Prize of My Heart (17 page)

Brogan scowled with disapproval. “If Mr. Huntley were here, he’d say you’d left your manners beneath your pillow.” He looked embarrassed for the child’s sake and offered Lorena an apologetic smile. “We were just about to leave for our duties, but please sit, Lorena, and enjoy breakfast.”

His eyes twinkled at her. Lorena found him especially handsome this morning, from the amused quirk of his lips to his strong, sharp nose and longish sandy mane. Over a starched white shirt and cravat he wore a double-breasted jacket of dark olive gray with gold ornamental buttons and tails that fell below the knee. His pale yellow trousers tucked smoothly into his black leather Hessians.

She blinked, conscious she may have stared overlong and hastened to the dining table.

Brogan led her to a seat as the men resumed theirs. “Yesterday was quite an eventful day for you. You rested well, I trust?”

She’d hardly slept a wink. “My turn of fate has worked wonders for my well-being. And you, sir? How fared the remainder of your night?”

“Captain Briggs and I shared a fitful sleep.”

Lorena noted the strain in his smile and wondered again what darkness haunted Brogan that would cause him to cry out in his dreams.

“Drew accompanies me each morning as I take first observation of the decks,” he said. “With your permission I’d like for him to continue at my side.”

From across the table, Drew’s eyes shone enthusiastic and bright. “Sometimes I help Warrick fill the ship’s lamps and sometimes I fetch coal for Mr. Mott. And I have been learning to tie knots.” He slapped a length of halyard down on the table. “See?”

“A fair rolling hitch,” Mr. Smith observed.

Warrick, to the contrary, did not look amused. “This morning I woke to find my feet bound with a reef knot.”

“Oh, Drew, I hope you haven’t been misbehaving this whole journey.” Lorena bore her correction sternly at the boy.

“The lad is in high spirits to be back with ye, miss, and it seems the wee rascal inside that has lain quiet for missing ye is returned.” Mr. Smith wiped his mouth on his napkin and, excusing himself, scrambled to his feet. “Lively now, Mr. Farragut. We’ve decks to wash down and ready for inspection. I’ll meet ye above, Cap’n. Enjoy yer breakfast, Miss Huntley,” he bid.

As the mates took their leave, Lorena helped herself to what remained of the oatmeal. “I find it remarkable the responsibility you’ve all shown where Drew is concerned,” she told Brogan. “At first I wondered how my father could have sent him on this journey, being as young as he is, but you show the child no less care than a father would his own son. Though, after last night’s exchange, I’m not entirely certain who is taking care of whom.”

He seemed to grow uncomfortable under her thoughtful gaze. He pushed his plate away, making ready to depart. “Warrick will see to anything you need. At your leisure he’ll escort you to the main deck. Perhaps you’d care to work on your needlework or read under the shade of the sails. Later, Drew and I shall fetch you for a proper tour of the
Yankee Heart
. I know you’ve seen her as she was being rigged, but she is quite another thing to behold, a living creature in her own right, fully manned and on the sea.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll visit the galley instead. I’d like to thank Mr. Mott for last night’s supper and give him my compliments. And then I must seek out Edward Hicks. Edward was a friend of George’s and is as saddened and disappointed as I by his actions. I promised to explain the events that befell me.”

“When I see Mr. Hicks, I shall send him to you.” Brogan rose. “Enjoy your morning, Lorena.”

“And you also, Brogan.”

Lorena followed man and boy to the door with her gaze, marveling at the pair they made. A stranger could recognize their bond. She felt pride at Drew’s interest in the ship and the sacrifice he’d made last night in parting with his beloved Captain Briggs. He had accompanied Brogan on this rescue mission, a larger-than-life adventure for an imaginative child, especially one with a fondness for sea captains. Brogan had become a hero in Drew’s eyes. Not a cloth doll, but a flesh-and-blood captain on whom to bestow his admiration and awe.

And yet Lorena sensed there might be more to it than that.

“Can I bring you anything, miss?” Warrick asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Hot water for your tea?”

“You can have a seat and tell me something about your captain, Warrick. What sort of man would you say he is?”

The boy looked stricken. He seemed to consider whether it was his place to answer such a personal question, but at length he lifted his chin with confidence. “Captain Talvis gave us a chance, William and I. Employment, food, and shelter when we’d nowhere to turn. My parents sent us off on our own, we being the eldest except for my brother James, who is quite sickly. We were too many at home, miss. Eleven of us and our parents were too poor to care for us all. Men were needed to sign on with the privateers, but no captain would have us because we’d no experience on the sea. None until Captain Talvis. He’s a fair and generous captain. He made certain we were treated fairly.” Warrick squared his thin shoulders. “It has been an honor to serve him.”

Lorena felt humbled by his confession. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Warrick. I believe I would like that hot cup of tea.”

As he left to fetch the water, she pulled her silver thimble from the pocket of her gown. Lorena did believe she was falling in love with Brogan Talvis.
Love
, yes. For how else to explain this intensity of feeling that overtook her whenever she stepped into his presence?

Other than his exploits as a privateer, she knew little of his life before he’d arrived in Duxboro. And yet the more she learned, the more it confirmed the good treasure of his heart.

Unfortunately, more than treasure was buried in that heart.

Something painful and dark. And she knew, with secrets, there could be no chance for their love.

T
he
Yankee Heart
bowled along on a smart breeze under a heavy press of sail. Lorena stood at her bow, bracing the rails as she leaned into the sea. From several paces behind, Brogan watched as, unawares, she raised her face to the spray like some life-sized figurehead.

The wind blew fresh, snapping at the slightly raised hemline of her narrow, gauzy gown. Her flat sandals tied with leather straps, and the skirt’s edging of white embroidered lace flirted in the breeze with her trim, delicately boned ankles. The sight entranced him, and it was here his gaze lingered.

The ocean rolled with a sound that echoed strong in his ears like the flap of the sails high above. Crew members moved busily about, and he knew Lorena had not heard his approach. As Brogan stepped up behind her, he placed his hands gently on her shoulders and cautioned in her ear, “Don’t be startled.”

She swallowed a sharp intake of breath and turned, only to smile when she saw it was him.

Brogan dropped his hands as she whirled about to face him, swatting back the ginger-brown tendrils that blew across her eyes.

“I’ve been searching for you,” he explained.

With a knowing smile she shouted above the noise and commotion. “I’ve been in the galley, visiting with Mr. Mott. Together we baked a lovely shortcake to be served with dinner. I could not pass up the opportunity,” she tittered. “I do enjoy baking, as you well know. There’s peace in the distraction of my busy hands, and I find the task silences my mind. I’ve muddled through many a dilemma in the kitchen. I assumed you wouldn’t mind, since Drew was with you. . . .” She glanced behind him, her eyes narrowing with concern. “Where is Drew?”

He wondered why any dilemma should trouble her now when she’d been taken off the
Lady Julia
and saved from George Louder. Had she discovered something about his past? Did she suspect his relationship to Drew?

He cast the thought aside to ease her mind about the boy. “Drew is with Warrick below. If you’d like, I’ll have the pair of them take you on that ship’s tour I promised earlier. But first, I’m glad we have a moment, Lorena, because I have something to ask of you, and Drew might be disappointed if he knew I had plans for us tonight that do not include him.”

“Oh. Plans? For us, you say. You mean for you and me?”

“Exactly.”

She grinned like a child ready to receive a surprise, intrigued yet not entirely convinced it was going to be something she’d enjoy. Then, as she peered more deeply into his eyes, Brogan decided, nay. Not a child, but a woman.

“What sort of plans?” she asked.

His heart rate quickened, and he clasped his hands behind his back to better brace himself. “Will you walk with me after supper, Lorena, once you’ve put Drew to bed, so that we might spend some time alone together?”

He seemed to have stunned her silent. Smiling, Brogan reached up to tame the loose spirals of hair whipping about her face. He’d removed his jacket earlier, and now the full sleeves of white shirt billowed in the wind.

“The skies predict a fine starry night,” he coaxed, drawing a breath. “Are you game for standing a trick at the wheel?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Brogan explained, more softly, “Would you enjoy a lesson on manning the
Yankee Heart
’s helm this evening?”

“Oh! Why, yes. I think I should enjoy that very much,” she answered within seconds, much to the delight of his impatient heart and with a radiant smile that had the blood pumping a little more freely through his veins.

He led her to where he had left Drew with Warrick and returned to the business of captaining his ship. He thought of her all day, envisioning the moment he would have Lorena’s attentions all to himself.

Fortunately, this cruise was not a demanding one requiring his constant focus, for Brogan found he spent many a moment that day staring out to sea.

By nightfall, however, he’d managed to harness his energies and employ them in entertaining Drew. After their Bible reading, they took turns at a game of draughts. Drew giggled himself silly when the pieces slid off the board with a heavy roll of the ship, and on that occasion it was the lad’s assignment to locate and collect them. Later, they played hide the thimble. Lorena covered Drew’s eyes with her hands while Brogan hid the thimble somewhere within the great cabin. Drew searched, aided by hints of “you are hot” or “you are freezing.”

They played until Drew collapsed from exhaustion, and then Brogan carried him to bed. He was asleep before Lorena had finished tucking him in.

That done, Brogan smiled down on her, anticipating the night ahead and offered his hand to escort her on deck.

They sailed under a clear dark sky. Brogan found the wind stronger and the air crisper since he’d last stepped outside. It whistled through the rigging. Yards creaked. A slatting sail blew against the mizzenmast, where sailor John Bowne stood watch.

Brogan invited Lorena to ascend the companionway ladder to the quarterdeck before him. There stood a man at the wheel wearing a checkered shirt with a blue bandanna tied around his head. Brogan called out to him as they approached.

“Good evening, Mr. Fletcher. How is she headed?”

“Evening, Captain. She’s headed right on her course, sir. West, southwest by west.”

Lorena was introduced to the broad, rugged quartermaster.

“Avast your stand here,” Brogan commanded. “I have a desire to take the wheel myself tonight. Break for an hour and then you may return and resume the rest of your watch.”

“An hour, sir?”

“Aye.” Brogan took one spoke into the clutches of his strong hand. “Have you supped yet, Mr. Fletcher? Go forward and sample Mr. Mott’s fine fare for this evening. Do as you please. Mr. Smith will give you no complaint for your idleness. He knows I have taken command of the wheel and have granted you leave. Though you may remind him I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“Aye, Captain. Thank you. I’ll tell him, sir.”

Lorena watched with rising anticipation as Brogan took full possession of the wheel, honored by his invitation to stand at the helm of his ship. He trained his eyes across the
Yankee Heart
’s vast length, where Lorena followed his gaze to the black sea. Even beneath the moon’s reflection, she could detect movement only when a whitecap broke the surface.

“Be sure to take firm grasp of the spokes, for there’s a good breeze and quite a sea running.” He made way for her to stand before him at the wheel.

At her hesitation he urged, “Where’s my willing helmsman, eh? Come, Lorena, take the wheel.”

“Are you quite serious? Do you intend I should turn it by myself?” Chin held high, she shored up the corners of her mouth in a pretty, though incredulous, grin.

“You doubt your abilities?” He gave her a knowing wink. “‘Behold also the ships, which though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth.’ Come, be my small helm. I find the wheel easily steered. And I shall man it with you, my hands alongside yours, standing behind you the whole while.”

Lorena cast a discerning eye over him. “You know your verses better than you let on, sir. That was the book of James.”

“Well, you’ve no argument with James, have you? It’s possible for the mightiest to be moved by even the most humble. If Drew were awake, he’d remind you of the story of David and Goliath.”

The night wind blew brisk, yet Lorena felt no chill, only a sense of refuge and peace with Brogan at her back, an acute awareness of his arms surrounding her, legs braced solidly on deck. She brought her hands to the spokes beside his and held on, waiting for direction.

A great swell raised the stern under their feet. It sent the bow plunging into a towering crest, and as the huge wave continued to roll beneath the
Yankee Heart
, it sent the ship listing to larboard. Brogan pulled upward on a spoke as they held it together, then guided her right hand to an upper spoke and, closing his fingers over hers, instructed, “Now we heave right.”

Lorena put her weight into turning the wheel with him, and the stern settled with a roaring splash, plunging the
Yankee Heart
into a blanket of spray as she raced ahead into the night.

Lorena was taken with a tremendous surge of daring and excitement. She laughed, exhilarated. It was as if the stars twinkled just for her. She tilted her face up to the misty salt air and inhaled.

“It is my desire that you enjoy this journey as much as your homecoming,” Brogan said at her ear.

Lorena radiated delight at the sentiment, her spirits soaring. “Then you have your desire already. For since I boarded your ship less than two days ago, my destiny, as well as my course, has been altered completely. The voyage I anticipated to endure with sadness has now become a holiday cruise.”

She’d expected her words would please him, but Brogan grew silent and pensive behind her. She felt him balance with the roll of the deck. One leg braced, the other knee bent, he leaned into the ship’s heel, then straightened, keeping himself steady in order that she might lean against him.

“And now our lesson,” he said, speaking at her ear again. “Glance aloft, Lorena, at the sails and the stars in the sky.”

Three masts towered above, the tallest reaching a height of ninety feet. Their square sails billowed on a steady breeze, the white of the canvas in sharp contrast to the deep midnight of the sky, where stars twinkled in a scattering of white-gold light.

Lorena admired the view. “It is a lovely night, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, but I have another purpose in directing your attention aloft. Tell me, which is the topgallant of the mainmast?” Brogan’s breath was at her cheek, and Lorena felt her heartbeat quicken because of it.

“It is there, third sail from the top, beneath the skysail and the main royal.”

His laughter rumbled in her ear. “As a shipbuilder’s daughter I should hardly be surprised you’re no saltwater sailor. All right, Lorena, let your gaze drift past the luff of the topgallant. Its forward edge, rather, and there I want you to focus on a single star in the sky.”

Lorena obeyed, though she failed to see what this had to do with steering the ship. “Very well. I have a star in sight.”

“Set your eye on that star, and as long as it remains in the same position in relation to the topgallant, the
Yankee Heart
keeps straight on her course.”

“Ah, clever,” she said, understanding.

“Keep her as close to the wind as possible without her sails flapping. Full and by. And if she swings too far from that star, turn the wheel a spoke or two. I’m going to keep my hands alongside yours, but I’ll leave it up to you, Lorena, to decide when she needs a turn.”

An excited, frightening rush of exhilaration surged through her. She had been around ships her whole life, but this was entirely different, a challenge to her mind and body, requiring the use of all her faculties. She held the wheel with fingers clenched, toes curled inside her sandals and fighting for purchase on the deck, all the while maintaining concentration on that star.

At the same time she couldn’t resist wondering about the sea captain who stood behind her. Curiosity for him burned inside her.

He shared old sailing stories, several of which made her giggle. He told of his escapades during the war.

“The British had our American harbors heavily blockaded, so we adopted the practice of sailing out stern-first. That is, sailing backward so they’d think we were traveling in the other direction.” He chuckled at the memory. “On one occasion, Mr. Smith and I ran the blockade in an old sloop with a load of gunpowder, hoping to make delivery to Newport. We buried it in manure, and the stench was so great the British boarding officer gave it only a cursory inspection. We managed to slip past, undetected.”

The time flew by unheeded, and with it the wheel grew more difficult to control. Lorena begged relief and transferred full command of the helm to Brogan.

“You tell many fascinating and amusing tales,” she said, “but I sense in you a story you have yet to share. A story you keep to yourself. One more personal and far more interesting. Quite likely painful. You jest, and yet there are times your smile does not reach your eyes.”

The sea churned, running higher than it had when they’d first gained the quarterdeck less than an hour ago. His sights remained trained ahead, the corners of his eyes creasing in concentration. Lorena suspected not so much concentrating on the ship’s course as on her words.

She pressed further. “I am convinced there is something troubling your spirit. I know the look—that melancholy in your eyes, the tightening of your jaw. I’ve been there, Brogan. I understand what it is to be burdened by secrets. And your burden has increased since I’ve come aboard the
Yankee Heart
, hasn’t it? Has it something to do with me? With Drew? Won’t you talk to me, Brogan? What troubles you?”

“The wind shall soon be blowing a gale,” he said. “I can feel its breath.” He alerted her to the ship’s increase in motion, the shift in pressure on the soles of their feet as the
Yankee Heart
began to rise and plunge with greater force over the waves.

With a jerk of his chin he directed her attention to the skies. “Notice that vaporish halo surrounding the moon? Foul weather is ahead. Already I can see the
Yankee Heart
beginning to labor under her heavy press of sail. I’ll have to escort you below, Lorena. I need to alert Mr. Smith.”

But Mr. Smith was already aware of the increase in weather. He called in the next watch to stand at the helm and met them as they descended the companionway ladder to the main deck, awaiting orders.

“Have her topgallants and courses sheeted down,” Brogan commanded.

Mr. Smith removed himself to relay the order. His booming voice projected over the creaks and groans of the ship’s timber and the wind as it whistled through the shrouds. Sailors leapt to their tasks, some working the ropes, others beginning the lofty climb up the ratlines.

Taking firm grasp of her hand, Brogan pulled her toward the cabins while Lorena padded behind as quickly as her feet could find purchase on the slick deck. The gauzy cotton of her gown had grown damp from the spray, and she shuddered as they entered the quiet emptiness of the great cabin.