Historical Romance Boxed Set (60 page)

Jeannette grimaced, thinking she’d rather go hungry than eat another. “They were in a sack next to the steward’s room, with a dead fish on top. I am sure there are more, if you want them.”

A low chuckle sounded. “I thought I tasted bargemen.”

“Bargemen?” Jeannette echoed.

“Aye. Ye know, little white worms. Surely ye’ve seen ‘em.”

Jeannette’s stomach lurched. She fought to keep her supper down, but the thought of “bargemen” was too much for her.

The person at her elbow pulled her away from the mess and led her to some barrels farther back. “That smells worse than the damn bilge,” she complained.

Jeannette said nothing. She sat beside her new companion, utterly miserable.

The thought of Henri and her parents caused a sharp pang of loneliness. Two days, she reminded herself. She only had to survive on the frigate for two more days. “How did you know?” she asked. “About the …maggots, I mean. Can you really taste them?”

“When I concentrate I can. But it’s the fish what was the clue. Ye said yerself ye found a fish on top of the sack. It’s supposed to draw ‘em out, though if the steward’s left the whole lot for anyone to take, ‘e’s not much concerned with savin’ ‘em, eh?”

“I don’t suppose so.” Jeannette shivered. In an effort to block the maggots from her mind, she said, “It’s so cold down here.”

“Aye. And dreadful damp. But ye get used to it.”

Jeannette felt an arm go around her as the stranger briskly rubbed her limbs. She didn’t know who this woman was, or what she looked like, but she didn’t move away. She was far too desperate for any crumb of human kindness.

“That oughter ‘elp, oi? Now …what’s this? Yer soft as a—” The woman’s hand encountered the swell of one breast, then dropped away before Jeannette could react. “I thought ye were a lad. Ye’re a woman?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are ye wearin’ trousers?”

“For the same reason you are hiding in this hellhole.”

“Ye got a lover on board?”

Jeannette thought fleetingly of Treynor. Why, she couldn’t say, didn’t want to contemplate. “No. You?”

“Yeah. ‘E’s gonna marry me when the war’s over.”

“Doesn’t he bring you any food?”

“When ‘e can. We’re just out of port, so for now, I’ve got to lay low.”

“I see.”

Silence fell between them. They were two of a kind, in some ways. “Do you stay down here all the time?”

“For the most part. This is as good a place as any. The men work ‘ere once in a while. They ‘ave to make the stores secure in case of bad weather or battle. But the smell from below keeps everyone away, if they ‘ave a choice.”

“What’s your name?”

“Amelia.”

Jeannette gave her name in turn and listened as Amelia boasted about the many virtues of her beau. He was a regular seaman, she said, but she was as proud of him as most women would be to catch an officer.

“What’s his name?” Jeannette asked.

Amelia paused. “That I’ll not say. I don’t know ye, after all. An’ I’ll not do anythin’ what could bring ‘im a floggin’.”

Jeannette didn’t press her. Considering the circumstances, she had no desire to become embroiled in someone else’s intimate affairs.

Still, they sat huddled together as if they’d known each other for years.

“Do you like life at sea?” Jeannette asked.

“Aye. It keeps food in me belly, for the most part.”

Jeannette pictured a gap-toothed smile. None of the prostitutes she’d seen on the pier had possessed all of their teeth. “Not today, evidently.”

“I’ll live till tomorrow. My man will bring me a bite or two. He’ll be wantin’ somethin’ ‘imself by then.”

Jeannette thought of Treynor—the memory of his smooth skin, the latent strength of his well-muscled body, the tingle of his lips moving against hers. They were all sensations connected with desire, a desire she would never feel again if she couldn’t free herself from her hateful marriage.

The ship rocked to the side, knocking Jeannette against her new companion. When she encountered a hard, well-rounded belly, she pulled away as quickly as she could gain her balance.

“Don’t worry, ye didn’t ‘urt me,” Amelia said.

Jeannette didn’t know how to respond. That Amelia was pregnant was obvious. That she would stow away on a frigate while in such a condition was alarming. “When do you expect your baby?” she asked, hoping that what felt like a melon-sized middle wasn’t quite melon-sized at all.

“In another month. P’raps two.”

Jeannette’s nails curled into her palm. Two of her mother’s four babies had not survived their first year, and Maman had hinted about the pains of childbirth when she deemed her daughter old enough to know such things. Jeannette could not imagine braving such an ordeal at sea.

What if the baby came early? And why didn’t Amelia know with more certainty when the baby was due to arrive? A month was a long time. It could mean the difference of being in port.

Of course, considering the woman’s probable profession …

“Does your, um, man know?”

“‘Ow could ‘e miss it?” She laughed. “‘E wants a brat of ‘is own. ‘E’s goin’ ter marry me after the war.”

She’d said that already. Doubt nipped at Jeannette, but she hoped, for Amelia’s sake, that her beau was truly as devoted as she said. That he’d not brought her anything to eat while she was in such a delicate condition certainly gave Jeannette reason to wonder.

“I am sure he will.” She hoped she sounded more convinced than she felt.

“Shhhh!” Amelia stiffened next to her. “We must ‘ide,” she whispered and scrambled away.

Dumbfounded, Jeannette blinked after her until she heard what Amelia had already detected. Someone was coming. Boots ground on the wood floor, then a light appeared.

Ducking behind the barrel on which she’d sat, Jeannette crouched in the darkness. Whoever it was was alone, but it took only one man to drag her back to the main deck.

“Jean, are you down here?”

The rich timbre of Lieutenant Treynor’s voice echoed against the walls, causing Jeannette’s heart to pound.

“Jean?”

Hunching lower, Jeannette held perfectly still. It would be next to impossible to find her amid the barrels. The halo of Treynor’s light extended only so far; she could circle around him indefinitely. Unless he went back up and brought others to canvass the hold with him, she was safe if she could only move quietly enough. The steady creaking of the ship would help.

“Jean, if you’re down here, you must come to me immediately. We have left port. We are not going back.”

Was he lying? He called her by her boy name, but she would be a fool to let him to trick her so easily.

“There are others who are looking for you. It would be wise to let me help you.” Treynor walked to the other side of the room, flushing Amelia out of whatever hiding place she’d chosen. She voiced a short cry of pain as she stumbled over something in her rush to avoid him.

The light bobbed as Treynor weaved between the barrels, homing in on the sound. With Amelia so far along in pregnancy, Jeannette knew her movements would be slow and awkward. Chances were good that Treynor would catch her. Jeannette didn’t know exactly what that would mean, but she knew by Amelia’s reaction that she was afraid.

Jeannette didn’t want to get her in any trouble. She thumped the barrel next to her, hoping to draw the lieutenant away, and he stopped and cocked his head.

“So you want a game of chase, do you?” he said.

The subtle threat in his voice made Jeannette swallow hard as she ducked behind a hogshead and waited. Only this time, the light didn’t move. When she braved a peek over the rounded slats of her hiding place, she spied Treynor’s lantern sitting alone on the floor. The lieutenant was nowhere to be seen. He’d relinquished the one thing that gave him away and was pursuing her stealthily.

She held her breath again, straining to hear his movements. Was the rustling she detected the lieutenant or Amelia?

Afraid to move for fear she’d run straight into him, she crouched down and kept still. She hoped Amelia would do the same. But when a rat scampered over her hand, Jeannette squealed and fell back.

Footsteps pounded in her direction. She scrambled away, scaled a stack of crates, and tried to see Treynor come at her through the dark. But outside the edge of the light, shadows and darker shadows created the illusion of the lieutenant to her right, then to her left. The noise of his movement was gone; she could hear nothing until he laughed behind her.

“Are you afraid, my sweet?”

He sounded close enough to grab her by the shirt. Jeannette jumped to the floor and tried to run, but she careened into something angled that nearly sent her sprawling. Crying out before she could stifle the sound, she teetered on her feet as a moment of dizziness combined with the darkness to disorient her. Terrified to move, yet unable to stay where she was because of Treynor’s predatory closeness, she began to turn in circles.

Then he was there, directly behind her. His hand snaked around her, inadvertently catching her breast as he slammed her back against his chest.

Chapter 10

As soon as Treynor realized what part of Jeannette’s anatomy he’d laid hold of, he wondered again how he could ever have thought her a boy. Her bosom was full, especially for her small size, and the weight of it in his palm threatened to change his anger into something else entirely. For the briefest moment, he felt the impulse to turn her in his arms. Instead, he shifted his hold to preserve her modesty, then cursed himself for trying to be the noble gallant when she thanked him with a hearty kick in the shins.

“Let me go!”

“The game’s over,” he told her, crushing her resistance. He didn’t care about being noble or gallant, he told himself. If Jeannette wasn’t careful, he’d coax her into satisfying the hunger she inspired in him.

Remembering how her body had once quivered like the string of a violin at his touch, he felt his pulse quicken. She wouldn’t be hard to press beyond denial. Here. Now. Seek his revenge in the only kind of pleasure a woman could give him.

But he’d never had a highborn lady and refused to risk his career—at least any more than he’d already done—on this one.

Taking hold of one wrist, he pulled her after him. This time she didn’t resist. She followed so meekly he couldn’t help casting a glance at her face as he retrieved the lamp.

“Were you lying when you said we wouldn’t turn back?” she asked.

“I didn’t tell the captain about you.”

“Why?”

Treynor searched for an answer. How could he explain his actions to her when he scarcely understood them himself? “You’re along for the ride,” he said simply, wiping away a trickle of blood where she’d gouged her temple.

“I am?”

“You are. But from now on, you shall play by my rules.”

* * *

When they reached Treynor’s cabin, he opened a package wrapped in brown paper that was sitting on his desk and shoved it at her. “Mrs. Hawker has sent you something to wear—something that might actually fit,” he added, eyeing her dishabille.

Jeannette’s stay in the manger and the hold had made her filthy. She longed for a bath, couldn’t wait to peel her boy’s clothes off her body.

She eyed the man who had taken the lash for her and wondered why he hadn’t revealed her identity to the captain as he’d promised he would. He had no reason to help her, unless he expected something in return, something she wasn’t willing to give.

She shook out the fresh pants and boy’s shirt he tossed in her lap. They were crudely made but nearly small enough to fit, and they were surprisingly soft, as though they’d been washed in fresh water. “Whose were these?”

He cocked his head to a jaunty angle. “You weren’t so concerned with ownership when you took Dade’s clothes or mine. Just put them on. You’re going out on deck.”

Jeannette pictured Lieutenant Cunnington and Captain Cruikshank pacing above them and felt reluctant to return to their presence. “Why?”

“Because I said so.” He picked up the strips of cloth that had once been Dade’s shirt and began to make better bindings. “First, conceal your breasts. Right now, any man with eyes in his head can see you’re no boy.”

“Why are you helping me?”

He didn’t respond.

“Lieutenant?”

“Maybe I don’t like your husband.” He shrugged, but then a smile deepened the cleft in his chin. “Or perhaps I simply enjoy your company.”

“I’d hate to see how you’d treat a woman whose company you do not enjoy,” she said. “First you strip me of my clothes, then you tie me to your trunk to wait out the night.”

His grin grew more meaningful. “I usually tie up only those who ask me nicely. Women who can’t kiss me without drawing blood or striking me in my more vulnerable parts generally don’t fare so well.”

Jeannette rolled her eyes. “I see you have a healthy opinion of yourself, Lieutenant Treynor. A gentleman would never speak the way you do—”

“I think we have established that I am no gentleman, which brings me to my next point. If you want my help, you had better be prepared to compensate me.” He moved toward her, a purposeful glint in his midnight-blue eyes.