Sea of Desire (12 page)

He was using the boy as leverage. Merideth
saw through his scheme straight away. She also felt fairly sure
that the captain wouldn’t do anything to harm Tim. But she wasn’t
absolutely sure, so in the end she narrowed her eyes and agreed to
do his wash.

His grin of satisfaction was harder to
swallow than the thought of washing his shirts.

“Sorry, I can’t do nothin’, but the cap’n, he
made me promise not to help ye none.”

“That’s all right. I’m nearly finished.”
Merideth sunk her hands into the murky rinse water. Wringing out a
white linen shirt, she took considerable pleasure in pretending it
was the captain’s neck. She brushed hair from her cheek with her
shoulder and plopped the shirt over the makeshift clothesline that
crisscrossed the cabin. She’d strung it earlier, when rope, along
with two buckets of seawater and a bar of soap, was delivered to
the cabin by a smirking sailor.

She imagined the entire crew knew of her
escapade with Tim, as well as their punishments. When Tim arrived
shortly thereafter to watch her wash the captain’s shirts, he
confirmed her speculation.

Not that she cared one way or the other.
Getting off this vessel and returning to Land’s End were all that
concerned her.

And punishing her father’s killer.

“Guess ye ain’t used to this, ye bein’ a lady
and all,” Tim mumbled as he bit into an apple.

“Actually, sometimes ladies have to do more
than you might think.” Merideth dragged another shirt through the
wash bucket.

“Ye mean ye washed clothes before?” Tim
stopped munching and looked at her wide-eyed.

“Not exactly,” Merideth admitted. “But I have
helped Belinda. She’s one of the servants.” One of the few servants
left. If indeed there were any at Banistar Hall now.

“Hmmm.” Tim seemed to ponder this as he took
another bite of his apple.

“What about you? Was your punishment so
bad?”

“Nay. Cap’n had a talk with me about how
important it was to follow orders on a ship. Me bein’ sent down to
clean up and not doin’ it was goin’ against orders, he said.
‘Tweren’t so bad this time, but durin’ a battle it could be real
dangerous.”

He quoted the captain as if it were the
Gospel. Merideth reminded him of the rest of his punishment.

“Aye, well, Cook didn’t give me any
puddin’—which I felt was right and just. But when I was cleanin’ up
the dishes cap’n said he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth tonight,
and that I could eat his if I’d a mind.”

Merideth straightened, drying her hands on
the skirt of her riding habit. “He gave you
his
bread
pudding?”

“Aye.” Tim started straightening the charts
on the desk. Merideth just stood, her mouth open in disbelief.

“But you said he’d skin you good. You were so
afraid to cross him. And he gave you his dessert?”
She
didn’t receive
any
bread pudding with her simple fare of
pork and potatoes last night.

“He did. And the cap’n’s one who likes his
desserts,” Tom proclaimed in all sincerity. “But the cap’n ain’t
like old Luke was. The cap’n, he ain’t the kind to go hurtin’
ye.”

Such a shadow of dread came over the young
face at the mention of Luke that Merideth moved toward the desk and
touched Tim’s arm. “Who’s this Luke?”

“Ain’t nobody important.” He shrugged off her
hand, and Merideth imagined it was more to keep her from seeing how
afraid he was than because he didn’t want her touching him.

From the open doorway Jared watched them,
Lady Merideth and the boy. He hadn’t heard what they were
discussing, but he knew he didn’t want the woman getting too close
to Tim. She may have made him laugh yesterday, but she wasn’t to be
trusted. Not with her country’s secrets. And not with Tim.

“Mr. Padriac’s looking for you, Tim.” They
both turned, and Jared thought he saw a flicker of guilt flash
across Lady Merideth’s face.

“Time for me lessons?” Tim asked, his face
contorted into a scowl.

“ ‘Past time’ would be more like it.”

“Sorry, Cap’n. I was just gettin’ a start on
yer cabin. But I weren’t helpin’ her with the laundry none,” he
added quickly.

“Didn’t think you were.” Jared jerked his
chin in the direction of the companionway. “Better get along with
you now.”

Merideth hoped the captain would follow his
young charge, but he only leaned against the doorjamb, his arms
folded across his powerful chest, acting as if he had all the time
in the world.

Well, she wouldn’t be intimidated. There was
naught wrong with honest work. If he wished to watch her launder
his shirts, so be it. She grabbed the last garment. This one he’d
worn recently. His scent clung to the soft linen. Annoyed that
she’d noticed, Merideth plunged it into the water, doing her best
to ignore her captor looming so close.

She’d removed her jacket. Her shirt was cut
in a man’s style, though made of a softer, finer fabric. It became
her. Even with the sleeves turned up and her arms near elbow-deep
in sudsy water.

Jared considered leaving. He didn’t like
noticing the way she looked. His interest in her was simple;
discover the name of the spy. He thought now that she felt defeated
was a good time to try again. He was prepared to offer her a quick
return to England. Certainly she wished to return to where servants
did the laundry.

“Did you want something, Captain
Blackstone?”

She didn’t sound defeated. “Nay. I just
wondered how you were enjoying your captivity. Thinking perhaps you
might wish to barter for your freedom.”

Merideth’s head shot up and she swiped damp
curls from her forehead with her arm. “My captivity is barbarous,
sir. But as for bartering, I have nothing to trade.” Merideth
grabbed up the shirt and slung it into the rinse bucket. Water
splashed out in a crystalline arc, sloshing over the captain’s
boots.

Merideth heard his sharp intake of breath and
tried unsuccessfully to keep from smiling. With an enthusiasm she
hadn’t felt before, Merideth proceeded to slosh the shirt around in
the bucket. Then, before he could comment on his wet boots, she
seized the sodden shirt, gave it a perfunctory squeeze, and flung
it over the rope.

Water splattered everywhere, but nowhere so
much as on the captain.

Merideth glanced up in time to see anger
flash behind his green eyes. All thoughts of mischief fled as he
lunged toward her.

Overturning the wash bucket with its load of
soapy water was an accident. But as he jumped from its path,
Merideth knew she’d never convince the captain of that. He rounded
on her and she darted, thrilled that for the moment she had escaped
him.

But the deck was slick, and as she headed for
the open door her half boots skidded. She threw out her hands as
she fell, catching onto the captain’s sleeve at the last
minute.

Instead of breaking her fall as she hoped,
clutching the captain threw him off balance just enough to slip on
a sliver of soap that had sloshed from the bucket into the puddle
of water. They fell together, amid petticoats and curses, onto the
wet deck.

“Hell Almighty!”

Water sopped through Jared’s shirt as he
landed on his back, Merideth atop him. Her hair cascaded about
them, curtaining their faces. And her expression, instead of
penitent, revealed an irreverent smile.

Why he grabbed fistfuls of her golden curls
he wasn’t sure, but the next thing he knew, he was tugging her
closer and her amusement had vanished.

Kissing her was everything he remembered. Hot
and wild, and so impossibly erotic Jared didn’t know what kept him
from rolling her over and taking her on the water-covered deck. She
opened to him immediately, welcoming his tongue and moaning when he
swept it through the honeyed interior of her mouth.

His hands slid down her back, molding her
body to his. Her legs spread, and she seemed to wrap herself around
him. A promise of the ecstasy to come.

Years of sea duty, years of war, caused the
loud rattle to penetrate his passion-drugged mind. He heard it, and
his hands stilled.

“What is that?”

She raised her head and looked at him, her
angel eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth rosy and wet.

“The call to battle stations,” Jared
answered, already pushing to his feet and pulling her up with him.
There was no time to say anything more, and that suited Jared
fine.

For he had no idea how in the hell to explain
away what had just happened... again.

“Don’t ask!” Jared said as he strode across
the quarterdeck. His shirt and breeches were soaked and he didn’t
want to explain to Padriac how they got that way. And from the
expression on his friend’s face, Jared assumed that question was on
the tip of his tongue.

Scooping up his spyglass, Jared focused on
the armada of sails dotting the horizon. “My God,” he breathed,
slowly lowering the brass tube.

“Rather impressive, wouldn’t you say?”

“ ‘Disastrous’ is more the word I’d use. Pile
on the topsails.”

Padriac relayed the order, then leaned
forearms on the rail. “What’s your guess? Have they spotted
us?”

“Spotted? Aye. Whether or not they choose
pursuit is another question. Perhaps they’ll think us of too little
consequence to bother with. But regardless, I’d wager we’re dealing
with the British Grand Fleet here.”

Padriac only nodded as the
Carolina
’s
crew set about skimming the vessel across the water with all
haste.

By the beginning of the next watch the
question was answered. The British were in pursuit. Not the entire
fleet. However, two cruisers had peeled off and were gaining on the
American schooner.

“Damn.” Jared pounded his fist on the
railing. “I was hoping they’d consider us unimportant.”

“I think they recognize the
Carolina
.
Your reputation comes back to haunt.”

“Very amusing,” Jared said as he studied the
sky. “ ‘Twill be twilight soon. If we can hold them off till then,
we might have a chance to lose them in the dark.”

But two hours later, as the shadows
lengthened and the ocean lost its sun glow, the British vessels
drew closer. The two cruisers each sported more guns than the
Carolina
, and as Jared watched from the quarterdeck the
British tars were busy opening the gunwales.

“They mean to make a battle of it,” Padriac
said, coming up behind where Jared paced from the wheel to the
rail.

The
Carolina
was a whirlwind of
activity. Cannons were rolled into place, and sand strewn on the
deck. But the American ship sported only sixteen guns, all
four-pounders, and thirty swivels. No match at all for the heavily
armed British duo.

“We have maneuverability,” Jared said, a
worried frown creasing his forehead, “but they certainly have us
beat in firepower and speed.”