Today's Embrace (35 page)

Flabbergasted, she simply stared. She could not be hearing this. He opened the door and went out.

Evy stood there, devastated. She covered her face with her palms and burst into tears. She sank to the bunk, burying her face in the pillow, and wept. “This can't be happening. He'll change his mind. Before we reach Capetown he'll change his mind. I'll make him understand. He'll forgive me and realize that—”

Realize what?

The indifference from Rogan continued through dinner and breakfast the next morning. Not that Rogan treated her badly. Oh, far from it. He was courteous enough, too courteous, especially when she wasn't feeling well, but he remained distant, his emotions far from her reach. Their conversations continued much as normal, except he appeared detached, apparently less interested in the little things that he had once paid attention to. He was no longer warm and playful with her as he had been, but grave, and she missed the Rogan she thought she knew and had fallen in love with. She was depressed, angry with herself for what she'd done. If she'd only had the good sense that came so naturally to Aunt Grace and Mrs. Osgood. Mrs. Osgood's words came back to haunt her. “You must tell him as soon as possible,” she had said. Even Mrs. Croft had seen it.

Sometimes she thought that if she tried a little harder she might possibly break through his barrier, but even when he held her in his arms, his emotions were kept behind armor, or so it seemed. Evy also withdrew and pretended her own cool indifference, building a structure of defense against the pain his behavior brought to her. It all seemed a vicious cycle that led nowhere, except to frustration and emotional exhaustion.

He's stubborn
. She narrowed her eyes.
He's trying to punish me. I never realized just how stubborn Rogan Chantry can be! I'll show him I don't need him at all
.

Unaware that an order had been issued from the captain for passengers to stay below, she left the cabin and made her way up the companionway steps onto the deck, greeted by refreshing wind and an expanse of gray sea.

She breathed in deeply and watched the sun setting behind a reddish-gray horizon. She noticed the clouds, but the sea was still calm. She watched the sunset and prayed for Rogan and herself, but after a while, she became aware of increased rolling and pitching as the wind seemed to be strengthening. As the ocean swells seemed to be rising rather
swiftly, she turned back toward the companionway steps but found herself grasping hold of the ship's rails as the deck beneath her feet rolled steeply. She feared she wouldn't reach the companionway in time when she saw the first waves starting to reach the height of the deck. She was grasping a post when she spotted Rogan rushing up from the steps onto the deck. A look of relief swept over his face when he saw her, before settling into frustration. The wind whipped his peacoat, and he scowled beneath his hat, somehow keeping his balance as he strode toward her. He latched hold of both her and the post, and they swayed together with the rolling of the deck as she felt the wind and cold sea flowing over her ankles and rising, then sucking her backward as it withdrew. Panic began gripping her as she clung to Rogan.

“Are you mad?” he cried in the wind. “Why did you come up here against the captain's orders?”

“I … I didn't know—”

“You could have been washed overboard!”

She mistook his fervency for anger and felt even more miserable. With waves of self-pity washing over her heart, she cried back, “That should please you!”

“Don't be absurd!” He clasped hold of her and waited a moment. “Now,” he shouted, then they fled toward the companionway door before another swell flooded the deck. She went down the steps, and he quickly closed the bolt as some water splashed in and dribbled down.

Mrs. Croft was waiting at the bottom of the steps, wringing her hands. “Thank God you're safe!”

Soon Evy was safely back in the cabin with Rogan, and Mrs. Croft had returned to the cabin she shared with two other ladies who were traveling companions. Evy and Rogan were both wind-tossed and wet. He held her tightly, almost fiercely.

“I might have lost you,” he gritted.

She winced from the strength with which he held her. Was he angry? He looked at her, narrowing his eyes, sea water dripping from his
hair. She was confused. Was it anger, or was he actually frightened that he might have lost her?

As she looked up at him, trying to see beneath his armor, he released her and whipped off his hat and coat, turning away from her scrutinizing gaze. He grabbed a towel and dried his face.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't hear about the order to stay below.”

“It's my fault. I should have made certain you knew.”

The tense silence grew between them. Her heart thudded. She longed to throw her arms around him and vow her undying love, begging him to forgive her for hurting him over the secrecy of their baby. She tried to speak but bit her lip, finding such words stuck in her throat.

“The captain had heart failure sometime this afternoon,” Rogan said woodenly. “We found him on the floor in his cabin.”

“Oh no, how dreadful for him!”

“For all of us. I doubt he'll pull through.”

“Then who will take over?”

“The first mate. And there's been another change. We're headed for a stop at the nearest port. I hope it's short. This brings a delay we could certainly do without.” He tossed the towel on the stand and looked at her. His gaze took her in with one sweeping glance, her windblown hair and her wet frock. His expression changed to one that she could not easily read. He walked over to her.

“Feeling all right?”

She looked at him quickly, hopefully, searching his face for what she needed to find, but it was smooth and blank. The emotion that had enveloped him only minutes ago had ebbed.

“I'll be fine.”

His hand dropped from her arm, and he turned away, reaching for a dry tunic. “Better get out of those wet clothes while I'm gone,” he said flatly. “I'll see what I can dig up to eat from Cook—if I can bring back the treasure without spilling it all. That sea is getting rougher by the minute.”

Evy looked after him, her hopes wilting. The ship's timbers creaked and groaned like an arthritic giant. She wouldn't give up. Rogan must still care! Had not the fear she'd seen in his eyes told her so, or had she imagined what she desired to see?

The storm eased during the night, but Mrs. Croft still remained upset when she came to Evy the next morning.

She entered with a sigh, reaching down to massage her knees. “One must learn to stiffen the wobblers. I came near being washed overboard myself yester eve before I found Master Rogan.”

“Then you sent him on deck to find me?” She kept the disappointment from her voice, but Mrs. Croft knew her too well to be deceived, for Evy could see the look of sympathy in her sharp, beady eyes.

“Tush, it was me, dearie. When I didn't find you in the cabin, I knew you must've gone on deck as usual and not heard the warning to stay below.”

“Well, I'm truly sorry you got knocked around searching for Rogan.”

“Nary a thing to worry about. Seems we're to dock this afternoon at some heathen port called Tangier. There's talk of a new English captain, or even a change of ships, for some who want to get speedily on with the voyage.” Her tufted brows lowered in irritation as she peered down at Evy over a pointed nose. “Tangier, my foot. A nest of vipers. Thieves on the prowl, I should say. A mistake getting off in a heathen place like that. I thought Africa was dangerous enough.” She looked at Evy with shifty eyes. “You won't be having any outrageous idea about going ashore now, will you, dearie?”

Tangier … Casablanca …
Evy felt a ripple of excitement dance along her spine. She looked off dreamily. “How thrilling to visit a bazaar.”

“Now,
now—
”

“Aha, Mrs. Croft, no use to prickle and frown like that. Tangier is perfectly safe, I assure you.”

“Safe, my foot. No place's safe outside Grimston Way, I'll be bound.”

“Naturally I want to go ashore.” Evy heaved a sigh and looked around the small cabin. She threw up her hands. “I'm sick of these four
walls closing in on me tighter and tighter. I want to see a few things while I've the chance to get my feet on solid ground again.”

Mrs. Croft's voice changed to a whiny protest. “But, dearie, with your being in the delicate way as you are, don't you think it's prudent to stay here in a nice deck chair?”

“No,” Evy smiled sweetly. “I don't. I'm going ashore to shop. There's bound to be wonderfully exciting things at a bazaar. Spices, perfumes, silks—”

“Beggars and thieves, I daresay.”

“We'll have Rogan to escort us.”

Mrs. Croft tilted her gray head with a birdlike look. “Master Rogan's not likely to want you roaming bazaars. Not when he was so upset with you wandering the deck with the wind and waves rising.”

“That was different.” She refused to feel mollified. She told herself he was merely worried about the baby—not her.

“My mind's made up. I'm going ashore. It's a perfectly logical thing to do. I'm not worried about thieves.”

When the ship had docked, she waited for Rogan to come for her. Her excitement grew at the prospect of seeing Tangier. Rogan didn't come but sent Mrs. Croft. On first glimpse of the victory reflecting in the woman's gray eyes, Evy folded her arms and tapped her foot, waiting for what Mrs. Croft would announce. Two spots of color tinted Mrs. Croft's face.

“The master says he thinks it best you stay aboard until he returns.”

“Where is he?” Evy asked stiffly.

“Gone ashore to see about getting us passage on a different ship for the Cape. Said we can't afford to waste time on this delay. I must say I agree. I'm sure we're missing nothing on shore.”

So he had gone off and left her, knowing full well that she had wanted to visit a bazaar!

“Better get your hat and a cloak, Mrs. Croft. I'm all dressed to go ashore—and I'm going.”

“But, Miss Evy, dearie—”

“Don't
dearie
me. Are you coming with me or not?”

Mrs. Croft frowned. “Speaking about mules—”

“Which we were not,” Evy stated airily, catching up her hat, handbag, and short-waisted coat.

“But you and the master can both be just as stubborn.”

Evy smiled, unperturbed. She looped her arm through Mrs. Croft's. “Come along, my dear Mrs. Croft. There's no time to squander.”

The topaz waters of Tangier glimmered in the white sunlight. A withering gust whipped at Evy's hair and blew the hem of her skirtline. The bazaar near the harbor was teeming with Arabs, Frenchmen, and Spaniards. Groups of mercenary soldiers, legionnaires, jostled one another while camels grumbled beneath their heavy loads. Thin donkeys flickered their pointed ears to chase away the flies. Arab women wore long, hooded robes of dark cloth called
haiks
, balancing water jugs or fruit upon their heads, or holding them on their hips. A section of cloth called an
itham
covered their faces. Evy and Mrs. Croft were enveloped in the throng of hawkers and traders.

Evy found herself pursued by Arab vendors robed in dusty
djellabahs
, their brown faces as baked and cracked as dried mud in the sun. They gathered around her like a flock with their wares. Competing voices shouted in a hodgepodge of Arabic, French, and Spanish. They pushed and shoved, waving baskets and trays of green sweet figs, ripe oranges, lush dates, and bright melons. Everywhere there were big, lazy flies that clung to cut fruit, the smell of Arab tobacco, along with
champoraux
, an Algerian drink of strong syrupy coffee, thick with sugar and throat-scalding brandy. Drugs were sold boldly—cannabis, mixed with tobacco, and hashish. The various ship passengers were in a consuming mood, and English pounds, French francs, and Spanish pesetas were passed back and forth as fast and loose as chips on a gambling table.