War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (9 page)

Sarah’s eyes were drawn to Tristan while he
effortlessly rowed. She could see his arm muscles rippling under
his shirt with each powerful stroke. Those same arms had been
wrapped around her last night and she yearned to repeat the
experience.

Sarah unconsciously licked her lips, tasting
the salt from the sea spray. Her eyes met his and she reluctantly
looked away. Randall was awfully quiet and she was amused to see he
was slightly pale. Before long they were at the
Maiden
. The
wooden hull loomed over them and a knotted rope ladder was tossed
over the side. Randall lurched for it and began climbing without a
word.

Tristan chuckled, turning to Sarah. “I guess
you’re next.”

Sarah stood to climb and looked down at her
skirt. She eyed Tristan speculatively, “Can I trust you not to look
at my knickers.”

His eyes sparkled as he replied, “It would
be rather hard to hold the boat and ladder steady with my eyes
closed.”

Sarah turned her back to him, leaning over
to tie the back hem of her skirt to the front; creating a makeshift
pair of trousers. She grabbed the ladder and started to climb,
gritting her teeth as she felt the rough rope burning into her
palms. She stopped about half way, tired from her exertion and
dizzy from the swaying ship & sea. She took a deep breath
before continuing. Looking up she saw the deck hands peering down
at her with interest.

This might upset some women, but marching
with an army desensitizes you a bit. She gratefully grasped their
outstretched hands and allowed them to pull her up the last couple
of feet. Standing on the deck she thanked them and turned to watch
Tristan climb. He looked up as she was looking down. Taken aback by
the intensity in his eyes, she again looked away. He quickly
climbed up and over the edge with no assistance.

A man stepped forward to greet them. “Didn’t
think I would see you again so soon. Is this an inquisition?” he
asked, eyeing Randall in his British Finery.

Tristan grinned, looking almost boyish. “No
it’s a tour for my new house guest.”

He turned to draw Sarah forward. “Sarah,
meet Gabriel.”

“Gabriel,” Sarah repeated, offering her hand
to him. She was surprised when he brought it to his lips and kissed
it. “Sarah, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

She blushed genuinely, withdrawing her hand.
Randall frowned at the new competitor. Perhaps his idea of a tour
was not the best. “We won’t be long,” he added with an air of
superiority.

“A pity, any guest of Tristan’s is a guest
of mine,” Gabriel said with a wink.

Sarah turned to take in the view from the
ship. The constant rocking made her a bit queasy and she grasped
the railing to help steady herself. In the distance she could see a
ship with no mast. A shadow crossed over her when the men joined
her.

“What is that ship?” she asked. “Why is it
different?”

“It is a hulk,” Randall supplied. “The mast
was removed so it can’t be moved.”

“It is a prison ship,” Gabriel added. Sarah
glanced at him, there was a faint tone of disgust in his voice and
she wondered at it.

Sarah turned back to stare at the dark boat.
She wished they were closer so she could tell more about it. A hand
touched her back and she looked up into Tristan’s blue eyes. “There
are more pleasant things to see.”

She allowed herself to be guided away; she
was lead to the front of the ship to the captain’s bridge. She
looked at the sturdy oak wheel and trailed her hand along its
length. It was hard to believe this small piece of wood could steer
a ship of this size.

“How does it work?” she asked.

“The wheel is attached by rope to the
rudder. Turning the wheel turns the rudder and directs it on its
path.”

The galley was next on the tour; it held
enough seats to feed the entire crew. They bypassed the men’s
quarters due to decency, but explained the men slept in hammocks.
The thought of men sleeping in a swinging gunnysack intrigued her
and she was gravely disappointed.

Sarah asked any question that popped into
her mind. Anything to delay getting back into the audacious
carriage.

Randall stifled a yawn, looking at his
pocket watch. “We have a whole city to see, unless you would like
me to visit again tomorrow.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to keep you,” Sarah
supplied. “I can return another day?”

“Anytime you wish,” Tristan added, and
earned a smile.

She caught Gabriel staring at her intently,
it was not lust in his eyes but something else, intrigue maybe? It
was time to return to the rowboat and they did so in reverse order.
Tristan first, and then Sarah.

Stepping up to the rope ladder and looking
down she felt ill. It seemed so far away. Her head whirled a bit
and she took a deep breath before gathering her courage and
throwing one leg over first, and then the next. It was much more
difficult going down. She dreaded looking beneath her to find the
swaying rungs for her feet; so she used her foot to locate it
instead. About half way down a gust of wind caught the ladder and
ripped it from Tristan’s grasp. The sudden movement caused Sarah to
lose her grip; her heart lurched in her chest as she felt herself
falling. A second later, she had toppled into Tristan’s out
stretched arms and knocked him flat on his back. Sarah lay
straddled atop of him, their faces only inches apart.

“Need some help?” Gabriel shouted down as
the men on the ship hooted and whistled.

Unable to answer since the air was knocked
out of him, he gave a thumbs up. Embarrassed, Sarah put her hands
on his hard chest and pushed herself up. “Are you alright?” she
asked, worried about his silence.

“Good,” he replied, taking a large draft of
air into his lungs.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“Always,” he replied.

There was a thump as Randall joined them. He
made a big show of checking on Sarah’s welfare and she had to slap
his hands away.

The return trip was unremarkable and Sarah
was glad to have her feet back on solid ground. Back in the
carriage they stayed on the road next to the bay. Both of them were
pointing out landmarks here and there. Sarah tried to listen in and
memorize their words, but what was the worth? If she had no way to
export her findings, they were worthless.

Feeling glum as well as squished she turned
her eyes to the black hulk. They were getting closer. The breeze
shifted and the putrid smell of sickness washed over them.

Tristan cursed and covered his nose with his
cloak, offering Sarah his handkerchief. Randall whom was driving
the carriage had no recourse and actually gagged.

“What is that awful smell?” she asked,
knowing full well what it was. She had smelled it many times over
the last couple of years and was well immune to its effect.

“It is from the prison ship. Most of the men
are ill.”

“And who is caring for them?” Sarah asked,
although the answer was already known.

“No one,” Randall supplied. “The British
cannot afford to offer services to criminals.”

Sarah shuddered at the coldness in his tone.
Perhaps swaying from a tree branch was not such a bad end as she
imagined. Her eyes were drawn to the ship and she stared until they
passed. She could almost feel the suffering of the men on board.
Men whom would rather die than denounce their cause.

As if the knowledge sapped her strength she
leaned into Tristan and was rewarded as his arm crept about
her.

A word spoken by Randall caught her
attention and she turned to him. “Hospital? Can we visit?”

“A hospital is no place for a lady,” he
rebuffed and Sarah frowned. She made a point to turn her back on
him and face Tristan.

“Is this the hospital your brother works
at?”

“He used to before he joined the war. He was
a great surgeon.”

“Was?” Sarah frowned.

“What Mr. Radcliff is trying to say is that
his bloody brother left and joined the Rebels.”

“Rebels?!” Sarah gasped in pretend shock.
“Surely you jest.”

Tristan scowled at Randall before replying.
“It is true; I believe he has gone quite mad. He left a note with
his wife and disappeared. I know not if he lives.”

Randall humphed, “We would all be better off
if he was dead. Not only has he ignored his service to the King, he
is patching up the other agitators. If I were a Radcliff, I would
be thoroughly disgraced. ”

“Well it is by God’s good grace that you are
not,” Tristan spat.

Their squabble continued, but Sarah’s
thoughts were on the prison ship. She hardly recalled the remainder
of the tour. She could not clear her mind of the cruelness of
men.

Sarah sat at the dinner table and played
with her food. Thankfully, the Major left after dropping her and
Tristan off. He studied her worriedly from across the table.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Just tired is all. In
fact, I may retire early.” She patted her mouth with her
embroidered napkin before excusing herself. She headed to her room
and washed her face in the basin.

Looking into the mirror above the washstand,
she was shocked by her reflection. Her red hair made her fair skin
look even more fragile. Her cheeks were tinted by the brisk wind
and sun. She was lovely, and looked just as her mother had looked
in her youth. Her heart ached at the thought that her parents never
had the chance to see her grown.

A single tear ran down her cheek and she
wiped it away. Her hands fumbled with her hair, releasing it from
its bindings. It shimmered halfway down her back as she brushed
it.

A bell clanked outside and she moved to the
window to peek out. She looked down at the people scurrying around
in the darkness. New York was an odd place. The streets where lit
with lanterns to guide their way. She so missed her home. The quiet
countryside, with the occasional visitor. Perhaps someday she could
return, once all this madness was over.

She climbed under the covers and blew out
her light. However, sleep did not find her. Her arms and shoulders
ached from climbing the ladder. That twisted her thoughts to
Tristan, his muscular arms rowing and climbing with ease. How hard
his chest was when she landed on him. The last thought brought a
smile to her face. Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.

She awoke the next day feeling refreshed.
She had never slept so soundly. Light filled the room and she
turned to sit up. She felt a weight on her waist and it took a
second or two for her befuddled mind to realize it was an arm. And
connected to the arm was Tristan.

Shocked she grabbed her pillow and began to
beat him with it. In his haste to protect himself, he rolled away,
and off the bed on the other side. His rumbled head appeared a
second later as she seethed.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?”

“Well, I believe it is quite obvious that I
was sleeping.”

“Do you think me daft? You have no reason to
violate my bed.”

Tristan balked, “I did not violate anyone,
and would not. You were restless, so I came to watch over you.”

“That is a lie, I slept very restful.”

“You did once I joined you,” he said, unable
to hide his grin. He received a face full of feathers for his
troubles.

“Well then, I apologize for disturbing you.
I will not continue to burden you with my presence. I shall seek
shelter elsewhere.”

“No.”

“Pardon me?” she asked, her chest heaving
with emotion. She looked down and realized she was still in her
nightshift and was exposing much of her bosom. She hugged the
ruined pillow in front of her blocking his view.

“I agreed to protect you, and by God I will.
I’m not sure what demons visit your dreams at night, but anytime
you call for me, I will come.”

“Are you saying I called for you last
night?” she asked, slightly terrified by his answer.

“Yes, I must confess I probably would not
have heard you had I not been listening at the door. Nonetheless, I
swear you did speak my name.”

“Hmpf! I was probably cursing your
name.”

“Perhaps, but you were dreaming of me.”

Sarah sat on the bed in surrender. This was
not going at all as planned. Tristan was a powerful man in the
community. His influence might help her with her new goal; to gain
freedom for the men on the prison ship. He has wealth, prestige,
and a mighty fleet. All she had to do was convince him to deceive
his country.

“Fine, I will stay. For now. However, I
think we should get to know each other better.”

Tristan flopped on the bed next to her.
“What did you have in mind?”

“Tell me about your brother. What made him
leave?”

Tristan groaned, flopping over onto his
back. “What is there to say?”

“You don’t seem very fond of the British,
especially Major Johnson. I think you are more like Robert than you
think.”

“How did you know my brother’s name?”

“Oh, well Colonel Hill told me of course. I
was asking about your family picture above the fireplace.”

“My family had been in shipping for decades.
My heart and soul is in this business. To keep it afloat, I and my
family chose to support the winning side.”

“I see. So you are in it for the money.”

“That is not what I said.”

“Isn’t it?” Sarah said, turning her back on
him to get dressed. She pulled her dress over her shift and
smoothed out the wrinkles with her hand. Without looking at him she
headed down for breakfast. The dining room was empty so she headed
to the kitchen. She grabbed a biscuit from the bowl on the cupboard
and took a bite.

“Sleep well?” Cecilia asked with a
smile.

“Apparently,” she replied taking another
bite. “By the way, do you have my dress? The one I wore when I
arrived?”