Sea Scoundrel (13 page)

He pushed the hair from her eyes and pressed her cheek to his chest, stroking her temple “Patience, you were wonderful out there tonight. No sailor could have done a finer job. From the moment you saw that derelict ship and alerted the watch, you were magnificent. I watched you while my head throbbed, my stomach revolted and my arms and legs refused to heed my instructions. You held our lives in your tiny, capable hands and saved us al . Only one in a hundred non-sailors would have thought to flash that light?

When you turned us from destruction, I knew you must be the bravest woman ever.”

Patience whimpered and burrowed closer.

Grant stroked her brow worried about this daze she was in.

“I’m not brave,” she said, after a minute, in less than a whisper.

He smiled. “Brave doesn’t mean you’re not afraid. It means that in the face of your fear, you do what you must to come that in the face of your fear, you do what you must to come about. And you did precisely that, both tonight and when you arrived in America. And do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think the families who placed their daughters in your care, and their faith in you, were very smart.” Patience shivered and sighed. “But I can’t do it.”

“Do what, love?”

“Find them husbands,” she wailed and looked him in the eye. “I don’t even
know
the Marquess of Andover.” He chuckled, certain now that his faith in her was wel -

placed. “Let’s worry about that later. If you hadn’t saved everyone tonight, you wouldn’t need to know the scoundrel.”

“But I have to do right by my girls, Grant. It’s important. I love them and I gave their parents my word.” She cal ed him Grant. Pride and humility warred within him.

Pride won. He kissed the top of her head. “You’l do your best to keep your word. If there’s anything I’ve learned, you’re sincere. Even when you’re not certain how, you do the right thing. Now, no more talk. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You’re freezing.”

She nodded, but kept her arms tight around his neck and nuzzled her face against his shoulder.

Grant chuckled. “Patience, you have to let go.” He loosened her hold, brought her icy hands to his lips, then he blew warmth over them while massaging them between his own.

“I have blankets. What I’m going to do is stand you up, peel you out of your wet clothes, quick as I can, then wrap you warm and tight. Al right?”

He was so frightened by her look of trust, he wanted to fetch Rose. But he couldn’t. He
needed
to be the one to care for Patience. As much as he knew
she
needed him to.

When he tried to stand her up, her legs buckled so he sat her down and knelt before her, practical y tearing her sodden clothes from her shivering body. In a flash, he held her up and wrapped her in Shane’s blankets like an Egyptian Mummy.

“No,” she squealed, when he tried to place her on his bunk.

“Don’t let me go.” She thrust her arms from their confinement and clamped them about his neck, the blanket gaping at her breasts.

He kissed the topmost arc of one, couldn’t help himself, and thought she might have purred. “Patience, I need to change into dry things, too. Let me go for just a minute while I change, then I’l hold you again.” Patience al owed him to set her on his bunk, but she seemed forlorn when he let her go, almost to the point of tears.

He groaned and turned his back to her, stripping and pul ing on dry trousers fast as he could.

When he turned back, she seemed a bit more relaxed. “Are you any warmer?”

“I’m only warm when you hold me.”

He smiled and poured her a brandy. “Here, sip this.” She shook her head.

“If you do, I’l hold you, again.”

She looked suddenly haunted. “Please no.”

“Patience, it’l warm you.”

“Spirits can make you do terrible things. No one should drink, Grant.”

“It’s like medicine.”

Her fear turned to sadness. “So Papa said.” A warning sounded in Grant’s head, but this was no time to pursue the questions that resulted. “Brandy is often given to people who have been injured or had a shock. Ask Doc tomorrow, if you don’t believe me, but drink it now. Please.” Her determination wavered.

“Patience, do you think I would give you anything to hurt you?”

“No,” she whispered.

Her easy answer purled through him the way his name on her lips for the first time had done. “Then drink this, please.” She nodded once and accepted the glass. Crinkling her nose, she took a sip and handed it back. “Thank you. That was—” She gasped.

“You need more than that,” he said, eyeing the glass.

“It worked.” She fanned her face. “I’m
much
warmer.”

“Just one more sip?”

She shook her head in adamant refusal.

He lifted her, gloried in the feel of her arms slipping easily around his neck, of her body pressed close, and turned back his blankets. He placed her near the wal , got in beside her and pul ed her close.

She put her head on his shoulder and her arm over his chest. “It’s hot in here.”

Damned hot.

Her sigh, as she drifted into sleep, fanned warm air against his cold neck. Her exposed breast, pressing soft against his chest, caused another stir. He smiled in contentment, covered her exposed parts and snuggled close, his own eyes closing.

* * *

“I can’t turn the ship! I don’t know how!” Patience’s scream woke Grant. “Shh. Patience, love.

Relax.” Her grip on his arm would probably cause a bruise.

She whimpered. “I don’t know how to steer a ship.”

“I’l teach you, Patience. Tomorrow, I’l teach you how to work the wheel.” He felt her calm. “Would you like that?” He stroked her arm resting on his chest.

She sighed and relaxed. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Captain?”

“Yes.”

“I just want you to know, I’m stil angry at you for sending Shane away.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Just so you know.”

“Be quiet and go to sleep.”

Patience woke in the Captain’s bunk—in Grant’s bunk—

alone, her clean sailors’ clothes placed over a chair. She remembered the
Phantom
ship and her panic, and running for the wheel, then she’d been here with the Captain. It had seemed so right to snuggle up to him and sleep. And,
oh!

sometime during the night, he’d promised to teach her to steer the ship! She got up, surprised she ached in so many places, dressed quickly and went on deck.

It was near noon, she surmised, by the placement of the sun, as she stepped into the fresh air. Cheers and whistles startled her. “Whatever is the matter with everyone?” she asked as her girls approached.

Sophie hugged her. “Patience, you saved the
Knave’s
Secret
and al aboard last night. Don’t you remember?”

“Did I?”

The Captain—thinking of him as Grant was difficult on deck, surrounded by sailors—stepped closer and nodded.

“The wheel was turning out of control after I was knocked senseless,” he said. “We were directly in the phantom ship’s path.”

Snatches of memory teased her. “I remember thinking we would split in two, that the girls, the sailors would die. I ... I tried to turn us in the opposite direction, away from the ship, so—” She recal ed using their names as she grabbed each spoke. “
I
turned us away from that ship?
I did it?
Not you?” Lord, the Captain was handsome when he smiled. “You did it,” he said. “We are al most grateful and wil continue to be for the years we’ve been given because of you.” Patience felt her blush, either from Grant’s smile or everyone else’s applause.

They stood in line, those formerly, nasty, grumbling tars, with their shaggy hair and beards and their leathery, wrinkled skin, and smiled and shook her hand. They thanked her one by one, cal ing her Ma’am, Lady Patience or Yer Ladyship. She was so happy she might cry. Grant stood beside her throughout, beaming with what seemed like pride. She would examine that thought later. The girls hugged her in turn.

The Captain said she showed incredible bravery, but her actions seemed more like practical, common sense to her.

Doc made a beautiful plum duff for lunch, because it was her favorite. Patience leaned toward the Captain when they were finished eating and the girls were deep in conversation between themselves. “Last night, when we were, ah, we were—”

“Sleeping?”

“Yes, sleeping.” She ignored the smile in his eyes. “You said you would teach me to steer the ship. Wil you?”

“I always keep my promises, and the sea is perfect right now. But aren’t your arms sore? Do you think you can manage it so soon?” His hands slid slowly up her arms and then down again as if he were trying to soothe her aches.

She wondered if he would he keep doing it, if she said they hurt, and considered it, but she was eager to handle the wheel, so she shrugged away her discomfort, experiencing disappointment when he released her.

The Captain took her hand. “Come along, then.” He led her to the wheel. “I’l set her on course. Now, stand here. Grab the spokes like so and feel the ship on its course. See how the sails are fil ed and the wind carries her forward? From here, we make certain we don’t go in the direction the wind directs al the time.”

directs al the time.”

Patience felt strength surrounding her, in the ship itself and in the man behind her. He slid his hands atop hers, his palms skimming her knuckles. He guided the wheel with her, her thril having little to do with control ing so massive a vessel. His breath tickled her neck. She wanted to turn her head, to feel his beard-stubbled cheek against her own, to lean into him.

“Now look at the compass and watch the mark,” he said, distracting her daft musings.
Just as well
. “If it moves to the left of the point, turn the wheel a couple notches to the right, to pul her back again. If she comes back too fast, shove her over a couple of spokes. Sometimes it’l take a couple more spokes to bring her to heel, but as soon as she’s where you want her, you’ve got to bring her back to where she was or you’l be running the ship in a circle the whole time.”

Patience turned in disbelief. “Could you repeat that?”

“You’l begin to see the sense after a time. Keep her on course and see what happens.”

Patience loved the sun kissing her hair, the wind sifting through it, the Captain’s deep rusty voice in her ear, and the tickle of his breath with each word he spoke. As if that was not enough, the power in keeping such a giant vessel on course surged through her like heat lightening at midnight, bright, deadly, and exciting.

He gave her a smile and a, “Good girl.” When he wasn’t angry, he could be downright wonderful.

Contentment flowed through her.

“Give her a spin to port,” he ordered.

When she fol owed his precise order, she laughed at his surprise.

“By, God, you’re a natural. You’ve had her al to yourself for the past half hour. You can take me sailing anytime.” He squeezed her shoulder and kept his hand there afterward.

Patience pictured a smal er vessel in a secluded sound, the two of them drifting alone of a lazy summer’s afternoon. His hands would be on her then, too. She’d let go the wheel and turn to wrap her arms around him....

The bel rang for the change in watch. She was surprised the afternoon had passed so quickly and sorry to see her lesson end.

After dinner, he walked her to her door while the others lingered over tales of buried treasure and ghost ships. He kissed her forehead. “Back to the hammock for me,” she whispered, as his lips lingered against her hairline and his arms came around her. She grieved that though Shane’s bunk lay empty, she couldn’t stay in his cabin with him.

Besides, it wasn’t Shane’s bunk she coveted, but Grant’s, his body close to hers.

He stepped back. “I’m afraid so. Last night was an unusual circumstance. Tonight would be—”

“Of course.” She colored, scooted inside, shut the door, and leaned against it. She had almost begged, but he had made excuses.

Sometimes she could be such an idiot.

When her hammock rocked, a short while later, Patience jumped before it could throw her. Books slid off the table.

“Al hands! Al hands on deck, ahoy, to shorten sail.” A thunderous crack split the night.

Water seeped under the cabin door.

“Get dressed,” she shouted to the girls then ran to the second cabin. The Captain met her in the companionway.

He ran a hand through his dripping hair. “A spar snapped. I need a couple of you to see to the injured. We’ve the storm from hel , and it’l be the devil to pay. The rest of you stay in the cabins. Don’t light the lamps.”

“Captain, wait.” Patience caught his arm. “Can we replace the injured men?”

Surprised, he nodded, “You, Angel and Sophie. Wear your pants and caps. Get some oil-skins and boots from the men’s quarters; they’l protect you from the weather.” Grace and Rose tended the wounded.

The Captain put Angel on the deck pumps, tying her to the mast to keep a wave from taking her.

When he put Patience on the wheel, her surge of triumph met one of fear. But she didn’t let him see it.

“The squal ’s taken al three topgal ant sails and parted the jib sheet,” he said, but she could hardly hear him over the gale’s fury. “I’ve got to go up the rigging. I need you here.

You’ve already got a feel for it; keep her straight as you can, else she’l twist ... but hel , you know that. Use everything I taught you today, but remember the sea and the wind are much more determined tonight.” Her heart warmed at his confidence, despite the icy elements.

He placed Sophie near her. “You pul at the same time as Patience, in the direction she tel s you.” He looked into Patience’s eyes. “With Sophie, you’re strength is doubled.” You al right with that?”

She nodded and quel ed a panicked urge to kiss him, for fear it would be their last.

He secured them both to the wheel house. “The rudder’l be flapping in the swel s and turning the wheel al to hel .” He squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Take in the mainsail,” he shouted a moment later. It fel , but the wind whipped it back into place with the report of a cannon. It became engorged like a bal oon, strained and split.