The Captain's Caress (13 page)

Get a hold of yourself, you little fool, she told herself. You can’t turn into a tongue-tied idiot every time the man looks at you. Everybody on the ship will know you’re in love with him.

“I think it would be nice if the countess would agree to present the prizes this year,” Smith suggested. “It would give the men something to look forward to.” Everyone greeted the idea with enthusiasm. “Of course, with your approval, sir.”

“Since I intend to compete, it would be better to have another presenter,” Brent said thoughtfully. “Maybe the countess would consent to be a judge as well.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Summer objected. “I don’t know a thing about your contests.”

“We already have judges to make sure the rules are followed. All of you would have to do is declare the winner,” explained Brent. “You can practice by watching the men as they train.”

“I know I’d get much too nervous,” Summer argued, protesting her unfitness for the position, but the men enthusiastically disputed with her, and finally overcame her resistance.

“Well, if you really think I can,” she agreed at last, “but you must promise to teach me what to do so I won’t make any mistakes.” There were immediate offers of help from all around her.

“
I
will organize the countess’s instruction,” Brent informed them, quelling the hubbub with one glance. “Each of you will be assigned to help her with a specific event. That way it won’t take too much time away from your duties.”

Or allow anyone to spend too much time with the countess, Smith thought to himself.

“As soon as Smith has made up a list of contestants I’ll name your chores.”

“I’ll get started right away, sir.”

“Perhaps you should write everything down so the countess will know what to look for. We can go over it during dinner, or at some other time,” Brent said, giving her a provocative glance.

“These are going to be the best games we’ve ever had,” claimed an excited Caspian, “but we ought to have ribbons, and prizes, too.”

“What for?” someone asked.

“For the winners.”

“That’s a splendid idea,” agreed Summer, catching some of his excitement, “but what can we find in the middle of the ocean?”

“There’re lots of things in the hold we could use,” suggested Horton.

“If you young idiots think I’m going to hand over our hard-won treasure to a bunch of stumbling amateurs you’re badly mistaken.” Brent’s tone was uncompromising, and Horton looked abashed.

“But surely there’s something in that vast pile of pillage you can bear to part with,” Summer said before she had time to think.

“My vast pile of
pillage
, as you so quaintly put it, is not to be used for trophies.” Brent’s voice had a biting edge to it. “I will not allow you to dig through it like children looking for sugarplums.”

Now it was Summer’s turn to look discomfited.

“I’m sure if we all look among our belongings we will find some things that might be of use,” Smith said calmly, for he sensed the strained atmosphere. “And if you will permit it, sir, I will undertake to go through the hold for such items as have little or no trade value.”

“I won’t have you neglecting your duties,” Brent said severely.

“I would naturally do it on my own time,” replied the unflappable Smith. “I don’t anticipate it to be an arduous task.”

Brent yielded grudgingly. “The goods belong to the whole crew, so you’ll need their permission as well. I can’t have the men saying that their profits were taken from them without their consent.”

“I’ll see to it,” the efficient Smith assured him, and everyone at the table breathed a little easier. No one could be comfortable when the captain was in a difficult mood. Even Smith, who had been with him longest and had the right to disagree with him, took pains to do so carefully. Brent was not one to act hastily or foolishly, but neither was he accustomed to weigh the consequences when he did act.

“Caspian, you can help the countess with the races and the swimming tomorrow. Since they’re two of my strongest events, I take it you won’t be entering them,” Brent said derisively.

“I’ll be happy to help the countess in any way I can.” Caspian grinned, not the least abashed by Brent’s sarcasm. “I can help her with the wrestling too, since that’s also one of your strongest events. Besides, I’m not in your weight class.”

“Lane will do the wrestling. You must also attend to your duties,” Brent said snappishly. Caspian showed no sign of being disturbed by the captain’s irritation, but the other men made their excuses and left Brent alone with his brandy. Even in the middle of the ocean, there were less dangerous ways to enjoy an evening.

The men practiced whenever they could take time out from their work; that meant anytime between daybreak and midnight. Rather than climb the stairs from her cabin a dozen times a day, Summer began to spend most of her time on deck. Some of those working out were self-conscious at first. A few did try to get to know her better, but one look from the captain was enough to convince the most foolhardy to keep his distance. It was impossible for the crewmen not to stare at Summer, but they took care to keep their eyes on their work when Brent was about.

And that seemed to be just about all the time these days. He might say he needed to practice as well as anyone else, but it was obvious that his practice took second place to his interest in the beautiful countess.

The crew had no inkling of the deepening closeness between Brent and Summer. They’d rarely seen her, and his treatment of her on that first day remained strong in their minds. Smith was the first to notice the change, but he never shared confidences with anyone except Brent. And junior officers held their captain in such awe, thought him so godlike, that it was a jolt to find he was subject to the same emotions and desires that plagued them. They attempted to question Smith, and were expertly snubbed.

However, when Summer began to put in regular appearances on deck, the whole crew had an opportunity to observe Brent and Summer, and it wasn’t long before everyone decided that the captain was smitten at last. He tolerated no familiarity with the countess, and barely restrained himself from treating an imagined insult to her with the same severity he usually reserved for insubordination. Only Brent remained unaware of the real extent of his feelings.

There had never been any room in his thoughts for marriage. For ten years he had devoted all of his time, energy, and concentration to two things: his career at sea and his hatred of Gowan. These existed side by side, each giving way to the other when necessary. There was no conflict, no sacrifice of one for the other, because Brent had realized that the only chance he had to bring Gowan to justice was to gain command of a ship and to have the power that came with that command.

He well knew that Summer was having an effect on him, but he was convinced that his attraction to her was only physical and that he could forget her just as easily as he had all of the others. Since there was no need to consider that unpleasant course of action at the moment, he put it out of his mind. He now accepted her presence at the table as a matter of course, and he firmly believed that his concern was only to protect her.

Brent was unaware that he glanced up at her a hundred times during an evening. And he didn’t see the smile that touched his lips, the light that glowed in his eyes, or the relaxation of the muscles in his jaw when he gazed at her. He was unaware that the evidence of her presence in his cabin—slippers, a ribbon, a brush—gave him a deep sense of contentment, a feeling of pleasure that was new to him. He studied her, thirsting to know what she was like, trying to fathom her depths through the things she did and said.

But the most profound change in him, one he never suspected and would have vehemently denied, was that he would give up his desire for revenge rather than lose Summer. He had no inkling of this transformation, nor was he aware that, as she had become a part of him, his hatred for Gowan had become less intense. In just a few weeks, Summer had become just as much a part of his days as his duties on the ship he commanded. He no longer thought of himself singly, even in his own mind; she was always there. Even more than his boyhood home, she was necessary to his happiness and well-being, and each solution he came up with for her future was automatically rejected if it failed to keep her at his side.

Chapter 11

The first day of the games dawned bright and clear; the usual turbulence of the Atlantic had died down; and the bright sun, quickly absorbing the cool of the morning, insured it would be hot by noon. At the same time, feeding seabirds reminded Summer that Havana and their journey’s end were near. Very soon now she would be on her own, and she couldn’t afford the emotional luxury of being in love with Brent. She reminded herself of her vow to fight any temptation to think longingly of his comforting strength or to give in to the hypnotizing effect of his smile.

The men had been up before dawn—some testing muscles and reflexes or limbering up by running around the deck, others setting up the courses and insuring that the day’s events would go quickly and smoothly. But the busiest person of all was Smith, for the success of the games rested squarely on his shoulders. It was his task to keep the lists of contestants, determine the order of the events, oversee them, and make sure that all preparations were completed. Summer did her best to help, but she was so nervous and excited she took up as much of his time as she saved.

Brent moved among the men, saying a few words to each and wishing them all good luck. His encouragement was warmly received even by those who knew they had little chance of besting him, and soon he had established an atmosphere of cheerful camaraderie.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remember half of them,” Summer said to Smith as she quickly reviewed the rules for a contest she had never even heard of until a few days ago.

“You’ll do just fine,” he assured her. “Just remember to watch very carefully as they cross the finish.”

“But that’s the trouble. I get so excited I’m afraid I’ll be cheering instead of watching.”

“Who are you cheering for?” asked Brent, as he came up from behind her. “I’m going to be mighty upset if you’re pulling against me.” He was cooling off from his morning exercise, and a fine film of perspiration caused his scantily clad, deeply tanned body to glisten in the sun, highlighting every muscle and sculpted curve. He looked like a god, a hero from some ancient legend. The pit of Summer’s stomach knotted and her knees grew weak.

“I didn’t say I was cheering for anyone,” she mumbled, blushing and lowering her gaze. “I just said that I might be cheering.” She raised her eyes again; she had to learn not to cower before him.

“We can’t have a judge who cheers for her favorites, or one who gets so excited she forgets to watch the finish.”

“I’ll do my best to be impartial
and
to watch carefully,” she said coldly, her resentment rising. “I realize how much these games mean to the men, and I wouldn’t do anything to spoil them, but I did warn you that I am completely without experience.” It was just like him to find fault with her even before she’d had a chance to prove herself.

“Everybody’s anxious to win,” Smith interposed diplomatically. “It’s particularly important this year because of the prizes and the fact that you’re going to present them.”

“I hope the men appreciate those blasted prizes,” Brent grumbled. “Your pack ransacked every inch of this ship, not to mention the time they spent away from their duties.” He directed a baleful glare at his first mate, but Smith didn’t flinch. “I think the men are ready to begin,” he announced moodily.

“It’ll just take me a few minutes more,” Smith told him, not taking his eyes from his task.

“How do you feel?” Brent asked Summer, his tone more kind now.

“Nervous,” she confided, steadfastly trying to ignore his inviting smile.

“The first events will be easy. They’re foot races. There’s only room for two or three runners at a time.”

“I’m still nervous.”

“You’ll calm down once we begin.”

“If you’ll come with me, milady, we can get started,” Smith said. “Captain, since you have to run in the third heat, you’d better go warm up.”

“You give orders very well.” Brent laughed. “You sound more like a captain than I do.”

“He
looks
more like one, too,” Summer commented. Brent’s brief pants exposed almost his entire body to the glistening sun, and she had hardly taken her eyes off him since he’d joined them.

Brent drew himself up. Muscles tense and bulging, he met Summer’s critical glance with an imperious look. “
Who
looks more like the captain?” he asked, daring her to compare his physique with that of the much less well-developed Smith.

Summer smoothly corrected herself. “I meant to say that Smith is
dressed
more like a captain.”

“That is true,” Brent replied, but he gave her a satisfied smile.

“You look more like a castaway.” Summer repressed a fervent wish to be cast away with him. “I’ll bet the earl would never recognize you if you returned to Scotland looking like that.”

“The earl wouldn’t have to worry about recognizing him,” Smith observed dryly. “The captain would freeze to death in the first snow.”