The Elusive Flame (6 page)

“Precisely.” Beau brushed the back of his hand across the robe draped over his arm. “For the moment this is the best I can offer as a replacement. I’ll try to find something more conventional for you to wear later this afternoon. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have more time to purchase a gown
for you. While you’re dressing, I’ll inform my chef that we’d like to eat.”

With that, he quit the cabin, allowing Cerynise the privacy she needed to collect her scattered thoughts. Struck by an awareness that she was now occupying the domain of a man with whom she had been infatuated since childhood, she rose from the bunk and looked around with a feeling of reverence as she slipped into the oversized garment he had left with her. A faint essence of a manly cologne claimed her attention, tantalizing her with images of one Beauregard Birmingham. The scent was subtle yet strangely stimulating to her womanly senses. Indeed, she found it rather amazing that she could be moved to such a degree by the presence of one whom she hadn’t seen since her departure from her parents’ funeral. Fearing at the time that she would never see him again, she had strained to watch him from the windows of the carriage. After a lengthy absence, his appearance had been well worth noting even then. It had certainly held her attention until they were out of sight, and thereafter she had suffered a deep regret that he hadn’t arrived in time to talk with her. But now, in his manly maturity, he was no less than magnificent.

An unquenchable grin flitted across Cerynise’s lips as an unusual blissful feeling filled her nigh to overflowing. With eyes glowing, she considered the tasteful interior and the fine furnishings that contributed to its masculine appeal. The quarters were like the man himself, handsome, polished, distinguished, yet comfortably open to the world and its adventures, like the spacious expanse of small-paned windows located above the stern gallery. The massive desk, hand-tooled with a leather top and solidly made of mahogany, was the most impressive piece in the room. Beau had looked quite imposing behind it, she had thought. For a moment she snuggled back into the leather confines of the chair and found to her surprise that only her toes reached the floor. The way he had loomed over the bunk, she could surmise that he had reached a height
easily equal to his sire, a man whom she remembered standing at least a head taller than most women and a fair number of men as well.

Curiously Cerynise scanned the titles of books through the glass doors of a pair of bookcases located on either side of the windows and to her amazement found a fine collection of biographies, poems and fiction mixed in with those immediately more pertinent to sailing and navigation. Her lips curved in a smile, and she shook her head in wonder at the man. What had once seemed a bland indifference toward classical literature on his part as a student had undoubtedly been well contrived for the benefit of his male companions, who might have supposed that such inclinations were evidences of weaknesses in the male species, in spite of the fact that Beau had always ridden, raced, and swam better than most of them. It seemed her father was right after all, for he had always claimed the lad was far more mentally astute than he had cared to let on.

Across the room, a table and four chairs resided beneath a hanging lantern. Several low, curved-top chests sat here and there, no doubt containing the captain’s possessions. The shaving stand, upon which the sun had lit earlier, stood beside a paneled opening that had been left slightly ajar. Within the cabinet she glimpsed an oval tub hanging on a peg and tucked almost out of sight. Moving near, she smiled as she imagined the long-legged man trying to bathe with some comfort in such a compact receptacle. Then her eyes caught on a long tawny strand of hair that had been snared on the rim, and her breath was snatched inward with a shocked gasp, for she suffered no uncertainty that it was her own.

“He
bathed
me?” she cried in an astounded whisper. Full comprehension was only a fleeting breath away. “Good heavens, he bathed me! He
bathed
me!”

Her astonishment knew no end. The idea that Beau Birmingham had taken such liberties with her heightened her coloring to a vivid scarlet. She wanted to moan, weep in
misery or do something to find relief for the overwhelming embarrassment that swept through her.

Opening the robe, Cerynise stared down at her naked body as if she had never seen it before. Indeed, she felt somehow foreign to it now that she knew that Beau had gazed upon it, too. Her breasts were full and delicately hued, her waist slender, her hips and thighs smooth and sleek. Had he been her husband, she would have gladly yielded him all the sights she had to offer, but since he was the one whose memory had never failed to quicken the beat of her heart all these many years, Cerynise could only wonder what he had thought about while he bathed her. He had meant it for her good, she assured herself, but had there been something about the incident that he had tried to hide from her? Was that why he hadn’t told her that he had bathed her? Or had he only meant to save her the anguish of humiliation that she was now suffering?

For the time being, Cerynise shunned the idea of wearing a corset, but she hurriedly donned the rest of her undergarments. Over them she wrapped the oversize robe around her and folded back the sleeves, trying not to think of how Beau’s long, lean fingers might have stumbled on the tiny buttons that had fastened her camisole between her breasts. A man would have had difficulty with anything so small. Or had he casually dismissed her nakedness and performed his charitable deed without dwelling on the fact that she was a woman now?

Cerynise faced the small mirror above his shaving stand and, managing to blank her mind for the present, proceeded to brush her teeth with a forefinger and a small amount of salt that she had found in a silver box wedged firmly in a groove on the table. She combed her fingers through her hair, raking out most of the snarls, and tore a bit of lace from the hem of her petticoat to tie it with. Deeming herself decidedly pale, she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to bring forth a brighter hue. As she surveyed the results, it dawned on her that she had never taken such care to look her best when she had foreseen
the likelihood of passing one of three young swains who, after taking close account of her customary strolls with Lydia through Hyde Park, had often waited for her somewhere along the path with the hope of gaining an introduction from her guardian. Lydia, however, had taken mischievous delight in thwarting their attempts, having been dedicated to the idea that her ward would become a famous artist or, at the very least, marry into the nobility.

A light rap of knuckles came upon the door. “Are you decent, Cerynise?” Beau called through the wood. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered quickly, making sure the collar of his robe was tucked securely around her neck. Her attempt at modesty, Cerynise thought wryly, was like closing the gate after the sheep had fled. It hardly served much purpose after Beau had seen her without a stitch of clothing.

Upon entering, Beau stood aside as he held the door open to admit a small, energetic, black-haired man with sparkling black eyes and a small black mustache that curved like a cherubic bow above his upper lip. The curled ends extended upward in a cheery smile.

“Zee mademoiselle iz about to taste zee finest cuisine she has ever sampled in her life. Philippe has cooked zee food ’specially for her.…” the man announced. Then he paused in acute surprise as his eyes finally lit on her. Suddenly a-smile with appreciation for her beauty, he pressed a hand to his chest as he sought to make amends. “Mademoiselle, you must forgive
le capitaine
for not presenting us. I am Philippe Monét,
Capitaine
Birmingham’s chef de la cuisine.” Turning his hand with an elegant flourish, he halted any further introductions. “And you are zee Mademoiselle Kendall, whom
le capitaine
failed to mention is zee most ravishing creature in all zee world.”

Cerynise laughed with pleasure at the lighthearted exuberance of the wiry, little man, but when she glanced toward Beau whose brow had become slightly quirked,
she had the distinct impression that he had grown rather perturbed with the chef. The reason was a mystery to her. Did he resent being chided for his failure to make a mannerly introduction? Or was he totally unappreciative of the fact that his cook was gushing over a guest with so much enthusiasm?

Unable to find any definite justification for his displeasure, Cerynise faced the chef and replied graciously, “
Enchanté de faire votre connaissance, Monsieur Monét.”

Philippe’s mustache twitched with unquenchable delight as he heard his native tongue spoken with such elegance. It was obvious the lady had been schooled by an articulate Frenchman to pronounce the words so divinely. Eagerly Philippe began spouting off a stream of fluid French, but Beau quickly held up a hand to halt his verbosity. “Please! Converse in English for us poor unfortunates who are not fluent in a variety of languages.”

“
Excusez-moi,
Capitaine…” the cook began.

“Philippe, if you please!” Beau rebuked impatiently, his eyebrow now sharply peaked.

“Your pardon, Capitaine,” the smaller man humbly apologized.“I fear I forgot myself when zee mademoiselle answered me in my own language.”

“Control yourself, if you can,” Beau urged aridly. “I know Miss Kendall is beautiful, Philippe, but she is my guest, and I would prefer that she not be embarrassed by your ardor.”

“Oh, Capitaine, I would not wish zhat for zee world,” Philippe declared, wringing his hands fretfully as he faced Cerynise.

“Then would you mind serving us our meal before it’s too cold to eat?” Beau implored curtly before the man had time to launch into another apology.

“Of course, Capitaine.” Blushing lightly at his captain’s reprimand, Philippe responded with a clipped bow and promptly clapped his hands.

Immediately a freckle-faced boy, who had been waiting patiently beyond the threshold, carried a large tray laden
with their morning meal through the doorway. When the youth saw Cerynise, he displayed none of the cook’s jubilance, but halted awkwardly in mid-stride, unable to say a word. His jaw slowly descended as he stared agog.

“This is Billy Todd,” Beau announced, having been chided for his lack of etiquette enough for one day. “He’s my cabin boy and a good sort who generally does his job”—he dropped a hand on the back of the boy’s neck as he continued—“at least when he remembers to keep his eyes in his head and his chin above his shoulders.”

Billy’s cheeks took on a speckled ruby hue. “Sorry, sir, miss…ma’am…mum…”

“Miss will do,” Beau informed him bluntly. He had never seen members of his crew so affected by a pretty face before. But then, he had to remember that he hadn’t been exactly clearheaded either when he had held the girl snuggled within his arms. “Now put the tray down, Billy, before you spill something.”

“Aye, sir,” the cabin boy replied, complying with great dispatch.

Philippe assisted the youth, and in no time the small table was laden with a rather lavish meal of smoked salmon, crepes with caviar, vegetable ribbons lightly sauteed in lemon butter and, waiting to be enjoyed afterwards, a lime souffle chilled on ice. The latter was considered a rarity for sea voyages, but from Russia, they had brought back a small amount of ice packed in sawdust. Soon the chef and the cabin boy retreated, leaving Beau to assist Cerynise into a chair on his left.

“For a man who travels across vast oceans, Captain, you seem to enjoy the best that life can offer,” Cerynise commented, surveying the elegantly presented dishes.

“You needn’t be so formal, Cerynise,” he chided with a grin, lifting his gaze briefly to hers. “You’ve called me Beau for as long as I can remember. I give you leave to continue.”

At that precise moment Cerynise became convinced that there were no eyes in all the world bluer than the ones
which now smiled at her. As a child she had once found herself staring into his mother’s eyes, thinking how beautiful they were. Then later, she had realized they were the same color as Beau’s. Staring into those darkly translucent depths now, it was easy for her to imagine a woman being swept away by admiration for him without a single word being uttered.

Cerynise mentally shook off the spell he unwittingly cast and scolded herself for acting as addled as a dazzled schoolgirl. “Moon mentioned something about you traveling to Russia.”

“Some of the fare we now have sitting before us came from there.”

“It must have been exciting for you to go there, but it seems so far away.”

“Not nearly as far as you might think, Cerynise. In fact, it’s rather a short jaunt in comparison to sailing around Cape Horn on a voyage to China. Even that will soon be shortened once they perfect the sailing ships they’ve begun to make. Clippers, they’re called, and beauties they are. Being heavily sparred to bear a greater width of canvas and with their hulls as sharp as a razor, they’ll slice through the ocean in no time.”

“It sounds like you’re married to the sea,” Cerynise replied rather wistfully.

“Not really,” Beau answered. “I want a home and family just like the next man, but I’ve yet to find a woman who can steal my heart from the sea. Perhaps in another ten years I’ll be ready to give up sailing, for I seriously doubt it will come any time soon.”

“Stealing your heart will be a difficult task for any woman to accomplish, I think,” Cerynise mused aloud. A pause in their conversation allowed her a moment to sample a crepe. She found it so delectable that she promptly forgot the drift of their discussion and rolled her eyes skyward in sheer delight. “Oh, Beau, the crepes are wonderful! Truly, I’ve never tasted anything so heavenly.”

A soft chuckle accompanied Beau’s reply. “I’d say that
it was the caviar if I wasn’t aware of the talent of a certain chef in my employ. Philippe is so accomplished, I fear I’ll be losing him one day to someone who’ll promise him a kingdom if he would but go and cook for them. He’s been with me for three years now and takes over my kitchen in Charleston whenever we’re at home.”