The Captain's Pearl (9 page)

“Apologizing?” she suggested, as he placed his glass on the table next to her.

“No. Something idiotic like this.” He grasped her face by both cheeks. Pressing his lips over hers, he kissed her as thoroughly as he had in Sun Niang's brothel.

Her hands rose to his shoulders. She could not halt them, for she wanted to touch the firm sinews beneath his wool coat. Without releasing her lips, he brought her to her feet and into his arms. His hands slid along her back, pressing her to his unyielding body. The taste of what he had been drinking rushed into her mouth as he teased her lips apart with his tongue. Warmed by his breath, the flavor was pleasurable, as every bit of him was against her.

When his mouth left hers, she opened her eyes slowly. His sharp laugh shattered her delight, and she pulled away.

“Faith, you
would
have made a good whore, blue eyes.”

She reached for his glass and lifted it to her lips, yearning to wash away the flavor of his mouth. She took a deep drink, then gagged. The glass was plucked from her fingers.

“Leave brandy to those who are accustomed to it, you little fool,” Captain Trevarian admonished.

“I do not have to obey you, Captain Trevarian. I have honored my brother's request while I was on my father's ship.”

He shook his head and laughed again. “You are a fool. I hope you are here when I return. I like kissing you, for it's the one time your mouth isn't as poisonous as a serpent.”

“I shall never let you kiss me again!” she retorted, ignoring her fingers which ached to caress his strong back.

“No?” Draining the glass, he set it on the table again. “We'll have to see about that when I return from China. Good-bye, blue eyes.”

“Good-bye, Captain.” She added nothing more as he went out of the room jauntily. He was rid of her, and she was rid of him. She wished she knew why that made her so miserable.

Seven

Stormhaven, Massachusetts

1842

Lianne Catherwood climbed the last step to the glass walled room. The clutter of voices vanished, as the heat of a room left closed since the beginning of summer greeted her. Walking to the windows overlooking multicolored trees and the harbor, she noticed the clouds edging the western horizon.

It was now hard to believe she had not spent her whole life in this comfortable town on Stormhaven Cove not far from Buzzards Bay. Memories of other times and other places were like nightmares that evaporated with the dawn.

Folding her arms on the sill, she stared at the blue waters winking back at her. She never tired of looking at the harbor. It was an ever-changing tapestry of dreams as the ships came and went.

Three ships were in the harbor. Two were Shadow ships. The
Pacific Shadow
and the newer
Sleek Shadow
waited in the sheltered cove. The
Pacific Shadow
had made her final trip to China last year and had been refitted to be a whaler. By diversifying into whaling and manufacturing, Father hoped to keep the Shadow Line from floundering. The war between England and China over the smuggling of opium had cut into trade.

Father was negotiating for the old mill out near Cutter's Creek. It would be perfect for a cotton mill. While that was being built, the
Sleek Shadow
would take over the China trade. The
Pacific Shadow
would bring home whale oil and bone. That left only one ship unaccounted for, as it had been for more than a year.

Lianne frowned. This morning at breakfast, Father had been unable to hide his concerns about the
China Shadow
. When the
China Shadow
had not returned to Stormhaven on schedule, Father had purchased the
Sleek Shadow. Yet he refused to admit the China Shadow
would not sail into Stormhaven harbor. As the months passed, even Father's hopes had waned. The skippers of the other ships could discover nothing in Canton about the
China Shadow
.

The crew must be dead, Willis, Simmons, all the men whose names she could not recall. Even Captain Bryce Trevarian.

Her finger, brightened by a slim band decorated with a single pearl, drew a pattern in the dust on the sill. Only up here were the maids lax in cleaning. They knew Great-Aunt Tildy never came to this aerie. Had Great-Aunt Tildy ever searched the horizon for a ship carrying a beloved sailor?

Fiercely Lianne whirled away from the window. She was
not
seeking someone she loved. She loved Dr. Weston Newberry. He was one of the few men in Stormhaven whose life was not the sea. He would not vanish as Bryce Trevarian had.

Dash it
! She did not want to think of Bryce Trevarian. Yet, far too often, his cocky grin appeared in her mind, along with how his eyes glistened in the moment before his mouth had found hers.

He was gone. Lost at sea. And she was the little fool he had called her.

Climbing down the steep stairs, she let the customary sounds and aromas of the large house encompass her. Four years ago, she could not have guessed how this house would become, as her brother had wished, her home.

“There you are, Lianne,” announced Great-Aunt Tildy.

Lianne smiled at the matriarch of the Catherwood family. Great-Aunt Tildy had come to take care of the household when Davis's mother died. Although her white hair was thin and her hands wrinkled, her mind was quick. She had taken Lian and taught her to be Lianne Catherwood.

Bending, for Great-Aunt Tildy was shorter than she was, Lianne kissed her cheek. “Were you looking for me?”

“Your father asked me to find you. He's in his office.”

“Then I'd best not keep him waiting.”

The older woman nodded tiredly. “Lianne, it is … that day.”

Her blue eyes widened. How could she have forgotten? “That day” was how Great-Aunt Tildy always referred to the anniversary of Davis's death. She must be extra gentle with her frail father today.

Hurrying along the sunswept hall, Lianne greeted Hyett as she rushed down the stairs. The butler had not changed since her arrival, but she had come to appreciate his wry sense of humor. She did not pause as she went to her father's study.

When she knocked on the mahogany door, Father's muted voice told her to enter. Like his bedchamber above, Samuel Catherwood's office overlooked the harbor. The sunshine off the waves filled the room with liquid light. Taking a deep breath of her father's pungent pipe smoke, she paid no attention to the overflowing bookshelves and the hearth with the twin paintings of the
Pacific Shadow
and the
China Shadow
hanging above the mantel. She went to the desk as Father turned his wheeled chair toward her.

Even in the months since she had returned to Storm-haven from school in Boston, her father had withered. She hid her concerns as she said, “Great-Aunt Tildy told me that you wished to speak with me, Father.”

He pointed toward a dark red sofa near his desk. “Sit down, please.”

“What's wrong?”

“Weston was here this morning.”

Fearing what she might hear, she said, “I saw his carriage here.”

“I appreciate Weston's skill as a doctor, daughter.”

“I know.”

“I must make a decision soon.” He glanced at the windows, and she knew he longed for the days when he was as free as his ship. “If you were planning to marry a man like Captain Moody, I would find my decision simple.”

“Captain Moody is married,” she reminded him gently. “And even if he weren't, I want a husband who spends his days with me, not gone for months across the ocean.”

His eyes flared. Clasping the arms of his chair, he growled, “Your mother never complained about my being gone from Stormhaven. She—” He sighed. “Forgive me, Lianne. Sometimes I forget how you came to this family.”

Standing, Lianne crossed the room and, in a whisper of dark blue satin, knelt by his wheeled chair. “Father, you urged me to follow my heart. It has led me to Weston.”

“He is only a doctor! What can he know about running the Shadow Line?” His gaze turned inward as he sighed. “If only you were a man, Lianne.”

“Father, I have been working for you and the Shadow Line since I finished school last winter. Never have you acted as if—”

“I know you have a mind far sharper than most men's, but you would have to deal with men who will attempt to cheat the Shadow Line because you are a woman.” Shaking his head, he patted her hand on the arm of his chair. “We need a man to run the company.”

Lianne knew he was right. In this way, Massachusetts was like China. A daughter had no value but to marry well and bring her family honor. “Why are you speaking of this today?”

His face lengthened in sorrow. “Weston told me of your plans to announce at the ball on Saturday that your wedding will be next month.”

“We thought to have it then so it won't conflict with the rechristening of the
Pacific Shadow
.”

“I have to think deeply on this. There must be a man somewhere who can oversee the Shadow Line and is trustworthy enough to provide for you and Tildy.”

“Father—”

“Go, Lianne.” His dismissal brooked no defiance.

Frustrated, she rose. The kiss she placed on his cheek was sincere. She could not fault her father for doing what he did because of his love for her.

“Whatever you decide is fine, Father. I'll see you this evening.” She did not expect an answer, for he was a captive of his own thoughts again. With a sigh, she went out of his study, wondering what Weston would think of Father's decision.

She frowned. Weston would agree that a woman could not run a business. She did nót know how to change either of their minds.

That evening, Lianne sat with her great-aunt in the back parlor. She considered asking Great-Aunt Tildy to help her change Father's mind. She knew what Great-Aunt Tildy would say. The Shadow Line was her father's, and he could dispose of it as he wished.

If only Weston …

At the sound of voices from the hallway, Lianne looked up from her embroidery. It was a design she had seen in Canton and planned to display in the parlor of Weston's small house.

“Weston,” she said with a smile as she stood. The many petticoats beneath her dress seconded her greeting. She adjusted the lace cuffs at her wrist. “Come in.”

He smiled as he greeted Great-Aunt Tildy. Weston New-berry was an imposing man with curly brown hair. He was dressed, as always, in his dark frock coat and gray trousers. As he drew off his matching kid gloves, he said, “Forgive me for being late.” He picked up her fringed shawl and draped it over her shoulders. While she tied her straw bonnet under her chin, he added, “Mrs. Paxson has the ague again.”

Great-Aunt Tildy clucked in concern. “Isn't that the second time this month?”

“Third.”

“'Tis a shame. Young woman like that ailing all the time.”

Weston glanced at Lianne, trying to contain his smile as she was. Perhaps to Tildy Catherwood, the middle-aged Mrs. Paxson seemed young.

Bending, Lianne kissed Great-Aunt Tildy's cheek. “I'll be back after the meeting.”

“Abolitionists' Society again?”

“It
is
Thursday.”

Great-Aunt Tildy sniffed. “Seems to me that there are better things for a young man and a young woman to do than to go to stuffy meetings.” Her eyes twinkled. “Have her home early, Weston. Captain Catherwood wishes her to ride with him into New Bedford tomorrow morning, and he won't be pleased if she's droopy from lack of sleep.”

“You may depend on me, Miss Catherwood.”

“I'm sure of that,” Great-Aunt Tildy replied, as Lianne went to the door with Weston.

Lianne glanced over her shoulder. Although Weston did not seem to notice, she could not miss the irony in the older woman's words. That startled her. Great-Aunt Tildy should be pleased that Weston planned to treat her with decorum and respect.

When she was seated next to Weston in the buggy, he mused, “I'll be glad when this is all taken care of, Lianne.” His arm around her shoulders tightened. “It shall be wonderful to think of our life together without these complications.”

“Complications?” she asked, although she was sure what the answer would be.

“Your father has arranged for me to meet with his attorneys while you are in New Bedford.” He smiled, as she stared at him in amazement. “I take it that he hasn't mentioned anything of this to you.”

“Not about lawyers.”

As the lights of the houses vanished amid the scrub pine and the birch lining the road, she sighed. The stars were closer in the darkness.

“You're so quiet tonight, Lianne,” Weston announced, as he let the horse set its own pace. “What's really wrong?”

She did not want to lie, but she could not tell him about what Father had said or her own rebellious thoughts. “I hate how distressed Father is on the anniversary of Davis's death.”

He nodded. “He must let go of his son. At least, he has you.”

“That doesn't sound complimentary.”

Pulling the reins, he stopped the buggy and faced her. “My dearest Lianne, don't mistake my words. I love you. You know that.”

“Yes, I know,” she whispered.

“How I envy your father! To have you with me day and night would be the greatest joy I can imagine. My dear, I wish I could show you how much I love you.”

She looked away. “Weston, please don't say that, even in jest.”

“It is no jest.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he leaned her back onto the seat of the carriage. His mouth over hers silenced her cry of astonishment. A hint of coolness warned his hand was seeking beneath her skirt. She reached to push it away, but his arm blocked her motion. With horror, she realized he did not intend to be halted.

An explosion of memory detonated through her head. Her breath raced in her chest as terror consumed her. Hearing his soft sigh against her skin, she thought of the sounds which had buffeted her after Davis had left her alone in the brothel. Before Bryce had come to …