Sea Mistress

For a tension-filled moment, they simply stared at each other.

“You look horrible,” Bess lied. He looked dangerous and tough . . . and good, too good.

Seth's smile became a grin. “You haven't changed a bit.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?”

He moved from his chart table, and as he approached she felt the room fill with his commanding presence. Bess straightened her spine and held his gaze squarely.

“Years ago you were saucy and beautiful,” he said softly. “It appears your sauciness has become daring, but otherwise you're the same.”

Bess flushed at the implication. A shiver raced down her back. He still found her beautiful. She tightened her lips.
Don't be taken in by his charm! He's a liar. Remember?

Seth was within a foot of her. He touched her chin, running his fingers along her jaw. Her pulse quickened with the caress. She fought the inclination to pull away, for she didn't want him to know how shaken she was. She found her gaze drawn to his mouth . . . the sensual lips that had once brought her wild pleasure.

With a low groan, he bent his head, closing the gap between their lips . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Bess crouched in the shadow of a brick building, her body tensed, poised for flight. The cloud-covered moon cast an eerie glow over the Port of Wilmington. A mist rose up in soft swirls from the waters of the Christiana River, white wispy tendrils reaching into the night. Before her, the clipper ship, the
Sea Mistress,
bobbed gently within its moorings, a ghostly specter in the unearthly night. Listening, watchful, Bess searched the deck for signs of movement. She sighed with relief. So far all was going according to plan . . .

If Reeves played his part well, Bess would be able to smuggle herself on board the vessel and into a cabin below deck where she would remain until the ship was several days out to sea. Until the day she decided to reveal her identity, dared to venture topside and confront the lion—Captain Seth Garret—in his den, only she and Reeves would know that the representative sent by the E. Metcalfe Company was a woman. Only after they were days out to sea would Bess feel confident that her plan would succeed.

Where is Reeves?
she wondered. Bess swallowed hard. No one—
nothing—
must interfere now! For five years she had planned for this moment. Seth Garret was going to pay for the pain he'd inflicted; he must be made to suffer as she had suffered at his hands.

Destroying a man's dream was worse than taking his life, and by the time Bess was through with the dear captain, the man would have preferred a certain death. Bess's smile was grim in the darkness. She would see him pay without touching a single hair on his handsome head.

Something brushed against her back, and Bess shrieked. A hand clamped over her mouth, and the shriek became a whimper as she fought her assailant, kicking and fighting like a wild cat.

“Miss Metcalfe!” a hushed male voice begged her to cease struggling. The man grunted with pain as one well-aimed kick hit home, striking him in the shin. “Miss Metcalfe, it's me—Reeves!” he whispered with desperation.

When she realized who held her, Bess sagged with relief. Heart thumping and breathing hard, she glared at her faithful employee with reproach. “Why did you sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry, Miss. But I wasn't sure it was you at first.” The thin, wiry man blinked and gazed meaningfully at Bess's clothing. “This just might work!”

Her expression softened. “It will,” she said with more confidence than she possessed. She couldn't afford to panic! If she didn't keep her wits about her, all of her years of planning would have been for naught. Her gaze sought Reeves's face in the darkness. “Did you have any trouble?”

He shook his head, a hint of movement in the shadows. “Nothing I couldn't handle.” He paused, straining to see her in the darkness. “I can't believe it's really you!” he breathed with awe.

Bess grinned, pleased. A quick glance down at herself and she understood Reeves's earlier doubts. She looked like a stranger! Not even her own mother, were she alive, would recognize her blonde-haired daughter in the clothes Bess now wore.

But could she pass for a sailor? She wore a man's dark overcoat with turned-up collar and baggy trousers that hid her soft curves. Her long flaxen hair had been pinned up painstakingly and was concealed by a dark cap.

Bess knew she hadn't a prayer that Seth's men would believe her to be a man. But in the misty darkness, she hoped to pass as a young lad preparing for his first voyage.

Her features hardened with determination. She would make it; things would be fine! “Are the arrangements completed?”

Reeves nodded. “There are only two men on board—Jacob Hawke and Pete Rhoades. I found the first mate at the inn and he assured me that you've been allotted a cabin. I'll sleep in the fo'c'sle with the crew.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “If we go now, we'll be able to slip on board easily enough.”

Reeves had accomplished his mission, but the knowledge only made him uneasy. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Bess; his services and loyalty had become hers upon her uncle's death last year. Besides, he had loved the young woman since he'd first set eyes on her four years ago when Edward Metcalfe had saved him from destitution, picking him up drunk from the gutter one night. Upon learning that Reeves had lost everything in a risky business venture and believing there was potential in every man, Edward had sobered Reeves up and given him back his self-respect with the offer of a good position as his right-hand man.

Reeves had been wary of the generous offer at first, and he'd wondered what was it that Metcalfe wanted from him. But as time went on and nothing was asked of him but loyalty and a good day's work, Reeves began to trust the older man, growing to love and respect Edward Metcalfe. Four years later, Metcalfe was dead, and Reeves owed Edward more than gratitude; he owed him his life. Reeves was prepared to stay with Edward's niece Elisabeth for as long as she needed him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he queried. “Wouldn't it be better if you stay East and oversee operations here?” He eyed the ship warily. “It's a long voyage to California. And I don't trust this Garret or any of his men.”

“I'm going,” she said flatly, and Reeves knew that it was pointless to argue with her. “Everything will work out fine. After all, you'll be with me, won't you?”

He nodded, his mouth forming a wry smile that he knew she couldn't see in the dark. Sometimes, he was just a little overawed by her trust in his abilities.

“John . . .” She placed a hand gently on his arm and his heart thumped. “This deal is too important to me to stay behind. I'll gladly suffer the rough voyage around Cape Horn. Actually, I'm convinced it'll be exciting.”

To Bess's amusement, Reeves answered her with a grunt. She felt a rush of affection for the man. She couldn't have managed without him since her uncle's death. In this last month, he'd become more than a trustworthy employee; he was her friend.

“The captain will see that his men behave,” she reassured him. “You told me yourself that he is a highly respected seaman.”

“Seaman, yes—but he's no knight in shining armor, Miss. The man didn't get his reputation by being a gentleman.”

Ah, I of all people know that Garret is no gentleman!
Bess thought. But she merely assured Reeves that she would come to no harm, and that it was necessary for both of them to travel to California and expand the E. Metcalfe Company to the West coast. There were riches to be made near San Francisco. With a shipload of goods to be marketed, E. Metcalfe Mercantile would be a profitable establishment within days of opening its doors. Bess had heard that an egg sold in San Francisco for one dollar, and a pack of playing cards brought five!

Then, there was the matter of Captain Seth Garret. Bess was not going to sit home idly while the prospect of witnessing Garret's comeuppance lured her to the West.

“Did you bring my satchel?” she asked Reeves, suddenly feeling the urge to get started.

He nodded and pointed to where her bag sat several yards away. Inside the bag was a change of clothes, including a striped shirt like those worn by the sailors.

“We had best be quick if we're to be successful,” he told her. “The captain and his men will be returning soon from the tavern.”

“The tavern!” Bess exclaimed in a hushed voice. “With the ship leaving on the morrow, Garret allows his men to indulge?”

“He can't very well stop them, Miss. Rest assured Captain Garret takes no nonsense from his men. Each man will pull his own weight on the ship or be punished for it.”

Bess recalled the youthful smiling face of the Seth Garret she'd known and wondered what form of punishment the captain used. She reminded herself that she'd never known the real Seth Garret. The man was a consummate actor. A fraud. The tender, almost shy man she'd spent time with five years before would never have done what he'd done.

“There!” Reeves's harsh whisper startled Bess. “There's the watch now.” He squinted to see better. “Ah, it's a young man, I'd say. Perhaps the new recruit—Hawke.”

Bess scanned the deck of the
Sea Mistress
and saw the lone figure standing on the bow. “I wonder where the other one is,” she murmured.

“No doubt below deck, sleeping off his rum.”

Bess shot Reeves a look over her shoulder. “That should make things easier then, shouldn't it?”

“It should, but I doubt it will.”

“Let's go.” Bess waited while Reeves fetched her satchel and rejoined her. “Are you ready?”

The man murmured his assent, and together they moved toward the vessel.

At the ramp, Reeves stopped Bess with a hand on her arm. “Jacob Hawke!” he called before she could question him.

The sailor on the bow stiffened and spun toward the sound. “Who goes there and why do you call my name?”

Bess gasped as he raised his gun and took aim at them. She opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it abruptly when Reeves, as if anticipating her response, tightened his fingers about her arm in warning.

“It's Reeves and Marlton. From Metcalfe Co.”

“Reeves, eh?” The sailor hesitated for only a second. “Well, come aboard then, but mind your feet. I'll not be flogged for any mishaps.”

Bess sighed with relief as the sailor lowered the gun to his side and turned away. “Do you know where we're going?” she whispered.

Reeves nodded as he released her arm. “You've been given the officers' cabin. Come on,” he urged her, grabbing her arm once again as she stumbled on the wooden gangplank. “Before our friend here decides to escort us below deck.”

As Bess climbed down through the hatchway and into the lantern-lit passageway, her thoughts flew to the other sailor. “John, what of Rhoades?” she whispered.

“He'll be sleeping in the crew's quarters at the other end of the ship.”

“The other end?” She stopped and Reeves uttered a few choice words as he barreled into her back. “In the fo'c'sle?” Reeves nodded. “Where you'll be,” she murmured. Bess tensed. “How will you explain why you and I aren't sharing a cabin? Won't the captain become suspicious if he learns that the two men from E. Metcalfe Co. aren't sharing quarters?”

She sensed when he shook his head. “Not to worry, Miss—ah, I mean, Marlton,” he amended, using the name she'd chosen for her charade. “Who would want to share a sick man's cabin? A few hours out to sea and you'll become seasick. I personally have a repugnance for the stench of vomit.”

Bess chuckled. “Not enough that would keep you from visiting, I hope.”

“I'm a man with sympathy, if not a strong stomach.”

They came to the cabin door—although Bess had no idea how Reeves knew which cabin was to be hers. Reeves entered first. Her gaze watchful for any newcomers, Bess waited patiently for him to tell her it was safe to go inside.

She peered into the dark room, trying to find Reeves, then she heard the scrape of a match and saw a flicker of light as Reeves lit a wall lantern. The golden flame softly illuminated the man's profile as he adjusted the wick of the lamp. There were two bunks built into the bulkhead, one over the other. He had set her satchel on the lower bunk. Reeves inspected the cabin thoroughly before he gestured for Bess to enter.

“Will you be all right?” he asked, studying her with concern.

She nodded as she eyed the small, spartan cabin. It would be comfortable enough during the journey, she decided. Although, she supposed, it would take her some time to get used to living on a ship. The
Sea Mistress
creaked and bobbed gently beneath her feet, a lulling movement like a rocking cradle.

But the first obstacle had been dealt with; she was safely on board Seth's ship. She flashed Reeves a triumphant grin. “I'll be fine.”

“Then I'll leave you to find a place to bunk down.” He moved toward the door.

“There are two bunks in this cabin, John Reeves,” Bess said, and Reeves froze. “Get you in one of them. I'd rather not spend my first night here alone.”

John Reeves swallowed hard. “But, Miss Metcalfe, I don't think it's seemly—”

“I'm your employer, and I'm telling you it's all right.” Her voice was stern, but her dark eyes twinkled.

John shrugged. He was in love with his employer, had been since the moment he'd first laid eyes on her four years before. He would never harm her or take advantage. “Do you want the top or the bottom?”

Bess pursed her lips. “Bottom—do you mind?”

The man's smile was wry. “Why should I mind, Miss? I'd thought my bed this night to be hard— and damp.”

It must have been an hour later when Bess, still dressed in her mannish garments and awake in the lower bunk, heard voices from the main deck. The crew of the
Sea Mistress
was returning. At first light, the men would be up and at work. Bess closed her eyes. She could hear the soft snoring of Reeves in the upper bunk and the tread of footsteps as the crew retired.

Without warning, there was a thud and a heated exchange between several men. Startled, Bess bolted upright, gasping when she heard a loud splash next to the ship, and the sound of raucous laughter from above deck. Someone had fallen off the ship! Fallen, she wondered, her eyes widening. Or been tossed off? A sharp bark of command stilled the mirth, and all became silent.

Bess listened intently. Footsteps fell on the ladder steps and clicked on the passageway outside her door. A deep familiar voice filtered into her cabin, and Bess's heart slammed painfully within her breast.