If I Wait For You (18 page)

Sara’s cheeks flushed becomingly. “It
was a mistake.” Even as she said the words, she hoped he would pull
her into his arms and tell her he loved her, only her.

“
Yes, it was a monumental
mistake,” he readily agreed. “Thank goodness nothing irrevocable
happened. You are a maid still. You can marry in good faith. As can
I.”

The reality of what she’d just done
hit Sara fully. He was engaged to be married to someone else, to a
girl who was as virtuous and well-bred as a girl could be. He had
tried to not touch her, as only a man of honor could, but she had
not allowed him to. What had she thought? That they would make love
and he would forsake his true love for her? That he would get down
on one knee and beg her to marry him? What a fool she was. What a
terrible little fool.

“
It was nothing, Sara.
Nothing.”

Nothing
? Her heart breaking was nothing? Making her body sing
was
nothing
?
Anger hit her, then, that he should take what she’d thought was
wonderful and turn it into something sordid, something to be
ashamed of. Something to forget.

“
You must be quite proud of
yourself. Thank God,” she said with a sweep of her hand, “that you
were able to maintain your dignity and your indifference even in
the throes of passion. I thank you, sir, for your valiant effort to
maintain my virtue. I’m certain Miss Smithers would thank you
also.” She was angry with herself, yes, but she found she was also
angry at West. Poor man, forced to pleasure the desperate little
stowaway.

“
Sara, stop.”

“
Why? Am I hurting your
feelings?” she asked airily. Then she placed a finger thoughtfully
on her lips and tapped lightly. “Well, now,” she said seemingly to
herself. “That’s not quite possible, for you have no feelings. You
have been abundantly clear on that point. Silly me.” She snapped
her gaze to him again, not seeing the pain and regret in his
expression. She pulled up her skirt and threw on her blouse,
heedless of his eyes on her, hot and needy.

“
I never should have agreed
to take you on board. It was, perhaps, the biggest error in all of
this.” His words only cemented her belief that he wanted to be rid
of her. She was still trying to get the last button fastened, her
shaking hands making the task nearly impossible, when he grasped
her wrists gently. Sara turned her head away, hiding her face,
hiding her wretched tears.

West couldn’t bear to see her sad,
knowing it was his callous words that had her so. Did he love her?
He didn’t know, but it made no difference. She would have to leave
this ship for now that he’d tasted her, he could not keep
away.

“
Even if I loved you, I
would still send you home. Even then, Sara.”

It was the closest he was able to come
to telling her what was in his heart.

Chapter TEN

When Abigail Mitchell
sailed on the
Julia
, Jared had a storage locker near the helm converted into a
topcabin for her. It had been a cool place to while away the hours
to read or sew or simply enjoy a fine day out of the glare of the
sun. The day after their lovemaking, West had the locker cleared
and with the aid of the ship’s carpenter, the tiny room was quickly
converted back into a cabin.

“
It will be cooler than
below deck. And far more comfortable, I’m sure,” West said, rocking
from heel to toe, arms behind his back, as he showed Sara her new
accommodations.

“
It’s nice,” she said,
taking in the narrow bunk already made up with her quilt from below
deck. He didn’t think she would say anything else until she softly
said, “Is this truly necessary?”

He’d nodded curtly. “It
is.”

Sara stepped into the cabin, her face
burning with humiliation that he should banish her from what had
become her home. The cabin, while small, was perfectly acceptable,
she told herself. It was clean and had windows that allowed in a
cooling breeze. It even had a tiny, built-in writing desk and book
shelf. Someone—she was quite certain it wasn’t West—had put a small
flowering plant on the desk, and she walked over to it, her hand
drifting over one of the waxy petals.

Sara cursed her heart that wrenched at
the thought that he had placed the plant there simply to please
her.

“
Mr. Billings thought you
would like it,” came his gruff voice.

A wave of disappointment swept over
her, punctuating the truth that she loved him still. “Please tell
him thank you.”

“
You may tell him tonight.
At dinner.”

Sara turned to him, hating the fact
she still thought him the most handsome of men, that her heart
skipped a beat just to look at him. He was leaning a forearm
against the cabin’s entrance, his ankles were crossed, in a pose
that gave him the air of deceptive nonchalance. For all his relaxed
stance, he seemed to be a man a heartbeat away from lunging at a
foe. He had discarded his necktie and waistcoat and wore only a
crisp white shirt, open at the neck. His dark brown hair ruffled a
bit in the wind, his expression was that of slight irritation. What
had they been talking about?

“
Dinner,” Sara muttered
with a mental shake. “I’ll be taking my meals in here,” she said,
and readied herself for another verbal battle.

“
Very well.” He turned and
walked away, and Sara sank down onto the bunk, the very picture of
dejection. She wanted him to argue, to demand that she join him for
dinner, to act as heavy-handed as she knew he could be when he
wanted something. Clearly, he did not want her. Not anymore, not if
wanting her might mean something more than grappling together in a
swinging bed.

“
Hey there.”

Sara looked up to find her brother
standing hesitantly by the door. “Welcome to my new home,” she said
with a small wave of her hand.

“
It’s for the best.”
Zachary walked into the room and sat his lanky form on her single
chair. It was one of the few items on the ship not nailed down, so
he swung it around and straddled it, leaning his elbows on the
back.

“
I’m certain you’re
correct,” Sara said, wishing her cheeks weren’t blushing crimson.
“We don’t get along. It was foolish to think we could last together
the entire trip.” She avoided her brother’s searching gaze, praying
he hadn’t guessed what truly happened between her and West. She’d
die of mortification if he knew. “Has he told you that I’m to leave
for home when we reach Hilo?”

“
He has.” Zachary rubbed a
thoughtful finger across mustache. “The men believe you two had an
argument about a certain girl West visited on the
island.”

Sara took a deep breath, hating that
anyone was talking about her, feeling sorry for her. “It’s just as
well. Now he can send me home and can go one with his life. He can
even tell people we are divorcing.” Sara let out a bitter laugh.
“In fact, that would resolve the entire problem when he returns to
New Bedford wifeless.”

“
Is that what you argued
about? The girl?”

Sara nearly lied, but found she could
not. “No. We didn’t argue at all.”

“
Then why have you been
banished to this storage locker?” Zachary demanded, beginning to
sound angry.

“
I haven’t been banished
anywhere. We simply cannot abide each other.”

“
Well, then,” Zachary said,
slapping his hands down upon the chair’s back. “That’s a relief.
I’d thought that perhaps it was the opposite happening. You seemed
to spend an inordinate amount of time with each other, and the
captain had been acting a bit distracted lately. I actually thought
the two of you were falling in love.” He gave her a searching look.
“Crazy thought, hmm?”

“
Would that have been such
a terrible thing?” she asked softly.

“
You and I both know, Sara,
that he wouldn’t have married you. He would have broken your
heart.”

Sara lifted her chin, ignoring the
slight tightening in her throat. “Perhaps I would have broken his
heart, Zachary. Have you ever thought of that?”

Zachary gave his sister a smile before
making his way to the door. “Maybe you already have, little
sister.” He gave her a wink—big know-it-all-brother to kid sister.
“You never know.”

Seamen called them rogue
waves, a colossal heaving of the sea caused by some shifting of the
earth’s crust miles and miles away. On land, they were tsunami’s,
with the power to obliterate entire villages. At sea, they were a
captain’s nightmare, for there was no warning—and no escape. One
such wave hit the
Julia
just three days out of the Sandwich Islands, a
harsh reminder after weeks of calm seas that the ocean ruled here,
not a tiny ship made of wood. The crew was relaxing and looking
forward to stepping on land for the first time in nearly six
months. Already some were claiming they could smell the islands.
They looked with longing each morning to the horizon hoping for a
glimpse of the snowy peak of Mauna Loa. The seas were calm, despite
a nice aft wind that pushed them strong and fast toward the
islands. A group of seamen were lounging by the rail in the misty
early morning light, the lookout high above them was just getting
into place to idly search for a whale that no one hoped would
surface. A whale would only delay their journey and their hull was
nicely full already with a fine mixture of sperm and whale
oil.

“
Something, sir! Port bow!”
came a shout from above.

Something?
West sprang to the rigging and searched the
horizon, his eyes narrowed. He saw nothing. Lifting his spyglass,
he scanned the horizon just a moment before snapping the instrument
down. His tanned skin distinctly paled.

“
Come about starboard,” he
yelled. “All officers on deck. All hands. Come about! Come
about!”

The deck was suddenly filled with men,
all rushing to do what they could to turn the ship as quickly as
possible, to turn into the wave. A breach could mean a
capsize.

“
Here it comes, lads. Tie
yourselves down and hold on tight…”
Sara.
My God, where is Sara?

West abandoned his effort to tie
himself to the foremast and shot forward toward the tiny topcabin
that seemed miles away from him. She must be there, completely
oblivious to the danger she was in.

“
Sara!” he shouted until
his throat was raw as he ran and stumbled toward the topcabin, only
to feel a strong hand on his arm. Oliver held him, forced his arms
about a thick rope and shook his head, more meaning in that shake
than any words he could have uttered.

“
It’s here,” Oliver
shouted, just as a huge wave crashed over the ship’s bow. Tons of
water flooded the deck, and for a long moment West heard nothing
but the roar of water rushing past him, felt the ship rise and rise
until he feared they would tumble back down the wave, end over end.
And then, the ship crested the wave and rode it down, crashing into
the sea, jarring the ship so violently, West feared the old ship
would shatter.

Then: silence. Terrifying
silence.

He shook the water from his eyes,
desperately scanning the deck as Mr. Mason began a roll call. He
climbed over debris strewn about the deck, pushing away a sail
ripped from its mooring so that he could see if the topcabin was
undamaged. He stood there looking at the impossible. It was gone,
stripped from the ship as if it had never been there. West dropped
to his knees, no longer able to bear the weight of what he was
looking at.

“
Mr. Dawes,” he shouted.
“Lower the boats.”

His third mate’s eyes filled with
tears. “Yes, sir.”

“
West, we should search the
ship before setting out,” Oliver said. “She could have gone below.
She could be safe. Search below, sir, and then we’ll lower the
boats.”

West looked at his first mate. “Lower
the goddamn boats,” he said, then made his way to the companionway
to search below, though he had no hope he would find her there. Why
would he, when he’d banished her from his cabin because he’d been
too weak to resist her?

He went first to the dining room, the
aftercabin, his own stateroom, looking dully around as he quickly
realized they were empty. He let out a sound close to a sob, one
born of frustration and fear, before turning to search the other
rooms, even knowing such a search would be futile. Behind him, he
heard a door open.

He turned, and there she was stepping
from the captain’s head and rubbing her forehead, a frown on her
lovely face. When she saw him, she stopped abruptly, her expression
immediately filled with caution. And when West rushed toward her
with an idiot grin on his face, she looked as if she might run
away.

“
What happened? I hit my
head against the washstand and it hurts like the devil.”

West lay a hand on her cheek, his eyes
warm and open and likely revealing exactly how he felt about her.
He didn’t give a damn. “Does it now?” She nearly pulled away from
him, her eyes wary and confused.

“
Yes. It does. What
happened?”

She looked like a grumpy child made to
get up early and West had to resist the violent urge to take her in
his arms and drag her to his bed to prove to them both that she was
truly safe. “A rogue wave hit the ship,” he said distractedly, his
thumb reveling in the softness of her cheek. He watched as she
swallowed heavily.