The Captain's Caress (21 page)

“Captain Douglas.” It was Smith’s long-forgotten voice. “The men have been waiting in the boat for more than twenty minutes.”

“You can take that goddamned boat and row it straight to hell!” Brent roared. “I’m not leaving until I’m good and ready.” He turned back to Summer and the business at hand.

Chapter 18

“But I can’t just walk in on your arm,” Summer said for the sixth time. “I might as well announce that I’m your mistress.”

Brent, the insensitive egotist, couldn’t understand why she wasn’t eager to march straight into the biggest hotel in Havana with him as though he were her brother. He stared at her as if she were crazy, then turned a deaf ear to her protests.

“Nobody’s going to think any such thing,” he said. “This is not London or Madrid.”

“Have you ever taken a woman to a hotel?” she asked indignantly before she had time to realize what a stupid question that was.

“Lots of times.”

“I don’t mean some trollop,” she snapped, trying to control her irritation. “I mean a respectable woman.”

“All my women are respectable.”

“Then I suppose you spent the night in separate suites?”

“What do you think I took them to the hotel for?”

“That’s
exactly
what I mean. Respectable women don’t stay in hotels unless they’re properly chaperoned, not even in Havana.”

“Well, you can’t stay on the ship. It’s not safe.” Brent reached out and pulled her over to him. “I couldn’t trust any man alone with you,” he said huskily.

“Don’t judge everyone by yourself.” She removed his hands from her waist. “What’s wrong with my staying here?”

“I have to meet with buyers in the city, and I’ll be much too busy to row back every night to check on you.”

“You don’t have to come back. I’ll be perfectly safe with Smith.”

“Good Lord, girl! After six months at sea, would Smith, or anybody else in their right mind, want to stay on this ship with the whole city of Havana open to him?”

“Somebody has to stay here.”

“Those aboard won’t have time to take care of you,” Brent stated in a manner that clearly ended the discussion.

“If you had brought Bridgit along, you could go anywhere you wanted without my being a stone around your neck.”

“I’ve never felt that way about you, and you know it.”

“No I don’t,” she said, hoping he would tell her exactly how he
did
feel. “What am I supposed to think when all you do is bark orders at me?”

He looked at her standing in the early morning sun, the rays shining on her still-bare shoulders, and he knew she would never understand why the mere sight of her made him more determined than ever to keep her by his side.

“The only way I can stay in that hotel with you and keep a decent reputation is as your wife.”

“You’ll have to think of something else. I can’t have you married to two men at once.”

“Would my being married make any difference to you as long as my husband doesn’t interfere?” she asked, greatly interested in his reply.

“It makes a great deal of difference, especially when your husband is Gowan.” The thought of Summer in Gowan’s arms caused the muscles across Brent’s shoulders to become so rigid they strained the seams of his shirt. For a moment his hatred of the earl blocked out all awareness of Summer; he stared beyond her with a look of dogged determination that would have told any member of his crew the captain had made up his mind. And when that was so, there was no turning him from his course.

“He is my husband after all,” Summer said. “I don’t see what you can do to stop him if he decides he wants me back.”

“He won’t,” Brent declared, abruptly returning from his thoughts. “Gowan never bothers with people who can’t be of any use to him.” Summer was irked to learn that Brent thought Gowan valued her so lightly he wouldn’t make an attempt to find her. Yet the thought that Gowan might actually come after her frightened Summer so badly she would have swallowed any number of insults rather than face her lawful husband.

“If you don’t get into that dress, I’m going to carry you ashore in your shift.” Brent was impatient to be gone. He eyed her inviting curves and again felt desire stir in him. “It would certainly brighten the boatmen’s morning, but I’d prefer your arrival to be less spectacular.”

“I’ll just take a minute more,” Summer said. She was provoked but had given up on swaying him.

The ride to shore was hot and uncomfortable. The small boat pitched until Summer thought she was going to be ill.

“It’s pretty rough,” Brent sympathized, “but it won’t last long.”

“It’s lasted too long already,” she replied, trying to keep her mind off the stench of the harbor. Her head, covered by the wide-brimmed hat Brent had insisted she wear, hung listlessly to one side. He had not missed the glances of the animal-like men who worked the docks. It was the presence of such men that had led him to decide it was unsafe for her to stay on the ship.

“Watch your step, or we’ll both end up in the water,” Brent cautioned as he helped her out of the boat.

Summer looked at the brackish water dotted with floating debris and her stomach heaved. “I’ve never seen such filth,” she declared, remembering the times she had dangled her feet in the clean, clear water at the dock of her parents’ plantation.

“If you could break Havana of leaving its garbage in the streets to be washed into the bay with the next rain, you would be doing everyone a service,” he responded, though he did not seem to mind the filthy water that much.

“How does anyone stand to live here?” Summer asked.

But she didn’t feel that way once they’d left the harbor behind. The streets were hot and stifling; however, the houses were beautiful. They had tile roofs, iron rails, and cool courtyards enclosed by high walls. Everywhere she saw the trees, shrubs, and flowers she had known since childhood, but instead of the random gardening of Mother Nature, these plants were arranged in endlessly varying designs, great numbers of them being massed together to create awe-inspiring blocks of vibrant color. “I’ve never seen so many beautiful flowers,” Summer commented.

“Wait until you see the gardens of some of the large estates. This is nothing compared to them.”

Summer lapsed into a daydream, but she came wide-awake when she found herself stepping out of the carriage into the most enormous building she had ever seen. The
Casa Grande
was the largest and most luxurious hotel in all of Cuba. In only five years its fame had spread throughout the Caribbean, and people came to Havana just to see it.

Summer followed in Brent’s wake, wishing she could become invisible, or at least go unnoticed in the furor caused by his arrival. She could practically
feel
accusing fingers pointed at her, could almost
hear
the scandalized whispers that damned her as a scarlet woman. Why had she let Brent talk her into leaving the safety of the ship? When would she ever learn to stand up to him?

Summer would have been even more upset if she had known that her compelling beauty had brought her greater attention than being seen in Brent’s company ever could. Ignorant of the desire she kindled in the men she passed, she stared straight ahead and silently prayed that she would reach her room before her courage failed.

The lobby, reached by a short flight of steps, made Summer gasp. Twelve marble columns were arranged around it, topped by Ionic capitals supporting statues in dull gold. The extravagant plaster ceiling and the stucco wall panels were heavily decorated with gilt in contrast to the geometrically simple floor of yellow and blue tiles.

“How do you like it?” Brent asked as he watched Summer gaze about her in disbelief.

“It’s a little overpowering.” She faltered, hesitant to criticize. “But I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Alonzo will be pleased to hear that. He’s always glad to hear guests praise his hotel.” A short, stocky individual with fat cheeks, penetrating eyes, and boundless energy suddenly appeared before them.

“Señor Douglas,” he gushed, as he directed young men to unload their trunks and fetch the baggage from the carriage, “I am delighted that you have favored my humble hotel with your presence.”

“I wouldn’t think of staying anywhere else,” Brent said with an easy smile. “And I’ve brought you a very special guest this time.”

“Your servant,
señorita.”
Alonzo got his first good look at Summer when she removed her hat. “We are honored that our roof is to shelter such a beautiful dove,” he said smoothly.

Brent’s eyes suddenly narrowed and glinted dangerously. “Before you jump to conclusions that may cause you considerable distress,” he said in a voice that startled Alonzo into dropping his suave demeanor, “let me introduce the Lady Summer McConnel, countess of Heatherstone.” Alonzo bowed deeply while Summer stared at the floor and hoped her complexion didn’t betray her mortification. “Her husband is the richest man in Scotland, and I want you to take particularly good care of her.”

“I am a complete fool, and should have my tongue cut out,” apologized Alonzo. “It is a great honor to have you stay with us. If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, just name it. It will be done at once.”

“As long as you’re so anxious to please, you can find the countess a maid. Hers became too ill to continue the journey.”

“Of course,” Alonzo assured them with an ingratiating smile. “That will be no problem.”

“And send a message to Clothilde. I want her to be here before noon with every dress she has in the place. The countess needs some new gowns. Hers are all too hot for Havana.”

“Of course.” Alonzo swallowed convulsively. “Which suite would the countess prefer?”

“Your best,” Brent informed him, surprised at the question.

“It will be prepared at once,” Alonzo replied. “And you?” he asked, without daring to look into Brent’s hard eyes.

“Any suite you have as long as it’s close enough for me to keep an eye on the countess.” Brent fixed Alonzo with a brittle stare. “My first mate will share it with me. Mind you, I want that maid engaged by this evening. The countess must not be unattended.”

Summer was too unnerved to protest in front of Alonzo, but when he bounced away to correct some trifling fault in the service of another guest, she pounced on Brent. “Why did you have to demand the biggest suite?” she asked. “Why couldn’t I occupy some modest room?”

“No one will believe your story if you hide in the attic. Either you play the part all the way, or we might as well go back to the ship.” Summer longed to tell him that she
wanted
to do that, but Alonzo returned to escort them to their rooms. She followed the two men up the grand staircase that led to the first floor on which the largest suites were located. Surely even kings didn’t live in places like this, she thought as she stared at the magnificence all around her. She had visited the homes of some very wealthy planters, but nothing she had seen could be compared to this hotel. A still greater surprise awaited her when she was ushered into her suite.

The huge room was decorated in the French style. The walls were covered with dark green and gold paneling on which Chinese and Turkish figures were carved, and enormous gilt mirrors hung above the companion fireplaces of pink marble. The floor was covered by a deep carpet, and the furniture was upholstered in fabric that depicted rustic scenes.

“This is the salon,
señora,”
said Alonzo. “There is a dining room on the left, a small private parlor to the right. Off the bedroom you’ll find a dressing room and quarters for your maid, and there are also rooms for your husband and his valet.”

“You needn’t bother with them,” said Brent briskly. “Just see that the rest of the suite is prepared.”

“But of course,” Alonzo assured him. He could barely hide his relief that Brent was not going to share the countess’s suite openly.

“Where are my rooms?” Brent demanded.

“Just down the hall,” said Alonzo. “Come, I will show you.”

With a sinking feeling, Summer watched the ornate double doors close behind the two men. She had to lean on the back of a chair to prevent herself from giving in to a mad desire to run after Brent. Though he was only a few steps away, she had never felt more alone in her life.

Until now everything had seemed real, at times painfully so, but real all the same; yet alone in this enormous suite she felt she was living a dream. Maybe it was the opulence of the hotel, but she clung to the memory of Brent’s arms about her.

“I’ve got to stop acting like a scared rabbit,” she said aloud, hoping the sound of her own voice would give her courage. “I’ll never be able to take care of myself if I go to pieces over every little thing.” She got up and looked about her. The overpowering grandeur of the room and the luxury of its appointments momentarily distracted her. She let her fingers wander over plush fabric and dark polished wood. She felt intimidated, threatened by the sheer extravagance of it all, and she longed for the comfortable plainness of her own home in which she was more important than the objects around her. Even the servants in a hotel such as this were bound to look down their noses at her.