many of the sailors looked guilty at this point, “only he gave me the impression that he was angry about it.”

  “You’re very observant. Anything else?”

  She thought for a moment. “Oh, I remember he yelled at Matthew, said he was incompetent. I’m not sure what he did though.”

  He nodded, and then looked into the group of men. “Is one of you Matthew?”

  “No Captain, he died defending the Charlotte,” said one sailor.

  “You ran him through with your cutlass,” another added, and then, rather embarrassed that he had spoken so quickly, dropped his head.

  Beside her, Eli snickered. Logan shot him an angry glare, and then turned back to the sailors. “I apologize again for the friends you may have lost earlier today. In my defense however, the man came at me with his own blade, and believe it or not, I prefer not to be skewered as I board a ship.” A few of the men laughed. “But back to the matter at hand. I believe if everyone has had a chance to speak, the accused may now say a few words in his own defense.”

  Lyle took one step forward and spit at Logan’s feet, then muttered a few incomprehensible curse words as the men next to him roughly grabbed his arms and shoved him against the longboat.

  Logan lifted his foot and shook it, sending saliva flying from the top of his boot. “I believe that settles that. Now, you’ve heard the arguments of your fellow shipmates, listened to the observations of Lady Amber, and have witnessed his own testimony. You must now decide whether to give him another chance, or to maroon him. This is not a decision to be taken lightly, as this man’s life is in your hands and will lie heavy on your conscience should you choose incorrectly. I will give you a few minutes to think it over, then I will call for a vote.”

  As the men brooded about their choice, Logan approached Amber and Elijah. “What do you think so far?” he asked, reaching over to pull off Eli’s cravat and wipe his boot. Seeing his friend’s incredulous expression, he shoved the piece of soggy silk back into his hand with a shrug. “You’re on a ship, Eli, why the hell do you need a cravat anyway?”

  Amber hid a smile. “I’m impressed, actually. About the trial, not Elijah’s fashion sense, though it is impeccable if I may say so.”

  The quartermaster made a show of brushing an invisible piece of lint from his striped waistcoat. “Thank you, my dear, not all of us find pleasure in looking like mongrels.”

  Logan cleared his throat. “I could think of nothing I would enjoy more than to listen to you two compliment each other on your clothes, none of which,” he added as he eyed Amber’s gown, “are appropriate for a pirate ship, as flattering as they may be. Unfortunately, I have to get back to business.” He stormed away.

  “Why is he so angry?” Amber whispered to Eli, watching as Logan shared a few words with the men who were restraining Lyle.

  “I believe that is jealousy,” he replied, and Amber balked.

  “Why on earth would he be jealous?”

  He laughed. “Because you were flirting with me.” She was about to protest that it was none of Logan’s business with whom she flirted, but Logan took that moment to speak again.

  “All those who believe Lyle was a fair leader and are in favor of allowing him to stay with us, albeit stripped of his command, say aye.” The only sound was the waves lapping against the side of the ship. “Those in favor of marooning him?”

  There was a steady chorus of “aye” from the sailors, and Amber noticed that Lyle showed, for the first time, an expression other than distaste or anger. He looked frightened.

  “So be it.” Logan said. “Lock him in the brig, where he’ll stay until we sail past an island.” The men beside Lyle seized his arms and dragged him towards the hatch. “Oh, and Creed?”

  The stockier of the two men turned around. “Yes, Cap’n?”

  “We don’t want a repeat occurrence of last time, so don’t forget to feed him on occasion. Usually, the prisoner is supposed to live long enough to be marooned on the island.”

  The pirate gave Logan a large grin, revealing a mouth that was missing several teeth. Lyle looked panicked now, and Amber couldn’t blame him.

  “He’s lying,” came Eli’s voice in her ear. “No one’s ever starved to death.”

  “That’s hardly comforting,” she replied with a small smile, which vanished as Logan strode towards them.

  “If you’re done flirting, Eli, I believe Amber
and I will retire for the evening.”

  “Funny, I don’t recall her mentioning that she was tired,” Elijah shot back, stepping in front of Amber. Logan, however, still towered over his friend, and glared down at him from above.

  “I don’t recall asking you to become her guardian, Eli, and despite what you may think she is in safe hands. Come on, Amber.” With that, he spun around, expecting her to follow. She turned back to Eli and shot him an imploring look, but he raised his hands and shrugged, as if to say what can I do?

  With a resigned sigh, she turned and followed Logan up the stairs and into his cabin. Then she slammed the door shut behind her and glared at him.

  “Am I to be marooned as well?”

  He looked surprised. “What on earth gave you that preposterous idea?”

  “How else am I to explain why you’re treating me as your prisoner?”

  “I wasn’t aware that I was treating you as such,” Logan lied. Of course he knew.

  “Oh, didn’t you? What would you say then if I told you I wished to sleep with Elijah?”

  “Absolutely not,” came his gruff and immediate reply.

  She flushed. “I didn’t mean sleep with him, I only meant—”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “And your answer is still no?”

  “If I had changed my mind I would have opened the door and wished you good luck. Yet here I stand, and here you stand.”

  “Fine.” She opened her book and took a seat at the table.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m ignoring you.”

  He sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Fine, have it your way. You’re acting very childish, you know that?”

  She turned in her seat to glare at him. “I’m acting childish? You’re the one…” she trailed off as she watched him pull the shirt from his shoulders, revealing a wide expanse of tan chest and a taut, muscled stomach. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she licked her lips to moisten them. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking a bath,” he answered, looking amused. Amber noticed for the first time the large copper tub that had been placed in the back corner, and the steam that rose from the water inside.

  “You’re going to take a bath right here? Now?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his naked torso, her gaze following the trail of black hair at his navel that dipped below the waistband of his breeches, where his hand now strayed.

  “Why, do you want to watch?” His eyes shined challengingly, and she was yanked from her stupor, her temper flaring again and an embarrassed blush coloring her cheeks.

  “I’m not speaking to you,” she barked in reply, turning back to her book. Behind her Logan snorted.

  “So you mentioned. You’re not doing a very good job of it, however.” She bit back her reply and squared her shoulders. Something whizzed by her and landed at her feet. His breeches. She swallowed the lump in her throat and didn’t dare look up from her book until she heard the water splash over the sides of the tub as he lowered himself into it. Then she stole a glance at him.

  Even in the large tub he was scrunched, his lean body folded up as he leaned back with his eyes closed. He had pulled the band from his long hair and it now hung tousled about his head, a single black lock hanging in front of his face. His body was magnificent and brought to mind an image of a roman statue, a figure chiseled in marble, a perfect masterpiece in every way. No, not marble. Bronze.

  She shook her head and forced herself to look away. From behind her came the sounds of Logan washing himself, and the smell of soap wafted through the air towards her. She lifted a hand to her curls and thought longingly of the hot water, then pushed the notion away. She would not resort to using his dirty bathwater, no matter how much she wanted to be clean.

  Her thoughts wandered to her uncle, and she wondered how things were getting along at home. The butler, Maxwell, had always been smart, and she prayed that he was able to keep Neil in the dark regarding her father’s will. Surely he had created a viable excuse for her sudden absence. She would have supplied him with one, but she had been far too busy worrying about packing for her quick departure and seeing that her dresses were completed on time. But no, she reassured herself, she trusted Maxwell to do the right thing.

  But what if Neil somehow found out? Her thoughts became muddled with that familiar fear she had felt for the first time in her mother’s study, holding the will between her shaking hands. True, the will was packed safely in her trunk, but she couldn’t lessen the anxiety that threatened to overtake her.

  What if it was already too late? What if she returned home to find her house ransacked, everything stolen or sold to pay for Neil’s gambling debts, the few remaining dollars keeping her uncle in a constant state of inebriation? Her heart was now racing.

  The instant Neil had arrived on her mother’s doorstep, begging for compassion from his only sister, things began disappearing around the house. The presence of her mother had prevented him from taking anything too valuable, and he knew not to steal when Amber was in the room. But now that both of them were gone?

  The room closed in around her and her vision blurred, her head spinning wildly. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession as she tried and failed to inhale, but the panic was overwhelming and her bodice was still too tight.

  Through the fog she heard Logan calling her name and she struggled to respond, her voice barely audible. “I can’t breathe!” He reacted immediately; jumping out of the bath he grabbed a knife from the baldric that lay amidst his other clothes on the floor, and in three short strides he was behind her.

  With a quick swipe of the blade he cut through the ribbon tying the back of her dress, then placed the knife between his teeth and used his hands to pull the fabric apart. There was no time to admire the fine craftsmanship of the corset as he slit the stays, cursing under his breath at the absurdities of female undergarments.

  As he wrenched the thick corset apart, Amber gasped, sucking in a huge breath. She reached out and grabbed hold of his strong forearm, steadying herself as the earth slowly stopped spinning. When her vision came into focus she saw the confusion and concern etched on his face.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, and she gave him a weak nod, removing her hand from his arm. “Good. Now what the bloody hell was that about?”

  She blushed, which seemed to make her hair even redder in the flickering candlelight. “It was nothing,” she told him, turning away.

  Logan reached out with a growl and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t try and tell me that was nothing. You were suffocating!”

  It was at that moment that Amber realized that he was completely naked. Her eyes widened as she glanced down at his glistening chest, watching droplets of water stream down his stomach and over his…

  She jerked away from him, but he pulled her even closer. He smiled at her and she followed his gaze down to her breasts, which were all but spilling out the top of her loosened bodice. She gasped as Logan placed his hand on her back, the heat from his skin radiating through her chemise, making her shiver with the unexpected contact.

  Logan upbraided himself for his lack of restraint at the same time as he was admiring her supple chest, slender neck, and most surprisingly, her collarbone. He’d never been especially attracted to collarbones, but something about hers made him want to brush her curls aside and lave his tongue along it. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and was taken aback to see the fiery passion sparking in their green depths. Surely she couldn’t be having the same less-than-proper thoughts about him?

  She had stopped squirming in his embrace, but he was unsure if was because she had relented, or if she had noticed that wiggling against him only increased his arousal. His curiosity piqued. As he continued to stare at her he brought his other hand around to her back and enclosed her in his arms.

  Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes blazed. Convinced that she was encouraging him, he lower
ed his head and pressed his lips against hers. He heard her gasp, but it didn’t register until she pulled her head back, the same fire glittering in her eyes, and slapped him hard across the face.

  He jerked away from her and she stepped back, planting her hands on her hips. As she glared at him, Logan suddenly realized that her expression was not one of arousal, but of fury. As soon as the thought processed he recalled seeing the same look earlier that day when she had tried to slap him and failed, and then again when he had baited her at the helm, challenging her intelligence.

  Amber watched as Logan lifted his hand to cover his cheek, now beginning to redden from the force of her strike. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused, and it bothered her. He stared at her for another minute, his expression unreadable. Then he grabbed his breeches and hastily donned them, and without another word left the cabin, letting the door slam shut behind him.

  Alone in the room, Amber paced in anger. How could that cad even presume to kiss her? The recollection of his surprise as she hit him brought her some satisfaction, but not enough to make up for the haunting memory of his hand pressed against her back, and the way it had made her feel. Also remarkable was the way her mind kept recalling the image of his long body folded up in the tub, and another of that same body pressed against hers.

  Looking down she realized her hands were clenched into tights fists, and forced herself to release them. After waiting a few minutes to ensure that he wasn’t returning, she went about the business of slipping off her dress and putting on a simple, yet modest nightgown.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and held the corset in her hands, running her fingers along the frayed ribbon. Thankfully Logan was deft with the knife and hadn’t cut the actual fabric; it would be easy enough to fix once she got to England.

  She frowned. If she ever got to England, that was. With a sigh she scooped up the satin dress and dumped it with the corset into the nearest trunk, letting the lid slam down with a satisfying bang. Then she grabbed her discarded book from the table, dimmed the lantern, and crawled onto the large bed. As she pulled back the thick blankets and slipped beneath them, she thought back to the small, hard bed that she had slept on the previous night. Obviously Logan valued his personal comforts more than Captain Watson.