Surrender To A Scoundrel (9 page)

“Well done,” he said.

The boat picked up speed, and she felt the
chilly wind on her cheeks. “There’s quite a strong wind now, isn’t there?” She reached up to hold onto her hat.

He looked up at the mainsail. “Not exactly. It just feels that way because we’re sailing upwind. On our return, we’ll have the wind at our backs, and it will seem almost completely calm.”

Still holding on to her hat, she looked up at the mast. Both sails were pulled tight. “I’ve always wondered how it’s possible to move forward when you’re sailing
into
the wind.”

“We never point directly into it,” he explained. “If you look at the direction of the waves and feel the wind on your face, you’ll see that we are sailing at an angle toward it, and with the sails trimmed just right, we’ll get where we want to go.”

“And where is that, exactly?” She supposed she should have asked that question before she agreed to sail with him today.

“I plan to take you around The Needles.”

“The Needles. What in the world…?”

There was laughter in his eyes. “Be patient. All in good time.”

Evelyn tried to relax and not worry about things. She settled in but felt some apprehension when she looked at the boom. “Is there any danger that will swing across and knock us into the water?”

“Not unexpectedly. At least not while
I’m
at the helm.”

She continued to watch it, to see if it would move. “But what if you leave me here again to do something to a sail, and I’m the one steering?”

He considered that a moment. “Good God, I hadn’t thought of that. In that case, if I yell duck, hit the deck as fast as you can.”

“
What?
”

He started to laugh. “I’m joking, Evelyn. You need to
relax
. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

She raised her chin and faced the wind directly. “We’re here because I’ve never been sailing before, and I wished to try it.”

He chuckled softly. “I think there are a lot of things you’ve never done before and wish to try.”

Her eyes widened. “I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to, Lord Martin. In fact, I don’t think I
want
to know.”

“Oh, but I think you do.” He was still chuckling, leaning toward her, gazing at her with a teasing light in his eyes.

More than a little unsettled, she found herself retreating behind her familiar stone wall of dignified reserve, even though she knew he only found it amusing and would take great pleasure in finding a way around it.

“You are a scoundrel, sir, for I have given you no cause to think such a thing, much less speak of it.”

He faced forward again, standing tall before the wheel. “But you have, Mrs. Wheaton. Or
Evelyn…May I call you that? You see, you’ve agreed to go sailing alone with a notorious rake—who you once saw with your very own eyes naked in bed with a laundry maid—when Lord Breckinridge could just as easily have taken you sailing today. Unlike me, he would have agreed to bring his aunt and uncle, and it all would have been perfectly respectable.”

She didn’t know what to say to such scandalous allegations because they were all true.

“But you’re not allowed to worry about respectability today,” he continued. “Not here on the water, because this is the place where all restrictions disappear, and the only thing worth worrying about is which way the wind is blowing. Those are the rules of my boat, madam. There is no past. The future isn’t upon us yet, so we need only concern ourselves with the present. You can say anything you wish to say, or do anything you wish to do. You have my permission to be completely free.”

She wondered if he said that to every woman he brought on board.

“I don’t need your
permission
to be free,” she told him, but she sounded defensive, even to her own ears.

He nodded with an air of respect, although she knew he was just being polite. “Right then—we know what we’re about. So let’s head out to open water. Take the wheel if you please.”

He stepped back and waited for her to take
hold. When she had a good grip, he leaped gracefully onto the foredeck and made his way past the windward shrouds.

“Brace yourself, Evelyn!” he called out with a smile, holding on to a line while the wind blew his thick hair in all directions. “It’s time to gain some speed!”

E
velyn sat on the bench beside Martin, trusting him to see them safely down the Solent as they left Cowes behind and sailed toward deeper waters. Gulls circled overhead, occasionally diving to catch a fish. The morning sky was still white with low-hanging clouds, though it had brightened, and the fog was blowing out to sea.

“Would you like to hold the wheel again?” Martin asked.

“Do you need me to?”

“No, but I promised to teach you a thing or two, didn’t I? So why don’t you come here.”

She wet her lips, dry from the wind in her face, and stood up. She was learning very quickly how
to move on the boat, always in motion, pitching and rolling. She had to take great care in getting from one place to another.

When she reached Martin, he stepped back and let her take hold. Again, he stood behind her and wrapped his hands around hers. She inhaled sharply at the sensation of his rough, stubbled jaw against her cheek.

“Let’s turn it slightly,” he said, “and see what happens to the sails.”

She felt the pull of his strong hands around hers and looked up as the boat shifted direction. The canvas snapped tight and wrinkled slightly.

“Is this better?” she asked, fighting to remain focused on the boat and the sails, when she was completely distracted by the nearness of his hard, lean body behind her.

Again, he dipped his head to speak close to her ear, and she closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the timbre of his deep, masculine voice. “Not really, but do you see how the sails have to be trimmed to suit the direction of the boat? Watch what happens if we do this.”

He turned the wheel farther over still, and the sails flapped noisily for a moment before he turned it back.

Evelyn continued to hold the wheel, recognizing the sensation of being in control of the rudder, while Martin explained how the direction of the
wind was key, and how all the elements worked together to affect speed.

“It’s physics,” she said, becoming fascinated by the complexity of the air and water flow working together, and comprehending how the shape of the hull and sails and the size of the keel all played an important part in the boat’s movement.

For the next hour, he taught her about the science of it all, and though he let her steer the boat by herself, he always remained close by at her side, except for when he had to adjust the lines, which he did so quickly and ably when they tacked.

“You certainly know what you’re doing,” she said to him later that morning, as the boat heeled to starboard.

“I like to think so.”

She remembered what Lord Breckinridge had said about Martin the day before, and what she herself had thought when she’d watched him sail into Cowes.

“I believe some people might underestimate your skills,” she said. “Lord Breckinridge in particular.”

Martin’s eyes gleamed with interest, as if this were information that could help him win or lose the race. “What makes you say that?”

“Well…” she replied somewhat reluctantly, “his first mate on the
Endeavor
went to school with you at Eton and remembers your reputation for being wild and reckless, and because of that, I
believe he assumes you will make rash decisions.”

“Who is his first mate?” Martin asked.

“A gentleman by the name of Sheldon Hatfield.”

Martin looked out to sea, nodding. “Ah yes, he would certainly think me reckless, among other things.”

“Why?” Evelyn had the distinct feeling there was something scandalous behind this. But with Martin, there was
always
something scandalous in the milieu.

“I once took a lady friend of his riding and gave her a spirited horse. She was screaming the entire time.”

“And you found that amusing?” Evelyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled. “Of course. But then she needed to be rescued, and I had to take charge. It was quite a daring rescue, if I do say so myself. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Hatfield dislikes me so much
because
of the rescue. He was rather smitten with the young lady in question, you see.”

“And you seduced her,” Evelyn said knowingly.

“I wouldn’t say ‘seduced,’ but she did entertain a bit of a crush afterward. I had to avoid her for weeks.”

She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “As I’m sure you had to avoid
many
young ladies. I can think of one in particular.”

“Your friend. What was her name?”

“Penelope Steeves! I cannot believe you! How can you not even remember?”

There was humor in his eyes as he shrugged. “She was very pretty, wasn’t she? Blond hair?”

“Weren’t they all pretty and blond?” she replied with mocking derision.

Martin chuckled. “So tell me, why didn’t Miss Steeves join you this week? Are you no longer friends?”

“Of course we are still friends,” she replied. “But she is Mrs. Richardson now, and her husband passed away this year. She is in mourning, as I have been until recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He faced the wind, and they sailed on. He seemed lost in thought for a long time, until his tone changed and he returned to the topic of their earlier conversation. “Regardless of what Hatfield thinks of me,” he said, “let me assure you, Evelyn—a reckless man cannot skipper a boat, at least not effectively. The strictest discipline is required, and one can never let down his guard or take too lightly the power of the sea, except at his own peril. Even at anchor, you are susceptible to the tides and currents.”

She pondered that. “So the idea is never to feel completely comfortable? Or too much at ease?”

He squinted into the wind while she waited for
him to answer. He did not look at her when he replied. “That’s right.”

“Is that what happened when you wrecked your first two boats?” she asked. “You were too confident?”

A flash of surprise crossed his features. “You know about that?”

“Many people do. I heard it from Lord Radley.”

His eyes became stony with a hint of contempt. It reminded her of that day at the train station, when she’d seen a side of him that was very different from the persona that made him famous.

“That’s no one’s business,” he said.

“My apologies,” she replied, surprised by the sudden change in his mood and not sure what had caused it. “I didn’t know.”

He shook his head dismissively. “It’s fine. Things were different then.”

She recalled what he’d told her earlier—that his brother had commissioned those boats just after he’d returned from America. Had something happened to him when he was abroad?

At that moment, he walked to the port side and leaned out to look carefully at the jib. Before she could ask him anything more, he told her to keep the wheel steady and left the cockpit. He walked along the side rail to the bow and checked every block and cleat.

She watched his face, saw how focused he was on what he was doing, and wondered if any of it
was necessary. The sails looked fine to her. But she was no expert sailor, she realized.

He lingered up front for a long while, hanging on to the forestay and looking straight ahead over the water. Later, when he returned, she waited a moment before she spoke. “So is that what you love about sailing?” she asked. “It keeps your mind busy and occupied?”

He still seemed distracted as he tipped his head up to inspect the mainsail. “I guess that’s part of it. I like to get everything working just so in order to get the most out of the boat, and I can’t rest until she’s moving as fast as she can.”

Evelyn turned the wheel slightly.
“And you tell me I’m the one who needs to relax?”

His gaze darted to her profile, then he laughed and shook his head. “I did say we were similar creatures, didn’t I? We have that in common, I suppose—we both need some slack in our lines.”

“Speak for yourself!” she replied, feigning great umbrage. “I like my lines pulled very tight, sir, because with my inconceivable beauty, I have to do
something
to keep the wicked rakes like you at a safe distance.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded, then they both gave in to their laughter. She wondered how it was possible they could be having this conversation. Who knew
she
could be amusing?

“You’re quite a woman, Evelyn.” Then he wagged a warning finger at her. “It’s a good thing
I didn’t know you better back at Eton, or you would have been in considerable trouble.”

Her heart jolted at the compliment, for it was so very gratifying to hear him say such a thing after all those years when she believed he thought her dull and unattractive. Especially when he was not playing the part of the charmer right now. He seemed very genuine. She steered the boat with a smile.

“You know,” she said, “I think you were right earlier. There is something about being on a sailboat that makes you feel different. I don’t feel like my usual self.”

His voice became husky and low, sensual, but not at all presumptuous. “And does it feel good, Evelyn?”

Just the sound of her name on his lips was astoundingly erotic in her ears. “Yes, I believe it does.”

“Then maybe you should be this
different
self more often.”

Desire burned through her as she recognized the flirtation between them. Meaningless to him, perhaps—a man who seduced women casually and on a regular basis—but not to her. Never to her. Not with him…

But with that thought, came an almost stabbing sense of alarm. She turned her face away. She could not let herself imagine that this was something deep or meaningful. She had to re
member that in his mind this was simply another day of sailing, and she was just another amusing female conquest. She could not let herself feel anything too deeply, or give in to any improbable hopes, because he was not like her. He was a different sort of person. He lived for the moment and felt nothing too deeply.

Later, she sat on the high side of the boat with her back against the center skylights while the
Orpheus
sang through the choppy waters, leaving a wild, churning wake off the stern. The sky was blue now, and the sun was shining brightly.

“We’re almost to the point!” Martin called out. “Turn around! Look port side!”

She swiveled on her bottom and raised a hand to hold on to her hat, seeing for herself the breathtaking vista before them. Chalky white cliffs towered over the sea, and at the northwestern tip of the island, a straight line of jagged outcroppings rose up from the water. A red-and-white lighthouse clung to the farthest rock.

“They look like icebergs, all in a line!” she shouted.

They rounded the light house and cliffs, where foamy surf pounded against the rocks.

“It’s spectacular!” Evelyn stood and held on to a line with one hand while she held her hat with the other. Her skirts were whipping wildly around her legs as they came about. She’d never seen a sight like this in all her life.

Martin held the wheel, smiling in accord.

Once they’d rounded the sharp tip of the island, Evelyn made her way back to the cockpit. “What will we do now? Will we turn around?”

She felt a small flickering of disappointment deep in her core suddenly, because she did not want this to end. A part of her wished she could continue sailing with Martin forever.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his gaze roving from her eyes to her lips, lingering there for a few seconds before darting back up again.

She wished—as she so often did—that she were prettier.

“I’m becoming so,” she replied. Then she pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose.

He stared at her for a moment, seeming almost captivated by her eyes, and she thought she must be dreaming. He was not captivated. He could not be. Not with her…

Then he said, “Hold this.”

She took the wheel.

He slowly moved closer, and she thought he was going to take her face in his hands and kiss her.
God in heaven, would he?
Was it possible he could want to? A fiery thrill shot up her spine at the thought of it.

His hands came around to her ears and he grasped her spectacles by the wires and removed them from her face. Without them, she felt open and exposed.

He smiled reassuringly then looked down at them. “I don’t know how you can see through these, Evelyn.”

He reached into his jacket pocket for a handkerchief, puffed on the lenses, then proceeded to wipe them clean, for they were coated in salt.

Evelyn swallowed uncomfortably, feeling foolish for thinking he might kiss her. Of course he did not want to. What had she been thinking?

He cleaned the lenses with tiny circular motions of his thumb, held them up to the light, then wiped again. As soon as he was satisfied they were clean, he put the spectacles back on her face, carefully hooking the wires around her ears.

“Better?”

She managed a smile. “Yes. I can see you much more clearly now.” Though she felt as if her newfound confidence had just plunged over the side, into the sea. He was a handsome, exciting man who loved beautiful, exciting women, and she was certainly not one. She was an interloper here today, pretending to be something she was not.

Moving to take the wheel again, he pointed just ahead. “I know a place we can dock. If you’re energetic enough, we can walk to the beach and eat on the sand.”

She considered telling him that she was not hungry and was ready to go home because she was suddenly not in the mood for a walk on the beach. Nor did she feel like eating.

But she did not let herself say it because she had come out for an adventure, and she was going to laugh and be cheerful like the other women she had always envied, the ones who knew how to have fun.

“That sounds fine,” she replied at last, determined not to retreat into that starchy, introverted prude everyone knew her to be. She might not be capable of beauty, but she could at least pretend to be jovial.

Sheldon Hatfield—a portly man whose cheeks were puffy and bloated—stepped onto the landing stage in front of the Royal Yacht Squadron and paused a moment to breathe in the delectable scent of victory in the offing. He removed his leather gloves and tapped them on his hand, then spotted Lord Breckinridge standing on the street waiting for him with a frown.