Sea of Desire (37 page)

“Lady Merideth,” he said, his hazel eyes full
of excitement. “We spotted sail near dawn.”

“You did.” Merideth shaded her eyes.
“Where?”

Following the line of his finger, Merideth
could make out a tiny speck on the horizon. “Cap’n says it’s a
merchantman probably bound for Kingston from Canada.”

“It’s English, then?”

“Cap’n says more’n likely.”

For hours Merideth watched silently as the
spot of white grew larger, till she could finally make out the
shape of sails. Tim had left her, to carry on with his duties, so
she no longer had his running commentary. Even without it she could
tell the
Carolina
was in pursuit.

Visions of another bloody battle came to her,
and with it the memory of the men she had nursed... the men who had
died. She glanced about the deck, at Mr. Pochet, and at Tim. At
Padriac, and at the bo’sun who told her such wonderful tales of
pirates. She imagined them burned and bleeding. She drew in a
shattered breath and her gaze searched the quarterdeck.

“He can’t seem to let well enough alone.”

“What?” Merideth hadn’t noticed Daniel
approach her until he was by her side.

He nodded his wigged head in the direction
Merideth looked. “My dear cousin is determined to take yet another
prize. It doesn’t seem to matter to him that our hold is already
full.”

Glancing around, Merideth stared at him, not
knowing what she was to say. But apparently Daniel expected no
response. His eyes were still fixed on the captain and he
continued. “But that’s like Jared. He wants it all. He always
has.”

“You sound as if you don’t like him very
much.”

His attention shifted to her quickly. His
winged brows lifted. “Not like Jared, my own flesh and blood? Why,
that’s unheard of.” His smile sent a chill down Merideth’s spine.
“We Blackstones stick together. It’s a rule. Almost a sacrament. We
never speak ill of another Blackstone.”

“You seem want to adhere to your own
maxim.”

“What?” Daniel lifted his hand, slender
fingers spread. “Because I point out a few of my relative’s
deficiencies?” His smile turned ingratiating. “But that’s just to
you, dear girl, and only because you’ve become important to
me.”

He reached out, catching a lock of Merideth’s
hair, twirling it around his finger before she could step away. He
seemed to sense her discomfort, but Merideth was certain that
wasn’t the reason he let go before she raised her hand to slap at
his. His laugh was chilling.

“But then here comes our revered captain
now.” Merideth glanced up to see Jared approaching, a sober
expression on his sun-darkened face. “I’m sure he’ll tell you the
same. Won’t you, dear cousin?” he added, raising his voice for
Jared to hear.

“Won’t I what?” Jared stopped before them,
wondering why it annoyed him so much to see the two of them
together.

“I was just giving our lovely Lady Merideth
an explanation of why blood is thicker than water.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed and Daniel brushed the
explanation aside with a flick of his wrist. “ ‘Tis nothing.
Certainly nothing so important as what you’ve come to say.”

Merideth was sure the captain would find the
tone of sarcasm in his cousin’s voice offensive—she certainly
did—but he merely stared at Daniel a moment before turning his
sea-green eyes on her.

“I think it best you go below deck, Lady
Merideth.”

He spoke with a detachment that belied the
intimacy of the previous night. A detachment that offended
Merideth. She raised her chin. She could be as haughty and distant
as he. “Is that because you plan to attack that innocent ship?”
Merideth pointed to where the merchantman was now clearly
visible.

Jared didn’t bother to turn his head. “Aye,”
he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “That would be the
reason.”

The words were spoken without inflection, but
Merideth could tell she’d sparked his ire. Though his chiseled face
was covered with a day’s growth of black whiskers—apparently he’d
been so anxious to leave her this morning, he’d neglected to
shave—she could see the telltale tightening of his jaw.

She held her ground.

Daniel, however, did not. “I suppose I shall
retire below deck. Are you coming, Lady Merideth?” When he received
no answer, not even a shift of attention his way, Daniel bowed.
“Well then, till later.”

Neither Merideth nor Jared noticed him leave.
Towering over her, his expression as dark as the tangle of hair
that whipped back and forth across his face, he said nothing.

Trying not to feel intimidated, Merideth
cleared her throat. “Look at the poor vessel.” Though her words
demanded an action, neither head turned. “It doesn’t even seem to
be running from us.”

“ ‘Tis no matter. We could catch her anyway.”
When the sails were spotted by the morning watch just as dawn paled
the stars, he’d set the
Carolina
on the same tack and
course. He’d ordered canvas unfurled to match the merchantman, and
set her position in his compass. He was pleased when her sails drew
a point aft. But even if they could outsail the low-riding
merchantman, there was no call to cause the enemy ship’s captain
alarm. Jared didn’t want any of her cargo jettisoned in an attempt
to outrun a privateer. So he depended on a bluff.

“The ship isn’t sailing from us,” he told
Merideth. “Their captain thinks us to be another merchantman.”

“But how—”

“Our gunports are covered with painted
canvas, for one thing.”

“Why, that’s—”

“And we’re flying an English ensign, for
another.”

Her gaze did leave his then—briefly—to search
out the flag snapping sharply from the mainmast. It was a brilliant
white, sporting a red cross. “... not fair,” she finished.

“
Ruse de guerre
,” Jared said with a
shrug. “I thought you knew war isn’t fair.”

She did. Hadn’t she learned that the hard
way? Merideth closed her eyes. When her lashes lifted, the captain
had stepped closer. “Now, will you kindly go below?” His voice was
low, familiar, reminding her of his long, hard body pressed to
hers.

Merideth swallowed. “And if I don’t?”

“I shall have to toss you over my shoulder
and take you myself.”

“You wouldn’t.” But even as she voiced the
words, Merideth knew he most certainly would. He’d done it before,
and the gleam in his eyes told her he would do it again. She took a
step back, then another. He made no move to follow her, but
Merideth decided not to tarry.

Casting a nervous glance over her shoulder as
she made her way to the main hatch—the captain no longer stood by
the larboard rail—Merideth bumped into a tar she knew as Fleets. He
carried two buckets of sand linked by a wooden yoke that rode the
curve of his burly tattoo-covered shoulders.

He grabbed her arm. “Beggin’ yer pardon, yer
Ladyship.”

“No, no. It was my fault.” Merideth gave him
a wan smile and skirted his wide body. Now that she looked about,
the deck was full of activity. Sailors were moving here and there,
bringing barrels of powder from the hold and stacking handspikes,
rammers, and powder horns by the cannons. More tars climbed into
the rigging. But to a man they worked in a quiet, casual way that
Merideth assumed was meant to throw off the English captain if he
happened to be observing through his spyglass.

Shaking her head, Merideth made her way down
the ladder. She made her way aft along the passageway, past the
officer’s quarters and the wardroom on the starboard side. When she
reached the captain’s cabin she paused hand-on-latch. The smell of
bilge water and tar stung her nostrils and she wished for a deep
breath of sea air. Above her she could hear the men moving about,
rolling cannon, readying for the battle. She had the strongest urge
to run into the cabin, hide her head beneath the blanket, and
pretend none of this was happening.

But she couldn’t.

Turning on her heel, Merideth retraced her
steps along the companionway. She opened a lantern, removing the
candle and protecting the flame with her cupped hand as she headed
toward the afterhold. The deeper she went, the more the timbers
groaned and the darker and danker it became. It reminded her
vividly of the caves, but she took a deep breath and continued.

Abner Pochet turned when she climbed down the
ladder into the after hold. He stared at her a moment, then
continued laying out the tourniquets. “Figured ye might show up,”
was all he said.

Merideth nodded to him and several other
sailors who were readying the hold for surgery, and she set the
candle in a holder. They’d already made a floor of wide boards over
kegs. There were tables set up for equipment, others for patients
needing surgery, and pallets on the floor to accommodate the
wounded. After tying a towel around her waist, she asked, “What
should I do?”

“Get out the bandages.” He motioned with his
pointy chin toward a large wooden box.

Merideth opened the medicine chest, revealing
rows of tiny drawers and glass vials. She set out the scraped lint,
bunting, and rolls of bandages. As she was preparing the splints,
Tim came down the ladder with word from the captain that they were
nearly abreast of the enemy ship.

“We’re ready down here,” Abner said as he
carried a bucket of water to one of the tables.

With all prepared, there was naught to do but
wait. Merideth paced between the tables and pallets, sometimes
straightening a blanket, most of the time simply wringing her
hands. Even though she knew it would happen, the thunder of the
first salvo caught her unawares. The after hold seemed to tremble,
and Merideth caught hold of the ladder as the
Carolina
creaked and swayed.

“That would be the warnin’ shot,” Abner said,
looking as relaxed as if he were strolling along deck. “Doubt this
will amount to much. Cap’n’s got the Quakers lined up on deck.”

“The what?” Merideth tried to match the ship
doctor’s nonchalance, but found she couldn’t.

“Quakers,” Abner repeated. “The fake guns.
Made a wood they be, but lookin’ for all the world like the real
thing. Lookin’ down the throat a them plus our real guns is enough
to put the fear a God in any respectable merchantman.”

“You mean a trick?
Another
trick?”
Nervous laughter escaped her. Jared Blackstone seemed to have a
treasure trove of bluffs and ploys. With a sigh Merideth felt some
of the tension flow from her shoulders just as another monstrous
roar shattered the quiet.

“That wasn’t our guns,” she said, her eyes
large and round. “Was it?”

“God’s crutch, nay.” Abner sucked in his
breath as the
Carolina
strained against the blow. “The
bastards mean to make a fight a it.”

And make a fight of it they did—for the next
two hours, as Abner and Merideth stopped bleeding with lint and
smeared grease on burns.

The wounded that made their way to the after
hold told tales of the battle, of the exchange of volleys and
tacking for position.

“We’ll be boardin’ her soon,” Tim said as he
scrambled down the steps.

Glancing up from giving a sailor a drink,
Merideth saw him. After carefully lowering the man’s head, she
rushed to Tim.

“Are you hurt anyplace?” She grabbed hold of
his shoulders and spun the boy around to face her.

“Nay, I’m fine.” Tim shrugged out of her
hands. “I’m not a baby to be coddled.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I only thought...”
There was no sense telling him of her worries. “What of the
boarding? Are they giving up?”

“Soon.” Tim’s countenance brightened. “Cap’n
sent me down here to help. We’re rakin’ her stern now,” Tim said,
raising his voice over the sound of the great guns. “Wouldn’t be
surprised if she strikes her colors before we come aboard.”

But the stubborn merchantman didn’t give up.
It took a fierce hand-to-hand battle on her decks before her
captain handed over his sword.

“Must be carryin’ something dear,” Tim said
when word finally came down that the fighting was over. “Else they
wouldn’t a put up such a tussle.”

“Well, I hope it was dear enough for the
suffering it caused.” Merideth tied off a bandage around a young
tar’s leg. His smoke-blackened face sweated profusely.

“Now yer Ladyship, ye shouldn’t take on so.
‘Tis war, ye know.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The crew of the
Carolina
won the day.
Which didn’t surprise Merideth. And in truth she was hoping they
would. Later that evening, in the captain’s cabin, she shook her
head as she thought of her reaction to the battle.

She was British, daughter of a peer of the
realm. Certainly she should be loyal to her homeland. Hadn’t the
captain’s implications to the contrary been enough to send her into
a fit of denials?

Yet here she was, content with—nay, actually
wishing for—an American victory over her countrymen. Settling back
on the window seat, Merideth pulled her knees up under her chemise
and propped her chin. Earlier she’d shed her gown, which, despite
her efforts to apron the skirt with a towel, bore bloodstains.

At least none of the injuries sustained by
the
Carolina
’s crew were serious. Most of the tars who’d
made their way down to the after hold required no more than
bandaging. Abner hadn’t had to use his amputation blade once, thank
God.

Her head lolled back against the chilled
windowpanes. She was tired, too weary to ponder such weighty
questions as loyalty, let alone rebellions and liberty. Such words
were often bantered around by the
Carolina
’s sailors. The
men obviously believed in what they fought for. But Merideth didn’t
know anymore. She just didn’t know.

As she clasped her locket, Merideth’s lashes
drifted down. She didn’t even realize she’d fallen asleep until the
opening of the door woke her. She smiled dreamily up at the
captain. It was hours since she’d last seen him on deck before the
battle. But she’d worried about him all day.