Sea Scoundrel (6 page)

She looked within herself. “I want a smal cottage with a rose garden, in Arundel or Amberly. I like the South of England, especial y Sussex. On the River Arun or perhaps further south, near the sea.” She looked straight at him, and her smile made him feel as if she were granting his greatest wish. “I want to be an independent woman, with a white kitten for my lap, and my old nurse, Martha, for my companion.”

“Exactly why, then, are you trying to find titled husbands for a bunch of flighty American women?”

“For the money, Captain. The money. They want husbands.

Their mothers want them to have
titled
husbands. They are paying me and I’m providing a service. A service, I might add, that is best accomplished in a London drawing room by a titled woman of English Society. When those four young ladies are married, I wil have my dream.”

“You’re every bit as young as they are.”

“I’m not, I told you. I’l be five and twenty soon after we reach England. I’m on the shelf, Captain. And glad of it. There, now that’s finished for today. We can leave.” Sudden anger burst within him, at her, at her practical heartlessness, but it made no sense. She wasn’t rejecting
him
. She didn’t want any man. And he was a fool to be disturbed by it.

“You’re a heard-hearted wench, Patience Kendal , and it’s a good thing you want a cold and empty house. You’ve a cold and empty heart to go with it. Do some poor beastie a favor and leave the kitten to someone who can love it.” He climbed toward the main deck, not caring if she fol owed.

Surprised at the Captain’s sudden ire, Patience picked up the bucket. They hadn’t known each other long, but this wasn’t the first time his actions confused her. She shrugged and fol owed. When they arrived on the upper deck, Rose and Shane were huddled together talking. Patience was glad Rose wasn’t crying, but she worried about what the Captain would say.

He turned to her. “Give me your hand.” Glad he ignored Rose and Shane, Patience held one hand palm-up, but hid the other behind her back.

“The other one, dammit.”

With a moue of disgust, she complied.

“Devil take it, Patience, you must have half a dozen splinters here. How in Hades could you get so many in such a short time? I told you not to grab the beams.”

“I slipped and caught myself. You told me to be careful after I said, “Ouch.” It was your fault, not mine.” He made a growling sound and clamped his hand around her upper arm. “Come along.”

Al owing that he actual y meant to help her, Patience let herself be dragged behind him, but she entertained an overwhelming urge to trip him for his tactics.

The Captain’s cabin was as sunny and bright as Patience remembered. The multi-paned windows forming the farthest wal must be the windows along the aft of the ship whose beauty she had admired from the dock. From inside, with the sun shining, they were something to behold.

Below the wal of windows, a bench sat, one similar to a church pew, with soft, maroon velvet cushions. A person could rest, back to the window, or kneel on the seat, facing out. Were this her cabin, she would spend countless hours watching the sea. She knelt to look out now, resting her elbows on the wide sil , her chin in her hands.

A scrape, a crash and a grumble brought her back to her surroundings. She winced stil not sure if coming here had been the smartest thing she’d ever done. Al that noise, and al the annoyed scoundrel was doing was rummaging through his sea chest. She watched him for a bit then wandered about. She tested the softness of the mattress on a bunk. She sat for a minute at the large round table in the center of the room and ran her hand over the ornate carving on a matching chair. Then she wandered over to examine leather-bound books, decanters, and nautical instruments in the glass-fronted cabinet which occupied the only real wal in the cabin.

With a scowl, a vial, a cloth, and a knife, the Captain approached her.

She took a step back. “If you think I’l let a man, who’s been furious since setting eyes on me, gouge me with a knife, you’re daft.”

“Shut up and give me your hand.”

“Wil you give it back?”

“Patience. I’ve had about enough.”

“Hmm. I know exactly how you feel. Here then.” He took said hand and dragged it close to the window. “Ouch.”

“Blast it. I haven’t touched you yet.” Patience liked the spark of humor in his eyes.

He probed for the largest of the slivers and dislodged it so quickly she hardly realized he’d moved until the pain of him ripping it out surprised her.

“Blast!” Patience pul ed her hand away to suck at the sore spot. She watched him as her mouth soothed her stinging palm. He looked ... surprised? Whatever his reaction, his expression gave her the fluttering jitters.

“Damnation, Patience, I’ve hardly got started. Now give me that hand and don’t move it again until I tel you.”

“Yes sir, Captain, sir.” She pul ed her hand from his to salute. “Oh, sorry,” she said, when he snarled and pul ed it back.

She was forced to kneel on the bench as he tugged her hand across the wide sil and closer to the window.

“Some of them are so smal , I can hardly see them.” Patience wasn’t sure if he was explaining to her or himself.

By the time they were in a position that he seemed to find acceptable, her arm was stretched so far her fingers touched the window.

His height overwhelming, her would-be surgeon hunched behind and over her on the bench, one of his knees bent between hers, and she felt the hard contact to her toes. So immersed was he in his task, she was able to examine his face without detection. In his concentration he squinted, sketching deeper lines around his big, ink-black eyes and furrowing lines above his brows. In demon-like concentration, those eyes were the perfect foil to a tan face framed with waving ebony hair.

“You must be very old.”

She must have startled him, because his hand jerked and he nicked her.

“Ouch.” She attempted to move away but he pinned her in place with his muscled legs.

“I’m nearly finished. Quit squirming.” He re-bent to his task.

“Why do you think I’m old?” He never looked at her with the question, but concentrated on her hand.

“Because you have gray in your hair. Aunt Harriette has gray in hers and she’s very old.”

“I didn’t have a single one until four days ago, Patience.” She stiffened at the implication.

He chuckled at her frown. “I suspect your Aunt Harriette has so many because you gave her each and every one.” Anger urged her hand from his.

“Don’t bloody move!”

With a sigh, she lay her head on her arm and closed her eyes. He shifted so that he was no longer above but beside her, her injured hand protected within his large capable one. He remained quiet.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head to view him better. With those little lines relaxed now around his eyes, he gazed into hers.

The center-hung lantern, creaking in rhythm with the moving ship, became the only sound.

From nowhere, a huge sense of elation, or contentment, or perhaps just relief that the Captain was finished, fil ed Patience.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Moving from one injury to the other, he soothed each with his mouth, as she had done.

Patience’s heart beat a cadence she did not recognize.

Prickles raced from her hand, up her arm, and throughout her body, coming to rest in the most ludicrous places. She conceived an absurd notion to explain what happened inside her, and then he smiled. He smiled as if he knew quite wel what happened and where those feelings centered.

That horrible, revealing heat rising in her face, again, she pul ed free and leapt to the floor. “Thank you. I’l go up, out, wherever, and leave you to your work.” The Captain made a strangled sound, one akin to a groan and growl at the same time.

She nearly laughed.

“Wait,” he said, with a brusqueness that forced her to obey.

Scowl in place, he poured an oily liquid from the vial onto a cloth and gently dabbed the sore spots. “If Doc took the splinters out, he would dunk this poor torn hand in salt brine when he finished. You’d be jumping from the sting.”

“I didn’t know.”

He nodded but the scowl remained. “I want you to put a stop to Rose and Shane.”

“What?” Confused at the quick change of subject, Patience felt, nonetheless, easier with judicious, reassuring fury.

“They are spending entirely too much time together,” he said.

“Captain we’ve only been at sea four days.”

“Precisely. In a few weeks, they’l be ... even friendlier. See to it
that
doesn’t happen.”

And what did he mean by that? “Are you so protective of al your men, Captain?”

“I’d protect any that needed it, yes. But Shane is my younger brother. He has no title and I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“I’d hardly classify Rose as a woman with claws, but I’l speak with her.”

Patience left, outrage in every pore of her body. His final,

“See that you do,” left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.

She seethed for some time after that, trying to find a valid excuse for denying his wishes. But he was right. Her girls weren’t there to find husbands among the seamen and Patience was sure Rose’s mother would agree with the Captain’s assessment, not that
she
was a recommendation.

Beaten, Patience final y went to the couple, heads bent together in furtive discourse. “Rose, you should not be taking up Shane’s time like this. You keep him from his duties.” This was awkward, Patience thought, and she resolved to repay the arrogant Captain for placing this uncomfortable situation in her lap. She cleared her throat.

“Wil you go and look in on Angel for me?” Head down, Rose stammered an apology to no one in particular, and left.

Patience was surprised when Shane touched her arm.

“Ma’am, I mean, Lady Patience.”

Patience sighed. “Patience, please. I’m beginning to hate the sound of,” She scowled and lowered her voice, “Lady Patience!”

Shane chuckled and touched her arm. “Rose is suffering.

You don’t understand about her. She needs someone to talk to.”

“Do you understand about her, Shane?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“You think she needs
you
to talk to, to help her through whatever is hurting her so?” How wel Patience understood such a need, if not Rose’s particular one.

“She does. I’m good for her. I can make her smile.”

“Rose is looking for a titled husband. Your brother is worried you’l get hurt.”

“Rose isn’t. Her mother just wants to be rid of her.

Blackmail’s what it is. Rose doesn’t have a choice. And as far as my brother is concerned, wel it’s time he learned I’m a big boy and can take care of myself.” He nodded. “If you’l excuse me.”

Patience shook her head, even as she watched the first mate walk away. The next time she heard the Captain shout, ‘Lady Patience!’ she should probably jump overboard and save him the trouble. He wasn’t going to appreciate that she told Shane what he said.

* * *

The Captain sat at his desk fil ing in the ship’s log, trying to concentrate, one question going round in his brain. Did he want to wring the vixen’s pretty little neck, or would he rather stroke it?

He didn’t bother to look up when the door to his cabin opened and shut; Shane came in and out al day. But, eventual y, the lengthy silence cal ed for him to raise his gaze.

Hands on hips, Shane waited patiently for permission to give voice to that which seemed heavy on his mind.

“Are you here as my brother or my first mate?” Grant asked.

Shane squared his shoulders. “Your brother.” Grant nodded. “Sit down. Have some port, and tel me what’s bothering you.”

“Actual y, Grant,
you
are.”

Grant took a sip of his drink and sat back. “The red-headed witch told you what I said.”

Shane smiled. “Does that make you mad?”

“Hel yes.” Grant slammed his quil on the table and stood to pace. Enough was enough. “That woman’s the worst nuisance I’ve had to deal with in my entire thirty-five years.

She’s ... conniving, aggravating and mark my words, she’s trouble.” He threw his hands in the air. “She’s autocratic and demanding and so damned haughty, I’d like to ... to ...

bring her down a peg or ... ten.”

Shane chuckled. “And she’s beautiful.”

“Yes, damnation. But that’s not the point.”

“And she’s desirable. And that makes you maddest of al , big brother.”

“If you weren’t my brother, Shane, I’d hit you.” Shane touched his brother’s chest with the tip of his forefinger. “Stay away from her, Grant. So you won’t get hurt.”

Grant laughed, the irony in Shane’s order not lost on him.

Except that he was not smitten with Patience, like his brother was with Rose. He was aggravated as al hel with her—there was, perhaps, some lust involved, but no stronger attraction than that. He, at least, remained alert to the danger in the possibility.

Not so his brother. Looking at Shane’s earnest, enamored expression right now, Grant knew problems were brewing.

Big ones.

Shane’s smile turned slumberous. “There’s something about Rose, Grant. She needs me, and I think maybe I need her. I’d like the chance to find out.” He grinned. “Same as you’d like the chance to find out if your Firebal wil singe your eyebrows if you get too close.”

The Captain laughed. “Appropriately put. But I have enough sense to step back if it gets too hot.”

“More fool you. But I want the opportunity to al ow my relationship with Rose to come to its natural conclusion ...

without interference from you.”

Grant nodded reluctantly, and winced at his notion of what a natural conclusion entailed. “You know what I told the men.”

“There’l be friendships, Grant, and you said that was fine.

We’re going to be out here a long time. Maybe, there’l be a couple of problems. But you’l handle it. You’re a good captain.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“The old man told you that before you took me on. Come to think of it, that was nothing to what he said about you. I seem to remember something along the lines of,