Island Flame (2 page)

Instead, she learned to dance, and her step was the lightest for miles around. She learned to walk with her toes turned slightly inward so that her flounced skirts swayed like a bell. She learned to smile entrancingly through her lashes, and to laugh, like a tinkling, silver bell, at the men who begged her for a kind word, or, more daringly, a kiss.

Most important of all, she learned to hide her true nature from the men who swarmed around. In company, especially the company of eligible young men, her actions matched the sweetness of her face. Her keen intelligence and hot temper were known only to her nanny, who fervently exhorted her charge to keep that one fault hidden until she found herself a husband.

Cathy’s father, Sir Thomas Aldley, ninth Earl of Badstoke and the Queen’s Ambassador to Portugal, loved his only child dearly. He saw very little of her, however, and had no idea of how headstrong and selfish she really was. He only knew that she was beautiful and charming, and a great credit to him in his position. It was unfortunate that she had inherited his own wildness of temperament, but she seemed to keep it carefully under control. It was a good thing, anyway, for a woman to have a bit of spirit. Kept a man on his toes. She was really a very good child on the whole, and it was only recently that she had ever given him cause for concern.
But during the past six months it seemed like every young puppy in Lisbon had been making up to her, and his daughter’s marriage to a foreigner could not in any way help his political career. Sir Thomas began to toy with the idea of removing his daughter from harm’s way by sending her, say, on a visit to his sister in England. He could join her there himself next year when his term as ambassador would be ended. In the meantime, he was confident, Cathy would become so caught up in the whirl of a London Season that she would have no time to miss her Portuguese beaus. And sister Elizabeth could be counted on to screen her niece’s new friends very thoroughly. Yes, sending Cathy to England was the best thing to do.

Cathy herself had stormed and cried when she was informed of these plans, but her father, once he had made up his mind, could be as stubborn as she was. In the end he wore her down, and, together with her nanny, was able to convince her of the wisdom of his scheme. It was true that she would enjoy being presented to Queen Victoria, who, in the fifth year of her reign, at age twenty-three, was not much older than Cathy herself. But England was so far away, and it had been almost seven years since they had lived there. What if the men did not find her attractive? Perhaps the fashion was for dark ladies in London, instead of for charming blondes. But her father and nanny both assured her, in their different ways, that her unusual beauty would stand out in any company, and Cathy allowed herself to be convinced. She had been an acknowledged beauty since before she entered her teens, and she could not seriously entertain the thought that any man might not admire her.

When the storm of her objections was safely weathered, the earl heaved a sigh of profound relief, and told
himself that he would have to take steps to correct Cathy’s wilfullness when he joined her in England. He then turned his attention to making arrangements for her safe transportation there—no easy task in such turbulent times. Lately there had been much talk of a band of pirates cruising in Portugese waters and preying on unarmed ships. The earl shuddered at the thought of his daughter falling into the hands of men who would have no regard for her innocence or high estate.

When the earl heard through a friend that the
Anna Greer
was soon to sail for England, it seemed like the answer to a prayer. On loan from England to the Portuguese navy, the
Anna Greer
was outfitted with an awesome array of armor and cannon. No pirate would dare to attack such a formidable ship!

It had been surprisingly easy to arrange for Cathy to be taken on board. She joined a small group of passengers on a ship that had, until this voyage, been confined solely to military operations. Neither the earl nor his daughter thought to wonder why the
Anna Greer
had so suddenly been permitted to carry civilians.

When the time came, Cathy parted from her father with scarcely a qualm. By then she was far too excited at the idea of taking London society by storm to feel sad about leaving a father of whom she really saw very little anyway. Besides, he would be joining her in England shortly, and he had assured her that she would love her aunt Elizabeth on sight.

It had been understood from the start that Martha would accompany her young mistress. With Martha along, Cathy could not possibly feel homesick, and the earl would be certain that his daughter was in good hands.

Two weeks later, with the
Anna Greer
well out to sea, Cathy was cursing the day she had ever consented to make the voyage. She was bored almost to the point of tears. The other passengers were all old enough to be stuffed and put on display in a museum, and the captain was more interested in sailing his ship than in entering into a light flirtation with the loveliest lady on board. She had attempted to try her charms on various members of the crew, some of whom were attractive in a rough sort of way, but Martha was always hovering nearby to spoil such sport.

Cathy sighed, leaning her chin on her hands and staring out over the rail disconsolately. If only something, anything, would happen to relieve the awful boredom!

The sun glinted on a thread in her peacock-blue brocade gown, and Cathy looked down at it absentmindedly. It really was a beautiful dress, she thought, as she smoothed the sleeve and admired the elegant way the cascade of lace at her wrists fell over her hands. It was, in fact, one of her favorites. The deep green-blue of the material made her eyes seem as dark and mysterious as the sea itself, and the tight-fitting bodice accentuated her tiny waist and rounded breasts. It was no wonder that she was attracting the attention of a good many of the sailors who were busy with chores about the deck.

Cathy tapped her foot against the deck impatiently, and her bottom, clearly outlined as she leaned over the rail, bobbed up and down in time to her tapping. A husky blond sailor who had been coiling rope nearby stopped what he was doing to stare openmouthed at the befuddling sight. Cathy saw his absorption out of the corner of her eye, and, with a little gurgling laugh turned around. She smiled at the man, her blue eyes sparkling provocatively,
and started to speak. But before she could say a word a plump hand tugged at her sleeve.

“Don’t you be talkin’ to them rough sailors, now, Miss Cathy.” Martha had crept up behind her as quietly as a cat. “What would your papa say? Besides, you know yourself that you don’t want to have anything to do with ’em. You’re goin’ to be marryin’ some rich duke or count or somethin’, when we get to England.”

“Oh, hush up, Martha!” Cathy scowled at the gray-haired little woman who was clinging so doggedly to her sleeve. “I shall talk to whomever I please. Besides, I was just going to ask this fellow how long it will be before we reach England.”

“Be at least another week, ma’am,” the sailor said, grinning at Cathy and cheerfully ignoring the frown that Martha directed at him.

“Another week!” sighed Cathy, demurely lowering her dark lashes and allowing her dimples to come into play. “It sounds like forever! And sea voyages are so deadly dull! I wish there was something to do to occupy the time.” She smiled at the sailor, who flashed another of his impudent grins at her.

“Now, Miss Cathy, you hush talkin’ like that!” Martha said, scandalized by her charge’s bold behavior. She grasped Cathy firmly by the arm and attempted to drag her away. Cathy resisted indignantly, and, in desperation, Martha turned on the grinning sailor.

“And you, sailor, if you don’t get on about your business and stop annoying innocent young ladies, I’ll report you to the Captain. That I will!”

The sailor made a face at her, and opened his mouth to give voice to what Cathy was certain would be a very
pithy reply. Fortunately, a cry from overhead cut him off.

“Sail ho!” The words came echoing down from a man high aloft.

“Where away?” a chorus of voices demanded at once.

“Off the port bow!” boomed the reply, and immediately everyone on deck peered to the left, across the open sea.

Cathy stood on tiptoe, straining her eyes for a glimpse of the approaching ship. She could see nothing but an endless expanse of water, broken only by tips of white, as gentle waves broke into the sea. The horizon was a fiery orange as the sun sank beneath it, and Cathy was certain that there was no ship anywhere near at hand.

“It’s just a mistake,” she said to Martha, disappointed. “There’s nothing out there. I can see clear to the horizon, and there’s not a thing.”

The blond sailor turned from the rail to smile at her. “It’s not likely that you could see anything, ma’am. That ship is pretty far away. But there’s a ship out there if Dave says so. He’s up a lot higher than we are, and he has a spyglass. Likely we won’t be able to see her until tomorrow morning at the earliest. That is, if she’s coming this way.”

It seemed as though he was right. Cathy stayed out on deck until long after dark, hoping for a glimpse of the ship, but she could see nothing. Finally, the cold and Martha’s repeated admonishments drove her to her cabin. Once there, she wrapped a blanket around herself and huddled, shivering, on the edge of her bunk while Martha prepared her bath. Under the old woman’s disapproving eye she sprinkled rose bath salts liberally in the water, and then lay back, luxuriously to soak the chill away.

As she bathed, Martha bustled about the cabin, picking up Cathy’s discarded clothing and putting it neatly
away. She grumbled loudly as she did so, scolding Cathy for her boldness in speaking to a common sailor in such a familiar way. And as for putting scent in her bath water, well, it was all of a piece. They both knew that only one kind of woman acted that way. Martha sighed and said that Miss Cathy’s poor mother must be turning in her grave to see her daughter acting so common.

Cathy smiled faintly at the tirade, closing her eyes and sinking deep into the water. Martha’s scolds didn’t upset her in the least; she was used to them. She ignored the angry muttering and turned her thoughts to what she would wear the next day. She wanted to look her best. She had enjoyed talking to that sailor today, and seeing the admiration in his eyes. Tomorrow she intended to thoroughly bewitch him. Perhaps the primrose silk. … She went on making plans until she fell asleep.

Dressed in pale-yellow silk, with her red-gold curls piled high on her head, Cathy was a vision to rival the sun the next morning. As soon as she had completed her toilette she rushed up on deck to see if she could catch a glimpse of the approaching ship. She saw it as soon as she reached the rail. It looked like a beautiful ship, far different from the flat, military vessel on which she was traveling. Under full sail, the other ship was as graceful as a bird, and its proud, high prow rode the waves with ease. It grew larger as Cathy watched, entranced, and she realized that it was closing on the
Anna Greer
with amazing speed.

“It … it’s so beautiful!” she murmured aloud, as the blond sailor she’d met the night before came up beside her.

“She is that,” he said. “But Captain Hogg. … Well, he don’t remember that the Frogs had a ship like that under sail, and she’s flying a French flag. She looks more like one
of them new clipper ships, from New England out in the colonies. Until we find out for sure, the Captain requests that you ladies retire to your cabin. Just in case, you know.” He squirmed uncomfortably as Cathy turned to look at him.

“What do you mean, in case? What does Captain Hogg think it is? Not … surely not … pirates!” Her voice rose on the last word, and the sailor stared down at her, alarmed. The last thing they needed, with a possible pirate ship closing in, was an hysterical woman. He swallowed, and spoke up hastily.

“No, ma’am, probably not. The Captain just wants to make sure … just in case, you know. Most likely she’s just a new ship we’ve not seen before. But until we find out, it’d be healthier for you ladies in your cabin.” He turned to Martha, who had just come up on deck, and repeated the warning. Then, in response to a hail from the quartermaster, he hurried away.

“Miss Cathy, we must go below at once!” Martha said, clutching at Cathy’s arm and attempting to drag her away from the rail by main force.

“I’m not going anywhere, Martha, so you can just let go of me!” Cathy cried, and shook off Martha’s hand with determination. “I want to be up on deck where I can see whatever happens. You know yourself we’d both go crazy down in the cabin, not knowing what was happening or if it was a pirate ship. No, there will be time enough to go below if trouble starts.” She shook her head decidedly, and Martha, long familiar with the stubbornness of her charge, gave up arguing. Sir Thomas should really have done something about Miss Cathy’s willfulness years ago. Now it looked as though it might get them both killed! Angrily muttering, Martha remained at Cathy’s side.

The ship drew steadily closer until Cathy was able to make out the name,
Margarita
, painted in bold black letters across its prow. She could see men, looking no bigger than ants, scurrying about the deck. On the quarterdeck a lone figure motionless, staring across at the
Anna Greer
through a spyglass.

As Cathy watched, the fluttering square of silk that had been flying at the
Margarita
’s flagpole was slowly lowered. In its place rose a black flag which was all too obviously the emblem that had been described to her at sedate afternoon teas. When she had heard about the black flag and what it stood for, Cathy had said proudly that she would never be afraid of any pirate, and that, indeed, she would quite like to meet one. Now her fear was like an iron band closing around her throat, cutting off her breath.

“Miss Cathy, it’s pirates! Pirates! Oh, my land, Jesus and his saints preserve us! What shall we do?” Martha’s hand was cold with fear as she pulled on Cathy’s wrist. “We must go below, Miss Cathy! There’s going to be fighting up here!”