The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (2 page)

Miss Sutherland raised an ebony eyebrow. “Boston. How exciting.” Her tone lacked the aforementioned excitement, as if her mind was far away. “And who do you sail for?”

“Blackwell Shipping.” Pride welled in his chest. Pride that he was once again
doing
something. Sailing instead of rusticating, as his brother called it. Sailing instead of recuperating. Sailing instead of feeling sorry for himself. “Where do you live, if not in London?” he asked.

“Barbados.”

“Barbados?” He turned to look at her.

Amusement lurked in those curiously colored eyes. “Does that shock you?”

More like fascinated. While Nicholas was well traveled, he didn’t know many women who were. In fact, he didn’t know
any
women who were. “No,” he lied.

“My husband and I own a sugar plantation on the island.”

Disappointment washed through him at the mention of a husband even though he had no right to his disappointment. It wasn’t as if he was able to pursue a courtship with Miss, or rather,
Mrs. Sutherland. He was leaving in five days, after all.

“And is your husband present tonight?” He glanced around the room, searching for an angry gentleman staring holes in his back.

“He’s in Barbados overseeing the plantation. He never travels to London.”

“I see.” But he didn’t see. If
he
had a wife as beautiful and charming as Emmaline Sutherland, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Definitely not to travel from Barbados to London alone. “Are you frightened traveling alone?”

A smile touched her lips. “What would I be frightened of?”

He shrugged, his discussion with Kenmar still fresh in his mind. “Pirates.”

“Pirates are the things of fairy tales, are they not?”

“Pirates are a very real threat, I’m afraid.”

“Are you speaking of a certain lady pirate who attacks ships and eats men?”

Nicholas chuckled. “Lady Anne they call her.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Anne,” Emmaline said with a slight smile.

“I’m afraid tales of her are most likely exaggerated. Especially the man-eating tales.”

“You don’t believe in Lady Anne?”

Nicholas hesitated, recognizing the same question he’d asked Kenmar. “I’m afraid not. Sailing is difficult enough for men. It’s not a lifestyle a woman would become accustomed to.”

“But I sail frequently.”

He detected a note in her voice warning that he was treading on unstable ground. Yet, a little devil stood on his shoulder and he felt an unholy need to goad this woman. Not a very gentlemanly thing to do, but that what-the-hell attitude took root again.

“As a passenger. Not as a crewman. The work is strenuous and taxing. Not to mention dangerous.”

“And you don’t think a woman is able to engage in such dangerous work?” Her voice was tight, her shoulders even tighter.

He bit back the urge to smile. What a virago this woman was and what fun it would be to
debate with her. He’d met very few men, let alone women, he’d had the pleasure to clash verbal swords with.

“I believe a woman has her place in a man’s world, but not on the sea.”

Silence stretched between them as they completed a circuit of the room and stopped where they’d started. Mrs. Sutherland looked up at him, seeming to assess him. He was relieved to see she wasn’t angry, merely interested, as if she were studying a bug pinned to a board. Or, better yet, an unknown creature pulled from the sea. Her gaze drew him in, made him think thoughts that were entirely inappropriate.

He cleared his throat and stepped back.
She’s married, Addison. You don’t dally with married women
.

She curtsied, although he had the impression the move was less etiquette and more mockery, which delighted him and had him forcing back a smile he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate. “Thank you for alleviating my boredom, kind sir. Your conversation was … enlightening.”

He bowed, finding it more and more difficult not to smile. She certainly was peeved with him, and he found to his chagrin that he wasn’t at all pleased she was taking leave of his company. He would have liked to debate with her for the rest of the night. But that would be inappropriate. Besides, he was sailing in a few days and had to prepare for it. “My pleasure, Mrs. Sutherland.”

A mere hour later, Emmaline observed Nicholas Addison leave with his brother, the Earl of Claybrook. Both men climbed the stairs, twin specimens of masculinity that had every female eye riveted to their wide shoulders and full heads of black-as-sin hair. Neither wore the wigs that were so in fashion. Emmaline had a feeling that others would soon follow in their footsteps, because the two were decidedly delicious looking without them. Each moved with an animal-like grace, although Nicholas had a hitch to his step that had her wondering what happened to him.
The limp was his only physical flaw, although she didn’t consider it a flaw, just another fascinating aspect of a man who captivated her attention.

Inside she was still smiling at their conversation. So, Captain Addison believed sailing too strenuous for women. She couldn’t help herself as she laughed out loud, causing a few heads to turn her way.

Even though she disagreed with his assessment of females, she thoroughly enjoyed their verbal sparring, but something about him bothered her. Normally she was good at sizing up a man’s character. He’d been interested, but the interest in those deep navy eyes definitely cooled when she mentioned a husband. So he had morals.

He’d been a gentleman, sincerely concerned for her safety when he spoke of pirates in that smooth-as-velvet voice. Which meant he was caring.

He firmly believed a woman had no place on the sea, yet he wasn’t harsh about his belief. Merely naïve, as most men were. Unlike most of the gentlemen at the ball, who’d gone soft with drink and too much fine food, she felt his strength in the muscles of his arm, and in his wide shoulders unpadded beneath his coat. He was lean, the bones in his face finely chiseled, the pale skin stretched taut. There was no excess about him, as if he’d gone to hell and back, and the journey had taken everything from him, leaving him with nothing but what he needed to survive.

There were shadows in his blue eyes, a weariness and deep grief. Yet when he spoke of sailing she glimpsed a man who commanded authority and demanded respect. No doubt he was a very good captain.

No doubt she had her work cut out for her.

Kenmar had picked his spy well.

Nicholas spun away from the sight of yet another ship leaving port, only to come face-to-face with his motley crew.

Bumbling fools, the lot of them.

Apparently word had spread that Blackwell ships were being targeted by pirates. No competent sailor would set foot on the
Pride
. And no amount of walking the wharf and entering the lowliest of taverns to unearth better men helped.

He feared these drunken louts didn’t know the difference between a spanker sail and a foresail.

This was not at all going to plan.

His hope was that this would be the first voyage of many. That success on this sailing would resurrect his career so that he would later captain larger ships. But that hope was slowly disintegrating.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his dreams slip away with the ships leaving port. They were far behind schedule but, surprisingly, their tardiness had nothing to do with his crew. Rather, their lone passenger hadn’t arrived.

A passenger. He hadn’t expected a passenger on this voyage, but apparently this person paid quite a sum of money to sail on the
Pride
. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was an unexpected wrinkle in what was quickly becoming a mess.

Damn.

Nicholas glanced at the sun high above his head. If they didn’t leave soon, they’d be far behind the other vessels. The first ship to make port always received the better prices.

Not that Nicholas needed to make a profit—that wasn’t the point of this voyage—but the sailor in him still strained at the bit, wanting to be the first in port.

“Passenger’s here, Cap’n.” A young, fresh-faced boy of about fifteen bounded up the
companionway like an unbroken colt, all spindly legs and arms and endless energy. A pleasing contrast to the others.

“Make sail, Samuel.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” Samuel cupped his hands around his mouth and leaned back to yell, “Away aloft!”

Men scurried up ratlines to the rigging. At the command “Let fall” they loosened the ropes holding the sails. Nicholas kept a keen eye on the topmen, ensuring they released each sail in the designated order, first at the yardarm, then at the bunt. To release them any other way would cause the sail to fill too soon, knocking the man off the yardarm, causing him to fall to his death.

Much to his relief, no one fell and the sails quickly filled.

The ship jumped forward and Nicholas’s heart jumped with it. With the sun beating down on his head and the screeching gulls circling the ship, he’d almost forgotten the horror of the hospital and the paralyzing fear that he might never walk again, let alone sail a ship.

He smiled for the first time in days. If those doctors could see him now.

“Good day, Captain.”

Nicholas’s head snapped around to the husky, very female voice behind him. Emmaline Sutherland stood in a shaft of sunlight, absolutely beautiful and sensuous in deep green, her hair precariously piled on top of her head, the sun beating down on her golden skin.

“Mrs. Sutherland.” How he managed to execute a bow without falling on his face was beyond him. Much to his chagrin, he hadn’t been able to erase her image from his mind since the night of the ball. And now, suddenly, she was standing before him. On
his
ship.

“Shocked to see me, Captain?”

“Very. I wasn’t expecting our lone passenger to be …”

She raised a brow, her lips curling into a smile. “A woman?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, yes.”

And damn it, why a woman? Why
this
particular woman? In his experience women were
notoriously bad passengers, prone to seasickness and frightening easily. Exactly what he didn’t need. Of course, in hindsight, he should have known. Only a woman wouldn’t understand the concept of being on time.

Boldly, almost daringly, she stared at him. Her eyes were more green than blue today, matching her shimmering gown. At any other time, in other circumstances, he would have admired her beauty, but his frustration wouldn’t allow it. Not when she was an interloper on
his
ship.

“You are aware we are sailing to Boston?” he asked. “Boston is nowhere near Barbados.”

Her smile didn’t dim. In fact it appeared to brighten, as if she knew he was irritated and it pleased her. Which only served to drive his irritation straight into anger. Emmaline Sutherland was a distraction he could ill afford. Good God, they would spend five weeks together on this ship.

Impossible. He simply could not take her to Boston.

Except they’d already left port and if he was to stay on schedule, he couldn’t possibly drop anchor now.

“I am aware of the location of Boston on the map, Captain.”

“And what business have you in Boston, Mrs. Sutherland?”

He swore her jaw muscles tensed, but more than likely it was the shadow cast by the sails.

“Personal business, sir.”

What possible “personal business” did a woman have in Boston? If her husband were any sort of man, he wouldn’t allow his wife to gallivant around the world unprotected, on some mysterious “personal business.” His irritation now encompassed Mr. Sutherland. For allowing his wife to travel alone, for not protecting her. For not being
here
. Because if he were here, Nicholas wouldn’t be responsible for her.

“I admit to being away from society for some time. I wasn’t aware that the best dressmakers are now in the colonies rather than England and France.” What the hell happened to him
when he was around this woman? His tongue had a mind of its own, it seemed. He was about to apologize for his lack of manners, but her narrowed eyes stayed the words and suddenly he wanted to see that back straighten again, and those eyes flash fire at him. Because she was exquisitely beautiful when angry.

“Not all women are concerned with fashion,” she said between clenched teeth.

He barely stopped himself from grinning. Damn but she
was
beautiful. “I can’t imagine what other personal business a woman alone would have in Boston.”

Did she bare her teeth at him?

“That’s why it’s called
personal
business, sir. It’s personal. I wasn’t aware a sea captain need be informed of a
paying
passenger’s reason for travel.”

As much as he enjoyed their conversation, she was correct. It wasn’t his business, nor did he want it to be. His job was to get her to Boston. Period. “I trust your cabins are adequate for you and your companion, Mrs. Sutherland?”

“I travel alone, Captain.”

His gaze flew to hers. “You travel without a companion?”

She raised her arms out at her sides, her smile now full-blown. “Only me.”

“But …” Such a thing was unheard of.