Loving Sarah (7 page)

Captain Ian Alexander Ross-Mackeever lived aboard the
Revenge
. She knew this because there were personal belongings wrapped in sheets and stuffed in the bench seats that one would think he might leave in a treasured spot in a home. A framed portrait of a child with what she thought could be its parents—perhaps Ian with his mother and father? A silver-framed mirrored vanity tray with silver hair implements. An old perfume bottle. The contents were long gone, but when she pulled the stopper, it still held the faint scent of roses. An inexpensive feminine watch on a chain. Brass, she thought, from the looks of it.

She pushed the spring latch, and the lid popped open. The inscription inside read “
To my love, On our wedding day, March 5, 1805, HAR
.” Setting aside the watch, she then lifted the lid from a jeweler’s box and drew in a breath when she saw the exquisite ring within.

On a bed of black velvet was a lady’s gold band pinned to the insert. Mounted on the band was an enormous oval ruby solitaire, the quality of which was nearly as good as she’d ever seen. Why, it was nearly as perfect as the stone in her sister-in-law’s pendant. Surely they had to be family heirlooms, ones the captain kept for sentimental reasons. Likely this magnificent ring was his mother’s, as was the watch, and maybe one day he wanted to give them to his own bride. What other reason would someone hold on to a stone so valuable when he was in such need of funds for his business that he’d enter a race?

She removed the ring from the box, lifted it in the light, and put it on her ring finger. It was snug, but it fit. Holding her hand out, she admired the blood-red stone and setting, thinking it a divine symbol of eternal love. One day, hopefully, a man would place something similar on this same finger of this same left hand. She quickly chased the thought from her head. It was rather like putting the cart before the horse, as her governess had been so fond of saying. Before anyone ever placed something of this caliber on her hand, she had to first
find
that potential husband.

Sarah took the delicate band between two fingers and pulled, trying to remove it. The ring wouldn’t budge. She made only a fraction of progress with twisting and tugging. The thing just did not want to go back over her knuckle. She couldn’t let Ian find her with his mother’s ring on her finger. He’d think her a most presumptuous and brazen wench, if not an outright thief.

Striding to the wash stand, she lifted the soap and ladled a scoop of water into the basin. She soaped her hands until they frothed with lather, then dipped her hands into the cold water and again attempted to remove the band. After a minute of twisting and pulling, she succeeded and heaved a deep sigh of relief. She rinsed the ring and dried it off, replaced it in the box, and put the box back in the wrapping, then placed the entire collection of family mementos in a safe place under the bench. Feeling a tad guilty for snooping, Sarah packed a blanket around Ian’s treasures, cushioning them from the often jarring violence of the ocean waves. It wouldn’t do to have any of them break.

She finished cleaning the mess she’d made while chasing the mouse. Then began to work on his clutter, putting things away for him. While she did, she would intermittently remind herself that she was doing Mr. Ross-Mackeever a service by organizing his cabin. She’d put all of the tools and books in nice, orderly sections and straightened his boots and shoes before climbing onto the big bed to attempt sleeping again.

Punching the pillow a few times to fluff the feathers, she pulled the cover over her body and resolved that in the morning she would tackle the drawers beneath the bed and his bureau and clothes press. She hadn’t opened them, but surely they were in the same sorry condition as the contents of the bench seats.

She smiled into the darkened cabin. Before this journey was over, she’d have Mr. Ross-Mackeever’s belongings, and quite obviously his home, all neatly arranged.

S
arah lifted an eyelid and peered into the glowing golden eyes of her feline cabin mate as it sat on her stomach. Daybreak had begun to permeate the room with an eerie glow, barely enough to warrant getting out of bed. Had she been at home, she most definitely would still be sleeping. The tabby began to knead her chest through the covers.

Ignoring the irritating creature, she dislodged it as she rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket up over her head. The determined cat climbed back on top of her and continued.

“What do you want? The sun’s not even up yet.” Pushing the animal off the bed, she threw the covers back and stood. It was obvious that Mouser was not going to let her sleep any longer and wanted out of the cabin. Sarah went to the door and remembered the captain’s warning.

But the cat, who now sat in front of the room’s only safe exit, obviously wanted out. Not hearing any voices on the other side, she decided if she were quick about it, she wouldn’t get caught by the captain while opening the door to release the feline. She quickly threw the bolt back and pulled the door open just enough to let that cat through, then just as fast shut it and slid the bolt back in place.

Climbing back onto the raised bed, she thought to sleep longer, but more and more footsteps started shuffling about above deck and in the companionway. She heard bells, then voices talk about breaking fast, and her stomach started rumbling, reminding her of its empty state.

She wondered if she should wait for Ian to come get her or if she should venture forth to fetch her own meal. After dressing and waiting for what seemed an eternity, as always when one was hungry, she took the initiative and went in search of food. Entering the tiny galley, Sarah noticed two things. First, there was no chocolate. Second, there was no choice in what to eat.

Breakfast was soupy porridge, not even appetizing-looking porridge with fruit slices or berries on top as cook would do for her when she was in town. Just this plain bowl of watery, lumpy mush.

“Can I scoop ye a bowl, m’lady?” A stooped-over, gray-bearded grizzled old man smiled at her, revealing a mouthful of rotten-appearing black teeth. Perhaps that was why they were eating cereal cooked to mush, she thought. Likely the rest of the crew had teeth in similar condition. She decided to take the bowl and eat the stuff seeing as it looked to be the only thing available and she was very hungry.

“Yes, please.” She took the bowl after the man had filled it. “Thank you, sir.” Two men entered the galley behind her, one taking a seat on the bench against the wall. Deciding not to eat in the galley, she had turned to leave when she saw a stack of crates against the wall. One of them contained oranges. She motioned to the fruit, looking back at the old cook. “May I have one, please?”

“Aye. Eat one of those every day and ye’ll not come down wit’ the scurvy.”

“Thank you. Though I’m not sure what the malady you mentioned is, I will be sure to eat one of these every morning.”

“That’s a good lassie,” the cook replied in an almost a fatherly tone.

She nodded to him and returned his smile, then left the galley to go back to her room. Her first friend. As her brother always said, it can be very beneficial to have an ally when in unfamiliar territory. And this sailor, because he was responsible for the food they ate, would make a very beneficial ally, she told herself as she walked through
the men breaking their fast on deck. Because this was going to be a long voyage, and she needed more than just the one friend, she nodded a greeting to them, introducing herself as Lucky’s sister-by-marriage, who truly did land aboard their vessel by accident.

She didn’t run into Ian while walking back to the cabin and was glad for it. He’d made it clear the day before that he didn’t want her roaming about unless she was with him. If he knew she’d already ventured into the galley he might become angry, though really it was just a matter of time before he learned of it.

By the time she’d finished her breakfast, she still hadn’t seen him, though she’d heard his voice booming orders above deck. Nearly two hours passed before she deduced he was avoiding her. And as she knelt on the bench before the open port hole, watching the monotonous watery horizon pass by, she thought about this attraction she felt for him. More importantly, she considered what she would do about it.

Sarah sensed her captain felt something as well. It wasn’t until after he’d left the room last night that she realized she never should have opened the door for him without first pulling her trousers on. But in the excitement of the moment with the mouse running about in the cabin, she hadn’t given a thought to what she was wearing. All she’d wanted was to get that disgusting rodent out of the room she was supposed to
sleep
in.

But she noticed he looked at her in a…different way. Unlike the many beau she’d met during her three years out, Captain Ross-Mackeever’s gaze had raked over her body in an almost carnal manner, which warmed her even now, twelve hours later.

And she’d bet her last shilling that was why he avoided her this morning. After spending three years on the marriage mart where she’d met no one who attracted her as this man did, Sarah had an odd sensation that Mr. Ian Alexander Ross-Mackeever might be someone with whom she could be happy. First, he was handsome above all reason, and the attraction was undeniable on her part, and almost certainly on his. Also, he was a proud, determined, entrepreneur, much like every man in her family, likely a reason why he got along so well with her brother and brothers-in-law. It also helps that he was the grandson and heir to an earldom. That alone would make him worthy in her brother’s eyes, whether he had wealth or not. If they married, he would gain wealth upon their marriage.

If he said he cared for her even a little, she’d ask her brother to consider Ian as a possible husband for her. After all, this captain set her senses on edge and made her feel like both a giddy, silly school girl and a primal, sensual woman.

Sarah shivered in the cabin, and not from the comfortable temperatures. Let him avoid her for now. Eventually he would have to confront his emotion, if he had any for her at all.

Sarah decided she could continue to ponder the strange sensation she felt whenever he was near while working on those drawers beneath the bed. She pulled the first of the two out and spread the contents on the bed covers so as to rearrange them in a neat and orderly fashion.

As she sat on the floor, she organized the books into stacks by subject. There were financial ledgers, which she did
not
open, even though her natural curiosity begged her to. He had a few classic historical tomes, a book on warfare and strategy, and several on maritime business, astronomy, and physics. Even a thin volume of poetry. They were all ordinary books. Books you might assume belonged to an educated man.

But one book stood out from the rest. It had a simple black leather cover, worn along the edge as though read many times. The faded gold leaf embossing was illegible, and her curiosity roused. She turned it to the light to better see the title. It was difficult to decipher and when she did she was flabbergasted to read:
A Modern Gentleman’s Practical Guide to Seduction and the Act of Love
.

Sitting there on the floor, she opened the book and fanned the pages, finding not only text but also drawings and color plates. She’d never seen anything like it in her life and sat with open-mouthed wonder as she realized what the couples in those drawings were doing. The book very graphically depicted what should be a private, intimate act between a man and his wife.

Heat coursed through her as her entire body blushed while she turned page after page. In all her nearly twenty-one years, she’d never imagined the acts she saw portrayed within the covers of the book she held on her lap. Sarah was no innocent. She had witnessed the mating of animals. But then, animals did it only one way, whereas according to this book, the innumerable and varying positions that a man and woman could possibly copulate boggled her mind. She had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from squealing in shock as each one appeared more and more inconceivable.

It was all surprisingly erotic. She felt curious, and something else, titillated perhaps, just looking at them. Some of the poses she was certain were physically impossible. Surely a woman could not bend her body in such positions. They must be a figment of the artist’s imagination.

Sarah flipped through the book, stopping frequently to study the drawings. She set it aside, eager to read it as soon as she was finished with her self-imposed task of righting the room. Though there were a great number of drawings and several color plates, the chapters of text appeared enlightening to someone such as herself, uneducated in matters pertaining to the marriage bed.

She finished rearranging that drawer and started on the other. When she’d finished those, she quickly did the same to the clothes press and bureau. Two hours after she’d begun, and just as she finished her chore, someone knocked on the door.

Grabbing the book, she stuffed it under the pillow and smoothed flat the bed cover, before moving to the door. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you needed anything,” the captain said.

Sarah slid the bolt open and allowed him in, unable to look him in the eye after seeing the outrageous depictions in the book. Her imagination began to take hold of her conscious thought, and images of her and this captain flitted through her mind, causing her to flush with embarrassment.

His eyebrows arched as he noticed the difference in the room. He seemed pleased that she’d righted the space after having torn it asunder the night before in search of the unwanted visitor.