Lady Vixen (11 page)

The
hour was late and crossly Nicole tossed off the light covering that lay across
her body. She didn't want to think about it anymore. She was tired and slightly
fuzzy from the unaccustomed amount of wine she had drunk tonight. Thinking about
the evening, a pleased smile curved her lips and she sighed deeply. Sleepily
she wondered if Saber would have been impressed by the change in her, and then
angrily chastised herself for even thinking of him in such a connection. What
did she care what Saber thought—about anything? She already knew what type of
woman appealed to him—dainty little blonds like the lovely Louise—not a tall
auburn-haired minx who was more comfortable in boy's clothing than in silks and
laces.

Nicole
was glowering at Saber. It was something she did frequently, but since they had
left Bermuda it seemed to her that he had gone out of his way to annoy her. He
kept her on her feet continually, racing first after one object and then
another that he needed
immediately!
When not running useless errands, he
had her painstakingly copying in her neat copperplate hand a complete duplicate
list of every cargo they had taken for the past year. Nicole could see no need
for this task and suspected angrily that he wanted it merely because it kept
her chained to the table where she worked. But what really grated on her nerves
was his sudden slipshod manner. He took delight in deliberately creating havoc.
Then instead of leaving her alone to get on with it, he lounged in the doorway
and watched critically as she straightened his quarters, daring her to
complain. Nicole bit her lip and ignored the challenge in his eyes as she
finished the rumpled bed. "Will that be all, sir?" she asked
woodenly.

"Hmmmm,
I suppose for now that will do."

Nicole,
glad to escape his increasingly disturbing presence, took a few steps forward,
but he remained in the doorway. She halted a short distance from him, uncertain
of his mood and slightly uneasy. There was a strange glitter in the yellow-gold
eyes, and she didn't like the way those same eyes were regarding her. The
assessing quality of his gaze fed her growing uneasiness and nervously, hating
herself for the nervousness, she inquired, "May I pass, sir? Or is there
something else you require?"

Saber
straightened slowly, his tall form filling the doorway, his gleaming black head
almost brushing the wooden beam. "How old are you, Nick?" he asked
abruptly.

Startled,
the topaz eyes grew wide and she stuttered, "Eigh—fifteen!"

An
unpleasant smile flitted across his face. "Fifteen, mmm. A bit old for a
cabin boy, wouldn't you say?"

Momentarily
caught by surprise, Nicole watched him warily as he walked past her to an array
of sturdy decanters that sat on his desk. After splashing a goodly amount of
dark Jamaican rum into a glass, he turned and half sitting on the desk, one
long leg swinging aimlessly above the floor, stared back at her. For a moment
she was filled with a curious trembling in her mid-region as she looked at him.
He was, she decided erratically, one of the most vital, virile creatures she
had ever seen. And just now, with the white shirt opened nearly to his waist,
revealing a muscled chest covered with dark curling hair, the slim hips and
long legs clad in black form-hugging breeches, he made Nicole uncomfortably
aware of him as a man—a man of extraordinary appeal to the opposite sex!
Certain intimate memories of him with other women in this very room crowded her
thoughts and an uncontrollable blush suffused her features. Furious with
herself, she glared at him and asked aggressively, "Are you telling me,
you no longer require my services . . . sir?"

"Did
I say that?" he drawled, that unpleasant smile curving his lips once
again. Tautly he added, "If you would listen to what
I
say Nick, as
readily as you do everything
Allen
says, things would be much easier
between us. But that aside, I merely stated that fifteen was a little old for
the duties you perform. I probably should assign you to the ship's carpenter,
or perhaps you might be interested in training for a gunner's mate. Would you
like that?"

It
was what at one time she had longed for passionately, but now she was appalled.
She could not continue her masquerade in close proximity to the crew. The first
time she was unable to carry out a task that required only simple masculine
muscle the fat would truly be in the fire! Trusting that her face had not
betrayed her, she lifted her chin pugnaciously and said brazenly, "I would
like it above all things! Particularly being apprenticed to the gunner's
mate."

His
mouth tightened disagreeably at her brave words and the challenging tone.
Setting the glass down sharply, he replied acidly, "Well, you can forget
it! After five years I've grown rather used to your insolent efficiency!"

Unreasonably
angry at the fright he had given her, forgetting again as well the danger of
letting her ready tongue rule her, she placed her hands on her slender hips and
snapped, "You were the one that brought the subject up. I was merely
proceeding with my usual insolent efficiency!"

"Careful,
Nick," he said softly. "Don't push me too far or I'm likely to treat
you as you deserve."

Recalled
to her senses by the underlying menace in his voice, she dropped her eyes from
his and said expressionlessly, "I apologize, sir. If you'll excuse me,
I'll continue working on the cargo lists?"

The
lists she had been working on were still scattered over the desk, and after
pulling out a heavy oak chair, she sat down stiffly and began to write. She
found it an enormous effort to concentrate with Saber just a short distance
away. She was too distracted by his lean maleness and loose-limbed strength.
From the corner of her eye she could see one sun-browned hand playing idly with
a bit of twine that lay on the desk and she wished vehemently that he would leave.
She knew he was watching her, knew he was staring at her down-bent head; she
could feel it and the muscles in her neck tightened. Worse, she could have
sworn aloud when she noticed a slight tremble in her hand as she reached for
another slip of paper.

"Relax,
Nick. I won't bite, you know." His amusement was obvious and Nicole
gritted her teeth. Then once again forgetful of the role she played and ruled
by the fire in her hair, she shot him a venomous look.

He
grinned back at her, a mocking gleam in the amber-gold eyes. "Young Nick,
it occurs to me that in spite of five years' close association, we know very
little of each other. Now why is that do you suppose?"

Forcing
herself to reply calmly, she said stiffly, "I doubt that most captains are
greatly concerned with their cabin boys." Unable to control the impulse,
she added sarcastically, "All we have in common are dirty linens, slop
jars, and unmade beds—hardly exciting topics of conversation. There is little
to know about me as long as I perform my duties satisfactorily."

"But
you don't," he said darkly. "You're insolent and you dislike me—a
fact you make little effort to hide, I might add. Considering I took you to sea
at your very urgent request, I should think you would have a certain liking for
me." His voice hardening, he inquired, "But you don't, do you,
Nick?"

"I
didn't think my likes and dislikes were that important to you," she said
cautiously. "You have never commented on my attitude before and if my . .
." She hesitated a moment before saying, "Dislike was as apparent as
you seem to feel it is, surely you would have said something previously."
Boldly she finished, "I think, sir, you imagine things."

"Do
I, Nick? Did I just imagine the look you flashed my way not too many seconds
ago? And have I been imagining those baleful glances that frequently follow me
from this room?" he asked dryly.

Oh,
God, where was Allen? she thought uneasily. Where was anyone who could
interrupt this strained conversation? Steeling herself, her eyes met his and
she said quietly, "I can only apologize if you have found my manner less
than pleasing. I'm sorry to have annoyed you, and I shall try in the future not
to give you cause to complain."

It
was pompous and she knew it, but she wanted this meeting over with and she
wanted Saber gone from this room.

Saber's
lip had thinned at her words and slamming down his glass on the desk, he
snapped harshly, "I don't want your apologies, damnit! You're very adept
at avoiding questions, my friend!" Leaning forward, his face inches from
hers, he growled, "Now tell me, young Nick, why you find service with me
so distasteful? I want an answer this time—not an excuse or an apology!"

Staring
at the hard bearded face so close to hers, Nicole was assailed by a variety of
emotions. Uppermost was an acute awareness of him as a man, with the faint
scent of tobacco and salt sea air clinging to him. Unbearably conscious of the
fact that his mouth was barely a breath away from hers, she wondered foolishly
what his reaction would be if she were to lean forward and press her own
tremulous lips to that firm mouth.

"I'm
waiting, Nick."

His
words shattered her erratic thoughts and brought her back to the matter at
hand. All wide eyes and innocence she said slowly, "I think that all boys
have times when they are rebellious and resentful of those who have authority
over them. If I appear to dislike you at times, it must be because of
that."

An
exasperated snort from Saber preceded his words. "Clever, Nick. An answer
that is not an answer." He moved back into his original position and
picked up his glass. "Some day soon, you and I must have another little
talk. You are after a fashion my . . . er . . . ward, and it has occurred to me
that I have not been doing my duty by you. I think perhaps that I shall take
more of an interest in you in the future . . . more interest in you than I have
in the past."

He
stood up, having downed the remainder of his rum. Staring down at Nicole's
astonished and faintly dismayed features, he smiled sweetly and said,
"You'll enjoy
that,
I'm sure!" He sauntered from the room.

For
several seconds Nicole stared after him. Now what the devil did he mean by
that? she wondered. With a sigh she turned back to the cargo lists but found
she was unable to concentrate. It wasn't like Saber to probe, and she could
have sworn, before this morning, that he was hardly aware of his cabin boy's
existence. What was behind his odd mood?

She
hadn't liked the way his eyes had wandered over her body either. He had seldom
glanced her way in the past, but today there had been, at least to her mind, a
searching quality in his gaze. Had he guessed? Was her face now too obviously
feminine? Had that discerning golden-eyed stare discovered a flaw in her
disguise? She glanced down nervously at her flat bosom; her breasts as usual
were bound tightly beneath her shirt. No, if anything he would only wonder at
her lack of manly muscle. So her disguise hadn't failed her, she was certain .
. . almost.

Perhaps,
she concluded, he was just bored and enjoyed baiting her. If he had known or
even suspected, she wouldn't now be seated before her table. A shiver snaked
down her spine as she recalled the red-headed whore's fate and grimly she set
about her work.

She
worked steadily for some time. The room was quiet and there was only the soft
splash of the sea against the hull of the ship and the pleasant whisper of the
wind in the sails to disturb her.

La
Belle Garce
had
been built four years ago to Saber's specifications. She was a four-masted
schooner, long, low, and rather narrow. The ship was three hundred and nineteen
tons of menace, carrying twenty twelve-pound carronades with two long eighteens
as chase guns.

The
room where Nicole was working was clearly his office; despite the fine rug on
the floor and the damask curtains that hung on the portholes across the stern,
the heavy oak desk in the corner as well as the charts and maps that lined the
wall gave evidence of this. Nicole's table was on the starboard side of the
ship, and in the center of the room was another highly polished table with
several squat leather chairs pushed beneath it.

The
sound of a door opening caused Nicole to look up sharply. "Thank God, it's
you, Allen," she muttered.

Settling
himself on the edge of the table where she worked, he laughed. "What's the
matter, Nick? Has the Captain been annoying you again?"

Nicole
threw down her pen and asked seriously, "Allen, do you think Saber knows
that I'm a girl?"

The
twinkle in the blue eyes vanished instantly. Concerned, he inquired, "What
makes you ask? Has he said something?"

She
hunched an impatient shoulder and muttered, "He's acting damned strange, I
can tell you that! This morning he talked a lot of nonsense about our not
knowing one another and taking an interest in me."

A
soundless whistle came from Allen. Frowning, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Mmmm, I don't like the sound of that! Saber is no fool and anyone that
took a careful look at you would tumble to your disguise. Nick, this settles
it. When we reach New Orleans you have to let me take care of you."

"Oh,
Allen, not
that
again! He can't know. If he knew, you can be assured I
wouldn't be sitting here now."