April Moon (6 page)

“I repeat,” Richard said, his voice steely, “the captain has given his parole. If you wish to sail with me, you’ll haul yourself to the rail and climb down into the one of the
Seahawk
’s boats. Now!”

The hulking seaman threw a last, loathing glance
at James before spinning on his heel and marching to the far rail. The rest of the deserters followed.

Over the painful pounding of her heart, Sarah watched them grasp the ropes and disappear. She heard a series of thumps. A muttered curse or two. The splash of oars as a boat pulled away.

In the silence that followed, the two captains faced each other. The moon’s bright glow bathed them both, and the brisk breeze tossed the fringe of their gold epaulets. Aside from those visible symbols of their rank, they had little in common. One was thin, elegant, tight-lipped with anger and burning with the desire to avenge this insult to him and to his ship. The other stood tall, broad-shouldered, his hair as black as midnight, his eyes a cold, silvery blue.

Until he turned to Sarah.

His harsh expression softened. Something close to pity flickered across his face.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

That fleeting look spurred her pride. Her spine stiffened. Her chin tilted.

“Yes, it is. Far too late.”

He looked as though he wanted to argue the matter, but refrained. With a smooth grace that belied his size, he made an elegant bow. “Farewell, Lady Stanton. I wish you a fair wind and a safe harbor at the end of your journey.”

She couldn’t speak over the lump in her throat. A mere dip of her head had to serve as her answer.

“All right, Mr. McDougal. Get the boarding crew into the boats.”

Bound by their oath of parole, the officers and men of the
Linx
could only watch with clenched fists while the Americans departed their ship. One after another dropped over the side and scrambled down into the waiting boats. Blake was among the last to leave.

With a mocking smile for the captain of the
Linx,
he turned and made for the rail.

“Bastard,” James growled.

Snarling, he spun to the officer next to him and snatched the pistol from the man’s waist. When he leveled it at Blake’s back, Sarah didn’t stop to think.

“James! No!”

She flung herself at him in a desperate attempt to throw off his aim. For the second time that night, a pistol belched fire just inches away from her. The deafening report was still hammering against her eardrums when the night seemed to explode around her.

R
ICHARD HEARD
Sarah’s desperate cry a mere heartbeat before a pistol barked and a bullet whizzed past his left ear. In an instinctive move honed by his years in uniform, he ducked, whirled and came up with his own weapon in hand.

A single glance at the smoking pistol in Lowell’s hand told the story. The bastard had violated his parole. And Sarah had without doubt saved Richard’s life by throwing off Lowell’s aim.

Richard’s jaw clenched as the British captain whipped his arm free of her clinging grasp and sent her crashing to the deck. Stunned by his actions, his officers had yet to draw their weapons and violate their own sworn oath, but the shot had galvanized their seamen. Those not still affected by the sleeping draught were scrambling toward their stacked swords and muskets.

The American marines Richard had ordered high up in the
Seahawk
’s rigging to provide cover for the boarding party saw what was happening. Wild shouts carried across the water as they let loose with a volley designed to keep the British seaman
away from their weapons. When bullets sliced through the rigging above Richard’s head and splintered the deck some yards away, his heart jumped into his throat.

“Sarah!” he bellowed to the figure still prone on the planks. “Stay down!”

Sincerely hoping the moon’s bright glow would allow his marines to distinguish between his uniform and that of the British officers, Richard charged back across the deck. Those few of his men still aboard the
Linx
pulled their cutlasses and prepared to follow him.

“To the boats!” he bellowed, knowing he had to get them off the British frigate before they lost the advantage of the marines’ covering fire. “Jenkins, take Mistress Maude to safety!”

He had one chance, only one, to get to Sarah. Using the confused melee to his own advantage, he charged straight for her and scooped her up right under Lowell’s nose. The British officer roared in outrage.

“Damn you!”

Whirling, Lowell lunged for his first officer and snatched at his sword. Thrown off balance by his superior, the lieutenant stumbled back into the ranks of men behind him. Both officers went down and took a number of the seamen with them.

Richard gave a fervent prayer of thanks for the lieutenant’s clumsiness. As much as he ached to put his own sword into Lowell’s gullet, his main con
cern now was Sarah. Snatching her up, he crushed her to his chest and ran back through the rain of covering fire. Once at the rail, he shifted her upward, tossed her over his shoulder, and swung a leg over the side.

“Dear God!”

Sarah’s piercing shriek carried even over the rattle of musket fire. Upended and dangling high above the
Seahawk
’s bobbing boat, she snatched at Richard’s coattails and hung on for dear life. Once in the boat, he dumped her in the gunwales. She pushed to her hands and knees, scuttled crablike toward the sobbing woman Jenkins had carried down to the boat, and shielded her maid’s body with her own.

In that instant, Richard knew he’d done right by following his instincts and snatching the lady out from under Lowell’s nose. Her heart was as wide as the sea and as true as a compass. If she went to any man’s bed, he’d do his damndest to see it was his.

First, though, he had to get her aboard the
Seahawk
alive and unriddled by musket fire.

Thankfully, his marines kept the British away from their weapons. Firing in alternating waves, they maintained a steady volley while Richard and his men pulled at the oars of their boat. Long, muscle-wrenching moments later, the boat bumped against the
Seahawk
’s keel.

“Come on, lass. Let’s get you and Mistress Maude aboard.”

“I can climb the ladder.”

“We’ve no time for you to attempt it on your own, I’m afraid. I’ll take you up.”

Tossing Sarah over his shoulder once again, Richard went up the rope ladder with the agility of long practice. Jenkins came right behind him with a wailing Maude.

Once on deck, Richard made for the aft hatch. He didn’t set his burden on her feet until he got her below decks and away from the musket fire now being returned by the marines aboard the
Linx.
Jenkins followed hard on his heels and deposited Maude in the narrow passageway as well.

“You
are
mad!” Sarah exclaimed, shoving back her tumbled hair. “I thought as much when you put a bullet through your own arm. I’m sure of it now.”

“Not mad. Just willing to fight for what I want.”

“And fight you will.” Her face grim, she wrapped an arm around Maude’s heaving shoulders. “James will blow your ship out of the water.”

“Do you think so?”

His cheerful unconcern had Sarah gritting her teeth. She knew little about sea battles, but even the most ignorant landlubber understood that a frigate carried twice the firepower as a brig. Before she could point out that basic fact, the American preempted her.

“I’d best get up on deck. The officers’ mess is
straight ahead. Take your ease, lass, and don’t worry.”

Since he punctuated that bit of absurd advice with a long, hard kiss, Sarah had no breath left to refute it. All she could do was stare at his back as he disappeared up the stairs. A long, keening cry from Maude snapped her attention to the distraught maid.

“We’ll be kilt along with him and all his crew!”

“I suspect you have the right of it. Come, let’s find the wardroom and take what shelter we may.”

The
Seahawk
’s officers’ mess was half the size of the
Linx
’s but very well fitted. Wood shone. Brass gleamed. Benches were bolted to the floor on either side of a long rectangular table. The center of off-duty life for the ship’s officers, the wardroom cabinets displayed the usual assortment of pewter crockery, books, musical instruments, board games and well-worn decks of playing cards.

Maude collapsed onto one of the sturdy benches, shaken to her shoes by the extraordinary events of the past few hours, quivering with fear over what was yet to come. Almost as distraught as her maid but trying desperately not to show it, Sarah paced the mess. It was located in the center of the ship and had no windows, no view of the sea or the ship riding the waves just yards away.

If Sarah couldn’t see the
Linx,
she could well imagine it. The gunports drawn up. The cannons run out. The matches lighted. Powder boys running
from the ship’s magazine with cartridges tucked under their jackets to keep them from catching a spark and exploding. Officers issuing cutlasses and pikes to the sailors and marines who would board the
Seahawk
once it struck its colors.

Her heart in her throat, Sarah waited for the cannons to boom and braced for the shriek of torn sails and falling timbers. Instead, the only sounds that came to her and Maude were continuing bursts of rifle fire and a shouted command to raise all sails.

The deck above her came alive with the slap of running feet, followed shortly by the shriek of pulleys. Mere moments later it seemed, the
Seahawk
’s sails caught the breeze and she lunged forward. The pewter crockery rattled. Maude gasped and clutched the table’s edge. Sarah put out a hand to steady herself and waited in agonizing dread for an explosion of fire and death.

Seconds crawled by. Minutes.

The rattle of rifle fire died. Canvas snapped. Masts creaked. The ship picked up speed.

It took a while for both women to grasp the fact that they were away. Well and truly away. Without a cannon being fired on either ship!

Maude ceased quivering with fright and turned a confused face to Sarah. “Why did Sir James not fire?”

“I have no idea.”

Not out of concern for his intended or her maid, of that she was sure.

“What…? What do we do now, m’lady?”

For the first time, Sarah considered her abrupt change in circumstances. She was on an American ship, bound for God knew where, with only the clothes on her back.

She should have been awash with worry about her family, her fate, her future. Yet all she felt was the most ridiculous sense of relief. And excitement. And adventure.

“What can we do,” she said to Maude, “except go wherever the ship sails.”

She was free! The realization rushed through her veins. By tossing her over his shoulder, Richard Blake had taken all choice out of her hands. For however long it took the
Seahawk
to make port, she was free of both her worries and her past. The heady wonder of it still filled her when the captain and his officers crowded into the wardroom.

“Lady Stanton,” he said with a punctilious formality belied by his broad grin.

“Lieutenant Blake.”

She dipped her head in a regal nod, but Richard caught the gleam of suppressed excitement in her green eyes.

“I hope you and Mistress Maude will excuse the rather clumsy way you were brought aboard the
Seahawk.
”

She arched an auburn brow. “Have we a choice in the matter?”

“None,” he admitted, his grin widening.

What an incredible woman she was! Snatched from a ship, carried off amid a hail of bullets, and as cool as a north-water pike.

“May I present my officers?” he asked with the same formal courtesy.

“You may.”

They filled the wardroom, their faces jubilant. Those seeing her for the first time gaped in open admiration at the tumble of fiery curls and swell of snowy bosom above her gown’s square-cut neckline. Those who’d been with the boarding party showed somewhat more restraint, yet Richard could see them falling under her spell as she acknowledged each introduction.

“And this is Mistress Maude,” he said with a smile for the plump maid who’d wedged herself into a corner.

The woman blushed furiously as the officers acknowledged her and looked to her mistress in an agony of embarrassment.

“Perhaps you’ll explain why there was no exchange of cannon fire,” Sarah said, drawing their attention back to her.

“Well, it’s like this,” Richard admitted, his eyes alight. “My previous encounter with Sir James did not inspire me with confidence that he would hold to his parole.”

“So we spiked the cannons,” his first officer put in with a grin.

“All of them?” she asked incredulously.

“All of them.”

“The
Linx
will be a long time in port being refitted before she goes on the prowl again,” the
Seahawk
’s surgeon added gleefully.

And Sir James would face a court martial to explain how his guns came to be rendered inoperative, Sarah didn’t doubt. She could only hope that would keep him distracted long enough for her to find some way to raise the funds to pay off the notes he held on her father and brother. Maybe, just maybe, she could keep her family from being hauled off to Newgate, after all.

Her head whirling, Sarah stood beside Richard as his officers broke out what they claimed was the ship’s best cognac. Golden liquid splashed into pewter mugs in liberal portions. The third lieutenant, Mr. McDougal, offered a mug to both Maude and Sarah before proposing the first toast.

“To Lady Stanton, who saved our captain’s hide.”

She blinked in surprise. Red rushed into her cheeks as the rest of the officers echoed the charge.

“To Lady Stanton!”

“To the lady!”

Richard grinned down at her and offered his own toast. “To the beautiful Lady S., who I intend to woo and hope most sincerely to win.”

Sarah choked. The overfull mug shook in her hand. Cognac slopped over her wrist as the mess room rang with a raucous chorus.

“Hear, hear!”

Heads went back. The cognac was tossed down. Mugs were refilled.

“Most men would wait to announce their intentions in private,” Sarah commented amid the general jubilation. “Do you
never
do as expected?”

Laughter danced in his blue eyes. “Never, sweeting. You’d best remember that if you take me to husband.”

“I’m far more likely to take a belaying pin to you!”

The tart reply generated a round of hearty laughter from his men and another toast from Mr. McDougal.

“To the captain, who hopes to spike Lowell’s guns in more ways than one!”

“Hear, hear!”

Additional toasts followed, each more raucous than the last. Sarah joined in the one honoring all ships at sea, another celebrating unfouled anchors, a third to the wives and mothers of sailors—surely the most sainted, patient, hardy women on earth.

Maude joined in the toasts, as well. The maid was giggling like a schoolgirl when Richard sent for Carpenter’s Mate Jenkins and issued a stern order for the seaman to see to her comfort. A grin creased the man’s weathered cheeks.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“You may escort her to the purser’s cabin and
see it’s cleared out for her use. I’ll take Lady Stanton to my cabin and do the same.”

Offering the furiously blushing maid his arm, Jenkins led her away. Richard did the same for Sarah. He needed to get her alone, to make sure she understood he was entirely serious in his intentions.

There was only one way to accomplish that, he decided. Kicking the door shut behind him, he gathered the lady into his arms and covered her lips with his. She stood stiff and unbending for a moment or two, then her arms came up to lock around his neck and her mouth opened under his.

Richard’s entire body was tight with desire when he raised his head. He swept his palms over her cheeks and buried his hands in her tangled hair. With everything in him, he ached to tumble this glorious creature to his bed.

She wouldn’t resist him. He had only to look down to see the same heat that raced through his body warming her cheeks. Her breath came as hard and fast as his. Her neck was taut under his touch.

He wanted more than a quick tumble this time, though. He wanted her. Smiling down at her, he pleaded his case.

“Will you consider my suit, lass?”

The light went out of her eyes. Pulling away, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him.

“I cannot.”

Curling a knuckle under her chin, he tipped her
face to his. “I haven’t forgotten those notes Lowell holds. Don’t let them trouble you. I have a bit set back. More than a bit, if the truth be told.”