Lost Honor (17 page)

“Then why can’t you look at me? And when you kissed me, you pulled away.”

“Oh Arianna, I couldn’t look at you when I came in because I knew I would do what I eventually did. I tried to stay as far away from you as possible, but it didn’t work. You are injured, and I don’t want to hurt you further. I meant what I said; you are beautiful. The bruises and the swelling will disappear in a few days.”

She petted her stuffed cat, and her sagging spirits soared. “Do you really mean it?”

“I don’t lie, and please call me Morgan when we are together.”

She smiled.

****

He looked at the animal she embraced and wished he could take its place. “What is that?” he asked, ready to change the subject from his kissing her.

“My cat. He protects me at night. I’ve had him since I was a little girl.”

“What were you scared of?”

“Rats. When I was younger and sailed with my papa, my brothers thought it was fun to scare me with them.”

It surprised him an animal as small as a rat could frighten her. She was fearless. At least she had been until Briggs attacked her. She would be once again. Her anxiety at being left alone would pass once she was well.

His heart went out to her as he pictured a young, innocent girl terrorized by her older brothers. But isn’t that what siblings did? Only he hadn’t. He had protected his sisters, brother, and mother after his father had left them destitute and worked to earn enough money to support them.

He knew the feeling of being scared and the need to support a family, even though he was a child at the time. It was what terrorized Arianna. But she had a father and brothers who would always take care of her. From this point onward, he wanted her to experience only happiness. She needed his protection not his lust. And he couldn’t ruin her and then leave her, which is what he would have to do if he bedded her. Susan was his future.

He stood, crossed the room, and gazed out the window to the west. The sight he hoped to see painted the sky. “Arianna,” he said returning to her. “I want to show you something.” He scooped her into his arms and strode back. He couldn’t bear to release her, so he slid onto the window seat and cradled her on his lap. “It is a beautiful sunset. The red sky means it will be a nice day tomorrow.”

Her heat seeped into him. Her long neck with the mole below the earlobe tempted him. But he retained a firm grip on his emotions. He had already kissed her once. A dishonorable thing to do when her defenses were battered. Taking advantage of her condition was something his father would have done, and he didn’t want to be like that man in any way. “If you would like, in the morning, I will carry you up on deck where you can breathe the fresh air.”

She hesitated for a long moment. “That would be nice, but I don’t want anyone to see my face, and I just have your shirt on.”

“I will rig a private area on the quarterdeck where no one can stare at you. If you wear my coat over the shirt, it will conceal the upper part of your body, and I’ll wrap soft, woolen blankets around the lower half. I wouldn’t allow you on deck unless you were decently clad.”

“I am all too aware of that fact.”

Morgan didn’t want to part with her, yearned for her to remain in his embrace for the rest of the night, but she needed her sleep. He stood with her cradled in his arms, walked to his berth, and laid her down. “Go to sleep.”

She snuggled into the covers and closed her eyes.

He sat down and watched over her.

****

Morgan was good to his word, and for the next week, he brought her to the quarterdeck and sat her in an area enclosed on three sides by tarps where she could gaze out at the sea, smell the invigorating, salt air, and feel the wind blow against her face.

She was never by herself. At night, Andrew and Morgan ate with her and later entertained her until she fell asleep. When she awoke in the morning, Mark was sitting in the cabin.

Morgan made no more inappropriate advances, and they were never alone except when they slept, he in the hammock and she in the bed. He wouldn’t hear of the reverse. He seemed to be always pushing Andrew into her presence, and his first mate didn’t protest. Andrew was a nice man, but she didn’t possess the same feelings for him that she did for Morgan.

It was for the best Morgan had lost interest in her, although whenever he passed by and didn’t look or smile in her direction, sadness encompassed her heart. She loved how his hands caressed her skin, the smell and taste of him, his kindness when he knew she needed it most, and even their arguments, which had dwindled, but would probably begin again when she talked to him tonight about resuming her duties.

Her face was almost back to normal, and she no longer needed a person to stay with her. The fear that had taken hold after Briggs’ attack had slowly dissipated as she healed. She was once again self-sufficient and whole.

She gazed up at the men in the ratlines silhouetted against a darkening sky. How she would love to be among them. Since her bodice and skirt had been destroyed, she had donned her comfortable and useful pants and shirt, and Morgan hadn’t protested.

“Arianna, Captain Danvers wants you to go below. A storm is coming upon us fast. Mark will stay with you in the cabin.”

She jumped to her feet. “Andr— Mr. Markham, let me help. Captain Danvers will need all hands on deck.” She straightened and squared her shoulders. “I have returned to my original strength, and I’m going mad, sitting all day with nothing to do.”

“Arianna, it is not my decision. Captain Danvers ordered it, and I think it best.”

She refused to cower in the cabin while everyone else risked their lives to keep the brig afloat. “Then, I’ll speak with him about it.”

He shrugged. “You can try, but it won’t do any good.”

She scanned the deck and immediately spied him. He was the tallest person on the ship, but she could find him in a crowd of four hundred. Her gaze always seized upon him, drawn by a force she couldn’t name. She recognized his endearing mannerisms, rigid carriage, and commanding movements.

Determined to make Morgan listen to her, she stalked up to him. “Captain Danvers.” With a frown, he turned from studying the sails to face her. “I wish to resume my duties.”

“Didn’t Mr. Markham relay my orders for you to go below? If not, I am telling you now, and I don’t want any arguments.” He spun from her as if she had already left, preparing the ship for the coming storm.

Did he think he could rid himself of her that easy? “Captain Danvers, you will need my help.” She spread her legs farther apart to brace herself as the brig climbed and then pitched over heightened swells. “I am fully recovered from my injuries.”

“Mark,” he yelled over the rising wind.

The boy appeared at once, his eyes shining with respect and admiration for his captain and ready to carry out his orders.

“Escort Arianna below and stay with her until the storm blows out.”

Mark’s face fell. She was sure he wanted to fight this storm along with the rest of the crew, not watch over a female. But he would obey orders. “Aye, Captain.”

“Morgan.”

He whipped his head around and glared at her.

She hadn’t meant to use his Christian name. It had slipped out with the desperation to make him listen. “I’m sorry. Captain Danvers, you need me.”

A myriad of emotions jostled in his dark, intense eyes before he quickly squashed them. “Mark, take her below, now.”

“But—”

Mark gripped her upper arm. “I have my orders, Arianna. Please come with me.”

Morgan walked away. He had commanded, and he expected her to comply. Forgotten. Not needed.

And as always, through her whole life, she would have to fight to prove she was worthy of notice, but she didn’t want Mark to be reprimanded for her disobedience, so she allowed him to lead her to the cabin.

****

Morgan’s gaze clung to Arianna’s straight back and the sway of her rounded hips in those damn pants as she marched away. Anger tightened every muscle in her, but he couldn’t battle the storm while he worried about her welfare. Cocooned in his cabin with Mark she would be safe unless the ship went down and then every life would be in peril. But he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He would not permit one man or woman beneath his protection to die.

He hurried to the quarterdeck and took control of the helm as his crew reefed the sails. Wind and the cold sea sprayed his face, burning his eyes. He squinted as he sought to see in a world darkened to black. He strove to ignore the images of Arianna that leaped to his mind as he had every minute of every hour. During the day he saw her needs were met and kept her under his watchful eye while leashing his own emotions. At night agony enveloped him, digging deep, as he listened to her breathe and move beneath the soft blanket that caressed her across the room from him. He longed to jump into her bed, curve his body around hers, and plunge into her.

A deluge of freezing water splashed over him, chastising him for thinking about sex at a moment like this. He spit out the liquid that shot into his mouth, but the taste of salt remained.

Morgan fought the pull of the wheel, his cramped fingers glued to the hard wood, his knuckles white, his aching muscles straining to keep the brig upright as the gale force battled to dislodge him.

Planting his feet, his gaze sliced through the pelting rain, struggling to keep track of every man’s progress, hoping he wouldn’t discover a particular woman. He didn’t trust her to obey him.

A flash of light blinded him.

Cra-a-ack.

The mainmast smoked. The men below it…

“Clear the deck, she’s coming down!” he roared, but his words were carried away by the wind.

Fortunately, the men heard the deafening explosion and scattered in different directions.

All escaped, except one.

Chapter Eleven

Pain shot through Arianna’s shoulder and down her arm as the ship heaved starboard and threw her from the berth to the floor. She had prepared herself for the pitching of the ship—she had ridden out storms as a child—but this one ripped her from the bed where she’d secured herself.

Mark staggered over and landed on his knees beside her. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she yelled over the creaking of the ship and the howling of the wind. All the lanterns had been doused to prevent a fire, and she could barely see him.

Mark helped her as she struggled to stand while the ship was tossed around like a child’s toy sailboat. The vessel shifted directions, and they tumbled onto the bed.

“I should be up on deck with the crew.”

“You are going nowhere,” Mark repeated for the tenth time. “I’d like to be up there in the thick of things too, but Captain Danvers always knows what is best.”

At least, he thought he did. How was he now? Cold and tired? Was he safe? Was he hurt? Had he been washed overboard?

“I can’t just sit here.” She jumped from the bed.

Mark grabbed her arm. “Oh no, you don’t. Besides, you can’t open the hatch. It can only be opened from above.”

Morgan had brainwashed them all. If Morgan ordered Mark to kill himself, he would do so.

“They—”

A resounding boom vibrated through the brig and thundered over the sound of the storm. Her heart caught in her throat. She tore from Mark’s grasp. She had to find Morgan and make sure he wasn’t injured. Somehow, someway, she would find a way to the main deck. She threw open the door and stumbled from the room, fighting to remain upright. Mark screamed her name, but she ignored him. Fear urged her on. Not fear the storm would destroy them or fear for her life but that of Morgan’s.

As she prepared to climb the ladder, the hatch ripped open and water poured through the hole. Two men carried a third. Was it Morgan?

Mark collided into her, but she held her ground.

“Sorry. Come back to the room.”

“Not until I find out how Captain Danvers is.”

He didn’t protest, probably as eager for news as she was. She impatiently waited, rocking with the ship, for the men to descend. Their boots hit the wooden deck, and they turned as they shifted the man they carried. Andrew. Pale and unconscious, he lay between the two seamen. Was he alive?

“What happened to him?”

“Mr. Markham was caught near the mainmast when lightning struck it, miss.”

Weaving down the corridor, thrown from one side to the other, she followed them to the surgeon with Mark trailing behind. “Captain Danvers. How is he faring?”

“Soaked, cold, and tired like the rest of us, but he is unharmed, miss.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, but a ball of fear for Andrew weighed her stomach. Andrew and she had become good friends this past week, although she feared he felt more for her than she did for him.

When they entered the room set up for the sick and injured, she noticed three other men awaiting treatment, Doctor Stevens working over one. “Put him on the table,” he threw over his shoulder.

Mark tugged on her arm. “Let’s go back to the captain’s cabin.”

The surgeon could use help. Here she could be useful and help Morgan if he became injured. “No, I am staying with Doctor Stevens.”