April Moon (3 page)

If that happened, it happened. The prospect hadn’t stopped him from reclaiming his men. He’d handpicked every one of them and was damned if he’d leave them to the mercies of the British navy.

“Lieutenant!”

“What is it, Rogers?”

“Mr. North sends word that the captain of the
Linx
wishes to speak with you.”

“About what?”

“Don’t know, sir, but Mr. North indicated it was a matter of some urgency.”

“All right. Tell him I’ll come below in a moment.”

Frowning, Richard skimmed another glance over the moon-washed deck. Rigging and broken spars lay in tangled heaps. The mizzenmast had sheared off and crashed to the deck, dragging its royal and topgallant with it. The tops’l had held, though, as had the spanker. The
Linx
had been injured, but not mortally wounded.

By the time the frigate’s crew repaired the damage, the
Seahawk
would be well away. And if anyone tried to claim this was an act of aggression against the British Crown, Richard would offer the
Seahawk
’s log as evidence. In his view, he had merely returned the same salute Lowell had rendered last year. Satisfied, he went below and once again faced the captain of the
Linx.

“You have something you wish to discuss with me?”

“I do.”

“Unless it’s your parole, I have no interest in anything you—”

He broke off, his eyes narrowing. Lady Stanton stood across the cabin, back straight, fists clenched. Her maid huddled in the corner with a corner of her kerchief pressed to her cheek. With a muttered curse, he strode across the room, caught Lady Stanton’s elbow in careful grasp, and raised her arm.

“Did I do this?”

Sarah lifted a startled glance to his, as confused by his gentle touch as by the disgust in his eyes when he surveyed the marks on her wrist.

“No, you…”

She caught herself just in time. The role James had forced on her would play far better if she put the American at a disadvantage. Guilt could be as powerful a weapon as unrequited lust.

“You did not cause the marks,” she finished
haughtily, knowing full well the disdain that accompanied the response would imply the opposite.

Richard swore again. He didn’t remember grasping her by the wrist, but his blood had still been full up and singing with the easy boarding of the
Linx.

“If I did, you have my most sincere apologies.”

Bringing her wrist to his lips, he dropped a kiss on the reddened skin.

Sarah sucked in a sharp breath. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone—father, brother, husband—had done more than laugh along with her when she acquired a new scrape or bruise. Hers wasn’t the kind of meek, timid spirit to invite sympathy or gentleness. That this gruff American of all people would treat her with such tenderness both startled and confused her.

When she lifted her gaze from his bent head, dread chased away the brief confusion. James had observed Blake’s kiss with a malevolent expression that boded ill for both Sarah and the American.

“That’s the second time you’ve laid hands on my fiancée,” he said icily when the American released her and stepped back. “Had I my sword, it would be the last.”

“Is that so?” A feral light leaped into the captain’s eyes. “That’s easily enough remedied. I’d be more than happy to settle matters up on deck, with only naked blades between us.”

James looked all too ready to take him up on the
offer. When he did not, Sarah understood that was her cue.

“No!”

She invested the sharp cry with all the emotion of a Cheltingham drama.

“I will not have your blood spilled, James.”

Shoulders back, head high, she offered herself on the altar she’d built over the years with her foolish, foolish exploits and disregard for convention.

“You may not have heard of me, Mr. Blake. In London circles, I’ve gained something of a…a reputation.” She swallowed, fought the nausea rising in her stomach, and forced herself to continue. “Sir James was good enough to rescue me from the debacle I’d made of my life. Now I will do the same for him and the
Linx.
If you’re so set on revenge, I would ask you take it with me.”

“What?”

“M’lady…”

“Sarah!”

The American was astounded. Maude distressed and teary-eyed. James coldly—seemingly—furious.

Ignoring her maid and her intended, Sarah stripped away the last of her pride.

“If you want me, I will bed with you. In return, you must promise to harm no one else aboard this ship.”

R
ICHARD COULDN’T DECIDE
whether he was more astonished, amused or offended. For the second time in less than an hour, this glorious creature expected him to pounce on her like a bilge rat would on a barrel of salt pork.

He was an officer in the United States Navy, for pity’s sake! The son and grandson of deep water ship captains. He lived by the rules of the sea and held to a rigid code of honor.

He came within a breath of informing the lady of that fact. Rueful reflection held him back. His conduct in her cabin hardly qualified as that of a true gentleman. He’d given her little reason to think he would rebuff such an extraordinary offer. Still, it was one kettle of pea soup for a man to steal a kiss. Another pot of stew altogether to take a sacrificial virgin to bed.

Except…

She was a widow, not a virgin. And Richard was no fool. They’d hatched some plot between them, she and the captain of the
Linx.
Richard would bet
every brass button on his uniform jacket Lady Stanton intended to bring him grief, not pleasure.

“Let me be sure I understand this,” he drawled. “You’ll bed with me and willingly. In turn, I’m not to line the crew of the
Linx
up at the waist-rail and shoot them.”

She blanched. Rocked back a bit on her dainty heels. Steadied. “Nor will you hang the ship’s captain from the yardarm.”

Christ’s toes! He’d forgotten all about that offhand threat. He hadn’t meant it, of course. In his own mind, he could justify firing on and boarding the
Linx
to reclaim the crewmen taken off his ship by force. He couldn’t justify stretching her captain’s neck. Unfortunately.

His glance went to the officer under discussion. “You agree to this, Lowell?”

“It’s not his choice,” the lady interjected. “It’s mine and mine alone.”

Richard’s mouth curled. Whatever scheme they’d hatched, Lowell was certainly allowing his intended to carry the brunt of it. The man was a rosewater sailor of the worst sort!

He’d play the game through, Richard decided. See how far it would carry him…and the delectable Lady Stanton.

“I accept the terms and conditions.”

Her eyes were huge pools in her pale face, as deep and green as the ocean and just as unfath
omable. Swallowing, she swiped her tongue along her lower lip.

“Very well. Shall we retire to my cabin?”

“You may retire. I’ve matters to attend to yet above decks. I’ll join you shortly.”

Nodding, she moved to the door.

“Don’t do this, m’lady!”

The wailing protest came from the plump little maid. She cast a fearful look at Lowell and would have said more if her mistress hadn’t silenced her with an abrupt command.

“Come with me, Maude. I shall need your assistance.”

The maid scurried to her side. Richard opened the door for them and instructed the petty officer standing guard to escort the women to their cabin. As the trio navigated the dim passageway, he rested a hand on his pistol butt and turned to Lowell a final time.

“It takes a rare breed of dog to let his mate crawl into a kennel with another.”

The captain flicked the gold lace at his cuff. “You heard the lady, Blake. This was her choice, not mine. She and I will settle matters between us later.”

Disgusted, Richard left the cabin and twisted the key in the lock. What the devil kind of hold did Lowell have over the woman that she would prostitute herself like this? Hell, you’d think she’d jump
at the chance to be rid of such a lice-bag. Yet here she was, ready to sacrifice her honor to save him.

To all appearances, at least.

A quick, slashing grin cut across Richard’s face. The next hour or so should prove interesting, at the very least. When North returned to resume his guard post, the captain climbed to the open deck.

“Mr. McDougal!”

At his call, his third lieutenant came running.

“What’s the count on the crew of the
Linx
?”

“All two hundred seventy men at quarters and twenty-two boys accounted for. More than half are still snoring below decks. The rest are under close guard.”

“How many dead or injured?”

“None dead, sir. Two wounded. A boatswain took a musket ball through the shoulder. A broken spar landed atop one of the master’s mates and dented his pepperbox. He’ll be seeing mermaids dancing jigs with sea dragons for a while yet.”

“And our men?”

“Nary a scratch or a splinter among ’em.”

“What about the twelve who were pressed?”

“All right and tight and ready to climb back aboard the
Seahawk.
So are another dozen or more who claim they, too, were shanghaied off American ships. I expect that number will rise when the others come awake,” the lieutenant added dryly.

“I expect it will.”

For the first time since dousing his ship’s lights and laying on all sail to bear down on the
Linx,
Richard relaxed his taut muscles.

“Damned if we didn’t pull it off, Mr. McDougal.”

“That we did, sir.”

The two men shared a grin until Richard shipped a quarterdeck face again.

The slang expression was more than appropriate, he thought. Officers might relax discipline among themselves or with the crew during a theatrical or musicale put on to relieve the boredom at sea. When a captain assumed a more deliberate demeanor, it prompted a return to strict observance of rank and protocol.

“Signal the
Seahawk
and advise that we’ve secured the
Linx
and her crew.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Do you want me to ready the boarding party for departure?”

“Not yet. As you said, there may be more pressed Americans among those still in a stupor below decks. I mislike leaving them behind.”

Not to mention leaving the lady awaiting him below. Richard’s blood heated at the thought of taking another taste of her, but he was too experienced a captain to sail into an uncharted harbor without taking careful soundings.

“Where’s Jenkins?”

Carpenter’s Mate Jenkins was the senior of the
Americans taken off the
Seahawk
by Lowell’s men. He’d spent the past five months aboard the
Linx.
If anyone knew the scuttlebutt concerning the British captain and his intended, it would be him.

“He’s on the aft deck, sir, mounting guard over the officers.”

Richard found the tall, spare North Carolinian easily enough. He stood silhouetted against the flare of the ship’s lanterns, pistol cocked and finger itching for just one of the officers who’d made him dance under the lash these past months to make a misguided move.

They were a sullen lot. Richard supposed he would be, as well, if he served under a captain like Lowell. He’d addressed them earlier when he’d taken their parole, and spared them only a swift glance now.

“A word with you, Jenkins.”

“Aye, sir.”

Leaving the other guards at the ready, the carpenter’s mate joined his captain in the dark shadow cast by the mainmast.

“What do you know of Lady Stanton?”

“She came aboard at Plymouth, sir. Word ’tween decks is she has a reputation that would put a waterfront whore to the blush.”

She’d said something close to that, Richard remembered. Try as he would, though, he couldn’t make the picture of a high-born doxie fit. She had
a sensual air about her, to be sure, and her gown was cut low enough to set a man’s juices to running. But Richard had bedded his share of obliging whores and saucy wenches. A few more than his share, if the truth be told. Sarah Stanton didn’t kiss like a woman well used to being handled by men. The question was whether she would bed like one.

“According to the boy who serves the captain’s table,” Jenkins continued, “Lowell’s been paradin’ his lady half-naked before his officers. They’re layin’ bets as to which one he’ll finally let have her.”

“The devil you say!”

“It’s true, I swear. He’s the kind as gets more pleasure from makin’ others dance to his tune than doin’ the jig himself, or so they say. Has a tendency to put his eye to the peephole, too.”

Well, that explained a great deal. Lowell wouldn’t have his eye to a peephole this time, but Richard didn’t doubt he would demand a full report of the night’s activities from his intended.

“Come with me,” he instructed Jenkins. “I’ve another sort of guard duty for you to perform.”

The carpenter’s mate trailing, Richard informed Lieutenant McDougal he’d be below.

“I’ve unfinished business to attend to with Lady Stanton. Send word when the rest of the frigate’s crew begins to come to their senses.”

S
ARAH STOOD
at her dressing table once more and stared through the thick, wavy glass at the moon. It rode high in the night sky now, a round, gleaming ball that mocked her with its brightness.

How long since she’d last stood here? Two hours? Less? What a turn her life had taken in such a short time.

She knew now her marriage to James would be one long, unending series of humiliations. Had she only herself to consider, she’d book passage back to England the same day the
Linx
reached anchorage in the West Indies. She’d rather be hauled before a London magistrate and serve time in debtors’ prison than tie herself to a man who would use her as James wanted to.

There was the rub, though. She couldn’t consider only herself. James, damn him, still held the notes he’d collected on her father and brother. He’d promised to pay them off, but hadn’t. For all her faults, Sarah loved her father and brother with the deep, uncritical affection of one who shared their reckless nature and hopeless irresponsibility when it came to financial matters.

Now she was well and truly snared in a trap of her own making. Try as she would, she saw no way out except to do as James had directed and seduce the American—despite the sick feeling the mere idea left in her stomach. Not to mention Maude’s
vociferous protests. The maid hadn’t ceased haranguing Sarah since they’d returned to the cabin.

“You can’t do it,” she protested once again. “For all you loved to thumb yer nose at those London biddies what tried to tell you how to go on, you’ve not a treacherous bone in yer body.”

“It’s not treachery to assist in quelling a mutiny aboard one of his majesty’s ship,” Sarah returned, trying to convince herself as much as her maid.

“Ha! I’ll wager Salome said something of the same sort when they talked her into luring John the Baptist into her bed. And that’s another thing.”

Planting her fists on her ample hips, the maid directed a fierce glare at the mistress.

“I’ve been tending to you since we was both in pinafores. I know you went to Sir Cedric a virgin and held true to yer marriage vows whilst he lived. I know, too, you’ve taken no man into yer bed since he died. It was just yer high spirits—and stubborn pride—that set tongues to wagging and rumors to flying about you the way they did.”

“There’s no need to list my many failings. I’m well aware of them.”

“Then ye know you cannot do this!”

“I can and I must. No! No more arguments.”

Sarah pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead in a futile attempt to relieve the pounding ache that had begun just above her brows. She had to think, had to prepare for…

A sudden rap on the cabin door stopped her breath in her lungs. She tried to speak, couldn’t, finally forced out a husky command.

“Enter.”

The moment Richard Blake ducked his head under the deck timbers and stood before her, Sarah experienced the same strange, unsettling phenomenon as when he’d left her such a short time ago. Then, his departure had seemed to take some vital aura from the cabin. Now his presence filled the room, as if infusing it with a vibrant life force.

Perhaps it was his size. He was so tall. So broad of shoulder. His white knit pants clung to muscular calves and thighs. His blue uniform jacket with its standing collar, white facings, and gold epaulets only emphasized his physique. Resisting the effort to swipe her damp palms down the sides of her skirts, Sarah tipped her chin and met his gaze head-on.

The glint in his blue eyes promised nothing.

And everything.

“Need I remind you of the terms and conditions of our agreement?” she asked coolly.

“I think I have them.”

“Then…Then let us proceed.”

His mouth quirked. “As you wish.”

“Maude, you may leave us.”

The plump maid threw a last, imploring look at
her mistress. “M’lady, I beg of you. Think on what you do here.”

“You may leave us!”

The American stepped aside to reveal a tall, spare sailor waiting in the passageway. He looked vaguely familiar to Sarah, but Maude seemed to recognize him instantly.

“Mr. Jenkins! A bluidy mutineer, are you?”

“No, ma’am. As I told you that day we spoke at the rail, I’m an American seaman pressed into service aboard this ship against my will.”

“Huh! A pirate, more like!”

“Perhaps you and Mr. Jenkins could continue this discussion topside,” Blake suggested. “Jenkins, you’ll stay with Mistress Maude and see to her safety.”

“Aye, cap’n.”

The contrast between the American’s concern for her maid and Sir James’s casually brutal treatment of Maude almost—
almost!
—undid Sarah. Her resolve weakened, and she came within a breath of telling Blake their bargain was off.

She might have done just that, if he hadn’t bolted the door, strolled into the cabin and pulled his pistol from his belt. Her throat closing, she watched him casually deposit the weapon on the fold-down dressing table. It lay there amid her brushes and combs and pots of powder and paint. The silver scrollwork on its handle gleamed dully.

Just as casually, Blake removed his sword belt and hooked it over the back of the desk chair. Unarmed, he closed the distance between them.

“All right, lass. As you so eloquently phrased it, let us proceed.”

He folded his arms. Stood with legs spread. Surveyed her with a look of polite anticipation.

Taken aback, Sarah realized he was waiting for her to initiate matters. She stared at him blankly for a moment, her mind whirling. The Notorious Lady S. would know how to proceed at this point. Sarah was somewhat at a loss.