A Lady at Last (16 page)

Amanda wished she had never been so foolish.

There was a knock on her door. As Amanda turned to answer it, she noticed the silver seas outside the porthole and the ominously gray skies. Excitement began—they were in for foul weather. It had been years since she had sailed in a wild storm.

She opened her door to find Michelle smiling at her. She brightened. “Are we going to read some more?” She loved reading almost as much as she loved sailing.

He beamed. “
Non, actuellement,
I am going to start your dancing lessons.”

Her heart fell. Thus far, her lessons had only been comprised of walking, speech and the ever-so-basic curtsy. Michelle was going to teach her to dance? If she had to learn how to dance, she wanted to learn with de Warenne. But maybe it was better this way. She didn't want to embarrass herself in front of him again.

“I don't feel well,” she lied. “Can't we start tomorrow?”

“
Mademoiselle,
there is very little time left! You must learn to waltz, even if we have no music.
Maintenant, allez-vous
.”

 

“O
RDER TOPSAILS
and topgallants single reefed.”

“Aye, sir,” Midshipman Clark said, hurrying to give the orders.

Cliff turned back to stare across the bowsprit, the winds a strong twenty-three knots. The weather was worsening rapidly and he estimated that within two or three hours, he'd have almost all canvas down. His arms folded across his chest, he attuned his senses to the oncoming storm, trying to gauge it. He had a dark feeling, one he did not care for. “Heavy weather lies ahead,” he remarked to MacIver.

“Aye, it does, sir.”

“There'll be rain, too.” He turned and strode to the edge of the quarterdeck, watching as the sails he'd ordered furled came down. “Clark. I'll have double duty now.”

“Aye, sir,” Clark said, echoing the orders for another watch to take up stations. Cliff was certain he'd have all hands on deck by sunset—not that one could see the sun, as the skies were becoming heavier and darker by the moment.

“My lord.” Anahid approached unsteadily, fighting the rolling deck.

He leaped down to the main deck and grasped her arm. “The children?”

“They are fine, my lord. Alexi wishes to be on deck and Ariella has yet to notice the weather, as she is engrossed in her French assignments.”

The ship was riding high swells, but not yet bucking; still, the weather was worsening rapidly. “He will not come on deck until we have passed the storm. And that, I think, will be at dawn. Anahid, your report?” Every day at precisely four o'clock, Anahid would report to him on Amanda's progress. Her words thus far had been somewhat encouraging.

“My lord, she is a determined student. If we had more time, I would not be worried. But we have only three weeks left! She has been allowed to run wild and behave like a boy her entire life. Such engrained behavior cannot change in a matter of weeks.”

“She must make a good first impression at Belford House,” he insisted.

“You saw her walking like an aggressive tomboy the other day. She needs more time, my lord. May I be candid?”

“Please.”

“She is so proud…yet she puts her pride aside every single day. Every small mistake is a great mortification for her. I think you might wish to postpone her entry in society until she has mastered the skills she needs.”

“That can certainly be arranged,” he said thoughtfully. “But I would like her to be reunited with her mother immediately, which is far different from a coming out in the ton. She need not be perfect to meet her mother. Will she be able to pass as some kind of gentlewoman by the end of this voyage?”

“I am uncertain.”

He was both worried and touched. He had seen how determined his charge was. He admired her tenacity, especially as he also knew how proud she was and how her missteps shamed her. However, Lady Belford would want her daughter to be very polished. He had little doubt. “You will proceed to the best of your ability,” he told Anahid.

“My lord? You might wish to praise and flatter her. She admires you immensely.”

He flushed, having a terrible inkling that Anahid knew that an unacceptable passion had tainted his relationship with Amanda. “I will take you below.”

He held her arm and guided her to the children's cabin, helping her fight the wind. As he went in, Amanda appeared from her cabin, smiling brightly at him.

He instantly saw that her cheeks were flushed with excitement. “I take it you have some good news to impart?” he asked, as she followed him into the children's cabin.

“We are sailing into a storm,” she told him excitedly. “I have not been in a good storm in years.”

He slowly looked at her. Most women would be nervous at this stage, and in another hour, close to tears; by the time they were at the storm's heart, most women would be sobbing for their lives, expecting a watery death. He felt himself still. “We are in for very rough seas,” he said, “and extreme winds. We are already at twenty-three knots. The children will stay below. You will stay below with them, too.”

She gave him an incredulous look.

“That is an order.” He turned to face an equally disbelieving Alexi. He also saw that his daughter had finally noticed the storm. She had closed her book and was sitting on the lower bunk, pale with fright.

“Papa!” Alexi jumped up and down. “I must help you navigate through the storm. There is a storm, isn't there?”

“We are approaching gale winds,” he said. “But you are eight years old and I am giving you an order. You are to stay in this cabin and comfort your sister.”

Alexi stared unhappily. “But…”

“There are no buts!” Cliff exclaimed. “I am your captain and you will obey every order I give you. Am I clear?”

Alexi nodded, flushing.

“And I will be clearer,” Cliff said. While his son had never openly disobeyed him before, he knew how badly Alexi wanted to go on deck and witness the storm. But he would be blown overboard before Cliff could react. “I will take the rod to you if you disobey me.” He had never made such a threat before, but Alexi had to know he must not disobey him now.

Alexi's eyes went wide. He was absolutely silent.

Cliff stared one more moment, to make certain his son understood that this time, he would pay dearly for any transgression. “Good.” He softened, walking over to Ariella and sweeping her into his arms. “What are you reading?”

“The Iliad,”
she whispered.

“Is it a good book?”

She nodded. “Papa? Will we capsize?”

He laughed, hoping to reassure her. “Of course not! When has your papa ever capsized? Has your papa ever been shipwrecked? We have some strong winds, that is all. Later, there will be rain. But you,” he said, placing her back on the bunk, “will be sound asleep, as snug as a bug in your bed. You won't even know we have sailed through a storm, because at dawn, the sun will be shining.” He tweaked her chin lightly.

She nodded, not quite able to smile. “The ship is rocking so. It will be hard to sleep.”

“Anahid will make you tea, and the rocking will help you sleep, actually. I promise.”

She finally smiled at him.

He walked over to Anahid and Amanda, aware that Amanda's rapt attention was devoted to his every word and action. “Anahid,” he said, lowering his voice so his children could not overhear. “In another hour, put some brandy in Ariella's tea. It will be better if she sleeps through the night.”

Anahid nodded.

He returned to his son, clasping his shoulder. “You are to reassure your sister. You can play a game with her or read aloud, whatever, to distract her.”

“Yes, Papa,” Alexi said, sounding defiant and contrite, at once.

Cliff sighed. In a few more years, his son would be a rogue and difficult to handle, he was certain. He started from the cabin, pausing to look at Amanda. But she had gone over to his son.

“He isn't being mean, Alexi,” she said. “The storm is dangerous—you are so small that a good wind could blow you overboard! And if that happened, your papa would dive in to save you and you would both drown in these seas.”

He nodded gravely. “Then I will take care of my sister,” he said.

Pleased, Cliff nodded at Anahid and left the cabin. Instantly he saw that the winds had heightened; foam was spraying from the waves and being whipped in the wind's direction. He increased his stride, leaping to the deck. “Knots?”

Clark answered. “Twenty-four.”

They were in gale winds. “Furl the topgallants,” he said. “Double reef topsails and jibs.”

“Aye, sir!”

“Permission?”

He whirled in shock at the sound of Amanda's voice. She stood below him on the deck, fighting the winds, but her eyes flashed green with excitement. He didn't think; he reacted. He leaped to her side and seized her tightly. “You are hardly any bigger than my son! Are you mad to come out on deck now?”

“We are hardly in a hurricane,” she shouted. “Twenty-four knots—that's gale winds.”

“I want you below,” he shouted back.

“Please!” she cried, and their gazes locked.

Only a madman would give in. He took her with him to the quarterdeck, seizing a coil of rope and tying it to her waist and then to his. “You may stay on deck for a half an hour. I wish to speak with you anyway,” he said, his voice raised in order to fight the winds. “A storm is no place for a lady.”

She lowered her lashes, clearly scheming. Then she sent him a sidelong smile. “But I am not a lady,” she murmured, but he heard her anyway.

“How perfect—the subject I wish to discuss!”

“What?” she asked, cupping her ear.

He seized her hand, pushing it down. “I know you can hear me,” he said, but he lowered his face to hers. “I am very pleased with your progress in learning decorum, Amanda. Anahid speaks in glowing terms of you.”

She was wide-eyed with surprise.

“If you continue as you have been, there is every chance that you will not only delight your mother, but you will have suitors lined up around the block, vying for your attention.” He sent her a promising smile.

She flushed, incredulous. “How can you think so? I almost fell on my face today!” she cried against the wind and the slapping seas.

“I am saying so because I have faith in you,” he said, and he realized he meant it. “But I know you are anxious. So if you are not ready when we get to London, we will delay what we must.”

Relief filled her eyes. She nodded, her gaze riveted to his.

Suddenly his mind played a trick on him. He imagined her, not on the deck beside him, but in a ballroom, in a beautiful ball gown. His heart turned over hard, then thundered. Good God, she would be so beautiful…. For a moment, speech failed him. She would have a dozen suitors, he realized, still stunned. “Amanda,” he heard himself say, his gaze holding hers, “when you come out, I must insist on the first dance.”

“You want the first dance?” she gasped.

He tore his gaze away, shaken by the possessive desire that had arisen. “I do. In fact, I will make certain to be in London for your first ball—if you promise me that dance.”

She turned away, incredulous, but the rope between them went taut. “Of course,” she said breathlessly. Then she faced him, still surprised. “But why?”

“Are you not my protégée?” he asked, trying to sound casual. But he knew that she would be too beautiful to resist in a ball gown, whirling about the floor in a gentleman's arms. It flashed through his mind that he might not be that pleased when she was introduced into society, because no gentleman would be immune to her beauty. And suddenly he wanted that first dance very badly—suddenly he ached for it.

He glanced at her through his lashes. “Is it not my right to dance with you before all others?” he asked softly, unable to help himself.

He could not control himself. They were standing near the helm in gale winds, the deck rocking heavily beneath their feet, and he was thinking of this woman, her beauty, her allure and his passion, not the storm. He knew he would feel as intensely passionate dancing with her as he would if he allowed himself to take her to his bed.

She began to smile. “I am clumsy,” she warned.

He laughed, relieved by her absurd comment. “Impossible! You are light on your feet—we locked swords, remember? I know you will excel at dancing, just as you will excel at all of your current studies.”

She suddenly lowered her dark lashes. “Very well. I will allow you the first dance—
if
you allow me to ride the storm here with you.”

“Absolutely not!” he shouted, aghast. “I do not need you going overboard, either!”