Andrea Kane (9 page)

“I don’t understand,” she replied.

“Oh, I think you must. Surely it is far easier for her to, shall we say, appease her restlessness without her husband there to curtail her liaisons?”

Alex felt shocked color rush to her cheeks. “Certainly not! How dare you even suggest such a thing!”

Drake gave a hollow laugh. “Surely you cannot be
that
naive, princess? People of your social class rarely keep only unto their spouses.”

Alex winced. No, she was not that naive. She knew about the flagrant adultery that transpired in
ton
marriages. But not her mother. It was unthinkable.

She shook her head. “No,” she insisted. “My mother would never deceive my father.”

“Every woman is capable of deception, Alexandria. There are no exceptions.”

“You are very bitter.”

“I have reason to be.”

“Perhaps, but I hope never to become that way. Hatred consumes too much energy.”

Drake paused at her words, trying to ignore the truth behind them. “What
do
you hope to become?” he asked instead.

“Happy.”

“Happy by whose standards, princess? The
ton
would define happiness as marriage to the right man.”

“Happiness by
my
standards, Drake. And to me, marriage to the right man means marriage to someone I love. Otherwise, I want no part of it.”

Her little chin was held high. Drake couldn’t see it, but he knew it just the same. He grinned at the image.

“You’re young, princess.”

“I’m eighteen,” she protested.

“Very
young. You’ll change.” His words were bleak, even while his heart rebelled at the thought.

“I won’t.” Her tone dared him to challenge her.

Footsteps sounded nearby, and a moment later six bells sounded, reverberating across the forecastle.

Drake rose. “It is three o’clock. You had best get some sleep, princess. It will soon be daylight.” He reached down to help her to her feet.

Alex took his hand and allowed him to pull her upright. For a time they stood, their hands joined, their expressions obscured by the darkness.

“Good night, Drake,” she said at last.

He released her hand slowly, savoring the contact as long as he could.

“Good night, Alexandria.”

He watched her slender outline as she crossed the deck, then disappeared below.

Drake shook his head in disbelief. Had it been but two days that he had known her? In that brief time she had succeeded in infuriating him, disrupting his ship, challenging his authority, displacing him, sexually arousing him beyond any shred of control … and touching something inside him that he had never known existed.

Somehow Drake knew his life would never be the same.

A
STORM WAS BREWING.

Alex could feel it the moment she emerged on deck. The winds were high, though not yet harsh. The sky was. a moody gray, not quite threatening, but ominous nonetheless. And the waves were choppy, tossing
La Belle Illusion
none too gently to and fro. Alex’s instincts told her a violent storm would be upon them by dusk.

“Mornin’, Miss Alex!”

Alex turned toward the cheerful voice.

“Good morning!” She raised surprised brows toward Jeremy Cochran, who waved to her from his starboard watch. “I am surprised to see you up and about; I thought your neck was still causing you pain.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Not any more, thanks t’ ye.” He pointed to his neck, where a piece of material resembling a cravat was tied. “I took yer advice and ‘ad our sailmaker cut me a strip o’ canvas. Now I’m protected from the wind, and me neck is much better!” His eyes twinkled. “I don’t suppose it’s as fine a cravat as you’re used to seein’, but it works!”

Alex beamed. “It’s every bit as elegant as the cravats worn by the
haut ton,”
she teased back. “And I, too, am the beneficiary of our sailmaker’s talent.” She pointed to a thin band of canvas around her waist. “It’s the sturdiest belt I’ve ever owned.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Alex.”

Alex turned to see stocky Ezra Jamison arrive beside her. “What is it, Ezra?”

“Cook be wantin’ t’ know what you added t’ that stew t’ get the Cap’n t’ change ‘is mind? We’re ’aving it fer lunch today an’—”

“Shhh, keep your voice down, Ezra,” Alex cautioned, looking around quickly. “We don’t want Captain Barrett to know it was I who made that change, now, do we?”

“No, ma’am.”

Alex smiled. “Tell Louis I’ll be right there to locate the spice he needs. Also, remind him to serve less of the meat’s juices to the Captain. The drier the stew, the less likely he will recognize it as the same meal that infuriated him weeks ago.”

“Yes, ma’am. Oh, an’ Miss Alex, will ye be joinin’ us for the last ’and o’ whist before lunch?”

“No, thank you, Ezra, not now.” She had spied Smitty at the helm, and he looked peaked. She could be needed. “Perhaps later on today?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Off he went.

Alex made her way to the quarterdeck. Irreverent, as always, she did not seek permission, but climbed gracefully up to stand beside Smitty.

He smiled. In the three weeks of their voyage he had become very fond of their unpredictable passenger. The entire crew had taken to her. And, despite his bellows to the contrary, so had their captain.

“Good morning, Smitty.”

“And a good morning to you, my lady,” he replied.

She had tried time and again to persuade him to call her Alex, as almost everyone who knew her did. Her governess had been the first to use the name, claiming that her young charge never stayed still long enough for anyone to utter her complete forename. However, even a fleet-footed four-year-old could not escape faster than it took to say Alex.

But no amount of persuasion had convinced Smitty to follow suit. The rest of the men were casual and friendly, but Smitty was always proper, ever formal. He had missed his calling, Alex decided. He would have made an excellent valet.

“A storm is brewing,” Alex commented, looking out to the restless sea.

“Yes, my lady, it is.”

“Why don’t you rest for a while, Smitty? That way you will be refreshed when you are needed later today.”

He gave her a warm smile. “I am fine, my lady.”

“Where is Captain Barrett?” she asked.

“He is resting. He was at the helm most of the night.”

No, he wasn’t, Alex thought. He was on deck with me, talking. Their nightly talks had become almost a ritual, one that Alex had come to depend upon. Although by day a persistent tension still hung between them, by night they were able to share their thoughts openly and without anger. It made no sense at all, but Alex didn’t want to question it. She enjoyed the easy closeness they shared under cover of darkness.

“Well, if you will not rest, Smitty, at least allow me to keep you company.” She turned hopeful gray eyes to him.

He chuckled. She was an irresistible little thing. “My pleasure, my lady. You and I will steer the ship while Captain Barrett is resting.”

Captain Barrett was not resting. In fact he had just about given up the idea of ever sleeping again. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alexandria’s face.

He had never experienced such wildly careening emotions. One minute he was determined to throttle her; the next minute he was frantic to make love to her.

He did neither. But restraining himself was wreaking havoc on his body and on his mind.

And then there were the nights. It was then that he glimpsed another Alexandria. Someone alone and searching, who needed something but knew not what. Someone very much like himself.

With a groan Drake propelled himself from the bed and headed topside. The brisk morning air had picked up considerably since he had gone below three hours earlier. Now the waves were choppy, slapping against the hull with greater force. All the signs were present. A storm would be upon them by four bells.

Drake frowned. Preparations needed to be made and precautions taken. His ship had weathered many a storm; she would manage this one as well. It did not look too threatening—at least not yet—but Drake planned to keep a close watch on the storm’s approach.

A sudden burst of musical laughter drew Drake’s attention toward the quarterdeck. Smitty was at the helm with Alex close behind. Alexandria’s eyes glowed with sparkling silver lights as she gazed up at Smitty’s face. Throughout the voyage she had never bothered to bind her hair, and now it whipped wildly around her, a cloud of molten honey. Patiently she brushed strands off her delicate face, her features tanned and healthy from exposure to the sun. The familiar white shirt was belted at her narrow waist, her tiny feet were bare, the oversize breeches rolled up into generous cuffs at her calves. It mattered not that, by the
ton’s
standards, an indecent amount of leg was showing. She seemed to defy convention more and more as she left England farther behind.

Drake’s breath caught in his throat. God, she was beautiful … so vibrant and alive.

“Based upon the stiff gale, I would suggest bringing
La Belle
farther alee, Smitty.” Alexandria’s advice threw a spray of cold water on Drake’s tender observation. “Else we shall soon be all in the wind. Why, the sails are already protesting their battle with the elements!” She smiled approvingly as Smitty veered farther alee, a course he had been intending long before he heard Alex’s bright words of advice. “Excellent,” Alex praised.

“Will you never cease ordering my men about, princess?” Drake’s furious voice boomed out, as he swung on the quarterdeck.

Alex jumped at the impact of his words and the fury in his glittering green eyes.

“Will
you
never cease attacking me for no purpose, Captain?” she fired back. “I was merely helping poor Smitty out of a difficult situation.”

Drake saw Smitty bite his lip to keep back the laughter that threatened to erupt from his chest.

“You were
what?”
Drake uttered in disbelief.

Alex sighed patiently. “Captain, even the best sailors need occasional assistance. Smitty has been laboring on deck for hours now, with no relief. He is exhausted. I had hoped—”

Smitty saw Drake’s thunderous expression and hastily intervened. “It’s quite all right, Captain,” he assured him with a placating look. “Lady Alexandria made an astute observation.”

Drake looked incredulous. Smitty was giving credit for a standard maneuver, known by any adequate sailor, to an arrogant little twit. A twit who now stood before her captain, hands on hips, annoyed at his seemingly unwarranted outburst. From his peripheral vision, Drake saw Smitty take a protective step closer to Alex, intending to ward off Drake’s forthcoming assault.

This was too ludicrous to be true.

Alex truly believed that Smitty needed her help, due to his fatigue. Actually, Drake noted, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Smitty did look exhausted.

“Smitty, go get some sleep.” Drake approached the helm. “I’ll take over.”

Smitty frowned. “But you’ve gotten no sleep, Captain.”

Drake shrugged. “I’m becoming used to it. Now go. It was an order.

Smitty tried not to look relieved as he relinquished the helm to his captain. In truth his fatigue was caused not by his advancing years but by the sleepless hours he spent listening to Drake pace the floor of the cabin, cursing and muttering under his breath. It was almost a relief when he would finally storm out and, Smitty assumed, go to the helm.

Smitty made his way below, recalling Alex’s belligerently beautiful face and Drake’s steely stance. Pity that one acquired wisdom and insight only as one got older, he mused. Ah, well, they would soon discover for themselves what he already knew.

Left alone, Alex turned toward Drake’s hard profile. “Do you feel the storm coming?”

“Yes, princess I feel it.” He glanced up at the sky. “It will be several hours before it is upon us. After our midday meal we will batten down
La Belle.”

Alex nodded. “We’ve been very lucky with the weather until now. The winds have been strong, but the rains have spared us.”

“Yes, well, we’re not out of the woods yet, my lady,” he reminded her. “We still have many weeks ahead.”

“I know.” Alex sounded delighted rather than upset by the prospect. She leaned back against the smooth wooden planks and looked up at Drake. “When will we near the Saint Lawrence?”

“Not for at least a fortnight,” he replied. “Longer, if the weather does not cooperate.”

Alex’s eyes glowed. “I can hardly wait to see Canada!” She gave Drake a brilliant smile. “I have imagined it so many times—a great untamed wilderness with miles of untouched land and beautiful waters on which to sail.”

Drake grinned. “Is that what you plan to do once we arrive in York? Sail?”

Alex nodded vigorously. “I plan to acquire another skiff as soon as possible. Then I can strike out on Lake Ontario on my own!”

Once again Alex’s infectious enthusiasm warmed the coldness of Drake’s heart. But the reality of her fate, while clear enough to Drake, seemed to escape her. “Don’t you think your father might have other plans for you, princess?” he reminded her gently.

Alex shrugged. “At first, perhaps. But the novelty will wear off. He will be far too busy to be bothered with me.”

“You’re his daughter!”

“I know, but that is how it is between us. Perhaps if I. had been the son he wanted things would have been different, but …” Alex gave a philosophical shrug. “Anyway, I have no fear that Father will monopolize my time. It will be far easier for him if I am not in the way.”

Unbidden, a surge of protectiveness claimed Drake. Didn’t Alex’s parents recognize that she deserved better than two cold and self-centered providers who obviously had no time for their warm and headstrong daughter? Damn them!

The ship lurched unexpectedly, recapturing Drake’s attention.

“Go below and eat,” he ordered Alex quietly. “If you wait much longer your stomach may not cooperate.”

Alex nodded, realizing the storm was moving toward them rapidly. “I’ll finish my meal, then wake Smitty. By that time it will be necessary to ready the ship for its battle with nature.”