Caution to the Wind (20 page)

The captain lowered his face to hers again, and Amanda parted her lips. Remembering the way he had tasted her with his tongue, she teased him with her own, tempting the beast she knew lived just beneath his controlled façade.

“Amanda,” he said again, his voice held a note of anguish as though he knew he couldn’t win the battle he fought with himself.

He tugged at her shirt and she quivered when his calloused hand touched the sensitive skin at her midriff. His hands gripped her hips, and he caressed both sides of her navel with his thumbs. When she sighed against his chest, he ran his hands higher still, over her waist and ribcage stopping when he reached the bindings that encircled her chest.

Silently, she urged him onward. Her bindings were coming loose already. He could release them as easily as she had released his hair if only he would give a small tug on the right one.
Oh, please, captain, now is not the time for retreat!

“Stop!” Bull yelled from just inside the door.

Bull stumbled forward when Buck and the doctor plowed into his back.

The captain stepped away, and Amanda had to catch herself to keep from falling to the floor.

“He didn’t steal them,” Bull said between gasps for breath. “I loaned them to him.”

“As did we,” added the doctor.

He and Buck squeezed around Bull to stand at his side.

For a moment, Amanda had no idea what they were talking about. Then she remembered the captain’s belongings that lay scattered about her hammock.

Had they heard the captain’s shouts when he first discovered his books in her locker? He hadn’t actually raised his voice, but even his normal voice would be more than enough. Perhaps his words had carried up through the planks where one of the men had heard and gone to fetch the others.

Amanda stole a glance at Captain Stoakes. Except for the hair cascading over his ears making him appear atypically unkempt, he didn’t appear to be a man recently returned from the throes of passion. His eyes hard and his lips set in a thin line, she would have guessed him to be angry. She was a little disgruntled herself.

Captain Stoakes glared at the three officers filling the cramped quarters. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor, but aren’t these the books you gave me at the beginning of our voyage?”

“Well, yes, they are.” the doctor studied the incriminating pile in the middle of the floor. “However, we had a bit of an emergency.”

“An emergency?” The captain had lowered his voice, but his eyebrow twitched, and Amanda knew the storm had not blown over yet. “Pray tell, what was the emergency?”

“They kept the lad from drinking,” said Bull.

Drinking?
Amanda wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to be accused of stealing.

“He has a drinking problem?” The captain’s blank expression showed his confusion.

The men looked at each other in silent conference. Amanda would have sworn the doctor gave a small nod.

“No, not really a problem,” the doctor began, his words measured as though he were trying to decide how to describe the issue.

“No, not really,” added Buck, less than helpfully.

“More of a predicament,” said Bull, looking pleased with himself for finding just the right word.

Doctor Miller and Buck nodded in agreement.

“And, what is this
predicament
?” the captain asked, emphasizing the chosen term.

“Well, you see.” The doctor spoke slowly, as though he were explaining an illness to his patient. “I’m guessing that growing up with his mother and all, the boy hasn’t had much experience with alcohol.”

“No, sir, he hasn’t,” added Bull.

Buck nodded in agreement.

That part was true at least. Actually, no experience would be more precise. Her first taste of hard liquor had been the mug of rum Bull gave her only a couple of weeks after setting sail. When she tasted it, she had sputtered and coughed. Bull had yelled at her, saying something about “not inhaling it.”

After that, she sipped slowly until she grew accustomed to the taste. Rather more, she liked the sort of soft warm glow it gave. It took the edge off her aching muscles and relaxed her head until her troubles didn’t seem quite so overwhelming. However, that had been her first and last taste of rum because she most certainly did not like the headache she had in the morning. Cooking the captain’s eggs had been a most nauseating experience and not one she wished to repeat.

“And as such…” the doctor was saying.

“Yes, as such,” Bull added.

The captain shot him a dark look that suggested he would throttle him if Bull repeated one more word. After that, Bull joined Buck, silently nodding in agreement with everything the doctor said.

“As I was saying,” the doctor continued as though he were discussing one of his scientific experiments, “With such limited experience with alcohol, I find he doesn’t tolerate it well.”

“So he gets drunk easily. Is that it?” The captain looked at the three men in disbelief. “That’s the problem, I mean the
predicament
?”

They nodded in unison.

“A little alcohol, or a lot, doesn’t matter.” The captain snorted. “Most of my crew will be lucky not to be facedown in a gutter by the end of tonight.”

“It’s not that he gets drunk,” the doctor interrupted.

“Well then, what the hell does he do?” the captain asked, running his hand across the back of his neck. He had clearly had enough of whatever game they were playing.

Spellbound, Amanda wondered where this story was going. She had to admit she hadn’t really remembered climbing into her hammock the night she tried rum. Had she done something
improper
under its influence? The room growing warmer by the minute, she tried to recall the rest of that evening.

“He giggles,” the doctor said with a shrug.

“Giggles!” the captain and Amanda exclaimed together.

“Yes,” said Bull, finding his voice again. “And, we just figured it was kind of unseemly and all for a sailor to giggle, drunk or no.”

“Hmm hmmm,” murmured the other two in agreement.

They all looked so satisfied with themselves that Amanda was sure they had to have made the story up. Besides, she had more self-composure than to giggle when she had a little rum. Well brought-up ladies, even ones raised in the country, avoided giggling.

“I have had enough!” the captain bellowed, and Amanda’s knees wobbled.

“You three are hereby ordered to remain on this ship until further notice. Your shore leave is canceled.” He paused as if to think what else he could do to them, but simply added, “And, before you go borrowing any more of my books, you are to ask my permission. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir!” all three men said in unison.

“And you.” He looked at Amanda, but she could see the fire had gone out. Giggling appeared to be less of an offense than stealing.

“No shore leave for you,” he growled but then stopped and regarded her. “Not that you look like you were planning to go anyway.” He turned to go but stopped again. One hand on the doorframe, he swiveled to face her. “And stay away from the rum!” he bellowed before turning and slamming the heel of his fist against the doorjamb on his way out.

Chapter Fifteen

The following morning dawned clear and bright. All those given shore leave the night before were back aboard by midmorning. They looked and smelled a little worse for wear, but since Buck and Bull had both had a good night’s sleep, they were in fine form to make sure no one shirked his duties.

Shortly after the noon bells, Captain Stoakes spotted a lone English merchantman on the horizon. He glanced around at his crew with their glazed eyes and slack jaws. An unescorted ship presented too promising an opportunity to pass up. Perhaps fast sailing and a well-fought battle would shake the cobwebs from the addled brains of his men. He gave the order to give chase.

The captain got the speed he craved, and the
Amanda
overtook her quarry with ease despite the merchantman’s relatively low profile and fast lines. The battle, on the other hand, was not to be had. One shot over the bow and the captain of the English vessel hauled down her colors.

Only a short time later, Amanda understood why. She had been below deck helping the doctor re-stow his unused operating instruments and supplies when the hard thud of booted feet sounded on the steps.

“Captain wants you on deck when you’re finished with your duties here, Adam,” Buck said, climbing halfway down before ducking his head under the planks to relay the orders. Before she could ask why, he disappeared through the hatch.

She caught the doctor’s eye then turned back to wrapping the doctor’s clean bone saws in a sheet made of wool. “What do you think he wants?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Her nerves were still a little rattled from his kisses the day before. Had they not been interrupted, how far would she have allowed his advances to go? She had grown hungry for more than his kisses, and even now, she could feel the imprint of his warm hand against her belly.

She had managed to avoid him all morning and had been hoping to extend the reprieve awhile longer, at least until she could pull her wits about her again. Her knees still grew week every time she thought of his strong hands encircling her waist.

The doctor shrugged. “You know the captain. He works up a powerful hunger chasing the British. He probably just has a request for dinner tonight.”

Amanda laughed, but only to cover her nervousness. “Or, maybe he just wants a mug of coffee,” she suggested with false cheer.

Doctor Miller gave her a look that told her he had heard the forced nonchalance. He hadn’t said anything, but she doubted he had been fooled by their performance yesterday. After all, he knew her secret and had interrupted their kisses once before. This morning, when she returned to the cabin, she found the captain’s black leather thong sitting atop her pillow. She had torn it from his hair while he had her pressed against the wall on the doctor’s side of the room. Where it went once it left her fingers, she had no idea, but she doubted it crawled into her hammock on its own.

She took her time packing the doctor’s remaining instruments into his storage chest, making sure each one lay properly nestled, the blades protected from impact by the soft wool. When she unfolded and folded a protective cover around a sharp blade for the third time, trying to get it right, the doctor came and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I can finish that. You know how the captain is when he’s hungry. I think you’d better get up on deck.”

“Yes. Thank you, doctor,” she said, turning the task over to him.

Amanda climbed the steps to the upper deck. What could the captain want? Certainly not a repeat of last night’s performance since he had asked to see her in such a public place. Considering how often their private exchanges had ended in passion lately, perhaps meeting on deck, surrounded by her shipmates, was the safest place for both of them.

She expected the captain to be waiting on deck. Instead, she found him talking to a man, not nearly so tall as himself but almost twice as wide. They were engaged in a cordial, if somewhat stiff, conversation. The captain even laughed at a comment made by the other man, although his smile did not quite reach his eyes.

He must be the captain of the English ship. His velvet coat, cut in a stylish fashion, looked finer than anything most Americans could afford or would choose to wear even if they did have the funds. He had layers of lace about his wrists and neckline and carried a lace handkerchief in one hand, with which he repeatedly dabbed his nose. Since the man appeared in good health, Amanda suspected snuff or force of habit more than any lingering illness.

She didn’t think she had ever seen the captain talking to the commander of another ship so soon after battle. The code of the privateer usually dictated the enemy captain be held prisoner aboard his own ship in the comforts of his own cabin but under armed guard until they reached port.

She stopped several feet from the captain to give him his proper due and because it seemed wiser to keep a good distance between them.

Captain Stoakes stood with his back straight, his hands clasped behind him. When he spoke to the English commander, his tone was light, convivial, but his eyes were always on the English captain. He gave the impression of watching the man, assessing his strength and his weaknesses. How very like a wolf.

But if her captain behaved like a wolf, the English commander looked more like a fat partridge, unaware of the predator nearby. Amanda ducked her head to hide her grin.

The breeze shifted and carried the captains’ voices across the deck. The commander of the merchantman, in his clipped English accent, told Captain Stoakes his ship had been separated from their escort by the recent storms. As fortune would have it, they had survived the gale, but wound up lost until the
Amanda
arrived.

The captain of the merchantman didn’t seem at all displeased to have met up with an American privateer. In fact, he sounded rather eager to hand over his “very special cargo” with the understanding that Captain Stoakes would see it safely cared for and to its proper destination.

Amanda inched closer to see what more she could hear. The “proper destination” for most cargo was public auction in a port such as Boston. However, she had heard there were prize courts as far south as Martinique. Her spirits soared at the thought of sailing to such an exotic locale. Then they returned to deck. Not being an official member of the crew, she would hardly be chosen for the prize crew. Life could be so unfair.

“I hope you and your officers will do me the honor of joining me for supper this evening,” Captain Stoakes said.

The invitation startled her. Did privateer captains often invite their prisoners to dine with them? They had captured several ships, and so far, no one had been invited to supper. Did the captain expect to entertain them in his quarters? Where on earth would he stow all those books, charts and papers?