Authors: Susannah Merrill
Captives' Charade (14 page)
But succumbing to mal de mer was exactly the fate Sarah suffered her first two days at sea. Even though the sailing was calm and the weather clear and sunny, the gentle rolling of the huge vessel was more than her untried stomach could handle and she remained abed, a worried Tegan clucking over her.
After bidding a brave but tearful farewell to her father and meeting the ship’s captain, Jeremiah Slade, Sarah, with Tegan, had been escorted by Stewart to an elegant cabin next to the captain’s quarters. Sarah noted that it was even finer than the London hotel where they had spent the night before. The compact yet sumptuous quarters contained fitted furniture made of finely oiled black walnut. The dark solid wood lent an overwhelming masculine air to the cabin, relieved only by the flowered coverlet on the wide bunk and the blue and beige Oriental carpets that were spread before the bed, vanity and wardrobe. A vase of fresh flowers bedecked the recessed bureau.
With a pleased exclamation, Tegan immediately set herself to the task of unpacking Sarah’s trunks that had been delivered earlier. Mindful of Stewart’s presence in the doorway, Sarah turned stiffly and said, “The accommodations are outstanding, Mr. Chamberlain. I am sure my maid and I will be most comfortable. Such quality must be unusual on a cargo ship, I dare say.”
With a smile, Stewart propped himself against the door frame and replied, “You are right, of course. But since this is my most frequent address, I wanted to have quarters that would give me a respite from the harshness and monotony of sea life.”
“Theseare your quarters?” Sarah’s voice rose in astonishment, the thought occurring to her that sleeping in his bed would be tempting fate.
“Why, yes,” Stewart replied casually and gestured toward the coverlet on the bed, “though a few things have been altered to make you feel more at home.” Ignoring her discomfiture, he added, “Do you like the flowers?”
“Oh yes, thank you.” Nervously removing her kid gloves, she looked around, desperately trying to avoid his warm gaze. “I suppose I should get settled.”
“Of course,” Stewart smiled. “I will leave you now, but will return later to give you a tour of the ship. Besides,” he added, quirking a brow in a knowing gesture, “I believe we have some catching up to do. If you need anything, Captain Slade’s cabin boy, Ezra, is at your disposal. And my quarters are right next door. I will be bunking with the captain.” Touching his fingers to the corner of his brow, he saluted and was gone.
That was the last she had seen of Stewart Chamberlain, though Tegan informed her that he was making regular inquiries about her condition. Sarah was so ill she had refused all efforts of help. No food had passed her lips since the light lunch she and Tegan had shared at noon on their first day. Despite the drinks and broths Ezra had delivered, Sarah remained firm in her singular wish for a swift death, a relief nourishment would not hasten.
On the morning of the third day, after a particularly harrowing night, Sarah awoke to find herself face-to-face with Stewart, who had suddenly materialized at her bedside. “Tegan tells me you are not eating,” he warned.
“Tegan talks too much,” she croaked, closing her eyes and licking her parched lips. What was he doing here?
“No,”shewhisperedasfiercelyasshecould in her weakened state, turning her head toward the dark paneling which made up one side of the builtin bed.
But Stewart was undeterred by her feeble protests. In an instant, he had lifted her aching head from the pillow and was pushing the teacup between her lips. Without the strength to fight him, Sarah knew she would either have to swallow or drown. She chose the former, choking and spluttering as the thick brew burned her raw throat.
When the cup was empty at last, Stewart set it aside, and, with infinite care, began daubing Sarah’s cracked lips and green-tinged face with a cool cloth, all the while holding her still with his strong arm. “Do you always resort to brute force?” she finally muttered, her eyes still closed tightly against the sight of his presence.
“Only when you refuse to do things that are good for you,” Stewart replied meaningfully. “I guarantee this elixir will have you feeling fit by this noon. And then I expect you to sample Cook’s broth. You have upset him terribly, you know. He is not used to having his meals returned untouched.”
“My apologies to Cook,” she murmured through gritted teeth. “Now may I please be left in peace?”
“Very well,” Stewart acquiesced, pushing a stray curl back into her night cap, “but I shall return later and I expect to see you up and about.”
“Of that I am well aware,” Stewart chuckled, rising from the bed. “But it seems you have extracted a very substantial promise from me,” he said, referring to their compromise. “And so I think it should not trouble you too much to allow me the time to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred when last we were together.” Ignoring her weak struggles to dismiss the path of his conversation, Stewart bowed and said, “Later, Lady Sarah. For now, just rest and let the potion do its work.”
When Sarah awoke later, she was amazed that she felt human again. Whatever Stewart had given her had worked and grudgingly, she admitted that she had been grateful for his ministrations. Throwing off the covers, she tentatively rested her slender feet on the rug. Using the bed for support, she carefully rose to a standing position to find that her stomach no longer rebelled. She did feel faint, however, and fortunately, Tegan, who had been searching through the wardrobe, poked her head out just in time to grab Sarah before she fell forward.
“Gracious, mum!” You are too weak for such sport. Here, let me help you into this chair.” With Tegan’s support, Sarah walked the few steps to one of the sturdy wooden chairs that sat beside a small round dining table in the center of the cabin
“Yes, thank you, Teeg. Compared to yesterday, I feel wonderful,” Sarah smiled feebly. Rubbing a hand across her face, she added, “But I must look a fright. Could you hand me my glass?”
Tegan passed her mistress an ornatelyhandled looking glass, cautioning, “A brush and a hot meal will do wonders for you. I’ll have Ezra bring in a pitcher of warm water for you, too.”
“Egads!” Sarah gasped at the reflection of her snarling hair and sunken eyes. Her complexion, pale and wan, appalled her, especially since Stewart had been allowed to see her this way. “I have never looked so near to a cow’s thumb. Help me, Teeg. Quickly!”
It was not long before their efforts considerably improved Sarah’s appearance. The water that Ezra had delivered was put to good use as Sarah sponged herself all over while Tegan worked to relieve her dark hair of its tangles. After braiding the thick tresses, she arranged the ropes atop Sarah’s head in a smooth coil. Feverishly pinching her cheeks to bring back some color, Sarah bid her maid to bring out a pink gown with the red Spencer that would reflect its rosiness onto her pale skin. The effect was flattering but Sarah still fretted over the dark circles under her eyes and the hollowness of her delicate features. Always a trifle thin, she felt today like a piece of straw.
“Don’t you worry, mum” Tegan reassured her, as she moved around the cabin, straightening it. “Cook’s soup will have you looking good as new. Ezra’s bringing it now.”
But it was not Ezra who appeared at the cabin door with a luncheon tray, but Stewart. “Well, well,” he beamed, stepping into the room and swallowing it up with his presence. He set the tray before Sarah. “’Tis a miracle I see before me. Never has my seasick remedy worked such wonders so quickly. You look lovely.”
Despite her reluctance to treat him kindly, Sarah could not help smiling in embarrassed pleasure at his compliment. “Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes downcast, “for your medicine. I may survive this journey after all.”
“Of course you will,” he assured her, tucking his long legs under the table across from her. “Now eat. I promised your father I would take good care of you and I cannot think of anything that will help you more than this soup.” Taking the lid off the small pot before her, Sarah’s mouth began to water as she smelled the tantalizing aroma rising form the steaming broth. Her empty stomach growled in anticipation and she was soon spooning down great mouthfuls of the lightly seasoned chicken soup.
“This is excellent,” she finally managed to speak between sips, after realizing how closely Tegan and Stewart were watching her. “You have a very fine chef on board. Please thank him for me.”
“An empty bowl will be thanks enough for Cook,” Stewart told her and taking that as a cue, Sarah kept eating until she had drained the pot.
Asifbysomeprearrangedplan,Tegan removed the tray when Sarah had finished and announced that she would return it to the galley herself. Before Sarah could protest, she found herself alone in the cabin with Stewart, a cup of tea the only object between her and the devastatingly attractive man at the other side of the table.
Settling himself more comfortably in the wooden chair, Stewart casually ran a long finger across the cleft in his strong chin and began, “You’ve had a great deal of time to conjure up the worst thoughts of me since we parted, but I hope I can clear up this misunderstanding between us.”
The moment had come and Sarah was still not ready to face it. Juliana had explained the embrace with Stewart. She did not want to recall the pain she had felt. But more than that, she did not want Stewart to know how deeply hurt she had been. He had seen her vulnerability before. She would not let him see it again.
Nervously Sarah fingered her teacup. “In truth,” she lied, “I have not been thinking much of you at all.” Shamed by his steady gaze, she finally admitted, “Actually you have no reason to explain yourself to me. Juliana confessed.”
“We are sisters,” Sarah reminded him, “and it would take more than a man to come between us. The only thing I do not understand is why you bother with me when so many others are far more willing.”
“I only question why you remain so hostile if you do indeed understand the scene you witnessed in the garden that night,” he replied logically.
“I see,” Stewart clipped, muffling his amusement at her obvious uneasiness. “Well, it is important to me that you believe that I was not courting Juliana behind your back. Sparing the details, I would only say that she is a strong-willed, impulsive young lady who is quite skilled at getting what she wants. I had no idea that she was going to follow me into the garden that night.”
“I said she explained everything,” Sarah cut in, her voice rising impatiently. She did not want the shock of that night rekindled.
“Then tell me, Sarah, how might I restore your kinder feelings toward me? We shall be together for quite a long while and the time will pass much more pleasurably if we can be friends. Don’t you agree?”
Averting her gaze, she ignored his questions. “My maid and I are both grateful that a seasoned traveler is our escort on this journey. We trust your capabilities as protector and guide. I am also in quite deep to you for curing my seasickness. I did not realize healing was among your many talents.”
Stewart graciously accepted her sidestep, even though he had hoped for a more personal conversation. “There were times in my life where I had to practice medicine in order to survive. Any good sailor has a remedy. I am glad mine worked so quickly for you. ‘Tis a good sign.”
“Aye, I am grateful too,” Sarah agreed, a trace of a smile on her pink lips. “Since I have never been on a ship of this magnitude before, I was hoping to see more of it than this cabin.”
Pushingherchairback,Sarahroseand tested her stance. Holding her hand up to fend off Stewart, who had risen to help her, she nodded, “Yes, I think I feel fine. Let’s see now.” She began walking away from him toward the recessed bureau. “Yes, I am a bit shaky but I think a stroll will do me good.”
“Excellent!” Stewart cheered her spirit. “Get your wrap, then. The sun is high but the sea air is a bit cool today. As we head further south, the weather will be balmier.”
“Eventually,” Stewart answered as she turned to close her red Spencer and take a shawl from the wardrobe. “But we are traveling via the Caribbean route so as to avoid as much intervention by the English monitors as possible ... and to pick up some protection by American ships patrolling the southern corridor.”
“But what about pirates in those waters?” Sarah had heard about uncivilized bands of thieves and murderers who plundered cargo ships such as the one they were on. They based their operations out of ports in the Caribbean since they were exiled from their own countries for dastardly crimes both on land and sea.
“Due to present animosities between England and America, we fear British seamen more than pirates,” Stewart told her as he took the wrap from her and placed it around her shoulders. “Besides, the pirates are not without scruples. As long as we play by their rules, we can usually pass without incident.”
“Do you mean to tell me you actually deal with the pirate bands?” She found the idea of making pacts with thieves appalling.
Stewart’s demeanor abruptly turned aloof. “Shall we simply say that we have less to fear from pirates than your Navy?”
Sarahfeltasuddenchill. Did Stewart’s fleet consort with criminals? Perhaps he was not the honorable man her father had insisted he was. All the more reason, she decided, to maintain her distance – both emotionally and physically. Nervously stepping away from his hands, which had found a resting place on her shoulders, she fumblingly pulled the shawl over her bosom and grabbed a bonnet from a peg on the wall. “Shall we go? It will be a pleasure to breathe fresh air for a change.”