Surrender the Heart (6 page)

CHAPTER 4

E
ase off the topsails, Mr. Heaton,” Noah commanded from his position on the quarterdeck. He clasped his hands behind his back and glanced over his shoulder at his helmsman. “Three points to larboard, Mr. Pike.”

“Three points to larboard, Captain,” Pike answered.

From his position beside Noah, Mr. Heaton shouted orders that sent sailors leaping into the shrouds and scrambling up the ratlines to adjust canvas.

Closing his eyes, Noah allowed the stiff breeze to blast over him and rake through his hair. He shook his head, hoping to rid himself of the memories of home and the agonizing look on Miss Denton’s face. He hadn’t meant to cause her shame. Confound it all, he should never have agreed to the match. But what else could he do when the Brenin merchant business had suffered so much this past year?

A situation his father blamed entirely on Noah.

Noah clamped his jaw tight. Would anything ever be enough to make up for what had happened eleven years ago? He had done his best: set records in making the fastest crossing to England, made
arduous trips during hurricane season to the Caribbean, and worked tirelessly for months on end. And if not for the American embargo five years ago and the British laws prohibiting Americans from trading with France, he would have doubled their income and not been forced to sell one of their two ships to keep the business afloat.

Then his father would not have insisted Noah accept the engagement to Miss Denton. And Noah would not have been forced to behave the cur yesterday. Now he could not rid himself of the vision of Miss Denton’s sorrowful brown eyes. Surely her pain sprouted from pride and not from any affection she harbored for him.

Noah gazed across the sea that spread like a dark blue fan to the horizon. The rising sun flung golden jewels upon the waters and capped the waves in foamy white. He stretched back his shoulders. Upon the sea, he was captain of his ship, master of his destiny. Not like back at home where he was simply William Brenin’s incompetent son.

“It is good to be back out to sea, eh, Luke?” Noah asked his first mate.

“Indeed.” Luke nodded and gripped the railing. “You there, Mr. Simon, haul taut, hoist away topgallants and jib!” he yelled to one of the sailors below on the main deck then released a sigh. “But our liberty at port was rather short this time.”

Noah cocked a brow. “Didn’t get your fill of drink and women?”

“Is that possible?” Luke grinned as he scratched the stubble on his jaw.

Noah chuckled.

“We could have at least stayed at your engagement party a bit longer,” Luke added. “I barely had two sips of wine.”

“You know we had no time to spare.”

“Persistent girl. I admire her for that.” Luke shoved a strand of black hair behind his ear.

“You refer to Miss Denton, of course.” The ship rose over a wave, and Noah braced his boots on the deck, annoyed that his friend had brought the woman back into his thoughts. “I daresay she’s acquired a bit of spunk in her womanhood.”

“She’s definitely not a little girl anymore.” Luke’s eyes carried the salacious twinkle always present whenever he spoke about the fairer sex.

Noah grunted. “I regret running out on her, but it could not be helped.”

Luke tipped his hat down against the bright rays of the sun. “From the look on her face, I imagine you won’t have too much trouble persuading her to call off your engagement.”

“Which is precisely why our need to set sail worked in my favor. Who could forgive such insolent behavior? Why, I imagine at this moment she’s already discussing with her mother and my parents the best way to annul the arrangement.”

Pain drummed a steady beat in Marianne’s head. She willed it away and tried to slip back into the peaceful repose from which she came. But the agony would not abate. In fact, it worsened. A moan escaped her lips. She lifted her hand and dabbed her head. Her fingers touched something moist and sticky that stirred the pain anew.

A deep purring tickled her ears. She opened her eyes to nothing but thick darkness. Confusion scrambled her thoughts. Where was she? Then the creak of wood and oscillating of the floor sent a shock through her. She jolted upright.

Noah’s ship
.

Her breath caught in her throat. Something furry leapt into her lap, and she screamed. When she tried to push it off, the creature began purring again. Taking a deep breath, Marianne picked it up and drew it to her chest. “Oh, little one. What happened? How long have we been down here?”

The cat’s only reply was further purring as it nestled in her arms. Marianne clung to it, fighting the ache in her head and the rising panic that she was out to sea. Fear scrambled through her like a wicked imp, pinching every nerve.
Lord, I know I haven’t spoken to You in a while, but please don’t let me be out to sea. Please have mercy
.

No answer came save the creaking and groaning of the wooden planks and the faint rustle of water against the hull—all of which made her plea dissipate into the stagnant, moldy air. She struggled to rise, still holding the cat. With one hand she felt her way through the maze of barrels toward the thin strip of light marking the bottom of the doorway. Opening the wooden slab, she made her way down the same hallway she had traversed earlier. Her head grew light, and she gripped the wall to steady herself.

Shouting and laughter sounded from above. She took the first ladder toward the clamor and the ever-brightening sunlight filtering downward. Squinting, she climbed the final stairs and emerged to a burst of wind and a spray of salty water. Above her, white sails snapped in the breeze. Sailors sat upon the yards, adjusting them with ropes. Other men stomped across the deck. Those who saw her stopped to stare. She gazed toward the horizon and trembled. All around the ship spanned an enormous gaping mouth full of salivating azure water.

The sailors, whose normally boisterous voices could always be heard across the deck, grew unusually silent. Ignoring the unease that slithered down his spine, Noah lowered the spyglass and gazed amidships. His heart seized.

A woman in a cream-colored gown with pink trim stood in the center of the deck. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Had his guilt over the ignoble way he had treated Miss Denton conjured up visions of the woman to taunt him?

“Captain.” Luke’s voice jarred him, and he opened his eyes to a look of grand amusement on his first mate’s face. “I believe you have a guest.”

Noah glanced toward the main deck again, praying his eyes had betrayed him. But no, there, in the middle, stood Miss Denton, frozen as if she were a statue.

Anger simmered in his belly as he stormed toward the quarterdeck
ladder and leapt down onto the deck. “Miss Denton, what on earth are you …?”

She faced him, a white cat in her arms, terror screaming from her eyes. A red streak crept down her forehead, seeping from a dark, matted blotch in her hair. She said not a word but looked at him as if he were a ghost. She stumbled, and he dashed to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Miss Denton?”

She looked up at him with wide brown eyes. “I am at sea.”

“Yes. I find that fact as astounding as you.”

“But I cannot be at sea.”

Upon closer inspection, the spot of matted hair was a bloody wound. Noah scanned the deck and found his boatswain. “Matthew, call your wife to your quarters, if you please, and have her bring her medical satchel.”

“Aye, sir.” Matthew disappeared down a hatch.

Marianne lifted a hand to her head. The cat leapt from her embrace. “Forgive me, Mr. Brenin, but I do not feel very well.” She fell against him, and he swept her up into his arms.

The sailors began to crowd around. “Who is she, Captain?” Mr. Weller, Noah’s gunner asked.

“Put me down, this instant,” Miss Denton murmured.

“How did she get on board?” another man asked.

“I have no idea.” Noah glanced up at his first mate. A smirk played upon his lips. “Mr. Heaton, you have the helm.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Leaving his curious crew behind, Noah carefully navigated the ladder and headed down the companionway toward Matthew’s quarters. He entered the cabin and laid Miss Denton on the new coverlet that Agnes had just spread on the bed. Matthew stood near the bulkhead, kneading his hat in his hand.

Miss Denton opened her eyes and moaned.

“Oh my, poor dear.” Agnes darted to her side. “Who is she?”

“My fiancée.” Noah took a step back. “She appears to have hit her head.”

“Don’t you worry, sir, I’ll attend to ‘er right away.” Agnes’s cheeks reddened as she handed a pewter basin to her husband. “Fetch me some water, Mr. Hobbs.”

The short, bald man donned his hat and eyed his captain.

Noah nodded his agreement, and the boatswain scurried out the door faster than his stocky frame would seem to allow.

“Noah.” Miss Denton tried to lift herself from the bed but fell back onto the coverlet. “I must return home at once.”

“I’m afraid that will be impossible.”

“I assure you, it is quite possible.” Miss Denton’s breathing grew ragged. “Help me up, please.” She latched onto Agnes’s arm and pulled herself to a sitting position.

Noah huffed his annoyance. “You will lie back down this instant, Miss Denton, and allow Mrs. Hobbs to dress your wound. It is a long voyage and I’ll not have you growing ill on my ship.”