Captain's Bride (17 page)

Conscious of her still-tender flesh, he gentled his
touch, but not before a tiny sting brought a moment of clarity.
Remembering the last time he had kissed her—the brutal lesson he’d
taught—she began to have her doubts. What if he meant this as
another means of punishment? What if he was only demonstrating his
power in a way words never could? She felt him working the buttons
of his breeches, and a soft sob caught in her throat.

At the sound, Nicholas pulled away to look at her.
“Don’t be afraid, love. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Nicholas,” she whispered brokenly, “if this is one
of your lessons, I’ll never forgive you.” The uncertainty on her
face gave him pause.

Like a splash of cold seawater, reality surfaced,
bringing with it the knowledge of where he was—and just exactly
what he was doing. With a groan of resignation, he rolled away from
her, raking a hand through his curly black hair.

Dress held modestly over her bosom, face flushed
prettily, lips lightly bruised from his kisses, she sat up beside
him, but couldn’t meet his eyes. Waves of flaxen hair spilled
across her shoulders.

Taking a calming breath, he turned her face with his
hand, forcing her to look at him. “I’ve wanted you from the first
moment I saw you. I’ve tried to stay away, but I can’t do it
anymore. The only lesson I want to teach you is how to make
love.”

“Oh, Nicholas.” She slipped her arms around his neck,
and he cradled her against him. Then he captured her lips and
kissed her thoroughly. It took every ounce of his will to pull
away.

“There is nothing I want more than to make love to
you, right here and now. But my men are outside, sure I’m torturing
you.” His mouth curved up in one of his rare warm smiles. “If you
don’t go out there soon, I’ll probably have a mutiny on my hands.”
His voice sounded husky, his breathing a little ragged, and Glory
felt a tiny thrill that she could affect him so.

She smiled back at him, loving the gentle light in
his storm-gray eyes. His features looked softer, almost boyish, and
her heart swelled with love for him. Love. There was no way to deny
it. She was in love with Nicholas. She prayed to God he felt the
same.

A loud knock on his cabin door brought Nicholas to
his feet. He adjusted his breeches and buttoned the front of his
white linen shirt. As he approached the door, he glanced at Glory,
who worked feverishly to rearrange her clothes, her face aglow with
an enchanting pink blush.

“Who is it?” Nicholas called out.

“It’s Mac, Cap’n. The men are worried about Miss
Glory. They want to be sure ye’ve done her no harm.”

Nicholas smiled ruefully and winked at Glory. “She’ll
be out in five minutes. None the worse for wear.” Unfortunately, he
thought. But
he
was. He had an ache in his breeches that
wouldn’t soon be soothed. With a sigh of resignation, he walked
back to where Glory waited, her hair pulled aside, her back
presented so he could do up her buttons. Such a simple gesture, yet
one he felt so right in doing.

He thought of Nina, the woman he’d been determined to
bed last night. Though he hadn’t admitted it then, he’d been
relieved to return to the ship. It wasn’t Nina he wanted. It wasn’t
Ginger. He wanted Gloria Summerfield—and no one else would do.
Somehow he would reconcile his conscience. Hell, if he had to, he’d
marry the girl. The idea made him a little green around the gills.
Finishing the last of her buttons, he kissed the slim column of her
neck. When he turned her to face him, she looked troubled.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I—I was wondering . . . I’ve never done anything—
I’m not sure . . . what to think.”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m not sure about that either. Kind of edgy or
something. And I feel as if I want you to kiss me again.”

Nicholas grinned delightedly. “That’s exactly how
you’re supposed to feel. But once we make love, you’ll feel
different. You’ll feel wonderful. I promise you.”

“Make love?” Glory’s heart raced. Was he speaking of
marriage?

“That, sweet, is the natural result of what we were
doing.”

Glory swallowed hard. “I see.” She thought the
natural result of what they were doing was a marriage proposal.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “For now you’d better
be going outside. The mutiny, remember?”

She blushed crimson and nodded. He placed a hand
behind her neck and pulled her against him for a last brief kiss.
Then she straightened her garments, paused a moment to regain her
composure, and headed out the door.

Later that day they stopped briefly at Cape Fear,
and Jago Dodd and a tall skinny sailor rowed Madame LaFarge and
Rosabelle ashore. Discovering she’d developed an affection for the
two ladies of somewhat dubious virtue, Glory hugged them before
they left.

“I hope everything works out for you both,” she said.
“Give the baby a kiss for me.”

“I promise,” Rosabelle said tearfully. “If you ever
need a friend, ya know where we’ll be.”

Glory handed her a bright yellow painted scarf.
“Think of me when you wear it,” she said. “I’ll miss you both.”
Rosabelle accepted the gift with a tearful hug.

To Madame LaFarge Glory handed a small crystal vial,
which held the dollop of expensive French perfume she’d managed to
bring along.

“Thank ya, dearie. I won’t forgit ye. And I’ll wager
you’ll have the captain in the same fix by the time he gets to New
York!” She laughed uproariously, winked at Glory, and slapped her
beefy thighs.

Glory hoped Madame LaFarge was right.

“Have a good trip, dearie. I’d tell ye to drop us a
line, but neither Rosy nor me kin read, so’s we wouldn’t be able to
write ye back.”

Glory only nodded. She hugged the buxom woman again,
then let the two climb over the rail to the shore boats waiting
below. It was no easy task for the heavyset woman—or the pregnant
one—but eventually they were seated, and Jago and the skinny
crewman rowed them to shore. Glory watched till they’d climbed the
hill out of sight.”

“What will happen to them, Nicholas?” she asked as he
walked up beside her.

“Rosabelle will be well provided for. I have friends
on the Cape, a young couple who can’t have children. They’ve been
expecting her. She’s agreed to stay on and work for them after the
baby is bom, and they’ll be happy to have a child in the
house.”

“And Madame LaFarge?”

“She’ll do whatever makes her happy—just as she
always has.”

Glory smiled up at him. For a moment his eyes met
hers. He seemed to look at her differently somehow, the way he’d
looked at her that night on the road. As if he wanted to say
something, but couldn’t quite find the words. And he watched her
almost protectively, it seemed. She smiled to herself, secretly
delighted with this latest turn of events.

Nicholas didn’t appear at supper again that
night.

“Good morning, Captain,” Glory said to him a bit
stiffly the following morning. He was standing beside the rail,
handsome in snug black breeches and his usual snowy white shirt,
looking out to sea as if pondering some weighty problem. Turning
toward her, he graced her with a warm smile, and Glory’s pique
began to fade.

“Good morning, love. Sleep well?”

There was a suggestion of something intimate in his
words, and warm color rushed to Glory’s cheeks. “Yes, thank you, I
did.” It was a lie. She’d been out of sorts all evening, angry that
the captain had ignored her again. She smiled and lowered her
lashes. “I missed you at supper.”

“I had some thinking to do.”

“Some thinking?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” he said.

“It’s really none of my business.”

“Ah, but it is. I thought maybe tonight, after
supper, we might discuss it.”

Glory’s pulse raced. Nicholas Blackwell was the only
man she’d known who could make her feel uncertain and shy and
womanly all at the same time. “Fine” was all she could manage.

“I’m afraid I have some work to do, so I won’t see
you until then.” His glance strayed from her face to the curve of
her breast.

Recognizing the heat in that look, she felt a rush of
embarrassment—and a warm glow in the pit of her stomach. It was a
struggle to remember why she’d sought the captain out in the first
place. At the moment all she could think of was the way he’d kissed
her and the feel of his strong tanned hands on her breasts. She
swallowed hard, glanced out to sea, then met his look squarely.

“Would it be all right if I went below to see my
servant?” she asked before he could walk away.

“I’ll have Joshua take you down.” Nicholas smiled
again, then left without further comment. The first mate arrived a
few moments later.

“It’s really not as bad as it looks, Glory,” he told
her as they walked to the aft ladder. “Nearly all of us have spent
a day or two in the brig at one time or another. Besides, we’ll be
in New York in less than a week.”

The brig turned out to be a tiny room at the aft end
of the hold. The heavy oak door had a large opening obstructed by
metal bars; a whale-oil lantern lit the room. Glory could see
Nathan seated forlornly on a splintery wooden bench.

Her heart went out to him. “Can I go in? I’d like to
speak to him alone.”

“Of course.” He unlocked the door and let her in.
“I’ll come back for you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Josh.”

Once inside, Glory waited until Joshua’s footsteps
faded away, then threw herself into her half brother’s outstretched
arms. “Oh, Nathan. I’m so sorry. I would never have talked you into
taking me ashore if I’d known what would happen.”

“Hush now, Glory. It really isn’t so bad. The
captain’s been down here to check on me personally. He brought me a
deck of cards and some hemp so I could practice bending line. Of
course he doesn’t know I can read.”

“We’re still almost a week away from New York: maybe
I can talk him into letting you go.”

“I don’t think you should try, Glory. He might get
suspicious if he thinks you’re overly concerned about your servant.
We can’t take the chance of him finding out about us.”

Glory hugged him again. “I suppose you’re right. I
just want you to know how sorry I am.”

“Everything’s going to be fine just as soon as we
reach New York.”

Glory nodded. “I love you, Nathan.”

“I love you, too, Glory. Now get out of here. Cookie
will be down with my dinner soon. He’s challenged me to a game of
gin rummy.”

Glory heard the jangle of keys as Joshua Pintassle
approached. She kissed Nathan’s cheek and left the cell.

Nicholas Blackwell stood in the darkness of the
hold, clenching and unclenching his fists. What a fool he’d been!
He watched Glory leave on Joshua’s arm, then through the bars on
the door watched the tall handsome Negro pace the confines of the
brig, his long, powerful legs carrying him from one side of the
room to the other. Why hadn’t he seen it before? The man was no
field hand. No house servant, either. His manner of speech as he’d
spoken to Glory said he’d been well educated—and he was handsome to
a fault.

Nicholas burned with rage at the way he’d been duped.
He’d known the girl was up to something from the start, but he
would never have guessed she was running away with her
dusky-skinned lover. Not that the color of the man’s skin made any
difference. It didn’t. The men Nicholas sailed with came from every
comer of the world: every race, every creed, every color. He’d kept
a beautiful mulatto mistress in New Orleans for two years, a woman
who was perhaps the most gracious he’d ever known. Educated,
charming, just as this man, Nathan, appeared to be.

Prejudice was not the issue.

Gloria Summerfield had played him for a fool, used
him to take her north—even pretended passion. And the whole time
she was in love with another man. Nicholas closed his eyes against
the blinding fury that swept over him. How could he have been
foolish enough to think Gloria Summerfield was different? She was a
woman, wasn’t she? Just like his mother. Just like Lavinia Bond and
most of the other women he’d known. Glory Summerfield had wormed
her way into his affections, then played him for a fool at every
opportunity.

Somehow, some way, Nicholas decided, he would make
her pay.

Nicholas had little time to ponder his revenge. The
day turned blustery; sharp winds snapped the sails and strained the
rigging, and the sky darkened ominously.

“Mr. Pintassle,” he ordered, “furl the skysails, the
royals, and the topgallants. Double-reef the topsails.” That would
cut their surface area by a third.

“Aye, Captain.” Joshua hurried to carry out the order
while the winds continued to build.

“She’s a real freak storm, Cap’n,” Mac MacDougal
warned. “I’ve seen the likes o’ her before—as have ye. Come on so
fast ye kinna make cover, so strong ye wonder if she’s bound to
snap the ship in two.”

Nicholas well remembered a storm like this. He’d been
billeted aboard the
Stark Wind
, bound for the Bahamas. The
ship had broken up off Grand Cay. Only half the crew had come out
alive. The gold earring he sometimes wore marked the sinking he’d
survived. He shuddered to think it could happen again.

“Nicholas?” The sound of Glory’s crystalline voice
whipped him around.

“Go below. It isn’t safe for you up here.”

The wind beat at her skirts and tore at her hair, and
her face looked drawn and haggard. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling too
well. Would it be all right if I stayed up here a moment?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted her to suffer, but her
wan expression gave him pause. “Stand beside the wheel and stay out
of the way. Only a few minutes. If these seas get any rougher, the
decks will be awash.”

Glory nodded. She did as she was told and felt better
with the stiff wind rushing past her cheeks. She had never seen the
ocean like this. There were troughs the ship dropped into and foamy
whitecaps the size of small hills. The clouds rolled with the same
heavy movement as the sea.