by Merry Farmer
Losing this fight wasn’t an option.
“Uncle Theo, please sit down. You’re making me nervous,” said Calliope. “I’m worried you’ll injure yourself.”
Since Jonathon had gone above decks, her uncle had been pacing the cabin, which was no mean feat considering the vessel was constantly pitching and rolling. Or perhaps tottering back and forth with an occasional lurch would be a more apt description of what he was doing.
“I can’t sit still, Peewee,” he protested, grasping the edge of Jonathon’s substantial desk for support. “Lord knows what’s going on up there. And I don’t quite trust Captain Townsend. I think he’s going to sink the Orpheus. My life’s work will end up at the bottom of the ocean. I’ll have to return to Oxford empty-handed. I’ll be the laughingstock of academia.”
“Of course you won’t,” Calliope said. “And even if the dodo bones are lost at sea, we can always return to Mauritius and continue our search. Who knows what we’ll fi—”
At that moment, there was a muffled boom like distant thunder.
Nelson gave an almighty squawk and flapped his wings “Avast, ye! Batten down the hatches!”
Uncle Theo’s face had turned ashen. “It’s begun, Peewee. I pray we don’t die.”
Calliope staggered over to the desk and enveloped him in a hug. “Everything will be fine,” she said, patting him on the shoulders before drawing back to give him a smile. “I’m the only one in the family who’s cursed, remember?”
Her uncle’s grizzled gray brows snapped together. “Peewee, you mustn’t joke about it. Not at a time like this.”
“I’m sorry. I was only trying to—” Another explosion, this one ear-splitting shook the very air around them and one of the window panes on the starboard side of the cabin shattered. Tiny shards of glass sprayed across the carpeted floor.
“It’s all my fault.” Uncle Theo wailed, wringing his hands. “Oh God forgive me. I feel so guilty.”
Calliope frowned in confusion. “Guilty? Why should you feel guilty?”
“Your jewelry. It’s not on the Orpheus. I’ve… I’ve been perpetuating a terrible lie.”
“What on earth do you mean, Uncle? Mr. Lucas stole it. Michael Flint, when he broke on board last night and spoke to me, confirmed it.”
Uncle Theo inhaled a deep breath and took her hand. “Yes, it’s true Mr. Lucas stole your parure of jewels but they’re not your mother’s jewels.”
Exasperation rose, hardening Calliope’s voice. “Please speak plainly, Uncle. I still don’t understand.”
“The gem stones Mr. Lucas took are paste. I had an exact copy made of your mother’s necklace and earrings before we left England. The real jewels are back in Oxford, locked up in the safe in my study.”
Calliope felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of her. “You’re joking,” she whispered.
“No. I’m not. I’m so sorry for lying to you, Peewee. But… given the arduous nature of our journey, I didn’t think it wise to bring the authentic set with us. I feared something might happen to them. And I know how much they mean to you.”
“But why did you lie to Captain Townsend?” she demanded hotly. “He’s up there risking life and limb to help save my jewelry. Jewelry that’s worth practically nothing.”
“I know, I know,” said Uncle Theo. “And that’s why I feel so terrible. Obviously, I don’t want the Orpheus to go down because the dodo bones are on board. But if Captain Townsend knew the truth about your jewels, he’d probably blow Flint and his ship to smithereens without a thought and then I’d lose—”
A third deafening boom rocked the whole ship and this time, Calliope couldn’t contain a yelp of surprise.
Uncle Theo’s expression was stricken. “I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid and selfish, Peewee. Because if Michael Flint and his cutthroat crew boards the Andromeda, we could all be killed. I have to make this right. I have to tell Townsend.”
“Uncle Theo. No. It’s too dangerous.”
Before she could stop him, Uncle Theo careened across the cabin and bolted out of the door into the corridor. Calliope followed and her fear increased ten-fold. The air was hazy with smoke and the smell of burning filled her nostrils. She held a hand to her mouth and coughed. Her eyes stung.
“Wait… Uncle Theo… Come back,” she gasped but he ignored her. Within seconds he’d disappeared up the narrow, ladder-like stairs leading to the deck above.
Urgent shouts and another alarming noises—the cracking and splintering of wood, the reverberating boom of canon fire, and distant screams—reached Calliope’s ears as she hovered by the cabin door.
Oh God, the two people she loved most in the world were up there, where chaos currently reigned. She waited, heart pounding, struggling for breath, clutching the door frame with one hand—the Andromeda’s violent pitching had grown worse—while she used her other hand to cover her mouth and nose.
Finally, she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. She didn’t want to disobey Jonathon—she’d promised him she’d stay put—but she had to find Uncle Theo. Drag him back to safety.
And like her uncle, she wanted Jonathon to know the truth. He shouldn’t risk an onboard skirmish if he didn’t have to.
When she gained the top of the stairs and pushed open the door, she was momentarily overwhelmed by the scene before her. White smoke billowed across the rolling deck, obscuring her view. Men ran to-and-fro shouting. Barking harsh orders. Waves crashed against the hull, sending plumes of spray into the air and churning water spewed from the scuppers. Above her head, shredded rigging and a torn sail cracked and snapped in the wind.
She couldn’t see Jonathon anywhere. But there was Uncle Theo, standing amidships by the mainmast, his gaze transfixed on the port bow.
Calliope gasped. Oh, dear God. The Orpheus was looming closer and closer. It wouldn’t be long before both ships were within grappling distance of each other. Summoning her courage, she lurched a few steps forward across the slick timbers of the deck toward her uncle. Behind her on the quarterdeck, someone shouted, “Ready… fire!”
And then it seemed as though the whole ocean exploded. A terrible, thunderous roar filled her head and she had to shield her eyes against an intense wave of heat.
“Calliope!” The very next moment, someone tackled her from behind, knocking her onto the deck. Covering her body. Shielding her from the flaming debris raining down around them.
Jonathon.
“You’re safe, my love, you’re safe,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “It’s all right. It’s over. The Orpheus is no more.”
Sweet relief flooded through Calliope, but then she squirmed beneath Jonathon’s weight. “Uncle Theo?”
Jonathon shifted and let her up. “He’s fine. See?” Calliope glanced in the direction he pointed and sure enough, Uncle Theo was hale and hearty. He sat with his back against the mainmast, swatting a few glowing embers from the sleeves of his coat. When he caught sight of her through the remnants of swirling ash and smoke, he raised a hand in greeting and grinned.
Calliope threw her arms about Jonathon’s neck hugging him fiercely, never wanting to let him go. Around them, the crew splashed about, sluicing water over chunks of burning timber on the deck and beating out embers in the sails above. A shower of icy rain began to fall from the heavens, soaking them to the skin, but Calliope didn’t care about any of it.
“I’m sorry I came up on deck, but I was trying to save Uncle Theo,” she said. And then she explained about her jewels and her uncle’s guilt over his deception.
Jonathon brushed a thumb across her wet cheek. “I have a confession to make too. Real or not, I never gave a damn about those jewels. Or those cursed bones. When I heard the Orpheus was carrying a cargo of saltpeter, and not slaves, I was always going to blow it out of the water. It was the safest course of action to take… because you, Calliope Banks”—his chest swelled as he drew a deep breath—”you are the only thing that matters to me. I love you. I’
d do anything for you. And to that end…” He rose to his knees and clasped her hands between his. A warm smile broke across his soot-streaked yet undeniably handsome face. “My beautiful sweet, darling Calliope,” he continued in a voice rough with emotion, “would you do me, undeserving rogue that I am, the inestimable honor of consenting to become my wife?”
Happiness bloomed inside Calliope’s breast and tears mingled with the raindrops sliding down her face. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening. The man she adored, the man she knew she could trust with both her heart and her life, was proposing to her in the middle of a burning deck of a wounded privateer vessel, in the rain.
And she’d never felt more fortunate. Or blessed.
Rising to her knees too, she looked deep into his ocean-blue eyes. A smile trembled about her lips. “Yes, Jonathon Townsend. With my entire heart, I say yes.”
As Jonathon swept Calliope into his arms and claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss, the entire crew erupted with cheers and whistles and thunderous applause. Undoubtedly it was indecorous, if not outright uncivilized, but for once Calliope didn’t mind at all.
Epilogue
Later that night…
Calliope was relieved to hear that overall, the Andromeda only sustained superficial damage to some of the rigging, the top mainsail, the bowsprit and its flying jib. The hull and all the masts were intact. Even though there was some minor damage to the rudder—one of the Orpheus’s cannonballs had managed to strike part of the stern—it was still functional.
During a celebratory dinner in Jonathon’s quarters, Mr. Keats also reported that the injuries to the crew were few and relatively minor. A handful of survivors from the Orpheus—including Mr. Lucas—had been plucked from the ocean. All were currently chained in the hold in the vicinity of the bilge. Calliope and Uncle Theo were quite happy for the magistrate in Mauritius to decide Barnaby Lucas’s fate.
Once Tom cleared the last of the plates, silver cutlery, and empty glasses away, and Uncle Theo retired to the officer’s quarters with Mr. Keats, Calliope found herself alone with Jonathon at the dining table.
Completely alone.
A spark of alarm flared inside her. “Where’s Nelson?”
Her gaze wandered around the cabin, lit softly by the golden glow of lanterns. He wasn’t roosting on his perch near the patched mullioned window and he wasn’t beneath the table trying to pilfer any missed crumbs. Neither was he lurking about the desk or the damask silk curtains bracketing Jonathon’s bed.
Jonathon sipped the last of his claret then sent her a measured look across the table. “He’s bunking in with Mr. Keats tonight.”
“Oh…” Calliope blinked in surprise. “Why?”
“Because my sweet fiancée, I rather hoped that you and I might bunk in together. And I’d much prefer it if Nelson wasn’t here to offer a running commentary throughout the night.”
A deep thrill skittered through Calliope and her pulse began to race. She swore her face was as pink as the fuchsia muslin of her gown. “You said you rather hoped.”
“Well…” Jonathon said, putting down his glass carefully. “I shouldn’t assume anything. But as I’d like to marry you as soon as possible—it won’t take long at all to arrange a marriage license in Port Louis,” his mouth curved into a lazy, sensual smile, “I rather hoped you would like to share a bed with me tonight.”
“Oh… I see… Well then…” Desire and nervous excitement made Calliope as inarticulate as a henwit.
Jonathon rose to his feet and approached her end of the dining table with slow, deliberate steps. Dressed casually in boots, tight buckskin breeches, and a loose cambric shirt sans cravat, he literally took Calliope’s breath away. “Of course, that decision rests entirely with you, my love. But I want you to know”—his smoldering gaze locked with hers—“that I want you quite desperately.” Bending low, he kissed her neck. And then his warm breath fanned against her ear, making her shiver. “I burn for you, Calliope.”
Rising to her feet, her hands slid to Jonathon’s chest and she could feel the solid thud of his heart beneath her palm. Feel the heat emanating from his hard, muscular body. The delicious scent of him wrapped around her, beckoning her to bury her face in his neck. “You do?” she whispered. She believed him, but she wanted to hear him say it.
“Yes.” Jonathon’s hands came up to rest lightly about her waist. “Let me show you.”
Calliope longed to relent immediately but a silly, altogether too cautious part of her made her say, “What about your crew? I know we’re in the middle of the Indian Ocean with no one to naysay us—and of course, I shouldn’t worry about what others think so much—but you have warned me about how uncouth they can be.”
Jonathon caught her chin with gentle fingers. “You’re engaged to the Andromeda’s captain, and in a matter of days, you will be Lady Sandford. If any man onboard shows you the slightest disrespect, he’ll have me to answer to. Does that help ease your concerns, my love?”
She nodded. “Yes, it does. But I also wanted to ask you…” She drew a deep breath. She had so many questions for Jonathon, she barely knew where to begin. “I know we are returning to Mauritius—and I adore Belle Mer. And of course, Uncle Theo is also very happy to be going back there to hunt down more dodo fossils. But you’ve mentioned before your intention to settle in England. That you have an estate. But I barely know anything about it.”
Jonathon grimaced. “God I’m an ass, Calliope. Of course you have questions. And here I am, acting like a randy youth who hasn’t a lick of patience.” He turned and leaned against the table, drawing her in close so her hips were bracketed by his muscular thighs. “Ask away. I’ll tell you anything.”
“Well… Your estate is in Dorset. Is that right?”
He smiled. “Yes. It’s called Highcliffe. And Highcliffe Hall is right by the sea. Because I only inherited the viscountcy two years ago—an elderly but distant uncle passed away and apparently, I was the next in line for the title—I’ve visited it but once. The thing is, while I have a competent estate manager, I have lately developed an intense yearning to return home to England. To live a quieter life. To put down roots. To share my days with the woman I adore. To start a family. I have no other ties to speak of—no siblings and my parents passed long ago—and I’m truly tired of wandering the globe on my own.” He raised a hand and caressed Calliope’s cheek with the back of his fingers. His eyes were filled with so much love, her breath caught. “I want to turn Highcliffe into a home, Calliope. With you.”
Calliope’s heart did an odd little flip-flop and she fiddled with one of the buttons at the neck of his shirt. “Won’t you grow bored?” she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes.
Jonathon’s hands slid to her back and he pulled her flush against him. “Never,” he murmured huskily. And then he kissed her.
When Calliope immediately responded with unabashed enthusiasm to his kiss, Jonathon’s heart swelled.
When he’d spotted her on the main deck—right at the precise moment the Orpheus had blown part—his heart had stopped. And then he’d bolted from the quarterdeck and thrown himself over her, shielding her body with his. He knew right then that what he felt for this woman was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The need to protect, the need to cherish, it thrummed inside his veins. Resonated through him, right to his very bones.
On a groan, he deepened the kiss, gently plundering Calliope’s sweet-as-honey mouth with long strokes of his tongue. But she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she relished it. A soft moan fluttered in her throat as she tangled her tongue with his. Buried her hands in his hair. Pressed her soft belly against his rapidly hardening length.
God, yes. He had to have this woman. No, he wanted to pleasure this woman, more than anything. More than he needed air. To show her how much she meant to him.
Breaking the kiss, he took her hand and drew her toward the bed. The burgundy silk counterpane had been pulled down, revealing the pristine white
sheets and plump pillows. But it was up to Calliope to decide how far they went tonight. Not him.
He turned to her, a question in his eyes and she inhaled a shaky breath. Her gaze was steady, her expression solemn as she said, “Jonathon, so many things could have gone wrong today… One, or both of us, could have died. But we didn’t,” a shy smile peeked out, “and here we are.”
“Yes, here we are.” He brushed a shining lock of coppery hair behind her shell-like ear.
Her smile widened and her eyes were the clear blue of the sea on a summer’s day. “Given all that, I’m absolutely certain that I want to live life to the fullest with you. To take pleasure in each and every precious moment we share. Everything within me—my heart, my mind, my body—yearns to lie with you.” She reached for him, skating her hands up his arms to rest upon his shoulders. A soft pink blush suffused her cheeks. “Let us consummate our love tonight, my darling Jonathon.”
He couldn’t suppress a wolfish grin. “With pleasure.”
Even though lust throbbed in his groin, Jonathon was aware a modicum of restraint was required as Calliope had never done this before. Despite her bold request, he could see she was nervous by the way she bit her lip when he began to let down her glorious hair. Tonight, he wanted to please her. Take her on a sensual journey. She deserved to be simultaneously spoiled and worshipped. There was no need to hurry.
So, he undressed her slowly, taking his time. Releasing buttons, and gently pulling loose ribbons and ties. Stroking and caressing and teasing her bared silken flesh with kisses and whisper-soft words of praise as he went.
“You have such beautiful skin. It’s like cream sprinkled with cinnamon,” he murmured as he slid her lawn chemise down one slender arm and then feathered a trail of light kisses along her naked shoulder.
Her kiss-swollen lips curved in a shy smile. “You don’t mind my freckles?”
“I adore them,” he said, then brushed a finger over the tip of one taut nipple that pressed against the gossamer-thin fabric covering it. “And I’ve often thought about how delightful it would to be find all the secret places they might be hiding.”