Caution to the Wind (27 page)

She pulled the green silk from the box, delighted to find the captain had not only purchased a gown, but also the many accouterments to go along with it, including a lady’s shift, petticoats, stays, stockings, garters and silk slippers.

She ran her hand across the creamy surface of the satin petticoat, a lighter shade of green than the moss green of the over gown. Then she held the delicate shift up to inspect it in the late afternoon light streaming in through the small windows. Judging from the fineness of the weave, he had spared no expense on her undergarments. Did he really know that much about women’s clothing or had some saleswoman taken pity on him? A giggle burst from her lips at the image of the formidable Captain Stoakes selecting a lady’s undergarments himself.

She took her time dressing, relishing the cool caress of satin against skin. Then she did her best to brush out her damp curls and arrange them about her face. Her hair wasn’t long enough to pile on top of her head even if she had the hairpins with which to do it. Instead, she managed to arrange it in a credibly feminine fashion by plumping them, tucking a few behind her ears, and then pulling out a few strands to curl against her neck and forehead.

Appraising herself in the captain’s mirror, she decided it would do. With her short hair about her face, she looked young, very young. However, in the form fitting green dress with its low bodice showing her modest figure to its best advantage, no one would ever mistake her for a boy. The swell of her breasts above the low cut neckline made her feel positively exposed.

The captain’s cabin lay not far from the galley. She simply needed to cross the common area. She peeked out the window at the sun melting into the western horizon. The men would already have eaten their mid-day meal and most would be on deck either on duty or idling before the changing of the watch.

If luck stayed with her, she could make it across the common area and into the galley without anyone seeing her. Cookie might be in for a surprise when she raced into his galley, but that couldn’t be helped.

Amanda bit her lip and cracked open the door of the captain’s quarters. She peered out only to meet Buck’s appreciative gaze. She slammed the door shut.

Damn! She had forgotten he and Neil had been ordered to stand guard. She tugged at her neckline, then to assure herself that nothing showed, she ran her fingertips along the lace that skimmed the sensitive skin only an inch or so above her nipples.

They could tease her all they wanted, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her for long. Throwing open the door, she hitched up her skirts and broke into a dead run, heading for the safety of the galley on the far side of the ship.

Chapter Twenty-One

The supper party guests voiced their appreciation when Cookie brought out one elaborate dish after another: leek soup, stuffed partridge, glazed ham, roast squash, fresh greens in a savory cream sauce, and biscuits as light as a cloud, all complemented by the finest wines Will had to offer from his personal stores.

Will, however, tasted little of it, his mind dwelling on the empty seat next to him. Every time the door swung open, he turned his head, expecting to see Amanda. The delightful aromas were always followed by Cookie, balancing steaming hot dishes above his protruding belly. He set each one down, and with an apologetic glance at his captain, served the guests.

His patience nearing the breaking point, Will grabbed Cookie’s arm before he could head back to the galley.

“Where is she?” he hissed in the cook’s ear.

“In the galley,” Cookie whispered back, although his whisper could be heard around the table.

“Can’t you do more of the cooking tonight?”

“Yes, sir. I keep telling her she’s your guest. She should come and join you.” Cookie shrugged. “But she just keeps thinking of something else that needs doin’. If you was to ask me, I think she’s not wantin’ to come out.”

“Not wanting to come out?” Will kept his voice low while he glanced around at his guests. They appeared engrossed in Captain Stoddard’s tale from his naval days when he and Will had sailed together. “Did she happen to say why?”

“Well, beggin’ your pardon for saying so, sir,” Cookie spoke as though he were considering how best to break a bit of bad news, “but if I was to offer a guess, I’d say she’s not happy ’bout being a girl.”

“Not happy about being a girl?”

“Well not so much being a girl as being dressed like one,” Cookie amended. “She’s got that pretty gown on her, but she’s all wrapped up from neck to knee in my biggest apron. And as I was saying, she keeps thinking of something else that needs doin’. Every time I suggest she take off the apron and take her seat next to you, her eyes get big as my sauce pan, and she starts stammering about not being finished with this and that.”

Will excused Cookie so he could return to the galley, and for the next five minutes he chased a piece of roast squash around his plate with his fork, only half listening to the stories of his misspent youth being told by Captain Stoddard.

“Will, you seem lost in your thoughts tonight,” James said, before taking a sip of wine. “Is something troubling you?”

Will looked up from his plate. “No, it’s nothing.”

“Or perhaps it is
someone
?” James added with a knowing grin.

“What could you mean by that?” Will stabbed his fork into the bit of squash.

“Well, it’s just that young Bradley here,” he nodded to the young officer next to him, “saw you in town today.”

“Did he?” Will glowered at the young man who didn’t look too pleased to be the center of attention. If his memory served, this same officer had overstepped his bounds at James’ nuptial celebrations.

“Yes,” James continued, nonplussed by his old friend’s fierce look and offering no mercy to the junior officer at his side trying his best to sink into his chair, and if possible, the deck below. “And at a lady’s shop no less. Buying undergarments, I believe it was.”

He turned to the officer whose cheeks were almost the same shade as his wine. “Wasn’t that it, Lieutenant Bradley?”

“I could have been mistaken,” the lieutenant mumbled.

“Is it possible, though, that our perpetual bachelor has at last found a woman who is up to his standards?” James asked with a gleam in his eye,

Will stuck the piece of squash in his mouth and chewed with deliberate slowness.

James raised an eyebrow, took a sip of wine, then took mercy on Will by changing the subject. “Supper was delicious, Will.”

“Here, here!” The other officers at the table raised their glasses.

“Was the man you spoke to a moment ago responsible for this culinary artistry?” James asked. “If I’m not mistaken, I detected a bit of Irish accent in the very few words he spoke. If so, he is a rare gem indeed. To find an Irishman who can cook like this.”

Dammit. Amanda had done more than enough to honor his guests with an elaborate supper, but her absence left him in danger of being an unforgivably dull host.

“No, he is not the one.” Will set his fork across his plate.

“Then pray tell, who is behind this exquisite meal? Bring him out here so I may thank him personally, and perhaps even steal him from you. I am not in need of a cook, but I’d be happy to make room for this one.”

Will gritted his teeth at the challenge. He wouldn’t put it past James to try to steal his cook. They had played this kind of gamesmanship since they were boys, and his friend excelled at it. This time, James would not win. Amanda belonged to him.

“Cookie!” Will’s bellow rattled the china.

Cookie came through the door a moment later and stopped just inside. “You’d be wantin’ somethin’, sir?”

Damn right, he wanted something. “Bring Amanda out here, and tell her it’s an order.”

“Yes, sir!” Cookie said, with a grin.

“Amanda, eh?” James’ chuckle made it clear he appreciated the irony of the name. Many captains named ships after their wives.

Not amused, Will glowered at him. Then a soft rustle of satin caught his attention and he stood, prepared to order Amanda to take her seat. That is, until his power of speech abandoned him.

Amanda had taken off the big apron worn to protect her gown, or as Cookie suspected, to protect herself. Now she stood clad in emerald-green satin the same color as her eyes.

Soft golden curls framed her face, flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Her skin gleamed from her time in the bath and her long, creamy neck invited a man to follow a trail down past her shoulders to the low cut bodice of her gown. Too low cut, Will thought. No wonder she had not wanted to take off the apron and join them. She should have had the sailmaker make a few alterations, as he had suggested. Then he imagined her with a canvas neck scarf tied over her gown and shuddered.

“Well, who is this vision, Will?” James asked, rising to his feet along with his men.

“Amanda,” Will whispered. He stared at her for a moment more before catching himself and giving a proper introduction. “Gentleman, may I present Amanda Blakely. I have given her passage on my ship, and in return, she has been gracious enough to give my cook a few pointers.”

The explanation bordered on the absurd, but James was too well-mannered to goad him in the presence of a lady. He satisfied himself with flicking an eyebrow at Will before focusing all his attention on Amanda.

“I am at your service, ma’am,” he bowed, “and in your debt. Never have I eaten so well.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Amanda replied, her voice a gentle whisper.

Like the song of a Siren, calling him to the rocks, Will decided.

“Can she join us, Will?” James asked.

Will realized he had left her standing at his side, her back straight and her eyes level while he had been gazing down at her, his jaw agape.

“Yes, of course.” He pulled out the chair next to him so Amanda could, at last, take her seat.

She glided to her chair, the soft scent of lavender and woman and the rustling of her skirt washed over him. Once settled, he poured her a glass of wine, nearly spilling it from lack of attention.

****

Amanda took a tentative sip of the ruby colored liquid. She had tasted wine as a child. Some of the neighbors made their own, and her father often purchased several bottles of it. For as long as she could remember, he had allowed her a small taste with dinner. But this delightful, mellow liquid tasted nothing like the powerful local wines. They left her lips numb and the inside of her cheeks feeling as though she had sucked on a dry cloth.

Amanda ventured another small sip. The heady aroma filled her nose, and she breathed it in as she drank, discovering the sense of smell combined with the sense of taste greatly enhanced the experience. The wine had none of the unpleasant jolt that came with rum. Of course, she had personally carried this bottle from the captain’s private stores. Given its position on the top shelf of the rack, she guessed it cost more than any two barrels of rum put together. She would savor this experience, for it may never come again.

For the next hour, Captain Stoddard and his officers regaled Amanda with tales of Captain Stoakes’ exploits. The stories told of his bravery, but also of his honor and love of his newly formed country. In his youth, he apparently possessed a love for mischief rivaling Neil’s. No wonder he knew just how to guide her brother. He simply considered what trouble he would have caused and ensured Neil didn’t have the opportunity.

The captain signaled for Cookie to set a plate of food before Amanda. She smiled her gratitude, but didn’t pick up the fork.

She had nibbled a little in the kitchen to ensure the results of her efforts met with her satisfaction, but not enough to satisfy her normally healthy appetite. She had every intention of sitting down to her own supper in the galley once she finished seeing to the needs of his guests. Then Cookie had come, telling her the captain wanted to see her at once. When she brushed past him, concerned the captain might have found fault with one of the dishes, Cookie had snagged the bow of her apron, untied it and pulled it off in one swift gesture. Holding it over her head, he refused to give it back no matter what threats she leveled at him.

Her appetite had vanished the moment she entered the dining room and spotted the captain dressed in a velvet coat the color of midnight. Edged with a golden thread that matched his waistcoat, it made his eyes glow with an amber light.

Instead of eating, Amanda sipped her wine, drinking in every detail of Captain Stoddard’s tales, each one adding a new dimension to the man she already admired and perhaps, if she were to be honest with herself, even loved. She chanced a glance at him and found him studying her with his golden eyes. A sip of wine caught in her throat, and she found it hard to swallow. She could not lose her heart to the captain, not when this might be the last time she ever saw him gazing at her with such ferocity.

In between stories, Captain Stoddard and his men toasted to everything. First to honor, then to country, at least once more to her cooking and several times to her beauty. She felt the heat rise in the room every time she took a sip of wine. She attributed it to having spent hours in front of the stove in a windowless galley and the embarrassment at having the full attention of a group of handsome young officers, but just to be safe, she decided to take smaller sips. She would still drink to their toasts, of course. To do otherwise would be rude, and someone kept filling her glass so she really had no choice.

“Cookie,” Captain Stoddard called out. “Would you be so good as to open one of the bottles I brought over from the
Venture
?”

Cookie nodded and came back moments later carrying a fresh bottle. He showed it to Captain Stoddard who simply nodded, then he uncorked it and set it next to the captain.

“This one,” Captain Stoddard said, pouring wine into Amanda’s glass, “is a very special wine that I acquired from a very special Frenchman whilst we were still enemies. It’s a, it’s a...” He squinted at the label on the bottle. “Well, it’s French anyway.”

Amanda giggled and took a sip, reveling in the new taste. Even headier than the last, she delighted in the way the tingling on her lips took on a new dimension, and the wine hit her tongue in new places. She savored the beverage in her mouth before swallowing. It was almost as good as kissing.