The Elusive Flame (5 page)

“Well, ye’re seein’ one in here now,” Moon retorted.

“A bitch, more’n likely,” the sailor grumbled and, having issued that slur, turned his back upon the pair.

Lanterns flickered dully at the edge of Cerynise’s blurring vision. She blinked several times as an invading weakness threatened to undermine her resolve. Only by sheer dint of will did she manage to make her way to Captain Sullivan’s table. Moon hurriedly swept around a chair for her to sit beside his captain, and she gratefully accepted his provision, for she seriously doubted that she could have stood much longer on her own.

“Moon says ye’re wantin’ passage on me ship,” Captain Sullivan began, his keen dark eyes sweeping slowly downward from the long hair that hung in wet strands around her face until they reached the muddied hem of her gown. As pretty as she was and as costly as her drenched garb might have been, the girl looked much the worse for wear. Tucking his tongue thoughtfully in his cheek, he met the hazel eyes that were now dull from fatigue. “Can ye pay?”

Cerynise could hardly admit her poverty, but neither could she lie. “’Twould be foolish for me to seek passage on a ship if I couldn’t pay for it in some fashion.”

“And that would be?”

Cerynise braced herself, knowing only too well how irrational her proposal might seem to a captain of a ship. “My uncle, Mr. Sterling Kendall, will give you the funds upon my arrival in Charleston.…”

For a moment Captain Sullivan stared at her as if convinced that she had taken leave of her senses. Then abruptly he slapped the flat of his hand upon the table and began to guffaw in rampant amusement, making her cringe with dread and embarrassment. He left no doubt that he considered her offer absurd. Finally he calmed and peered at her askance with merriment still lighting his ruddy face.
“Now let me see if I understands ye, miss. Ye say yer uncle will pay once the voyage is done?”

Cerynise inclined her head ever so slightly, fully aware of the untenable position into which she had been thrust. “I realize that it would be rather unorthodox—”

“’Tis balmy, that’s what it be!” he barked suddenly, jolting a start from her. “Either ye’re a blisterin’ fool or ye take me for one, girlie.”

“Neither, Captain Sullivan,” she replied carefully and looked at him through welling tears. Though exhaustion muted her tone, she was nevertheless grateful that her tongue wasn’t thwarted by the cold at the moment. “I assure you that I’m in full command of my senses, but after the recent death of my guardian, I find myself thrust from her home by the people who have inherited her property. In their endeavor to take my every possession from me, they’ve left me nothing with which to barter. I’m now a veritable pauper as of a few hours ago.” She paused briefly, realizing she had been reduced to begging. “Believe me, sir, if I thought I could persuade you to take pity on me, I would gladly promise you twice the fee a passenger might normally pay for passage on your packet if you’d just accept that my uncle will give you the funds. He’s the only one I can rely upon.”

The dark eyes raked over her again, this time with some evidence of sympathy. “Ye must understand, miss, that I’m obligated to account for all the fees I take in. Me shipping company requires it.” Then he added with some reluctance, “Yer uncle could be dead, for all ye know, miss, and who, then, would pay for your passage? ’Twould have ta come out o’ me own purse if’n ye couldn’t pay.”

“I understand, Captain Sullivan,” she murmured dolefully, rising from her chair on limbs that threatened to give way beneath her. “I’m sorry to have bothered ye.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n,” Moon interjected, leaning near Sullivan’s shoulder again. The tar was amazed at his own growing desire to help the girl. “What ’bout the
Audacious?
Cap’n Birmin’ham don’t answer ta no man but hisself, sir. He could take her, if’n he be o’ a mind ta.”

“Aye,” Captain Sullivan agreed, stroking a hand thoughtfully over his bristly chin. “He owns his own ship…but as far as I knows, he’s never taken on any passengers.”

Cerynise passed a hand over her brow, wondering if she had heard the men correctly. She felt so weak that she couldn’t be sure just how perceptive she was or if her words were even coherent as her tongue began to trip over her words again. “Y-you did s-say Birmingham, d-didn’t you?”

Captain Sullivan looked at her curiously. “Do ye know Captain Birmingham, miss?”

“If he is p-part of the Birmingham family who l-lives near Charleston, th-then I do,” she said haltingly.

“’Tis Beauregard Birmingham who captains the
Audacious
we’re speakin’ of,” the captain explained. “Do ye know him?”

Her energy was swiftly ebbing, leaving her hardly enough reserve to answer the man. “Before my father’s death…he ran a private school…for the offspring of the planters and merchants who lived in that area.” She hated her lagging speech, which was becoming more pronounced. “At one time…Beauregard Birmingham was one of his students. We were acquainted with his family…and that of his uncle, Jeffrey Birmingham.”

“Perhaps if Cap’n Birmingham remembers ye well enough, he might take pity on ye,” Captain Sullivan mused aloud, continuing to stroke his bewhiskered chin. He caught his cabin boy’s gaze and jerked his head toward the door. “Give the lady safe escort ta the
Audacious
, Moon, an’ tell Cap’n Birmingham he owes me one. I’ll collect in a tankard o’ ale when next we meet.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” The toothless grin was nearly as broad as the seaman’s face. “’Twill be a pleasure ta hie meself o’er there with the liedy an’ take a close look-see at that there ship o’ his afore we set sail.”

Full darkness had descended by the time Moon led Cerynise from the tavern, but the winds had died down. Tendrils of fog had begun to whisper over the banks of the river and slide insidiously over land as distant clanks and strange dragging sounds echoed eerily from the mists that hung over the water. Moon made his way through the night as if by rote, pausing now and then to give her a chance to catch up. Cerynise could see nothing in the gloom that closed in around them. She was hesitant of her footing, for her legs felt stiff and leaden beneath her. She was so thoroughly chilled and fatigued, it took determination to remember her resolve and drag her sodden slippers across the cobblestones. She staggered ever onward in spite of the difficulty of remaining upright and on her feet. Finally she could see the lofty masts of a ship rising above the swirling mass of vapors.

Moon glanced over his shoulder as he pointed toward the craft. “Bet ye’ve ne’er been on a ship like that there one o’ Cap’n Birmin’ham’s. A bloomin’ merchant frigate, she be! There ain’t many ta be seen like her, ’at’s for sure. An’ can ye believe, girlie? He paid for it hisself with all ’em furs an’ jewels an’ things what he brought back from Russia several years ago. From what I hears, he’s been back ta the Baltic and Saint Petersburg this time, too, he has, an’ is carryin’ twice as many treasures ’an before. ’Tis even rumored he talked the cap’n of an East India Company ship inta swappin’ some silks an’ pearls an’ jade an’ stuff for some o’ the rich booty he was carryin’. Now he’s here takin’ on more treasures ta tempt the merchants in Charl’ton, as if he ain’t gots enough ta entice ’em already. Why, a man’d be a fool ta carry passengers when he’s gots treasures like that fillin’ his holds. But let’s hope the cap’n will be o’ a different mind wit’ ye, girlie.”

Cerynise was unable to utter a reply. They were nearing a ship that rested against the quay. It was a proud, three-masted vessel, so huge it seemed to dwarf everything around it. But at the moment she couldn’t be awed by anything. Her strength had vanished, her senses dulled, her
wits long fled. Each step was an agonizing exertion that she could no longer force her shaking limbs to perform. All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere, close her eyes, and sleep.

Moon paused at the bottom of the gangplank and called to the watch on duty for permission to come aboard, but his voice sounded hollow and distant to Cerynise. Vaguely she was aware of her legs slowly crumpling beneath her and her body tilting back ever so slightly, as if time had ceased to be. Her head bumped almost gently against the cobblestones, but a dull ache began to throb there. Then a craggy voice cried out in alarm, and an eternity later, strong arms lifted her up against a stalwart chest. In the next moments the heavy mists seemed to swirl around her, closing in upon her like a dank tomb, choking off her breath and pulling her down into a dark abyss as a numbing, uncaring oblivion swept over her.

C
ERYNISE STRUGGLED TO
find a shadowed haven from the radiance filling her world. The light was bright and obtrusive in its boldness, intruding into the nebulous haze that seemed to surround her. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she sought to banish the glare into the nether realm, for surely it was a torment born of hell. Alas, it remained undiminished beyond her protesting lids. Finally she yielded a cautious peek through silken lashes and found the culprit to be the morning sun, shining through the expanse of windows somewhere behind her left shoulder and reflecting off an oval mirror fixed atop a shaving stand located across the room. Had they been of steel, the brilliant shafts radiating into her face might have pierced her brain.

All around the shimmering oval aura, indistinct shapes remained darkly aloof and pensively silent in their distant detachment. Some were far too large and bulky to claim human form, and yet, hard as she struggled, she could not lay face or body to others that seemed of more manly dimensions. Or was it only her imagination that made her think that she was not entirely alone?

Cerynise realized with some relief that she was no longer plagued by a feeling of discomfort. Indeed, she was warm and cozy in a bed, her body encased in clean-smelling sheets and a feather comforter, her hair dry with curling strands partially masking her face, and her toes no longer pained by the cold. If not for the penetrating ball of brightness shining between her narrowed eyelids, demanding that she pay heed, she might have still been slumbering in peaceful contentment.

A soft sigh slipped from her lips as she rolled away from the offending light. The goose down pillow beneath her head was a bit firmer than she was accustomed to, and with a balled-up fist, she punched it into some semblance of comfort, eliciting a strangely masculine essence that bestirred her senses like a warm caress. She rubbed her nose against the downy softness, deliberately extracting fleeting whiffs of the scent, and in quixotic reflection, licked a tongue languidly over smiling lips as several delicious fantasies swept through her mind. It was momentarily delightful to imagine that she had been carried off by a handsome sultan who, after claiming her, had banished his harem to the four corners of the earth, proving himself totally smitten by his love for her. Just as captivating was an illusion of a swashbuckler, handsome and daring enough to carry her off to his ship, where he promised to lay the world at her feet.

A slight shifting of her bed and a subtle creaking, similar to that which the masts of a ship might make, brought Cerynise’s eyes flying open in sudden alarm as she realized she was not housed on solid ground. The paneled wall that met her astounded gaze seemed unusually close. She reached out a hand to touch it, trying to bring it in line with what was familiar to her, but as her fingers lightly traced the delicate molding, she became aware that her world was once again swaying incongruously to all that seemed right and customary in her life. Her hand flew to her mouth, smothering a gasp that was more mental
than actual. She was definitely on a ship, she concluded, but whose?

Her ears caught a sound, and as she listened, her apprehension mounted. A faint scratching, like a quill on parchment, came from behind her.

As her thoughts became fraught with growing anxiety, her hand moved to her throat. Abruptly her eyes widened as she realized the slender column was no longer bedecked in a stiff ruffle. Her heart began to hammer as she slipped an arm first beneath the feather tick and then the sheet that covered her. Her fingers swept hurriedly downward, appraising her state of attire, and brushed a naked breast. In rising astonishment she continued her examination and found her hips and thighs equally devoid of clothing.

Her panic was too great! Twisting around, Cerynise gathered the covers up high beneath her chin and came upright in the bed to escape the reflected sunlight as she searched for the other occupant of the cabin, for she had no doubt now that there was another in the room. It didn’t much matter to her at the moment whether he was a swashbuckler or a sultan. The man was definitely a cad for having stripped her naked! And heaven only knew what else he had done!

Cerynise saw the man immediately. He was sitting at a desk with a quill in hand, making notes in a ledger that lay open before him. At her movement he dragged his gaze from the book and lent her his undivided attention. She found herself meeting eyes of deep emerald green in a face warmly bronzed by the sun. His black hair was wont to curl ever so slightly and was just long enough at the nape to brush the open collar of a shirt that appeared no less than dazzling white in the morning light.

“I’m glad to see that you’re alive.” His voice was deep and imbued with warmth and humor. “You were sleeping so soundly, I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake. As it is, you’ve slept the night and most of the morning through.”

“Where are my clothes?” Cerynise blurted the question
out in a rush, stricken with horror at the evidence surrounding her.

“You took a bad chill, Cerynise, and your clothes were too wet to leave on you. I had my cabin boy wash and dry your undergarments, but I fear your gown has been ruined beyond repair.”

Her mind raced. He had called her by name, and yet he was a stranger to her. “Do I know you?”

A smile tugged at his lips as he laid the quill across the ledger and rose from his chair. Though she pressed back warily against the wall behind her, he came forward with eyes glowing with amusement. Bracing an arm across the upper frame of the bunk, he leaned forward slightly and stretched out his other hand to capture a long, silken tress that had tumbled forward over the quilt.

“Though Moon was informative about your father, I’ve never known but one in my entire life who had this particular shade of hair. She was a young girl who sometimes sat in her father’s classes, taking notes as if she were every bit as old and advanced as the rest of his students. Whenever I’d tweak her nose, she’d be inclined to stick her tongue out at me and declare me a hopeless tease. Still, she seemed disposed to follow at my heels whenever she could.…”

Cerynise’s mind flew. There was only one of her father’s students whom she had ever looked up to with such devotion. He had left Charleston at the age of ten and six to find his future on sailing ships, but whenever he had returned to home port, he had always brought back gifts for her that he handed out during his visits with her father. “Beau?”

“The same, my girl.” Stepping back, Captain Beauregard Birmingham clicked his heels and swept an arm before his chest in a debonair bow. “A pleasure to see you again, Cerynise.”

“You’ve changed,” she breathed in awe. Indeed, he was very much a man now, and more handsome than she had once dared to imagine he would become. He was
taller, heavier, with shoulders wide enough to make his waist and hips seem as narrow as any woman’s. In all, he was every bit the princely vision she had thought him to be when she had tagged along behind him yearning for a glance, a smile or a wink, any kind of recognition that would assure her that he was just as taken with her as she was with him.

“So have you,” he murmured, his lips curving into a lopsided smile as his blue eyes twinkled back at her. “You’ve become quite a woman, Cerynise…a
very beautiful
young woman.”

Cerynise could feel the heat rising to her scalp. Though unspoken, the insinuation was there, burning to be probed. “W-who undressed me?”

Beau’s gaze never wavered. “I fear I would have shirked my responsibilities as captain of this vessel had I let some member of my crew perform the service. And since I was once your protector when other boys were wont to badger you, I couldn’t very well allow any harm to come to you now.”

Cerynise groaned in abject misery. “Please tell me you kept your eyes closed.”

Beau met her searching gaze with an amused smile, momentarily awed by her eyes as they caught a shaft of light from the mirror. For the moment, they looked similar to dark green crystals, but he knew from experience gained years ago that they could change color in a shifting light or with the donning of another color. With some difficulty he dragged his mind to full attention. He knew she was upset and pondered how he might soothe her shock. “If it would make you feel any better…”

Cerynise glared up at him accusingly. “Are you going to tell me a lie, Beau Birmingham?”

His knuckle pressed against smiling lips as he struggled to contain his laughter. “My only concern was for your state of health, Cerynise,” he assured her, making every effort to present a gallant mien. “You were nigh frozen, and I feared for your life. You had to be warmed, which
would have been difficult to do with all of your clothes on. They were thoroughly soaked. Believe me, I’m no lecher.…”

She groaned, thoroughly humiliated. “Neither are you blind!”

“Nay, I’m not blind,” he admitted with a chuckle. “And though under different circumstances I would have been pleasured by the sight of your perfection, I was deeply concerned for your welfare, Cerynise.” Having been delayed by an autumn ice storm in Russia several years ago, he had seen firsthand the ravages frostbite and shock could reap upon an unsuspecting man, even to the point of death. But he carefully avoided mentioning that, after stripping away her clothing, he had placed her in a tub of comfortably steaming water and left her to soak for some moments while he tried to spoon warm brandy between her blue lips. Failing for the most part in that endeavor, he had taken her to his bed and briskly toweled her body dry before gathering a blanket around her and holding her against his own warmth. She would never have understood the feelings that had washed through him when finally her trauma began to ebb and she nestled close against him. Even so simple a thing as her breath tickling his throat had been startling in its effect on him, and he had realized that he wouldn’t be able to trust himself with her if she accompanied him to Charleston. She was far too tempting for a man who’d been too busy trying to convince the local shipping authorities that he hadn’t broken any of their asinine laws with his weaving in and out of ports. An hour or two in the arms of a winsome wench might have done much to ease his manly vexation. At least, it would have made it easier for him to be around this one.

Cerynise turned her face toward the wall, allowing a lengthy silence to pass between them. Though the arguments were there to give testament to the appropriateness of his action, she was nevertheless mortified by the idea that he had been so bold with her.

“Would you like something to eat?” Beau asked, wisely changing the subject. “I was hoping you’d wake so we could dine together and perhaps talk a bit. The last time I saw you was at your parents’ funeral, shortly after I returned from a voyage. Before I knew what was happening, Mrs. Winthrop was whisking you away in a carriage. I didn’t even have a chance to offer my condolences. Then your uncle told me that you and the widow were making haste to catch a ship bound for England.” He paused briefly before continuing in somber tones. “Last night Moon informed me that you’ve been left very much out on the street by the Winthrop heirs and are wanting to go home. And that you’re hoping I will take you.”

Cerynise faced him again, anxious to know his answer. “Will you?”

Beau sighed heavily, knowing he dare not. As lovely and womanly as she had become, he knew he’d find it difficult to conduct himself with the sort of gallantry his mother might expect of him. He wished that he could still think of her as that scrawny little girl whose tongue had been as keen as her wit, but after viewing her in the altogether, he’d never again be able to return to that former way of thinking. She was very much a lady now, and the consequences of dallying with sweet innocents ensconced on his ship could affect his life in a most permanent fashion. At the very least, there would be hell to pay when he arrived home. “This is a merchant ship, Cerynise. There are no suitable accommodations for passengers.” He stretched the truth only by a slim margin, for the cabins had been filled to the hilt with the more precious cargo he was carrying. “I will, however, arrange for Captain Sullivan to see you safely home on the
Mirage.
He’ll be sailing before the week is out, but I’ll probably be leaving a bit sooner. Until I do, I give you leave to stay here and use my cabin.”

Disappointment overshadowed the surging hope that had first arisen within Cerynise. “I tried to explain to Captain Sullivan that Uncle Sterling would pay for my passage
after I arrived,” she murmured dejectedly. “But he said his shipping company would expect an accounting.”

“You needn’t concern yourself about the fee,” Beau assured her. “I’ve already told Moon to make all the necessary arrangements for you. I’m sure you’ll have nothing to worry about with him watching over you. That old man is tenacious when his loyalties take root. I learned that when we sailed together years ago.” Beau leaned his head aslant as he looked down at her. “I rather gathered he now thinks of himself as your private paladin. He was nearly beside himself with worry after you passed out.”

“I couldn’t have made it this far without him,” Cerynise acknowledged quietly.

Beau stepped to one of two tall lockers neatly recessed in the wall at the far end of his bunk and pulled out a gentleman’s robe. Draping the garment over his arm, he paused beside a chair and gathered up a bundle of folded clothes that had been left there. Cerynise recognized them as the undergarments she had been wearing beneath her gown. Yet even at first glance she could tell that they had been badly stained with dark splotches.

“What happened to my clothes?”

“I’m afraid your gown faded on them after you got drenched in the rain,” Beau replied, handing the undergarments to her. “No one on the
Audacious
knew what to do to whiten such frilly things.”

“And my gown? Where is it?”

“The velvet was still damp as of a few moments ago, but even dry, I doubt that you’d find it serviceable.” He shrugged his shoulders at the sudden confusion she displayed. “A child might.”

“You mean it has shrunk in size?”