Patricia Potter (23 page)

The bed, when she woke, was a mess, the sheets twisted as if a battle had been fought there. She looked for Socrates, but he was gone, and she knew Adrian must have been here last night. None of the doors had locks on them.

Had she said anything in her sleep?

It was disconcerting to think of him in here when she was unaware. The little curl of warmth that was so confusing was back in the pit of her stomach. She could picture him in that white flowing shirt and tight britches, chestnut hair falling over his forehead. She could envision his looking down at her. Had she been tossing then? Did he wonder why?

1 should be angry.
But she wasn’t. There was a feeling of comfort, instead, of being looked after. A feeling she needed to toss to the winds.

She dressed hurriedly, not waiting for the water she expected would soon come. Lauren wanted to go on deck, to discover what had happened last night.

To see him!

Sometime during the night, her resolve had stiffened. She had to do what she was sent to do, even if she paid for it the rest of her life. That she would indeed pay, she was sure. But Larry had done his duty, and more. So had Jeremy. And so did many thousands of young men. She could do no less. But in the meantime, she would store images and memories in her heart and mind.

She knew he’d never forgive her. The ship meant much to him. And betrayal was, in his view, the unpardonable sin. There had been deep bitterness in his voice when he’d talked about honesty.

But then, hadn’t he wagered on her? Wasn’t that dishonesty?

She sighed, wishing the battle within to end, though she suspected it wouldn’t, not until this whole sorry affair was over.

At least Adrian wouldn’t be physically hurt. Without guns, he couldn’t fight, not if the ship were disabled. He would have no choice but to surrender before anyone was hurt. And if the ship were seized, Adrian would no longer run the blockade. He would be safe for a while. And he would be held no more than a few weeks, Mr. Phillips had said.

Lauren suspected even a few weeks would be hell for Adrian.

But the number of lives saved …

The day was glorious, the sun a huge golden ball that touched the dark blue of the water, showering the swells with golden mist. There was a peace this morning on the ship. Sailors leaned indolently into a brisk breeze as they scanned the horizon. The sea appeared empty of any invaders except themselves, and the ship cut through the sea with a cocksuredness that reminded Lauren of her master. She often looked at the boxes piled on deck and wondered what they contained. Rifles, ammunition, or more benign goods? She suspected the cannon was below, safely tucked away in some dark hold, ready to explode in destruction and death.

But that seemed so remote on this tranquil morning.

She felt a presence near her, and she knew with the instinct that was still so surprising to her that it was not Adrian.

“Peaceful-looking, isn’t it, miss?”

Lauren turned. Johnny. That was his name. The pilot. Adrian had told her he was the best in the business, but he looked impossibly young with his cocky grin and cowlick, and freckles across his nose.

Lauren nodded.

“Shouldn’t have any more trouble until we near the coast,” he said. “The Union patrollers stay just outside the Bahamian waters and along the Carolina coast.”

“What happened last night?”

The pilot shrugged. “Saw some lights and headed in the other direction. I don’t think they even saw us.”

“Is every run like yesterday?”

“Oh no, miss. There’s been times we’ve sneaked through without being sighted at all.”

“Captain Cabot said you lost a man a few days ago.”

Johnny’s face sobered. “Aye, it hurt the captain mighty bad. But he’ll take care of Terrence’s family.”

“Are the risks worth it?” Lauren asked.

Johnny shrugged. “They are to me. If I wasn’t here,” Johnny said, “I’d most likely be on a battlefield. Gi’ me the sea anytime. Don’t you worry, miss. The captain’s the best.”

Johnny left then, leaving her alone, leaving her wishing that her own safety was her only worry.

The morning seemed to crawl along. Wade Tyler, the first officer, told her that Adrian had not gone to bed until dawn and probably would not stir until late morning.

Lauren returned to her cabin and washed, then nibbled at some biscuits and eggs Dicken brought her. When she returned to the deck, even the brilliance of the day seemed muted by her mood. She sat on a box watching the crew for a while; then, restless, she walked around the ship, stopping to peer down at some playful dolphins chasing behind the
Specter
. But their antics only made her think of Socrates. What would happen to Socrates if Adrian were arrested?

As if he were summoned by thought, she heard the patter of small feet against the deck, and bright chatter. A hairy, bony arm reached out and disappeared into her skirt. She leaned down, offering her hand to Socrates, and he used it to propel himself up into her arms. The mouth reached for her cheek and gave her a loud, bussing kiss.

“I fear Socrates is in love,” Adrian chuckled. “I’ve never seen him do that before.”

Lauren turned slowly. “He was gone this morning.” It was part statement, part question.

Adrian’s expression turned devilish, the sandy-colored eyebrows arching with mischief. “When I came down this morning, I heard a noise from your cabin. I was afraid the little imp here might be keeping you awake. I did knock, lightly, but when you didn’t answer, I thought I would fetch him. You look lovely when you’re asleep, except the bed looked as though it had been through a battle.”

Lauren turned away. She was dreadfully afraid she was blushing again. “I … had a nightmare.”

“Then I wish I’d come earlier, and chased it away.”

Lauren said nothing, just stared out at the sea.

“How would you like to take the wheel?” he asked abruptly.

She looked back at him. He was wearing a different shirt today, but it was of the same style as yesterday, with a wide slit at the neck, displaying curly sandy hair on his chest. It was tucked into a pair of snug blue trousers, and now he was wearing black boots that came almost to his knees. He looked like a freebooter, which was exactly what he was, Lauren thought. She wished she hadn’t discovered that her taste apparently ran in that direction. But perhaps steering the ship would distract her from wayward thoughts.

His hand went to her elbow with a light but firm touch, and even without agreeing, Lauren found herself being guided to the huge wheel. Wade grinned at her as he relinquished it, and Adrian fitted her neatly between himself and the wheel.

Adrian guided her hands to it, and then one of his own took the giant wheel as the other clasped the back of her right hand, and together the hands, his and hers in concert, moved along the rich polished wood as he gave her a feel for its movement. Then Adrian released the wheel and moved his hands to her arms, giving her complete control of the ship.

Under Adrian’s hands, the wheel had seemed light, easy to move, but now she discovered the strength it took, and she understood the muscles in his arms and chest. The wheel wanted to go one way while Adrian told her to turn in another, and she fought the current, feeling a thrill of pleasure ripple up her spine as she succeeded. She felt the power of the ship, and the power in her, as she made the heavy vessel accede to her commands. She savored the aroma of saltwater and soap from Adrian’s nearness, treasured the warmth of his hands and body. Basking in the hot sun overhead and the cool breeze, she relished the freedom she knew in this one instant of time, this one unforgettable moment of perfect harmony.

Spontaneously, she turned around and looked at Adrian, full of delight and discovery. “This is wonderful!”

He smiled slowly. “I thought you would like it.”

“I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“There’s only one place better,” he said.

She was staring back at the sea ahead. She couldn’t imagine a better place. “Where?”

“A place in England. The greenest fields you’ve ever seen. Riding over them at daybreak is as close to paradise as you can get.”

He had seldom talked about England, and his life there, and now Lauren heard the longing in his voice.

The ship kicked up as it hit a particularly large wave, and spray flew up, raining them both with moisture. Lauren laughed. “It must be wonderful indeed to surpass this. Is it your home?”

“It was.” The reply was short. She thought she heard something else, but it was lost in the wind.

And then he changed the subject, explaining to her the speed of the ship, the capabilities, just as the engineer had yesterday. There was pride in his voice as he told her he helped design it.

She tried to steer the conversation back to England. “You sounded like you love the land. Are you a farmer in a sailor’s disguise?”

His hands fell from her arms to her waist, tightening there. “I’m a sailor by circumstance,” he said. “And by my father’s design. But, believe it or not, I’m a farmer by nature.”

Lauren couldn’t still the surprise that galloped through her. Rake, pirate, brigand—none of those labels would surprise her, but the soft yearning in his voice when he’d made the last statement did. She realized how little she knew about him, how much he kept to himself.

But then, he didn’t know her either.

So why was the attraction so strong between them, the magic so real?

At least it was for her. Inexperience, perhaps. Did he do this to every woman?

Each smile, each touch, seemed hers alone. She would think so, anyway. For this time. For these moments. For these hours.

What would she do back in Delaware, in her cottage? In a world inhabited by those who told her what she could not do, rather than one who urged her to explore, who took her sailing to a deserted island, who placed a ship in her hands, and who had a monkey …

Suddenly her hands faltered on the wheel, and Adrian caught them, pressing his sun-warmed ones against hers with strength and confidence. Lauren and Adrian were one again as they stood in the sun, on the deck of a ship surging forward on a vast ocean. One as her soft body melded into his strong, hard one, one as his breath whispered along her cheek, one as their hands mingled and tightened against each other.

One. And Lauren knew at that second that she would never be whole again, that part of her would always belong to Adrian Cabot.

The day faded into a brilliant climax. Clouds had suddenly appeared, and the rays of a dying sun bounced off them, distorted them with vivid scarlets and veins of radiant gold. Streaks of blood seemed to dart through the sky. Lauren shivered.

Adrian was back at the wheel, his profile to her. Had she not had an obstacle the size of a boulder rolling around inside her stomach, the day would have been perfect. Adrian had been a wonderful companion throughout the afternoon: amusing, thoughtful. Yet he had said little of real importance to her, and she had not asked. She no longer wanted to know. The more she knew, the more she would care. And she already cared much too much, so much that every time she looked at him, her stomach flip-flopped and her legs grew weak.

Tomorrow they would reach the Carolina coast. Tomorrow she would spill her sand into the shafts of the paddle wheels. Tomorrow she would betray him and his crew.

Tomorrow … all her tomorrows would be locked in the past.

The fiery seascape softened, the volcanic shades fading as dusk caught and tamed the sun. The evening breeze quickened, and gusts of wind whipped her hair, and her dress against her legs, as she turned again to watch Adrian. His own hair tumbled in the wind, his shirt blown against his chest, outlining every muscle. He turned around and gave her a grin of unbridled pleasure in the evening, in the forces of nature, in the sharing of something so inherently sensuous that Lauren felt her body consumed by it. “No,” she whispered, a sound completely lost in the drafts around her.

She hurried once more for her cabin.

For her life.

Adrian watched her go. There had been something like panic on her face.

In a way, he understood, for he felt a bit of panic himself. He didn’t understand why or how it had happened, but Lauren Bradley was becoming as indispensable to him as Ridgely. He’d never before felt the kind of elation he’d felt when she looked up at him at the wheel, her face so full of exhilaration, as if she understood and shared his own.

He wished he knew more about her, about the way she felt. There were moments of openness, but they were gone almost immediately. Something was gnawing at her, something deep and painful, and she kept it sealed as tightly as an aged bottle of brandy.

And since he was practiced at guarding his own thoughts and hurts, he was hesitant to pry.

He had been surprised from the beginning at how at ease he was with her, and he’d found himself saying things he’d never said to another woman: about England, his grief over Terrence, his brother. Pleasure was one thing; giving away part of your soul was another entirely. But he had been giving away part of that soul, piece by piece, first on the beach, and then after Terrence died, and again today at the wheel. And now Lauren had a substantial piece of him, and he had no idea how she would treat it.