The Elusive Flame (18 page)

“I fear not, sir. This one was so rare, we feel enormously privileged that it came into our possession by the passing of an uncle. But we have others which are just as valuable.”

“I’m not interested in any others. Just this one. How much will you take for it?”

“Seeing as how it’s so exceptional, we’ll have to have at least twenty thousand pounds for it.”

“I’ll give you seven, not a farthing more.”

The first man was set to dicker. “I don’t know, sir.…”

Beau started to turn aside, and after a quick exchange of anxiously querying glances between the two, the second hastened to speak. “
However,
Captain, we seem to be in a desperate bind at this time.…”

“The painting isn’t stolen, is it?” Beau pressed, settling a suspicious gaze upon the men.

“Oh, no, sir! Absolutely not!” the first declared. And then his cheeks darkened in chagrin as he confessed, “Truth be, sir, we’ve been cast out of our family home after our tailors presented our father a bill for our clothing. He said unless we learned to control our spending, we’ll never see a shilling of our inheritance. In the meantime, our tailors are threatening us with dire consequences if we don’t pay them. We’ll take the seven. It won’t be enough to settle our debts, but it will placate our tailors until we manage to sell the other paintings.”

“How did you come by this one?”

“My mother recently purchased it, along with others of rare quality. She intended to add them to her collection, but when my father forbade her to give us coin, she gifted us with her paintings instead.”

Satisfied that the pair were telling the truth, Beau gave them a clipped nod. “I’ll have my mate fetch the money for you and a receipt for you to sign.”

The two smiled and waited patiently as Beau moved away to talk to Oaks. “I need you to go down to my cabin and beg admittance from my wife, at least long enough for you to fetch the strongbox and a receipt. If she should ask…which I doubt that she will…tell her some merchants have come aboard to collect what is due them. Count out seven thousand pounds, make the receipt out for that sum, and then return here.”

Stephen Oaks had been admiring the painting as his captain gave instructions and couldn’t resist an inquiry.
“A new acquisition, Captain?” He smiled as he drew Beau’s gaze to the painting. “’Tis a beauty, sir.”

“So is the one who painted it.”

Oaks looked at him in surprise. “You mean…?”

“My wife,” Beau answered, allowing a spartan smile to curve his lips. “But it’s not for her. ’Twill be a Christmas gift for my parents.”

“A very nice one, ’twill be, sir.”

“Aye, I’m sure of that, but I’d prefer that you not speak of this matter to my wife.”

“I’m swore to secrecy, Captain,” Oaks declared, clasping a hand to his breast.

“Good, now get along with you.”

Stephen had gone only a few paces when he paused and half turned with another question. “Do you still want the men to clear out the cabin near yours, sir?”

His brows gathering in dark gloom, Beau faced away. “Aye, Mr. Oaks. ’Twould seem my wife would like more privacy than my cabin affords.”

The mate heaved a sigh, wondering if the lady knew what she was asking of her husband. Or if she had any indication what she would be subjecting the crew to while their captain was so out of sorts. “’Tis a pity, sir, to be sure.”

“Aye, Mr. Oaks, that it is.”

Some time later Cerynise entered the small cabin that she had been given and nearly shuddered as she glanced around the gloomy interior. Blank, windowless walls seemed to close in around her from all four sides in the narrow room, which she roughly estimated was less than a quarter of the size of Beau’s cabin. The only relief came from the door, but only because she had left it ajar. She had no doubt that with her abnormal dread of being closeted in tiny, cramped spaces she’d suffer exceedingly during the voyage home.

A bunk occupied one end, but it was much smaller than the captain’s and, instead of a soft feather comforter, rough
woolen blankets had been tucked in around the mattress. She ran a hand musefully over the pillowcases and sheets, smelling their clean but bland odor, and felt an inexplicable melancholy invading the area very near her heart. She quickly blinked away a start of tears and took a deep breath to fortify herself before considering the rest of the meager furnishings. A washstand with pitcher and basin resided beneath a small mirror hanging on the wall. A tiny table and a single chair near the bed would have to suffice for any meals she would partake of in the cabin. Other than that, a battered sea chest, butted up against the wall, left little space for her to move around.

“Is it to your liking, my dear?”

The familiar voice wrenched a start from her, and when she faced Beau in trembling disquiet, she found him standing in the doorway with a shoulder braced against the doorjamb. Her chin lifted in obstinate pride as she contemplated the complacent smile that lightly touched his handsome lips.

“’Twill do,” she replied stiltedly.

He tilted his dark head at a curious angle as his eyes probed the unwavering dark greenish orbs that stared back at him with cool indifference. “Are you sure?”

Cerynise nodded stoically. “I’ll have my privacy and now I won’t have to worry about intruding upon yours. Considering all of that, why shouldn’t it suffice?”

The wide shoulders lifted briefly in a casual shrug. “Oh, I’m sure it would serve the needs of any other passenger, but I seem to remember from years back that you had a fear of being shut up in anything small and airless. I especially recall when some of my classmates sought to play a prank on you and locked you in that old trunk in your father’s barn. When I followed your screams and finally let you out, you were in such a panic you locked your arms around my neck and nearly strangled me before I could get you calmed down.”

Every instinct within Cerynise rallied to take offense at the supposition that he had deliberately chosen this cabin
for no other purpose than to see her completely miserable. “The Beasley boys were a mean, rowdy bunch, as I remember. They always did take delight in playing on others’ fears.” She fixed Beau with a coolly querying gaze. “Was that your intent as well, Captain?”

“You said that all you’d need would be a small space to sleep,” he reminded her. “Considering the cargo I’m taking back to Charleston, this was the best I could offer you. The other cabins
are
larger, but after making room for you, they’re now stacked to the ceiling. This was the
only
cabin I could spare.”

“Could or wanted?”

Beau was not above laying out her options. “If you don’t like the accommodations, madam, you can give up this nonsense and come back to my cabin. I’ve told you before I don’t normally take passengers aboard my ship. You’re the exception, and I’m sure as hell not going to throw my cargo overboard so you can have a cabin that suits your personal requirements.”

Cerynise felt her own ire rising at his terseness. “If you think I’m going to crawl back to your cabin, Beau Birmingham, and beg you to let me stay, then you’ll be disappointed to know that I’ll rot in here before I do.”

Beau flared at her stubborn declaration. “Suit yourself, my dear, but if you should decide differently, my cabin door will always be open to you
even
if you don’t beg me to take you in.”

Stephen Oaks descended the companionway and, upon espying his captain in the corridor, hurried to join him at the door. When he caught sight of Cerynise standing in the tiny cabin, he swept off his cap and, with a ready smile, inquired, “Would you be liking your baggage carried in now, Mrs. Birmingham?”

“Whenever it’s convenient, Mr. Oaks,” she said solemnly. “There’s no rush.”

The mate grinned at her for so long Beau grew perturbed. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask my wife,
Mr. Oaks
?”

“Well, actually there was,” the mate replied, ignoring the peevish frown that presently resided on the captain’s face. “Seeing as how these quarters are unfit for a lady, I was going to suggest that your wife use my cabin. I’m sure she’ll be far more comfortable in mine on the voyage home.”

“And where will you bunk?” Beau asked acidly, resenting the man’s interference.

“I’ll be perfectly happy slinging a hammock with the crew,” Stephen answered amiably. “Truth be, I’ve missed the camaraderie below deck since I’ve been advanced to my present position.”

“That’s the price of being first mate,” Beau reminded him curtly. “Your authority over them must be maintained. I simply cannot allow it.”

“Then I can bunk here in this cabin,” Oaks offered, turning a boyish grin upon Cerynise again.

“Your kindness is appreciated, Mr. Oaks,” she assured him graciously. “But I couldn’t possibly put you out of your own quarters.”

The mate sighed as if disappointed. “A pity my cabin will go unused then,” he rejoined. “You see, I’m quite resolved on the matter, Mrs. Birmingham, and until we see the port of Charleston, I’ll not set foot across the threshold except to remove my belongings…should you have a change of heart, that is. ’Tis entirely up to you whether you use it or not, but it shall be available.”

“Damnation!” Beau growled.

Cerynise glanced up at her husband to find a glowering scowl the likes of which might have come nigh to frightening the devil himself. Of a sudden her lips curved upward winsomely in a delightfully triumphant smile, and with an elegant nod, she accepted the mate’s offer. “Well, seeing as how your cabin will go vacant, Mr. Oaks, I can hardly refuse.” And then, because her husband folded his arms across his chest in an overt display of agitation, she sweetly praised the mate. “’Tis rare to find a gentleman gallant enough to give up his own quarters for a lady. If
I had my way, your chivalry would serve as a standard for other officers of your rank, but alas, few are inclined to put themselves out on another’s behalf.”

Beau cleared his throat sharply, knowing full well that his wife was directing her barbs toward him. Even as a child, she had always had a skill for stinging ripostes that, like a whip, could flay a boy’s hide. They were both older now, but behind that sweet, beautiful exterior of a genteel woman lurked an impish vixen who was every bit a match for the beast in him.

“My cabin is this way, Mrs. Birmingham,” Mr. Oaks readily informed her, sweeping his hand outward.

Upon passing Beau, Cerynise set the spurs firmly by displaying a brightly buoyant smile and evidencing her elation by a little skipping dance. What was left for Beau to do but follow in her wake? He did so mutely, watching her skirts swaying jauntily ahead of him.

Oaks led the procession down the passageway toward the captain’s cabin, but prior to reaching it, he paused beside the door that led to his own. Suddenly remembering the cluttered state in which he had left his quarters, he reddened in chagrin and begged, “If you’d give me a few moments to tidy up.…”

“By all means,” Cerynise responded, reluctantly stepping back in the corridor with Beau.

“If you can tear yourself away from your champion, madam,” her husband said broodingly, “I’ll take you up on deck, where we can perhaps discuss this matter in some semblance of mutual courtesy.” It didn’t seem at all likely that she’d yield to any of his demands to return to his cabin for a talk.

The offer sounded far too grudging to suit Cerynise. Deliberately lending the wall her undivided attention, she moved her slender shoulders upward in an abbreviated shrug. “I would be loathed to inconvenience you, sir.”

Beau’s breath hissed outward in a cynical snort. “I fear you’ve inconvenienced me more than you can possibly imagine, madam.”

“Then I shan’t trouble you any further, Captain. I’m perfectly willing to wait here.” And then, because she simply could not help herself, she added loftily, “Perhaps Mr. Oaks will be kind enough to escort me on deck later should I find myself inclined to take a breath of fresh air.”

Beau leaned a shoulder against the paneled wall buttressing her rigid back and pointedly questioned, “Do you enjoy deliberately provoking me or does it come naturally?”

Cerynise lifted an astonished stare to meet his. “Me? Provoking?” She laughed lightly, banishing the idea with a fluttering sweep of dainty fingers. “I could take lessons from you, Captain, have no doubt.”

Focusing her gaze on the far wall again, Cerynise promised herself that she would ignore that tall, powerful figure standing so close beside her. It proved far more difficult than she had imagined. She couldn’t breathe without feeling his presence with every heightened sense of womanly perception in her possession. If she allowed herself, she’d yield herself to those provocatively stirring memories that he had created when his large hands had moved boldly over her naked body, rousing sensations that even now sent a hotness gushing into her cheeks. If silence was the only way to quell the turbulent emotions he had unleashed within her, then by heavens, she would never utter another word.

Beau could hardly harness his longing to trace a finger around a dainty ear and the stubborn set of her jaw. The temptation was far too potent for him to pass off lightly. He bent near, indulging himself in her delicate fragrance, and considered the wisdom of using a different tactic. “Did I tell you, Cerynise, how utterly beautiful you are when you’re lying all warm with desire in my arms?” he whispered. “You’re like a strong wine that has gone to my head, and despite my attempts to subdue such tantalizing visions, I cannot thrust them from my mind. I’ve never wanted another woman as much as I want you.”

Cerynise released a quivering sigh as his words flicked
across her senses, awakening her own visions of her hard-muscled, bronze-skinned husband.

“Your breasts are so soft and fair,” he breathed, yearning to cup a swelling mound in his hand, “they’re like delicate pink rosebuds on a dewy morn, opening up to a rosy aurora of light. Their nectar is as sweet on my tongue as—”

The door across the hall opened without warning, startling them. Oaks looked from one to the other of them in sudden bemusement, sensing their unease. “Is anything wrong?”