Columbine (6 page)

“I’m certain Jonathan’s fine.” if Kit said it Often enough, maybe he’d come to believe it, too.

“There now, Kit, I told you you’d be taking it wrong.” Suddenly Abraham scowled and laid down his pipe. The rapping on the cabin door was sharp and insistent.

“In with you, then, if you be in such an infernal hurry!”

It was the heady fragrance of the stew that struck Dianna first, the sweet smell of onions and, oh, could that really be chicken? She inhaled convulsively, gulping at the air as if it alone could end her hunger.

“Don’t stand there a-gapin’, girl,” said Abraham irritably.

“If you’ve something to say, then say it and be gone. You don’t have no place here anyways.”

With a little shake, Dianna drew her attention away from the table and boldly confronted the captain.

“You don’t give your passengers the food they’ve paid for.”

Abraham snorted.

“No French pasties and kickshaws, y’mean! What would a spoiled female like yourself know about seagoing fare?”

“I know that you’re letting them starve so you can fill your purse with the difference! There’s half of them sick already, some close to death, and the children–oh, the children…” She faltered, thinking of little Benjamin Penhallow.

Abraham struck his palm sharply on the table.

“If things be so bad, why don’t one of the menfolk come to me, eh? Why did they send a little baggage like you t’do their begging?”

“They don’t know I’m here. They don’t believe you’d try to cheat them or that there’s more in your stores than one mealy biscuit apiece each day!”

“One biscuit apiece?” asked Kit incredulously.

There should still be plenty for the passengers to eat.

“One biscuit a day?”

Dianna tried to answer him evenly. Why hadn’t she noticed him there before, sprawled in the chair at the end of the table?

“Aye, one a day, and that often as not ripe with weevils.”

“She’s daft, Kit, a troublemaker,” said Abraham quickly.

“You’ve told me that yourself.”

But Kit wasn’t listening.

“Leave us, Abraham,” he ordered.

“Now.”

Crumbling, Abraham shrugged on his coat and left the cabin. If the captain cared at all for his reputation,

thought Kit grimly, he’d be off to find those missing provisions, and fast.

With a sigh, Kit turned his attention to Dianna. He had intended to ask her more about the conditions between decks, but now that he really looked at her, he knew she had not exaggerated. Hunger had hollowed her cheeks, and her black gown hung loosely from her shoulders. He’d been so intent on avoiding her that he’d forgotten the other nineteen passengers in his ship. God only knew what else that avaricious bastard Welles had done to them, and it was Kit’s fault for letting it happen. The girl had mentioned children, sick children. Wasn’t his conscience burdened enough already? Angrily he swore beneath his breath.

Dianna watched him warily in return. Kit looked well-fed, tree, but his eyes were red-rimmed, and beneath a ragged growth of dark beard, the lines around his mouth were drawn deeper than before. She was no longer afraid of him—if the man had left her alone this past eight weeks, she doubted he’d be interested in her now.

Curiously, she was almost sorry. ThroughouLthe long misery of the crossing, she had clung to an image of Kit Sparhawk that likely didn’t exist. Instead of his scorn and betrayal, she remembered his kindness when he’d come to her defense and how gently he’d held her. And more. She remembered the strange warmth she’d felt when he’d told her–or dared her?—to call him by his given name; how his voice alone had made her tremble, It was.gure foolishness, she reminded herself sternly. Yet, once again in his presence, she felt agitated and unsure, and she wished Captain Welles had stayed.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal,” she said pointedly, glancing at the empty dishes.

“I trust Captain Welles has gone to share your bounty with the others. ‘ “He’ll damned well do what I tell him to!” thundered Kit with a fierceness Diauna hadn’t expected, and her own anger flared in response.

“So it’s you who decides who goes hungry, is it?”

She stepped closer to stand defiantly before his chair, her hands on her hips.

“But then, Captain Welles would have nothing to gain from letting others suffer, while you could claim the profit.”

Kit did not bother to correct her. Though she could not be more wrong about Welles, Kit doubted she’d listen to the truth from him.

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?;’ he demanded instead.

In confusion, Dianna’s thoughts flew back to the last time they’d been together, in the little cabin, and how he’d rejected her.

“I did not seem to find your favor, Master Sparhawk,” she answered stiffly.

“God’s blood, I meant come if you’d found fault with your quarters!”

Dianna’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment and shame. Of course, he hadn’t meant her. There was no graceful way to recover, so instead she rushed on.

“I came to Captain Welles because I believed he could help. I did not know you Would be here, or I would not have knocked. I am, you see, not accustomed to dealing with men who are not gentlemen.”

His green eyes narrowed, and his response was washed with sarcasm.

“Then tell me, my lady, how a gentleman would address these particular

circumstances. A fine fellow of breeding and fashion. Your uncle, say.”

Dianna’s dark eyebrows drew sharply together.

“I do not see—”

“Oh, aye, I think you do,” he said softly, watching the quickening beat of her pulse at her throat. He was intentionally baiting her, challenging her, though he wasn’t sure why. In a week he would be back in New London, and there would be any number of women, beautiful, uncomplicated women, to welcome him home. But, strangely, he didn’t care.

Dianna Grey was arrogant and corrupt, and currently quite filthy, yet he couldn’t deny the excitement he’d felt when he’d seen her in the doorway. She’d plagued his thoughts, awake and asleep, ever since they’d cleared London, and he didn’t like it.

She didn’t flinch beneath his scrutiny, and that irritated him, too. She was too proud by half, this one.

She looked close to fainting from hunger, yet not once had she asked for food for herself. Although her gown was scarcely more than rags now, She still acted the grand lady, dismissing him as if he wasn’t worth her notice. Maybe that was why he was goading her now, trying to make her as angry with him as he was with her. Slowly he rose from the chair, using his full height to Compel her to look up at him.

“Now tell me true, my lady,” he continued with deceptive calm.

“A gentleman like Sir Henry wouldn’t give a crooked farthing for that sorry bunch of pil between deck, and I’m surprised, my lady, that you’ve become their champion. Mayhap you’ve a favorite among the good farmers? I recall now your uncle wasn’t too particular in his pleasures either, was he?”

Dianna gasped.

“You have no right to speak to me like that—no right at all! The Penhallows and the others welcomed me and accepted me with kindness and without question. Not like you! You can’t forget the tattle and the slander, and then you dare to stand in judgment of me for sins I’ve never committed!

Why can’t you and all the others understand! I am not like my uncle!”

The hint of a smile seemed to play around the corners of his mouth.

“There is, my lady, one way to tell if you are, isn’t there?”

Before she realized what was happening, he caught her by her arms and lowered his face swiftly to meet hers. She pushed against his chest, struggling to free herself, but his lips were already on hers and he was kissing her. The more she fought, the more insistent he became, his mouth slashing boldly across hers.

She felt the rough stubble of beard across her cheek and the surprising softness of his lips as they pressed against hers. She tried to twist away and began to protest, but he captured her open mouth. The only other man who had kissed her had been her uncle, and this was nothing like that awful experience.

This was different, very different. Dianna was unprepared for the masculine taste of him and for the sinuous dance of his tongue against hers as he coaxed a response from her that she had not known was hers to give. A curious languor swept through her body.

Tentatively her hands circled around his neck for support, her fingers tangling in the thick mane of his hair. His arms tightened around her and he lifted her upward and closer against him until her feet were off the deck. She was floating weightless on a sea of new sensations, and she had no idea where it would end.

The reality of kissing Dianna was unlike anything Kit had imagined. She was smaller than he remembered, a tiny bit of a thing who’d had little enough flesh to spare before the voyage’s hardships and now seemed swallowed up in his embrace. But there was nothing slight about her ardor. From the first moment their lips met, he realized she was different. There was fire there, to be sure, and a promise of more.

Yet there was an unexpected wistfulness, almost an uncertainty to her response, as well, that captivated him. He tried to remind himself that this guilessness was only part of her acting, but still the kiss he’d begun in anger deepened into something else.

Or maybe it hadn’t been anger at all. Maybe it was just because Caleb Tucker was dead and Dianna Grey was alive, wonderfully, gloriously alive, and able to make Kit feel that way, too. His lips traced along her jaw to the special soft place beneath her ear, and she rewarded him with a little gasp of star-tied pleasure.

It was that same little gasp that finally roused Dianna’s numbed conscience. Why was she letting him do this to her? She heard the ragged catch in her own breathing as he whispered her name, and she closed her eyes tight against the miserable troth. He had kissed her and held her, and she had scarcely fought him at all. Rather, she had enjoyed it, and worse yet, she had freely kissed him back. Kit was right. She was as wanton as Sir Henry had always claimed. She tried to remember why she’d come here at all. Remember Mary Penhallow and Benjamin and mealy biscuit with weevils.

She twisted in his arms, trying to pull free.

“You will give them food now, won’t you?” she asked unsteadily.

“Hush, sweeting, now’s not the time or place for chatter.” Gently his lips feathered down her throat and she shivered in spite of her intentions.

“Nay, mind me.” Resolutely she placed her palms against his shoulders and shoved as she tried to make her voice stem.

“I want you to swear, MaSter Sparhawk, that you will grant your passengers the food they’re owed.”

““Master Sparhawk’, is it again? You kiss me like the devil’s in your blood, and then it’s Master Sparhawk?”

Unceremoniously Kit released her, and she slipped clumsily down his body. She backed away slowly, rubbing her arms where he’d held her. The unconscious gesture jabbed at Kit’s pride almost as much aS her words. He felt perversely disappointed, even aS he realized once again she’d bettered him.

His own desire had been all too genuine. He clenched his hands behind his back and stared coldly down at her.

“Pray, tell me, Dianna, are you bargaining with me?” Dianna swallowed. There was no sign of affection in that handsome, stone-hard face. Part of her wished that he hadn’t been willing to set her aSide quite so easily, but his callousness also served to steady her nerve.

“You are a merchant, a trader,” she said disdainfully, managing a small, careless shrug.

“If such terms are those you understand, then aye, we shah bargain.”

Kit wondered if she would have given herself to Welles if the man had been here alone. Maybe, on another night, she already had.

“A simple transaction, then, between us alone?”

Dianna nodded, though her thoughts were full of uncertainty. She had nothing to trade beyond what she wore, and he knew it. What she had asked was not complicated. Why was he bent on making it so?

His jaw tightened, his green eyes as cold as the winter sea around them. “where I am from, my lady,” he said contemptuously, “there is a word for women who would sell themselves for favors. And it’s a great deal worse than being called ‘merchant’.”

Dianna gasped.

“You’re a vile, hateful rogue, a despicable snake, a—a-Oh, damn yOU!” She slapped him as hard as she could, so hard that her wrist stung.

“I hate you and wish I’d never, ever met you!”

“And I’d say the same about you, madam!” The mark of her hand burned red on Kit’s cheek, and it was all he could do to control his temper. He was fired of her everlasting games, and he refused to play them any longer. He stalked to the cabin door and jerked it open.

“There, go! We have no more than a week before we reach land. if you don’t wish me to throttle you before then, you will keep to your quarters and out of my sight!

Dianna was too angry to reply, and with a little roar of frustration, she stamped her foot. She had failed miserably, and she hated to return to the others empty-handed, with no promise of relief to come.

Then her gaze ca ugh the tureen that was still haft-filled with stew. She grabbed it with both hands and, cradling it to her chest, she raced past Kit and down the companionway. ;

Dumbstmck, Kit watched her scurry away with her prize. He slammed the door and walked back to the table, stating down at the damp, steamed circle left

on the wood by the tureen and considering the maddening contradictions of Dianna Grey.

The morning the Prosperity finally reached Saybrook was cold and clear, the sky whipped to a brilliant blue by an icy March wind. As the word spread that their journey was almost over, the passengers rushed to the deck, eager for this first sight of their new homeland. But while everyone around her at the rail chattered excitedly, Dianna’s spirits plummeted as the ship rounded Lynde Point and the town itself came into view.

No, she decided, town was too grand a word for the forlorn assortment of buildings strung along the waterfront. Houses and businesses alike had a raw, unfinished look, their unpainted clapboard or shingled sides weathered to a silvery gray, their proportions squat and mean. No trees softened their harshness, only mud and dirty snow and wisps of smoke that the wind tore from the chimneys.