If I Wait For You (13 page)

Jared took long pull on the whiskey,
gasping with satisfaction as the fiery liquid went down. He let out
a small, humorless chuckle. “Honor. Love. The things that kill a
man,” he said softly. Then he flung his feet upon the floor with a
loud thud.

“
What’s Cook got to serve
up? Smells like fish chowder.” As quickly as that, Jared became
amiable, nearly the man West remembered. He began filling West’s
ear with funny tales of greenhands and rotten meals that nearly
caused the poor cook to be thrown overboard more than once. By the
time they sat down to eat, West was beginning to relax, especially
when he noted that Sara had opted to eat in the stateroom. Her
absence was not noted, except by Jared, who politely inquired
whether she would be joining their party. Only West and perhaps
Oliver heard the mockery in his voice.

Sara listened to the men
talk, her ear pressed against the door that separated the dining
cabin from the passage. It was a loud and raucous group, and Sara
did not recognize many of the voices. The
Huntress’s
officers were a rowdy
bunch, their captain the loudest of all, and the reason was all too
apparent. The distinctive scent of whiskey was strong in the air.
Once in a while, Sara heard West’s low, mellow voice as he made
some dry observation, followed by hooting and hollering. West did
not allow alcohol on his ship except for medicinal purposes from
what Sara had learned. He was a strict master in that sense,
handing down quick punishment for drunkenness, according to Mr.
Mason. Thus far, no one aboard ship had broken that rule of his,
and Sara wondered if it were only the
Huntress’s
officers who were
imbibing.

Hearing the men’s loud
laughter, Sara was glad she decided to dine alone. The
Huntress’s
men were
rough and crude, their language such that Sara blushed more than
once. She stood with her hands pressed against the door ready to
push off and run should she hear anyone approach. When she heard
what sounded like the men getting ready to depart, Sara hurried
back to the stateroom. For the first time since being on this ship,
she was aware of the danger of being the only woman on board.
The
Julia’s
men
liked and respected her, and their loyalty to their captain would
have made even a rude glance unacceptable. But these men were
different. They were hard and crass, the sort who had chased Sara
from New Bedford.

She could hear only the low
rumbling of voices now, and felt herself relax. Mr. Mason had made
a gamming seem a wonderful thing, but she wished the
Huntress
would pull up
anchor and leave. Sara heard the splash of a boat hitting the
water, the sound of oars slapping the surface. The men were
leaving, thank God. Feeling as if the ship had been rid of vermin,
Sara decided to go above deck to look at the other ship. She’d been
below for hours and needed some fresh air. And besides, she was
curious about the other ship and its men and hoped her brother was
on deck so she could talk to him.

Letting herself out the door, she saw
a shadow by the companionway, and stopped, her heart beating hard.
It was Jared Mitchell standing there, smoking a fragrant pipe, the
smoke just visible in the light of a lamp hanging from the paneled
wall of the mostly-dark dining room.

“
Hello, Mr. Mitchell.” Her
voice sounded normal even though she felt as nervous as a mouse
standing before a cat.

“
Ah. The
wife
.”

Sara became even more wary. She didn’t
like the way his voice sounded, the way he seemed to stare at
her.

“
I was going to get some
fresh air.” He stood in her path and she waited for him to move out
of her way. When he remained blocking her, Sara felt something
close to fear envelop her, though she told herself she was being
ridiculous to fear Jared Mitchell.

“
I need to go up the
stairs,” she said, hearing the fear in her voice and hating it. She
lifted her chin to show him she was not afraid, and he smiled. He
looked like the devil himself standing there towering over her, his
hair in disarray, his dark eyes gleaming in the soft
lamplight.

“
I find I’m in need of a
wife tonight,” he said with menacing lightness. He took a step
toward her and stumbled, righting himself only by awkwardly
grasping the thick rope strung taut along the stairs.

Jared gave her a sheepish grin that
was almost charming. “I’ve ruined the moment,” he said. “Here I was
thinking I looked dashing.” There was a certain brutal
self-deprecation to his words, and Sara frowned.

“
Don’t scowl, pretty Miss
Dawes,” he said, stepping toward her. He stopped, and placed his
pipe on a stair, and in that moment Sara almost darted away. She
immediately cursed herself for losing her opportunity to escape,
for when he turned to her again, the look in his eyes made her turn
cold.

He came toward her, and Sara could do
nothing but retreat backwards until she was against the far wall,
the oil lamp too far away to act as a weapon.

“
My brother said he’s never
had you,” he said conversationally, all the while his eyes moved
over her face, resting for a long time on her lips. Sara looked
over his shoulder and at the door that led to the aftercabin where
she was certain West was. She considered crying out, but found she
couldn’t believe a man like Jared Mitchell would truly harm her.
But there was something in the way he held his body, the way he
looked at her, the low, silky sound of his slightly slurred voice
that cried out for her to get away. When he placed a palm flat
against the wall by her head, she flinched.

“
No, no, no, pretty Miss
Dawes. Don’t be afraid of me.” It was a soft plea. He bent his head
and Sara’s eyes widened in alarm. She turned just in time so that
his mouth hit her cheek. Sara let out a small mewling sound as his
mouth moved along her jaw. She didn’t want to touch him, not even
to push him away, and so stood stock-still, her arms straight by
her side, her hands fisted. The only thing she could hear was her
panicked breathing. The only thing she could feel was his mouth on
her skin, his beard abrading her.

“
Please don’t,” she said
when one large and oddly gentle hand touched her neck. She began to
shake.

“
Do you know how long it’s
been since I’ve had a woman? So sweet. You smell so nice. Soft.”
Even in her terror, there was something in his voice that made her
realize he didn’t mean to frighten her, that if he were aware of
just how afraid she was, he would stop. But Sara feared he was too
drunk to be aware of anything but getting what he wanted. Sara
moved her fists up between them, crossing her arms against her
breasts. He continued talking to her softly, his kisses gentle but
slightly more urgent. He sought her mouth, nudging her face toward
him with his chin, and he pressed his lips against hers. Sara
squeezed her eyes closed and tried to push him away. He was so big,
so oblivious to her fear. With a jerk, she turned her head to
escape his mouth, letting out another sound of protest.

He chuckled softly, then stiffened and
stilled.

“
Move back,
Jared.”

Sara nearly sagged with relief at the
sound of West’s hard voice.

Instantly, she was free. Sara fled
only as far as the stairs, then turned to see West holding a pistol
against his brother’s head.

“
You bastard,” West said,
pushing the gun hard against his Jared’s temple. His brother didn’t
even wince. Jared’s eyes were straight ahead; he stood there as if
he was in no danger. He almost looked…relieved.

“
Miss Dawes is quite
delectable. Quite tempting. I think father was right about you,”
Jared said slowly, deliberately. “Perhaps you do like boys
better.”

West’s hand began to shake. “Go to
hell.”

With one quick movement, Jared turned
his head so that he stared down the barrel of the pistol and
grasped West’s wrist with one hand. Sara watched in horror as Jared
purposefully opened his mouth and forced the gun between his
lips.

“
Oh, God no,” Sara
whispered.

“
Jared, sweet Jesus,” West
said, his voice harsh, his eyes filled with anguished
disbelief.

“
Do it, West.” Jared’s grip
on West’s wrist tightened. “Do it!”

Jared’s eyes begged his brother, the
torment in them so clear, so painful to see, tears streamed down
Sara’s face. West looked at his brother in horror, shaking his head
in denial, his breath coming out in short pants, while Jared stood
still. And waited.

West pulled the gun away, then grabbed
the back of his brother’s head and held him, his hand clawing
through Jared’s tangled hair. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
West’s embrace tightened when he heard a muffled sob coming from
his brother.

Suddenly, Jared pushed away, letting
out a strangled sound. “Leave me the hell alone,” he growled, as he
stumbled toward the stairs.

Sara moved hurriedly out of the way,
running instinctively to West, who embraced her with the same
fierceness he’d held his brother. He held her until Jared had made
his way to the deck, until they both heard him call to be lowered
into a boat. Finally, he stepped back, dropping his arms, and Sara
wanted to lean back into him, to never let go.

“
Did he hurt you?” he
asked, shoving the pistol into his belt.

She knew the anger in his eyes was not
for her but for his brother. She shook her head. “No.”

“
He is not the brother I
remember. He has changed.” West’s face was ravaged by grief, and he
looked like a man whose brother had died. Perhaps, Sara thought,
that is what happened. The brother West once knew was forever
gone.

“
He had been drinking,”
Sara said.

West shook his head, not accepting
that as an excuse for Jared’s behavior. “I am sorry this happened.
I did not foresee it.”

“
You couldn’t
have.”

West looked away from her, his
expression deeply troubled. To Sara’s surprise, he stepped toward
her, placing his hands gently on each side of her face. He frowned
at her, his eyes moving to her mouth, before gazing directly at
her. Sara sensed he wanted to say something, but then he moved
forward and pressed his lips against hers, the slightest, sweetest
pressure. He moved his lips only slightly, just enough to make Sara
wish for more.

He stepped back, looking quite
serious.

“
Miss Dawes. That was your
first kiss.” He stared at her, willing her to understand what he
was doing. Sara knew. He was trying to erase what Jared had just
done, he was giving her another first kiss, a sweet
memory.

West stood there for a long moment
trying to stop himself from kissing her again. That was all the
poor girl needed was another randy Mitchell boy panting after her.
With a calm that belied his desire, he bid Sara good night and
escaped to the topdeck. His eyes automatically went to his
brother’s ship and saw that he had just been safely hoisted aboard.
He heard him shout, “Drinks on me, boys. This gamming’s a bit
morbid for my tastes.”

Half-hearted shouts came from those
crewmembers still awake and sober enough to want to drink more.
Jared moved away from the men to stand alone at the ship’s
bow.

West watched his brother’s shadow for
a long moment, his heart aching for him. The rage he’d felt when he
saw Jared mauling Sara had long since been replaced by a deep
sadness. Jared had been one of the kindest men he’d ever known. And
still was. He was killing himself, exorcising the goodness that
remained hidden inside in a calculated campaign of destruction. It
was almost as if he wanted to get caught with Sara, wanted West to
hate him as he must hate himself. He’d certainly wanted West to
pull that trigger, his eyes, those tortured eyes, had begged for
death.

And West, God help him, knew how close
he’d been to pulling that trigger when he first came upon them. It
wasn’t until he looked his brother in the eye that he knew he could
not. But the rage, good God, the unadulterated fury he’d felt when
he saw Jared touching Sara…he shook from it still.

The sea was calm, the wind
light and cool, and the moon shone brightly, putting the
Huntress
in sharp
silhouette. Jared still stood on the bow of his ship, looking
north. Toward home. West knew that when the sun rose, the
Huntress
would be gone,
the gamming over.

“
Jared,” he called over. He
could see that his brother had turned toward his voice. “God speed,
brother.”

There was only silence between the
ships as West strained to hear a response. He let out a small sigh,
bitter with the realization that they would part in such a bad way.
He’d turned away when he heard Jared’s voice, spoken softly, as if
he was almost too weary to speak.

“
Tell her I’m sorry, will
you?”

“
I will.”

When West went below, Jared was still
standing there in the moonlight. Alone.

Chapter SEVEN

Sara was already blushing and she had
yet to broach the subject with Zachary. Physical relations between
a man and a woman was not something a sister talked about with her
brother. In fact, Sara had no idea who girls went to with such
questions. Were all girls as completely ignorant as she? She had no
choice. She was on a ship with all men and her brother was the only
man aboard she could even begin to think of asking such
things.