Enchantress (18 page)

It was Brittany’s last night on board the
Victorious.
Her mind was so filled with agonizing thoughts that she had not been able to sleep. She moved off the bunk and pulled on her cape, thinking she would take a turn about the deck; perhaps that would help her sort out her troubled feelings.

She saw that a light rain had begun to fall. She moved silently up the companionway, hoping she would encounter no one—especially not Thorn.

Now the rain was coming down harder, and she doubted the wisdom of coming on deck, because she was soaked to the skin. As rain ran down her face, she could not help thinking these few hours before dawn would be her last time to stand here like this. She would miss many on this ship, especially the captain.

In the distance, she could see the twinkling lights of Charleston. At daylight she would go ashore. She would be on her own in a strange land, and that thought suddenly terrified her. This vessel had been her safe haven, her shelter from the storm. Soon she would be set adrift, and then what would she do?

Brittany turned her face up to the rain as if it would have some magical powers to wash her cares and troubles away and help her find the answers she sought.

She thought of Thorn Stoddard, and she realized how difficult it would be to just walk away from him. She now had no doubts that she loved Thorn. She must have loved him from the very start.

Brittany was sure her mother would argue that she had not
known Thorn long enough to love him, but she
did
love him, with every fiber of her being.

Hot tears mixed with the cooling rain as she stood there drenched to the skin, her head bowed in misery.

“Have you gone mad, standing out here in the rain?” Thorn’s deep voice barked out, and she lifted her face to him. “You will catch your death.”

A lantern attached to the masts swayed with the movement of the ship and cast its gentle glow on Brittany’s face. “I was saying good-bye to my old friend, the
Victorious.
”

His eyes bore into her, reminding her of when she had bid him good-bye the night before. “You have surely completed all your farewells, by now. Should you—” Suddenly his eyes widened, and she saw a look of bewilderment on his face. “What the hell is this!”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” she said, wondering at the reason for his sudden outburst. Why was he staring at her so hard?

He tilted her face toward the light and studied it intently. “Damn you, Brittany, do you take me for a complete fool?”

Her eyes were bright with dread when she realized that Thorn must have discovered her secret. It had been foolish of her to stand in the rain, because it must have washed the stain from her skin.

She backed away from him. “I do not know what you are talking—”

Without ceremony, he scooped her into his arms and carried her purposefully down the steps to his cabin. Once inside, he placed her on her feet. His face was a mask of fury as he turned up the wick on the lantern then pulled her into the ring of light so he could see her features.

Brittany raised her hand to her face, wishing she could run and hide from Thorn’s probing glance. The anger she saw in his eyes caused her to tremble with fear. She did not know that a stream of hair dye had made a dark rivulet down her face.

She raised troubled eyes to Thorn and found him watching
her with a strange expression on his face. “What trickery is this?” he demanded. “What have you been up to all this time?”

She took a step backward, feeling for the doorknob behind her. “I am sure I do not know what you are talking about, Captain Stoddard.”

“Don’t you?”

“N-no.”

In one swift motion, he unhooked her cape and tossed it to the floor. She stood before him in only her thin nightgown, and he was staring at her white skin. Why had she been so foolish as to go on deck in the rain? She should have foreseen that this could happen.

Brittany felt the water dripping down her face and reached up to wipe it away. Her mouth rounded when she saw the black dye on her hands. “I…must go,” she said hurriedly. “I want to look in on Achmed.”

Thorn blocked her exit. “I think not. Not until I have a few answers.”

Brittany was startled when Thorn reached forward and stripped her nightgown away and tossed it on the floor. Her face burned with embarrassment as his eyes moved over her naked body, and there was a light of possessiveness in their blue depths.

With a smothered oath, he scooped her up in his arms and deposited her in the tub of water where he had bathed earlier in the evening. Before she could object, he was lathering her hair and rubbing soap over her shoulders and arms. When her face and shoulders were thoroughly lathered, he reached for a pail of water and poured it over her head.

“I’ll be damned,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You and your eunuch must have thought yourselves clever to have duped me for so long. You might have gotten away with it if you had not been so adventuresome tonight.”

Brittany sputtered and fought him as he poured more water over her head.

Thorn ground his teeth, and he was not gentle as he
lifted her out of the bath and wrapped her in a towel. His eyes assessed the white skin and the golden hair that spilled down her back.

Plopping her down on his bed, he pulled a chair up, straddled it, and gave her a dark look. “I want some answers, and I want them now!”

Huddled on his bed, without benefit of her clothing, Brittany felt completely at Thorn Stoddard’s mercy. She was determined to keep her promise to her mother and not reveal her true identity.

She shook her head in refusal. “I cannot tell you anything about myself. It is a promise I made, that I cannot break. My mother—” She placed her hand over her mouth. “I have said too much already.”

“No, not nearly enough, Brittany.” His eyes moved over the delicate white skin, and he suddenly knew who she was. “You are the daughter of the English Rose. Simijin is your father.”

“No, Simijin is not my father.”

“But the English Rose is your mother?”

She looked into his eyes, unable to hide the truth. “Yes, she is my mother.”

“And Lord Simijin?”

“Simijin likes to say I am the daughter of his heart.”

Thorn’s face drained of color, and his eyes were probing. “My God, you are not a woman of the harem, as you allowed me to believe. Why in the hell did Simijin tell me that you were one of his women?”

“Simijin thought he was acting in my best interests. His orders to me were to stay hidden behind the veils. That way, he was confident I would be safe. He had not thought that Sultan Selim would be so persistent in pursuing me. Of course, I had to break my word and I feel terrible about that.”

Thorn’s eyes darkened with anger at the thought of the carefully planned deception that had been woven about Brittany. “Just who in the hell is your father?”

She pulled the towel up to her neck, hoping her mother would understand that Thorn had guessed her true identity. She knew he would not stop until he knew all about her and perhaps she owed him the truth.

“My father was an American from Philadelphia. I am Brittany Sinclair.”

He looked sick for a moment. “Tell me you are not of the Sinclair family, who are silversmiths in Philadelphia?”

Brittany looked befuddled. “Yes, my father’s family are silversmiths. Are you acquainted with my grandmother? Is she still alive?”

He pulled her off the bed and retrieved her cape, handing it to her. “I don’t know Mrs. Sinclair personally, but I certainly know of her.” He shook his head. “There must be some of her in you. I have often heard her referred to as the ‘dragon lady.’ ”

She raised her head haughtily. “I am sure you are laughing at me.”

His eyes were dull. “I am sure you have been laughing at
me
all along. Have you enjoyed yourself at my expense?”

“I never laughed at you.”

He let out a long breath of exasperation. “What do you know of your grandmother?”

“I have never communicated with my grandmother, and I do not know if she will welcome me. But it was my mother’s wish that I go to Philadelphia so Sultan Selim would not find me.”

Thorn turned his eyes away as she slipped into her cape. “For that, and other reasons, Brittany, you must go to Philadelphia with all possible haste.”

She glanced at him as he turned slowly to face her. “That has always been my intention. Of course, I will have to allow Achmed time to heal from his wounds.”

“Yes, of course.”

An uneasy silence fell over the cabin, and she started for the door.

“Brittany,” he said tonelessly.

She halted, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. “Yes.”

He moved to stand before her. “About what happened between us—”

She proudly raised her head and met his eyes. “It is all but forgotten.”

He gripped her shoulders. “Nevertheless, it is my regret that I took advantage of your vulnerability.” Remorse was reflected in his blue eyes as they swept her face. “I misjudged you in many ways, Brittany. You were young and innocent, and I, thinking that you were—” He smiled. “Well, what is done cannot be undone. Can you find it within your heart to forgive me?”

She turned away and reached for the door. “There is nothing to forgive, Captain. You were no more guilty than I. Perhaps I am even more at fault than you, because I did lure you to my cabin that first night.” She blinked the tears away. “I release you from all feelings of remorse.”

He suddenly seemed to withdraw from her. “It will be dawn in less than two hours. Are you ready to go ashore?”

“Yes, I am ready.”

“I will see to it that suitable clothing is found for Achmed. He can hardly go ashore wearing his usual attire, since he would attract too much attention. I will also have Cappy accompany you to Charleston and see that you have adequate lodging. He will also help you in any way you deem necessary.”

“You are kind as always,” she whispered, thinking this was his way of sweeping her from his life.

She heard him call out her name, but she rushed through the door. Her heart was crushed because Thorn could so easily dismiss her from his life. When he had thought she was a woman from Simijin’s harem, he had wanted to keep her with him; now, it was obvious he could not wait to rid himself of her.

When she reached her cabin, she threw herself down on the hard bunk, wishing she had never heard the name of Captain Thorn Stoddard.

Although Thorn knew the Charleston harbor well, a pilot ship led the
Victorious
into port, because the sand bars and shoals often shifted with the tide, and with the narrow winding channels and the swift currents, it was a hazardous and complicated entry, even for the most seasoned captain.

The
Victorious
’s sails had been lowered, and she glided majestically into port, past warehouses that jutted out into the water and past ships from many nations, for Charleston was a teeming, bustling port that relied heavily on trade.

On entering the Port of Charleston, the
Victorious
sailed past a merchantman riding low in the water, with her cargo not yet unloaded. Thorn glanced at the Cooper River waterfront with its wharves and shipyards. The dominant structure along the waterfront was the old British Exchange Building, which had been converted to accommodate the seat of government, and was now known as the Great Hall.

Thorn set his gaze on St. Philips steeple, which rose high above her sister churches. Those steeples had guided sailors safely into harbor for almost a hundred years.

His eyes moved in the direction of King Street. Although he could not see it from his vantage point, that was the location of the house that had been left to him by David Stone. Stonehouse was a stately mansion, and even though Thorn considered it too large for his needs, he intended to make it his residence for the time being. He had written his solicitor and informed him to engage servants and have the house and grounds put in order.

At last the weary traveler had come home, but within his heart there was no feeling of homecoming, no jubilation—but rather great dread and uncertainty. He must face the past and try to set things right between his father and himself. His father would be in his seventies now—an old man.
Although Thorn wanted to make peace with him at any cost, his father would have to apologize before they could bury the past.

Thorn had been so young when his mother had died that he did not remember her at all. Perhaps if she had lived, his life would have been different. Because of Wilhelmina’s lies and deceitfulness, he was left with little faith in any woman. Even Brittany had deceived him, but then he had expected it of her and her sex.

Against his will, thoughts of Brittany began to weave their way through his mind, and he shook his head to clear it. No, he must not think of her silken skin and the way she had filled him with…what? Surely not happiness. Fulfillment of his desires and nothing more. Their paths had crossed briefly, and as she had pointed out to him, there was no place in his life for her. Both he and Brittany would be better off when she was in the protective custody of her grandmother.

The sun shone down on the
Victorious
through a cloudless sky.

Brittany appeared on deck, looking cool and aloof in her blue muslin gown, although she was anything but calm on the inside.

She guessed that Thorn had already alerted the crew to the change in her appearance, because they seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her. She could only imagine their shock to see her so changed.

Dr. Rutledge came forward to stand beside her, but he was not prepared for the golden-haired beauty that seemed such a contrast to the dark-haired girl that he had come to know.

“Take care of yourself, young miss. And for my part, you can sail on the
Victorious
any time you want.”

She extended her gloved hand to Dr. Rutledge. “I have you to thank for Achmed’s recovery. You will always have my gratitude.”

The doctor’s face eased into a smile. “I will always be grateful to you, because what would have been an ordinary and routine voyage turned into an adventure.” He bowed to her. “I am always at your service,” he said earnestly.