Authors: Paula Reed
Giles said nothing, but patiently waited for her to add what she would.
“I seem to have gotten myself at odds with our new minister. I am bound for Jamaica and my Aunt Elizabeth.”
“And the rest of your family?”
Faith sighed and toyed with the backstaff before her. The question was a natural one, but it brought with it a pang of regret. “This was my mother’s idea,” she explained. It wasn’t a lie, not really. “My father disapproved.”
“Ah, so that is why you did not simply book passage upon a likely ship.”
“Just so.” She swallowed against the guilt that tightened her throat. It was a lie of omission, no better.
“Where upon the island lives your aunt?”
Where? In truth, she had no idea. How large was this island? She chose to elude the question, again forcing back regret for her dishonesty. It was but one among a host of newly committed sins. “She and her husband own a sugar plantation. Winston Hall.”
“Aye, I know of the place.”
Giles scrutinized her, and she felt her pulse quicken and her palms turn slick. She wanted for practice at this business of dissembling, and she thought sure he saw straight through to her heart and knew her to be a fraud.
“There now, you see Giles, she is yet in one piece,” Captain Hampton called merrily as he swept through the door. “I have refrained from swallowing her whole, however tempting a morsel she may be.” In one hand he carried a steaming plate of eggs and dried beef, in the other a tankard of warm milk.
The smell of food drove every other thought from Faith’s befuddled mind. Her stomach had been empty for well over twenty-four hours, and she rose from her seat, salivating. “Breakfast?” she asked, a bit too eagerly.
Geoff teased her a bit, waving the plate under her nose. “Hungry, are you?” he asked. He laughed at the almost pained look on her face and offered her the plate.
Self-restraint aside, she grabbed it, muttered a quick blessing, and took a healthy spoonful even before she sat again. Her eyes closed and a throaty sound of ecstasy slipped through her lips as she swallowed. Her attention was completely absorbed by the meal, or she would have noticed that both men watched her in pure fascination.
I must be mad,
Geoff thought. Her full lips glistened with grease from the eggs, and the pale waves of her hair tumbled down her back away from her angelic face. Her golden lashes rested against her pale pink cheeks in pure delight while she daintily popped a finger in her mouth and savored the flavor that clung to it.
How did one get a virgin to ask for things she didn’t know about? He glanced over at his friend who laughed silently, sure proof that he had read Geoff’s thoughts.
“I see she has a healthy appetite,” Giles observed.
“Aye, for food, anyway,” Geoff sighed.
The spoon paused halfway to Faith’s mouth, and she ducked her head, embarrassed by her own lack of manners. “Forgive me. I was just so hungry, and the food is delicious. How do you carry enough eggs for all the crew?”
“We don’t,” Giles explained. “On deck we have chickens. We eat the eggs for the first part of the voyage, and the hens as we near the end.”
“And the milk?” she asked, draining the last of it from the tankard the captain had brought in with the plate.
“We keep goats, as well,” Geoff answered.
“The deck must be a merry place, indeed! If someone could just rinse out one of my dresses, I’d love to go up there. I’ve never been out on the ocean before.”
The two men exchanged uncomfortable looks. Her fate had been an easy enough matter to decide when only one other besides themselves had seen her, and he only in the dark. Still, the journey would have them at sea nearly a month. They could hardly expect to keep her below deck the whole time.
Giles spoke first. “Ken is washing out her things. He’ll set them out to dry in the wind. The wool will take a goodly while, but the other will dry soon enough.”
Geoff’s face took on a grim expression. “Aye, too soon, to be sure.” He turned to Faith. “I’ll see what I can do. Make sure you wear one of those caps, and keep your eyes downcast. I’ll order the men to leave you be, but I doubt they’ll hold for very long. Remember that every smile, every word will be seen as encouragement. In the end, I don’t want to have to kill any of my own crew over you.”
They were easy enough instructions to follow. What he asked was a demeanor she adopted every time she left her house in her village, but it had always been to protect her reputation only. She had never truly feared the men around her. Her earlier feeling of dread returned full force. “What manner of men are these?”
“Ordinary men, Faith. Men who know they’ll be a month at sea without women. Men who would find you a temptation even were they surrounded by willing wenches with common looks.”
“What would they do?”
“With enough drink, who’s to say? At best, they might beat me senseless and game for you, at worst throw me overboard and share you.”
Again she looked to Giles to confirm what she’d heard and was terrified by his nod.
“Are you pirates, then?”
“Nay, Faith!” Giles protested.
“Privateers!” Geoff corrected. “The king has granted us a letter of marque to harass the Spanish, and we pay our fair share of profit to the Crown. Still, we’re not navy here. The discipline is not so harsh, and the men more likely to have minds of their own. Most of the crew are honest Englishmen with respect for a good woman, but there are those with fewer scruples, and after a night of drink, the line between the two gets a mite thin.”
When the captain had left her earlier, Faith had begun to relax. It had seemed that Providence had guided her to a safe haven. Now, her newfound security slipped through her fingers, and the food that remained on her plate lost all appeal. “I see.”
“Speaking of the crew,” Giles interrupted. “One of us had better be up there.”
“Aye,” Geoff said. “I’ll join you shortly.”
“Welcome aboard, Faith.”
“Thank you, Giles. And thank you for saving me.”
He smiled shyly, but at his captain’s frown, he made a hasty exit.
“One more thing, Faith. When you’re on deck, ‘tis best if you—well, if it appears that we have a somewhat closer relationship.”
Faith’s aqua eyes grew round. In a voice hardly above a whisper she asked, “They think I’m your whore?”
Geoff scratched his head and tried to think of how to soften it. “I’ve laid claim to you for myself. It was for your own safety.”
She studied a long scratch in the surface of the desk. “What does that mean, ‘laid claim’?” she said, never lifting her eyes.
“Most will assume we’re lovers.”
Her face burned, and she kept her eyes carefully focused on the scratch. “But they will be mistaken.”
“I cannot abide it when you will not look me in the face, Faith!” He was glad he had insisted, for he saw not the look of fear he’d expected. Her face was red, but her eyes flashed with challenge.
“You said that you do not take women by force, Captain. If that is so, then anyone who assumes that we share a bed will be mistaken.”
“You will call me Geoff. We’ll hardly convince anyone that you’re taken if you call me Captain.” The golden glints in his eyes twinkled, and the genuine smile that lit his face chased away the sinister look he carried when serious. “Besides, it will be no mistake. I cannot leave you here unguarded at night, and I’m not thinking to sleep with my feet upon my desk each night.”
Again, Faith felt her momentary calm rocked by a sense of alarm. “Surely you do not think to sleep here, with me?”
“Aye, there’s nowhere else. ‘Twill be an exercise in self control, but I’ll manage.”
“Nay, Captain! What you suggest is out of the question! I’ll sleep on the floor, then. I don’t wish to trouble you.”
He reached across the desk and lightly traced the line of her delicate jaw, sending strange fluttery feelings down her throat.
“You will trouble me no matter where you sleep, but I cannot put you onto the hard floor. I promise, I will be utterly trustworthy. Or is it yourself you do not trust, fair Faith?”
She looked anxiously, first at his broad shoulders, then at the bed that had seemed so large and comfortable. It appeared to shrink before her very eyes. “I cannot sleep in the same bed with a man.”
“Well, if you insist, there’s no need to sleep much at all.”
Her eyes flew to his, but she could not tell if their merry twinkle said he spoke in jest or in hope. “Have you an extra blanket?”
The humor left his face, and he again looked the part of cold-hearted pirate. “I give my word, you are safe from any unwanted advances, but neither of us will sleep on the floor, Faith.”
She couldn’t help it; whenever she was faced with someone’s displeasure, she lowered her eyes and could not entirely find her voice. Besides, at a moment’s caprice he could become quite intimidating!
“I only meant that one of us should sleep above the bedclothes,” she said. “The layers of cloth will keep our bodies separate.”
Geoff felt a quick stab of guilt for glowering at her. “I didn’t mean to cause you fear. That’s a fine idea. A bit of a disappointment, but sure to do more to preserve my sanity. Look at me, now, I won’t bite.”
She peeked shyly through her lashes, filling Geoff’s head with images that were bound to do little for his self-restraint.
“Good then. I have duties to attend to above. It will be awhile till your clothes are dry. Can you keep yourself occupied here?”
Relieved that the conversation was at an end, she nodded. “I am still weary. Perhaps I’ll just nap.” Perhaps if she napped, she would be too well rested to sleep at night. Perhaps then she would sit up and read until dawn.
The thought of her lovely, white flesh warming his sheets sent Geoff tripping for the door with a brief nod of farewell. Perhaps, on deck, he could work himself into an undeniable exhaustion. He would need to be weary to the bone to survive this night.
Chapter 7
Two days had passed since Diego Montoya, captain of the Spanish ship
Magdalena
, had made his humble plea to the prostitute-turned-saint for whom his ship was named. In those two days, his prayer that the late captain’s fever would leave the rest of them alone had been answered. The answer was no.
There were no leeches on board the ship, so the surgeon used his bloodletting instruments, moving from one patient to the next with the red-stained blades. Each crewman only worsened, moving inevitably toward the sea, sewn in a pure white shroud. Diego himself felt dizzy, his coat and vest too warm to bear. The ship’s doctor noticed when Diego pulled the offending garments from his body and wiped his hand across his damp brow.
“Here,” the physician said, pulling one of his knives from his latest patient’s arm. “Perhaps if I bleed you now, before the fever can get you in its grip, I can spare us the loss of another fine captain.”
Diego eyed the bloody object and shuddered. Perhaps he was a coward, after all. “No,” he said, “I am fine, truly. Bloodletting leaves one weak, and I cannot be weak now. My patron saint, she is looking out for me.”
“It may be your only chance.”
“No. I will be fine.”
He closed his eyes and prayed silently. “Santa Maria, you must help us. Cleanse us of this disease. Protect us from pirates. I will fight bravely, if I must, but we cannot fight if we are sick, our numbers depleted. Please, as you washed the feet of the Savior, wash our decks of this fever.”
He made the sign of the cross and opened his eyes. Blood flowed from the arm of yet another crewmember at the surgeon’s slice, and he felt his faith flag. Who was he, Diego Montoya, a mere second-in-command, to captain the ship through such calamity? Another wave of dizziness swept over him, and he was tempted to retreat to his cabin to seek much needed sleep.
“Capitán,” a small voice prodded, and Diego turned to look down upon his cabin boy, Galeno. “Capitán, I don’t feel so well.” The boy’s brown eyes were glazed with fever and wide with fear, and Diego knew that now was not the time to indulge his own weakness.
Before the physician could lay his besmirched hands upon the child’s sweaty brow, Diego instinctively pushed Galeno behind him. “I will put him to bed in my cabin. It is too soon for such drastic measures.”
Galeno followed docilely and snuggled into the covers on Diego’s bunk. “Are we all going to die, Capitán?” he asked.
The boy’s simple question gave voice to Diego’s own fears, but he forced a broad smile. “No, Galeno, we will not all die. Look at me. I am not going to die. And neither are you. You stay here and rest, because you have many duties, and I need you to be healthy again.”
The boy looked somewhat assured, enough so that he closed his eyes and let his face relax. Diego’s own thoughts of lying down to rest had all but vanished. His fever and exhaustion were unimportant now. Too many people depended upon him, and there was too much work to be done by too few hands.
*
Faith had no idea how much time had elapsed when she awoke to a soft tapping on the door. The light that spilled into the room from the window seemed dimmer, but it hadn’t been terribly intense at any point, so it was of little help. She checked to see that she was sufficiently covered as she called out, “Who is it?”
“‘Tis me, Thomas, the ship’s cook. I’ve supper here for you, if you’re of a mind.”
The mention of food caused her stomach to growl in response. “Aye, thank you and come in.”
Thomas was a portly, jolly-faced fellow who looked near three score in years, though Faith suspected he was somewhat younger. He stood, plate in hand, and gaped at her. “Lord have mercy,” he whispered.
Embarrassed, Faith again surveyed the sheets and the neck of the borrowed shirt to make sure that she was decently covered.
Thomas shook his head as though to clear it from a blow and set his concentration upon arranging her supper on the desk. “Sorry ‘bout that, miss. I didn’t mean to stare, but ye’re uncommon pretty. ‘Tis glad I am there’s no one aboard who can match the price the cap’n paid for ye. We’d have a fight on our hands, sure.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and Faith was certain she hadn’t heard the man correctly, or perhaps she misunderstood his meaning. “The price the captain paid?” she asked.