Sea Mistress (6 page)

Rain drummed gently on the wood above her, the sound making her more anxious to be free. What she wouldn't give to turn her face up to that spring rain and feel the cool wetness trickling over her skin! She would capture the raindrops between her lips as she had done so often as a young child.

Reeves is with the captain, she thought. If she wandered up on deck, there would be no danger of encountering Seth Garret. Besides, who would pay close attention to a lone figure in the pouring rain? The time was perfect! She'd escape for a while and return to her cabin without anyone being the wiser.

What of Conrad and Feather, an inner voice queried. Bah, she thought, she'd handle them when and
if
she encountered them. Heady with anticipation and feeling just a little guilty for not heeding Reeves's advice, Bess opened her door and listened. There was the gentle, steady hammering of the rain against the ship, the creak and groan of the vessel's hull.

Bess waited for another heartbeat, listening to the sounds of the crew members going about their business. Garret's men would be too busy to note a single figure against the rail.

Her lips curved into a self-satisfied smile as she tugged on her cap and left her cabin.

“We'll put in here in Brazil,” Seth said, pointing to a spot on the map. He straightened from where he was braced against the desk top. “By then, we'll be needing fresh water and supplies. We can have the
Sea Mistress
loaded and on her way again in less than two hours if need be. There will be no wasting precious time.”

A lengthy silence followed Seth's discourse, and he frowned, noting John Reeves's preoccupation.

Reeves glanced up then, reddened, and shifted awkwardly in his chair. “You were saying, captain?”

“Is something wrong, John?” Seth sat down and stretched against the chair back, his blue eyes intent on the man's face.

“Wrong, Captain?” Wariness flickered in Reeves' expression, and Seth was intrigued.

“Is it Marlton?” he asked. “Frankly, I'm surprised George chose such a young man to oversee this venture.”

“He's not all that young, captain.” But Reeves looked uneasy, and the captain's eyes narrowed as he nodded.

“It might have been dark the other night, but I'm not blind that I don't recognize a lad.” Seth suddenly grinned. “This is my ship, Mr. Reeves. A captain must be observant.”

Reeves inclined his head in agreement. “A lad he may be,” he said, “but he's a smart one.”

Seth raised a hand to silence him. His expression sympathetic, he leaned forward, his clasped hands resting on the polished surface of the desk. “If Marlton has become a problem, John, perhaps I can help—”

The man blinked. “Help, sir? No, no, that will not be necessary.”

“Mayhap if I spoke with him.”

“No!”

The captain was disquieted, stunned by the vehemence in Reeves's negative response. “What is it?”

“Rob—ah—he's a might sensitive about his sea sickness.”

“I see.”

The man was quick to defend. “He's not a difficult young man, you understand, sir. And Mr. Metcalfe trusts him.” Reeves gave a semblance of a smile. “Now that we've reached calmer waters, I suspect we'll be seeing him up and about soon.” His face changed, and he chuckled. “Captain, we'll make a sailor of Rob Marlton yet.”

“Good,” Seth said with a slight smile. He rose, went to a small table built into the bulkhead, and poured himself a glass of water. Turning to Reeves, he raised the pitcher in offering. “John?”

Reeves looked up briefly from a sheath of papers. “No thank you, captain.”

Seth sighed. He'd felt overtired of late, and perhaps this had given rise to misgivings about Reeves' recent odd behavior and the absence of the boy, Marlton.

He studied John as the man perused the list of goods stored in the cargo hold. Reeves could be under strain, Seth supposed, most likely due to the continuing trial of seeing to Marlton's needs. Catering to a sick youth would begin to wear on anyone's nerves and John Reeves was no different from the next man.

Everything on this voyage had gone smoothly thus far. The
Sea Mistress
was afloat again, her repairs funded by George Metcalfe, the new owner of the E. Metcalfe Company. The man had upheld his part of the arrangement; now the ship, loaded with Metcalfe's goods and overseen by the man's employees—John Reeves and Robert Marlton— was on her way around Cape Horn to San Francisco. Once in California, Seth's half of their bargain would be fulfilled.

If all was going according to plan and schedule, why did he have this persistent feeling that something wasn't right with this whole operation?

Seth was exhausted. Was it just the overactive musings of a tired mind? He hadn't slept well these past few nights. He hadn't slept well these last few weeks!

A vision came to Seth's mind of large luminous eyes and soft creamy skin . . . hair the magical shade of captured moonbeams. Elisabeth Mary Metcalfe. Since the day he'd reluctantly accepted her uncle's financial help, Bess's image had continued to torment him. He recalled the warmth of her touch, the sweetness of her lips; his jaw tightened until his muscles ached. They had loved for a time—deeply, passionately. Then, Seth had been forced back to finish his stint at sea, and Bess had gone on to greener pastures than the lowly first officer of a merchant ship.

Why, Bess?
he wondered. Had everything they'd shared been a lie?

Seth cursed in self-reproach. Why should he care? After all, he was over Elisabeth Metcalfe, wasn't he? He frowned. George Metcalfe's letter had brought back memories, both sweet and painful. And although Seth had tried, he'd been unable to banish Bess's image.

“Everything seems to be in order,” Reeves said, jolting Seth back to the present. He glanced up from his sheath of papers. “You mentioned that there are marketable goods in Pernambuco. I think Mr. Metcalfe would want us to stop there. We can all benefit from the profits.”

“I'm sure,” Seth replied dryly.

“Fine.” Reeves stood, papers in hand. “I believe we've covered everything.” At the captain's nod, he headed toward the door. Hand on the doorknob, he spun to meet Seth's gaze.

“About Rob, captain—” Reeves hesitated. “I'll see that he doesn't become a problem.”

“I hope not.” Seth recalled the boy's encounter with the two sailors.

Reeves sighed. “Captain, my employer felt it extremely necessary for the boy to make this trip. We must be patient with him.” He paused and then confided with a half smile, “Rob is a relation.”

Seth's lips twisted as Elisabeth's image came to mind. “I understand your predicament perfectly, Mr. Reeves.” Who would want to be saddled with Metcalfe's kin? “However, should you need any assistance . . .”

Reeves looked relieved. “Thank you, captain. I'll keep the offer in mind.”

 

 

The force of the rain surprised Bess as she climbed the ladder to the upper deck. The weather had changed for the worse. The breeze out of the north had freshened, and where the vessel had been quiet moments before, the deck was now a flurry of activity as the crew reacted to the mate's commands. Mr. Kelley stood, feet braced apart, on the ship's quarter-deck, while able crew members scurried fore and aft, trimming the sails.

Bess gasped as a sudden blast of cold air ripped at her clothing, threatening her cap. Scanning the deck, she clutched at her hair covering and then sought shelter from the wind and rain.

The downpour had saturated her clothing, and she shivered, chilled, under the lee of the mainsail. But Bess wasn't ready to return below; she wanted—needed—these moments topside.

“Put some slack in yer starboard braces, ye laggard!”

Bess's eyes widened as the sailmaster landed a good hard kick to a befuddled seaman's rump. The younger sailor fell but got rapidly to his feet, immediately heeding the seasoned crewman's command.

The
Sea Mistress,
Bess noted without fear, was responding to the wind, coming to in all her glory. A shout came from a joyous seaman. Beating to windward, the vessel was something to behold as she clipped neatly through the water.
At this rate,
Bess thought,
we'll make the journey to San Francisco in no time.

“Wawl, wawl, if 'tisn't Robbie boy Marlton,” drawled an unpleasant, familiar voice.

Startled, Bess spun to find herself face-to-face with Geoff Conrad, the second mate, who wore a malicious grin that promised retribution. Recalling their earlier brief altercation, Bess glanced about for a means of escape, someone to come to her aid. She muttered beneath her breath. There was no Reeves to help her, and she had only herself to thank for her predicament.

“So,
sailor
we meet again.” Conrad thrust his face forward threateningly as he grabbed hold of her coat. His eyes gleamed as he bared his yellow teeth in a feral smile. “It wasn't wise of ya to come up alone, Robbie. Unless it's danger ya be seeking.”

Bess refused to cower. “Unhand me, Conrad,” she ordered.

Conrad looked stunned. Then, he threw his head backward, and his loud guffaws rose strongly on the wind. Bess seized that moment to stomp on the man's toe, and the second mate howled, releasing her. Bess made a frantic scramble for freedom, which was checked when Conrad lunged for her. She crashed to the decking, pinned by Conrad's solid bulk.

Winded, Bess gasped for air as the sailor snarled and hefted himself away. Cursing, he stood and nursed his sore foot.

“I'll teach ya's a lesson—” Conrad's threat, hovering tensely in the air between them, ended abruptly as he glanced at her.

Conrad's widened eyes traveled from the top of Bess's head to her face, which drained of color as Bess saw his expression change. Her cap had come off, revealing her pinned-up, very feminine blonde tresses. As if in a trance, the burly man approached her, reaching out to reverently finger a platinum braid. Bess swallowed hard, heedless of the driving rain which continued to unleash its fury.
To be discovered by this man of all people!

Their eyes met in the tense moment, Bess's terror-filled, Conrad's speculative. Desire transformed his expression, and a smile grew on the man's lips. His dark eyes glittered with intent.

“Wawl, wawl, what do we have 'ere?” He took a step toward her, chuckling at Bess's fear, and she backed away along the rail.

“Keep away from me, Conrad,” she hissed. Spying her cap a few feet to her left, Bess edged closer to retrieve it. She had some crazy notion that if she put on her cap, she could escape, her disguise once again intact.

She knew she was being silly when Conrad's gaze followed the same direction. Chuckling, the second mate bent for the hat and held it aloft. “Looking for this, missy? What's the matter— don't want me friends here to know?”

Afraid, Bess exhaled sharply, her heart pounding. “Give me the hat.”

The man snickered again, dangling the cap playfully like a fisherman used bait. “Come and git it.”

Bess calculated her chances of getting by him. He was a great, hulking brute of a man and her strength was no match for his.

“Mr. Conrad. Is there a problem?”

Bess started in surprise, recognizing Mr. Kelley, the First Mate, who must have arrived from the starboard bow.

“Mr. Kelley, I—” she stopped at Kelley's sudden sharp intake of breath.

“What the hell—?” The mate stepped forward, gawking as if a female on board ship were some sort of monster. Pulling his narrowed gaze from Bess to Conrad, Kelley sized up the situation and frowned. “Mr. Conrad—”

“She's not my doing,” Conrad whined, turning pale.

Bess's cap fluttered to the deck, but Bess didn't dare retrieve it.

“If she's not one of your doxies, then who the hell is she?” Kelley demanded. Blushing, Bess shot him a quick look. “How the deuce did she get on board?”

Conrad shifted on his feet. “Believe it or not, this 'ere is Robbie Marlton.” He turned to Bess, his expression smug.

“Rob
Marlton?”
Kelley raised his eyebrows as he glanced to Bess for confirmation. She inclined her head. “Impossible,” he insisted.

The first mate stood beside Conrad, an attractive man, tall, lean, and powerfully built. Despite his obvious consternation, the eyes in his bearded face were kind. He must have sensed Bess's uneasiness, for his expression softened briefly with com-passion—and question.

Bess could only nod at him dismally.

“Mr. Kelley!” a voice boomed. “Why are these men standing idle?”

Bess's pulse quickened with alarm as Captain Garret stepped into view. No, not now! She had the strongest wish to melt into the floorboards. She wasn't ready for this meeting!

“What's going on here, James?” Frowning, Seth approached. “Conrad, there's work to be done—”

The two men parted, showing a third figure. Bess turned to escape, but the captain caught her arm, jerking her to a stop. She struggled to be free, but his grip was firm. Ready or not, she had no choice but to face him.

Seth tensed as he stared at her. His blue eyes pinned her into place, and a heavy silence descended on the deck. The rain eased as if by magic; even the wind seemed to cease in silent surprise.

Then, Seth spoke, the softest of whispers that Bess wasn't sure she even heard at first. “Elisabeth?”

Gulping against a suddenly tight throat, Bess nodded. He smelled the same, of salt air and soap, and his own special scent.

Emotion warred briefly in Seth's features. Shock. Gladness. Comprehension. Pain.

“Hello, Seth,” she murmured, finding her voice at last. To her own amazement, her tone was cool, even. Inwardly, she was a cauldron of emotional upheaval. Trembling, she saw that he looked much the same as he had years ago. No, she thought, he looked better. For a moment, she forgot the hurt and felt the strongest urge to embrace him . . . to feel his kiss again. “It's been a long time,” she said. “How long?” She pretended not to remember, but she knew exactly how long. It had been five years, six months, two weeks, and three days . . .

Seth had stiffened at her breezy reply. “Not long enough,” he said, his face darkening like a thunder cloud. “Bess, what the hell are you doing on my ship!”

Bess stared, appalled at the depth of his anger. “My cousin sent me! What do you think I'm doing . here?”

He cursed beneath his breath, but she heard him. Pain knifed through her gut, making her reel from the impact. It was as if she'd done him wrong, instead of the other way around.

He studied her with animosity. Bess had the uncontrollable urge to laugh. How absurd that Seth seemed to detest her when he had been the one who'd done all the damage. He who had been the guilty party.