S
he was late, dammit. Tristan checked his watch again. Three whole bloody minutes late. He fought not to pace the deck, not to give the impression that he cared one whit that his passenger might have changed her mind. He should have borrowed Sebastian’s coach and stopped by her residence to provide assistance if needed.
The fog was rolling in. It distorted sounds, gave everything an ominous feel. The ship’s lanterns were lit, but they would not hold the encroaching gray at bay. He wondered if the weather had turned her back, but she hadn’t struck him as one who was easily intimidated. He wasn’t usually a poor judge of character, so why wasn’t she here?
Because she’d come to her senses and realized that he would take advantage of her. He wouldn’t force her, but by God, he’d certainly work to seduce her. Although he suspected a woman who had been loyal to a man for four years would not succumb easily to his charms. She obviously loved the scapegrace. What sort of man could stay away from her and still hold her heart?
Someone far better than you, mate, more worthy.
It didn’t bear thinking about. She’d struck a bargain. That was all that mattered. Or so he’d thought.
Damnation. He should have taken the kiss from her when he was in her bedchamber. He was a merchant, a trader. He knew better than to set sail without payment in hand. Payment first, services second. It had been his motto from the moment he’d begun to barter his skills. Always money first. Then if someone decided to back out on the bargain, he still had his gain.
Now, he had nothing to show—
Not exactly true. He removed her glove from his pocket and stroked it through his fingers before bringing it to his nose. After she turned toward the door, he’d stolen it from where she tossed it. He didn’t know what had possessed him, except that he’d wanted it and he wasn’t accustomed to not taking what he wanted. Her scent of lavender with a hint of citrus wafted around him. He suspected it was a perfume made especially for her. If not, it should be. He couldn’t recall ever smelling it on another woman.
What was this insane obsession with her? Why should he care if she had shown herself to be a coward, if she had decided not to make the journey?
He glanced at his watch again. Five blasted minutes. She wasn’t coming. His men were waiting for his order to set sail. What was he to do now in order not to look like an absolute fool?
He could leave, decide later exactly where they would go. Or he could tell his crew to stand down, while he disembarked, hired a hackney, and confronted the treacherous—
Through the thickening fog came the unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps, determined, a steady cadence echoing over the wooden planks of the docks. A woman’s steps. A slight woman. Seven stones’ worth. Others followed, more distant.
He fought back the jubilation as she became visible. He wasn’t going to give her the upper hand in this encounter. She was fortunate that he hadn’t already cast off. Stuffing the glove back into his pocket, he strolled nonchalantly across the quarterdeck and descended the steps to the main deck. Then he sauntered down the gangway to the dock just as she came to a stop, breathing heavily. Even in the dim light, he could see she was flushed. She would be even more so when he claimed his kiss.
“You’re late,” he said in as flat a voice as he could muster.
Her silvery eyes widened. “I daresay, not even ten minutes.”
“Ships run on a schedule, my lady.”
She angled her chin. “Yes, well, as I’m paying for this voyage, I expect it to run on my schedule. If you didn’t understand that was my purpose in hiring you, then perhaps I should look elsewhere.”
He couldn’t stop the smile this time. He should have known she’d not apologize. “Unfortunately, any schedule involving a ship is subject to tides and winds.”
“Oh, my dear. Will we not be able to leave tonight?”
He wondered at the urgency, but didn’t comment on it because it worked to his advantage for them to be under way as soon as possible.
“I think we can manage.” A dark-haired woman who didn’t seem to be much older than Anne was standing slightly behind her, her eyes blinking continuously as though she couldn’t quite believe she was here. Her maid, her chaperone no doubt. He nodded toward the two men carrying her trunk. “Are they coming with you?”
“No, only the trunk.”
“Peterson! Get the lady’s trunk on board.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Peterson was a big brute of a man. He took the trunk from the liveried footmen as though it contained little more than feathers. As he passed back by, Tristan said quietly, “My cabin, Peterson.”
“Yes, sir.” He trudged up the gangway.
“He doesn’t sound pleased,” Lady Anne said.
“He’s a grumbler. You’ll get used to it. The men who are on board are there because they choose to be. Those ruled by superstition are remaining behind.”
“Will that cause a hardship for you?”
“For you, Princess, I’d suffer any hardship.”
She laughed, a sweet sound that wove around him, and he wondered if she were descended from Sirens. He thought he might gladly crash upon rocks just to hear that clear pure tinkling. “You’re not going to wait until we’re at least on the ship before beginning your absurd flirtation?”
She wasn’t going to fall easily, but then he’d known all along that she wouldn’t. “Your words are like a dagger through my heart.”
“I doubt you can be so easily wounded, Captain.” She spoke briefly with the men who had accompanied her. When they left, she indicated the woman who remained. “This is Martha, my lady’s maid. She comes with us, of course.”
“Of course. Allow me the honor of escorting you aboard.” He called out for Jenkins and when the young man joined them, instructed him to escort Martha up the gangway. Tristan extended his arm to Anne.
She wrapped her hand around the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her up the corridor. He’d thought Lady Anne might tremble, if not with his nearness, then with the anticipation of the journey. Instead, she seemed to become almost somber as she stepped onto the deck.
“Peterson, get us under way.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
While Peterson began shouting commands and men began scurrying around the ship, Tristan said, “I’ll show you to your cabin.”
“I’d rather stay out here while we leave.”
“As you wish, but let’s get you out of harm’s way. Up the steps there.”
She did as he bid, and he followed her up, his eyes level with her swaying hips. Once up top, she crossed over to the railing. Joining her there, he realized that the maid was right behind him. She was going to be an inconvenience, but he could work around her.
“Why
Revenge
?” Lady Anne asked quietly.
“Pardon?”
“Why did you name your ship
Revenge
?”
Planting his elbows on the railing, he clasped his hands together and stared at the black water beneath them. He’d done similarly the first time the ship on which Sebastian had left him had drawn away from the harbor. He’d thought the sea mirrored his soul. The next morning it had been a brilliant blue that had given him hope once again. “For a good many years the need for revenge gave purpose to my life. It seemed an appropriate name for a ship that would bring me untold wealth.”
“It’s bad form to speak of money.”
“You asked.” He shifted his gaze over to her. She, too, was looking out, and he wondered if she was imagining her meeting with her fiancé.
“Whom did you wish revenge against?” she asked.
“I don’t know you well enough to share that tale with you.”
She did glance over at him then. “I suspect you’re a very complicated man, Captain.”
“Not really. I see something I want and I take it. It doesn’t get much simpler than that.”
She looked back out as the ship gave several creaks and moans. A sudden lurch and it was moving slowly through the water.
“I was under the impression you had a fast ship,” she said.
“Not when we’re in the harbor. We have little moon by which to see. You could have hardly picked a worse night. A daytime departure would have been better.”
“Yet you didn’t try to convince me to hold off for a better time. Why ever not?”
“Because, Princess, I’m not certain you’ve been quite honest with me, and you required a midnight departure for a reason.”
H
e was studying her with such concentration that she was surprised her heart still managed to beat. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“That doesn’t mean you’ve been completely honest.”
She could say the same about him. She’d nearly spun on her heel and headed in the other direction when she’d watched him swagger down the gangway. His face no longer sported a shadow of stubble. She’d thought him handsome before, but cleanly shaven he was devastating. His hair was pulled back, tied in place with leather, and she dearly wanted to set it free. The light breeze billowed his loose white shirt, somehow making him appear more masculine.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at the male form and appreciated it. Not since Walter had left. To gaze upon any man with even a hint of lust would have been betrayal to her betrothed. She couldn’t claim what she felt now was lust, but it was definitely awareness. Acute awareness that was unsettling in its intensity. Her stomach quivered, and she had a strong urge to sit. Instead, she stood her ground. “As you so succinctly said, I don’t know you well enough to tell you everything. But I swear to you that there is no danger.”
“Pity. I thrive on danger.”
“Yes, I quite imagine you do.”
They were moving farther from the docks. More shadows were weaving among them and fog swirled about, challenging the ship’s lanterns to hold it at bay. Water slapped against the hull. A peacefulness claimed the night. She wasn’t certain how much he contributed to her serenity. Somehow she knew he had the strength and skills to protect her from any peril that might come their way.
She heard flapping and glanced back to see a sail unfurl. Soon the ship was gliding faster. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the wind.
“M’lady.”
“I’m all right, Martha.”
“Do you swim?” he asked.
“No, but I suspect you do. And you’d jump in to save me, wouldn’t you?”
“If the price was right.”
Opening her eyes, she looked over at him. He was smiling at her as though he enjoyed the movement of the ship as much as she did. “I don’t think you’re quite the mercenary you claim to be.”
“I never do anything without payment.”
“But if I drown, you won’t get that kiss, will you?”
“Perhaps I should go ahead and take it.”
Her mouth went dry. She’d known he’d want it of course, that he would exact payment from her. She simply hadn’t expected it to be so soon. “I’d like to see my cabin now.”
“As you wish.”
Once again he offered her his arm, and while she wanted to ignore it, she wasn’t quite certain she could move about the rocking ship without tumbling. Just as before, she acknowledged the strength in his arm, the sturdiness of his movements. He had no trouble at all making his way about the ship.
She tried to think of something to say, something to ease the tension that was suddenly mounting. She knew where he was taking her and she didn’t want to think about it. He wouldn’t be sleeping there, but he once had. She would lie in the bed where he had lain.
But her mind would bring forth nothing inconsequential to utter as the enormity of this undertaking was settling around her. Her father would have her head if he knew what she was about. Fortunately, the coach driver and the footman had sworn not to reveal the name of the ship she’d boarded. Not that she thought her father could catch up with them.
They took the stairs down a level from the main deck. The captain opened a door. She took a deep breath to still her thundering heart as she stepped through into the small quarters. Two pieces of furniture dominated the space. His bed. She wasn’t surprised it was large. A man of his height and breadth would require a generous area in which to move about as he slept.
The other massive piece was a desk. Behind it were shelves. Books were lined perfectly along them. Dickens. Cooper. Shelley.
Martha joined her, and only then did he step inside. The room seemed to shrink with his presence.
“You read,” she said inanely.
“Boredom can easily find a home on a ship.”
“Yes, I can imagine.” Only she couldn’t. She’d thought he’d have little time for her, that he’d be steering the vessel, but obviously he had others to handle such matters.
“The room next to this one is where my first mate sleeps. It’s available to your maid.”
Anne spun around to face him. “There was no need to go to such bother. I’d planned on her staying with me.”
His eyes glittered. “If you wish.”
“I do.”
He gave a curt nod. “Is there anything else you need before I leave you to your dreams?”
She nodded, swallowed hard. “Martha, leave us for a moment.”
Martha opened her mouth, and Anne gave her a pointed glare. She’d tolerate no mutiny. Martha snapped her mouth closed and walked toward the hallway.
“Shut the door after you.”
She slammed it.
“She doesn’t approve of this journey,” he said.
“She’s just protective.” Removing her pelisse, she set it carefully over the desk. She met and held his gaze. “I thought you might like your payment before we’re too far out to sea.”
“Did you now?” In two long strides, he was near enough that his breath mingled with hers and she had to tilt her head back to continue to gaze into his icy blue eyes. He rested his curled fingers in the curve of her cheek, his thumb stroking her lower lip.
Her tongue slipped out on its own accord to lick where he touched and she could have sworn she tasted the saltiness of his skin. His eyes darkened. He had such incredibly long lashes. Their ebony shade made the blue of his eyes seem that much fairer, like the sky on a bright summer day.
He leaned in.
She held her breath.
His gaze dropped to her lips.
They tingled.