Caution to the Wind (14 page)

His reaction to her only served to strengthen his resolve and prove his course of action correct.

“Amanda, have a seat.” He waved to a wooden chair across from his desk.

She gave him a skeptical glance, but did as he asked.

Will considered taking his chair and sitting across from her but decided against it. He could think better if he didn’t have to look into those green eyes of hers. Plus, he always thought better when standing. Perhaps it came from years of standing on deck during battle.

No, better not to think of this as a battle. He and Amanda needed to be allies, not enemies—if not for the sake of his ship, then for her own safety.

Will clasped his hands behind his back and paced the small space behind her chair. “Amanda, it may be several weeks before we return to Baltimore.”

He stopped pacing long enough to glance at the back of her wool-clad head. She didn’t turn around or respond, but then she didn’t interrupt either so he continued.

“I’m sure you understand, I can’t drop you off at just any port. Neil has told me you have no family other than him.” He spoke in a measured pace designed to give her time to come to terms with her situation.

It occurred to him that although he had spent more time with her than possibly any man on the ship, except perhaps Buck, they had never really spoken. He knew nothing about her save what her brother had supplied, and that was far too little. Which of life’s experiences had given her the courage to sign on to a privateer? The act required more fortitude than most men had. What kind of life had she given up? Did she have friends, a sweetheart? Did she have hopes for the future? Perhaps for a husband and a home filled with children?

A part of him mourned for the conversations they were never to have.

“Even if we were to spot a packet ship,” he paused, wondering if she understood that a packet ship carried the post but decided she must know that by now, “I could not entrust you to their care, knowing they could be beset by the British.”

Amanda shifted in her chair, but didn’t turn around.

Will began to wish he had sat across from her. That way he could see her face and perhaps have some idea of the thoughts behind her clear green eyes.

He cleared his throat, the sound as obtrusive against the backdrop of silence as a cough at a funeral. “Therefore, I am forced to keep you on my ship for the time being.”

Amanda might have been made of wood, for she gave no more indication that she heard him than did the chair on which she sat. Surely, his decision should elicit some response, perhaps even an expression of gratitude. He hadn’t said she could stay on the ship indefinitely, but he would allow her to stay for now.

He had seen silence used as a weapon. His own mother had been a master at it, but he had never understood why his father always lost the argument at that point—until now. He hadn’t realized how razor-sharp a woman’s silence could be.

Then again, Amanda considered herself part of his crew. Perhaps she simply waited for permission.

“You may speak,” Will said.

Amanda sighed. “I wasn’t aware you said anything requiring a response. So far, you have informed me of things I already know. Then you informed me of your decision.” She gave a nonchalant shrug that chipped away at Will’s carefully erected facade. “What response are you wanting from me?”

Not two minutes into the discussion and they were already at odds with each other. In some ways, Will missed his malleable, obedient cabin boy.

He took a deep breath. “We must have a discussion about your future,” he said, using his best captainly voice.

Amanda stood and pivoted her chair on one spindled leg until it faced Will. Then she sat back down with a decided thump. Her eyes had the look of a storm-churned sea.

“It is rather difficult to have a conversation with someone who insists on pacing the floor behind me.” She waved a dismissive hand before crossing her arms over her chest. “Please continue.”

First Bull and now Amanda. Insubordination had become the order of the day. However, Amanda was not a member of his crew, so he would overlook it for now. Besides, he found he much preferred anger over silence.

Will cleared his throat again. “The point is, you will be forced to remain on the ship. That is, at least until we get back to Baltimore.”

“You mean,” Amanda spat from between tight lips, “you will be forced to have me on your ship until we get back to Baltimore.”

Will saw no point in arguing. “Yes, well, since that is the case, I thought perhaps we might reach an agreement on certain…standards of behavior.”

“Am I to understand you object to the way I conduct myself?” Amanda stood, fury flashing in her eyes. “When have I done something inappropriate?”

“I don’t approve of ladies climbing the rigging,” he explained, trying to douse her ire with his cool captain’s demeanor.

Just as he commanded his ship, he would maintain control of this conversation no matter how emotional she became.

“But I am not a lady.” She gave a flip of her hand he assumed was intended to resemble a feminine gesture, although it looked more like casting a fishing line. “I am a sailor.”

“Only by accident,” he said, his voice radiating calm logic.

“What accident? I did not accidentally show up at the docks. I did not accidentally sign the ship’s registry. And you,” she stabbed at him with an accusing finger, “did not accidentally order Bull to sign me on.”

Will bristled at the reminder of perhaps the gravest error he had ever made. “That’s where you are wrong. Had I known you were a woman, I would not have done so.”

“Why not?” Amanda rested her hands on her hips. “You obviously saw something in me that made you think I’d be a decent sailor.”

He had. A pair of bright green eyes glared back at him now with the same determination they had on that fateful day. Determination was perhaps the best trait a man could have if he hoped to be a successful privateer. She had it in abundance.

“Look, Amanda, it’s simply bad luck to have a woman on a ship.”

“Oh, ballocks,” she said with a snort, then a faint flush crept up her cheeks and she averted her eyes. “You can’t possibly believe that nonsense.”

Will ignored her vulgar language although he considered it clear evidence she had been surrounded by men for far too long. “I may not believe it, but some of the men do, and that’s what matters. I can’t have them thinking I’ve brought a Jonas on board.” Amanda glared at him in silence, so he started to explain. “A Jonas is—”

“I know what a Jonas is. I’ve heard the men talking about the many things they believe bring bad luck, and I concede you may have a point.” Her lips looked as though she had downed a tot of vinegar. “So what do we do about it?”

“First, we must conceal your identity,” Will said, relieved that Amanda at least appeared amenable to a pragmatic approach. “So far, only Doctor Miller and I know you are a woman.”

Amanda opened her mouth, then shut it again. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Won’t I have better luck blending in, so to speak, if I act like one of the crew? Taking my turn at watch, for example?”

A soft sweetness replaced the sharp determined look in her eyes, and Will had no doubt he was being played. “But you’re not a member of the crew, Amanda.”

Amanda gave him spun-sugar smile. “Then shall I have Cookie make your meals again? I mean, if I am not a member of the crew then…” She shrugged.

“I will allow you to continue that duty.” Sacrifices would have to be made eventually, but for now, he saw no harm in allowing her to continue.

“You will allow…you will allow,” Amanda sputtered, her sugary smile dissolved. “I rather think you have the better end of that bargain. But I will make a deal with you. You
allow
me to prepare your meals for you, and I will
allow
myself to continue assisting the doctor.”

Will narrowed his eyes at her. In truth, he didn’t mind the arrangement, but he couldn’t let a member—a woman on his ship undermine his authority. One did not negotiate with the captain.

“Amanda, I am the captain aboard this ship—”

“But I am not a member of your crew,” she reminded him.

Will blew out a breath. There might be an advantage in conceding on one point, if it allowed him to win on more important matters.

“I see no harm in letting you assist Doctor Miller. We must also find a way for you to have quarters of your own.”

“Why?” Amanda asked, genuine surprise showing on her face. “If no one knows I am a woman, won’t it be rather difficult to explain if I am given my own quarters? They might think you—”

“Yes, but it is necessary,” Will said, plowing ahead before she could finish that thought. “After all, there is no privacy on a ship, and…” he paused, trying to figure out how to continue without offending her delicate sensibilities. He needn’t have bothered.

“You mean there is no privy in the privy.” She laughed at her own joke.

“Yes. I mean how did you—” He stopped himself when he realized what he had been about to ask.

She eyed him, amusement replacing her anger. “Do you mean to ask if I hung my arse over the side like the men?”

Will’s collar seemed to be getting tighter by the moment. He stuck a finger beneath his neck stock and tugged. Amanda’s smile widened

“No, I will admit to being a bit more creative, and Neil’s been a willing accomplice. He might not want me on the ship any more than you do, but since I am here, he looks out for me.”

“Nevertheless, I can’t have you sleeping with sixty men.” Will cringed at the implication in his words.

“Oh for heaven’s sakes, I’m not sleeping with sixty at a time.” She didn’t look offended, just bored.

“And there’s one other thing,” A trickled ran down his back. When had he started sweating? “You and I cannot—”

“Cannot what?” Amanda asked.

“We cannot be alone together,” Will finished in a rush of words.

“You mean like we are now?” Amanda cocked her head.

“No, well, yes,” He hated the uncertainty he heard in his voice. “Yes, even though we are alone together now, we should endeavor not to be.”

“Why not?” Amanda asked.

“Because it would be improper,” Will answered. One couldn’t argue with the obvious.

“Why?” Amanda asked, proving that one could indeed argue the obvious.

“Because you are a woman!” Will’s carefully erected façade crumbled in a rush of words.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Will looked at the floor. His careful rehearsal of the conversation had not included Amanda’s unpredictable responses. Her side of the discussion had involved her sitting primly in a chair, giving responses such as, “yes, sir,” and “no, sir” when called for.

He raised his head and eyed the comely street urchin before him. How stupid could he have been?

“Then what is the point, pray tell.” Her blonde brows furrowed. “I cannot be alone with you because I am a woman. But no one knows I am a woman, so what would it matter if I am alone with you?”

Because you are not safe being alone with me.

Will knew it to be the truth. With each moment that passed, the inexplicable power she held over him strengthened. He should never have agreed to let her stay aboard ship. A wiser captain, one still in command of himself, would have ordered the helmsman to set a course for Maryland weeks ago.

“If you are alone with me and anyone finds out you are a woman, your reputation will be ruined,” he growled. “We must have as little to do with each other as possible.”

At that point, William Stoakes, Captain of the
Amanda
but better known as
The Sea Wolf
, did something he had never done in his life. He turned and stomped out of his own quarters, effectively dismissing himself.

Chapter Eleven

Amanda had been over every inch of the ship, yet not spotted so much as one glimpse of Neil’s dark brown head. In keeping to her bargain with the captain, she searched the ropes a second time—without stepping foot on them. Nate waved down from his usual station on the watch platform. The only other inhabitants of the tall spires were the omnipresent gulls clinging to the ropes, their gray-white feathers blending into canvas and cloudy sky.

She forced a smile and returned the wave. Her mood wasn’t Nate’s doing, and he didn’t deserve the scowl she wore. She would reserve that for the captain.

Her first genuine conversation with him, her very first as a woman, had not gone as she had hoped. She had known he would want her off his ship. After all, her presence was a constant reminder that his cardinal rule had been broken, his command usurped. Although he tried hard not to show it, she could sense his irritation simmering below the surface of his calm demeanor. He was like a heated kettle that had almost reached a boiling point. Thankfully, when her own ire had pushed him that final degree, he had left her in his quarters and blown off steam in some other part of the ship. She hoped none of her shipmates had suffered.

Regardless of the inevitability of his attitude toward her, it didn’t stop her from wishing that he might have acknowledged her usefulness. Lying in her hammock at night, listening to the snores of the men, she had even imagined him saying that she had become indispensable. Invariably, as she drifted off to sleep, those imaginings turned into an admission that he wanted her, not for her skills at cooking or caring for his men, but her. In her dreams, he would pull her close and kiss her with a heat at which his previous kisses only hinted. The kisses of her dreams were long, languid affairs, not to be broken by the untimely arrival of an English ship nor the Doctor.

Amanda sighed. Those dreams could never become reality. Captain Stoakes had made it abundantly clear that he neither needed her for her skills nor wanted her as a woman. He had agreed to allow her to remain aboard his ship. That is, until he could find a way to toss her off. Until then, what had she agreed to? To act like a lady while pretending not to be one? To not be alone with him even though that was practically impossible?

She supposed she should be grateful that she wasn’t a real member of his crew, for no man would have been allowed the show of temper that she had demonstrated. Not known to have fits of pique, when she had reason to be angry, neither heaven nor hell could dissuade her. In his quarters, the first flames had flickered and sprung to life, fed by the dry kindling of repressed passions. His cold, logical demeanor had fanned the flames until they consumed her.