Forsaken Dreams (18 page)

Eliza chuckled and rose. “Excellent choice. If we keep him in here with us, at least we shan’t have to worry about rats crawling on us during our sleep.”

Angeline trembled. “At least not the rodent kind.”

Her words gave Eliza pause. “Has someone been bothering you?” she asked. “I can have the colonel speak to them.” She nearly laughed at her own statement. Did she think the man was her personal bodyguard to share as she desired?

“No. Nothing like that.” Angeline’s violet eyes swept to the porthole where the setting sun bounced in and out of view. “It’s just Mr. Dodd. He keeps staring at me.”

“You are a beautiful woman. I fear you’ll have to manage the attention. Especially when there are so few single women on this journey.”

“Perhaps you are right.” She offered Eliza a curt smile then brushed a lock of copper-colored hair from her forehead.

The cat wove around Eliza’s feet and then pounced on a shaft of sunlight shifting over the floor.

“Besides”—Eliza turned back to the small mirror, attempting to pin up her unruly locks—“I hear there is a celebration on deck tonight. Apparently some of the passengers and sailors brought along their fiddles and have agreed to play. I insist you join me above. After all we’ve been through on this voyage, we could use some gaiety.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.” Angeline rubbed her arms as if a chill had come over her.

“Why not?” Eliza gave up on her hair and opened her trunk, seeking her only formal gown, an emerald percale over a bodice of white muslin, trimmed in Chantilly lace. Her fingers touched something hard and cold, and she pulled out the gold pocket watch Stanton had given her. The last thing he had given her. The only thing he’d given her of a personal nature. She flipped it over to see her initials engraved on the back in fine filigree.
FEW
. Flora Eliza Watts. Folding it inside a handkerchief, she placed it back in the trunk and retrieved her gown.

Angeline sat back in her chair with a sigh. “I’ve never cared for parties or dancing.”

“Do say you’ll come listen to the music at least. It’s better than sitting here alone with a cat.”

“Is it?” Stowy leaped at one of the hammock ropes and began gnawing the twines. Angeline smiled. “I’m rather fond of him already.”

Yet after much persuasion, Eliza finally convinced her friend to accompany her. Sarah soon returned, begging off from the party with an excuse of exhaustion and promising to watch Stowy while they were above.

So, within an hour and dressed in their finest, Eliza and Angeline emerged onto the deck just in time to see the sun splash ripples of saffron and maroon across the horizon. A jaunty wind held the sails full and stirred the seas into frolicking waves. Everyone was in high spirits as passengers and sailors alike assembled to enjoy the festivities.

Across the deck, the colonel, with one boot propped on the gunwale, was deep in a conversation with James. His gaze traveled her way more than once, and she thought she saw him smile. Which did nothing to becalm the flutter of her heart. She knew she’d have to answer his question sooner or later, but for the life of her, she still had no idea what to say. Perhaps she could avoid him until she did. After all, there were plenty of other men to dance with. Though once the sun had set and the music began, she found her traitorous gaze wandering repeatedly toward him, hoping he would finish his conversation and approach her.

Fiddle, flute, and harmonica joined in a mellifluous melody that swirled like steam into the black bowl circling the ship. Clusters of twinkling stars spanned the inky curtain as if God himself had flung handfuls of diamonds into the sky. The main deck cleared, and couples moved in a country dance. Their efforts to maintain their balance on the shifting wood while performing the steps brought a chuckle to Eliza’s lips.

On the quarterdeck, Captain Barclay smoked a pipe and watched the proceedings. Beside him, Parson Bailey prattled on about the evils of dancing. When nobody paid him any mind, he dropped below. The Scotts joined the dancing couples, and Magnolia made her way to stand beside Eliza and Angeline. The smell of alcohol clung to her as tightly as her low-cut bodice.

“Good evening, ladies.” She greeted them with a smile. “Seems we are the only single women of any station on board.”

Eliza’s face grew hot. The audacity of the woman to attempt a friendship with her when she had threatened to destroy her life—continued to threaten her!

Though there was a hearty evening breeze, Magnolia drew out her fan, waving it flirtatiously over her face. “I find the colonel quite handsome, don’t you?”

Eliza ignored the twinge spiraling through her gut.

“However, he
does
have that limp.” She sighed. “And then there’s James, the doctor or preacher or whatever he is. Oh mercy me, what does it matter? Those devilish bronze eyes could make any woman swoon.”

Angeline smiled as her gaze reached across the deck to the good doctor. “I don’t believe the doctor is all that he seems to be,” she mumbled.

The ship rose, and Eliza clipped her arm through Angeline’s. “Indeed, why would you say such a thing?”

“No reason.” Her tone carried an intrigue that piqued Eliza’s curiosity.

Yet when both ladies glanced at Magnolia, it wasn’t the colonel or James her eyes were fixed on, but Hayden Gale, standing beside the aforementioned men, one boot on the bulwarks, one arm on the railing, returning her gaze.

“But you forget our roguish stowaway,” Angeline added.

“He’s a pig,” Magnolia spat.

Eliza restrained a smile. “I believe the pig is heading this way.”

Emerging from the crowd like a prince scattering his subjects, Hayden, dressed in a suit of brown broadcloth with silk-lined lapels—no doubt borrowed from one of the colonists—presented quite the dashing gentleman. Especially with his dark hair slicked back and tied in a queue and that devilish grin on his face. To Eliza’s surprise, he halted before Magnolia.

“Would you care to dance, Miss Scott?”

Magnolia stared at him as if he’d asked her to walk the plank. “I would not, Mr. Gale.” She raised her pert little nose. “Not if you were the last man on board.”

Eliza cringed at the girl’s rude behavior.

Yet Hayden only grinned as one brow rose over moss-green eyes. “Since it appears no one else will dance with you, it was only charity I had in mind.”

“Of all the nerve!” Magnolia blurted. “I have no need to beg for a dance.”

“And yet you turn away one freely offered.”

“I do not dance with ruffians.”

“And I do not dance with swaggering shrews. On board a ship, we can hardly afford to be finicky.”

Angeline gasped. Eliza hid a smile.

Magnolia fumed and stomped her foot. “How dare you?” He caught her raised hand—the one aiming for his face—in midair. And after placing a kiss on it, he bowed to them all and left.

“Of all the …” Magnolia’s chest rose and fell as her gaze followed Hayden across the deck, but thankfully she stewed in silence.

The couples began a quadrille. A sailor sheepishly asked Angeline to dance, his eyes firing with delight when she agreed. Magnolia turned down the next man and the man after that before she huffed away to join her parents.

The ship seemed to sway with the music as water purled against the hull in a soothing accompaniment. Light from lanterns hanging from masts spun dizzying circles over the deck as Eliza strained to see through the miasma of twirling skirts and bobbing crinolettes. Several sailors looked her way, but it was Mr. Graves who finally approached, dressed in his usual black and looking even more sinister in the shadows of night. To make matters worse, Dodd joined him, his eyes aglow with desire. They both asked her to dance at the same time.

To which Mr. Graves frowned and waved the man off. “I was here first.”

“First or not,” Dodd replied, “it should be the lady’s choice.”

Eliza closed her eyes and prayed for a solution.

“Mrs. Crawford, I believe you promised me this dance.”

That voice—that baritone voice of assurance that caused her stomach to flip and her eyes to open. She placed her hand in his. “Indeed, Colonel. If you will excuse me, gentlemen.”

Blake led Eliza onto the makeshift dance floor, thrilled she had accepted his offer to dance. After her reaction to his question earlier, insecurity had swamped him. Perhaps he had misread her affections for him. Perhaps he had been too bold. Spoken too soon. Perhaps she bore no feelings for him outside of friendship.

“It seems you have saved me once again, Colonel.” She smiled, and the lantern light danced in her golden eyes. “First from the hail of Yankee bullets in Charleston, then from the frigate’s guns, and now from a fate far worse than both.”

Blake chuckled. “It is nothing. I excelled at West Point’s training to rescue fair maidens.” He hobbled in step, hoping his awkwardness didn’t offend her.

She smiled. “Obviously. And a valuable skill it is. Along with commanding troops, organizing expeditions, manning ship’s guns, and assuming the role of first mate?” Her approving tone did much to sweep away his insecurities.

“I am at your service.” He dipped his head playfully.

She smiled and looked away, her face darkening as if the comment made her sad.

From the moment she’d come on deck, he’d been watching her every move, anxious to end his conversation with James about the price of land in Brazil and the viability of growing corn and cotton, meanwhile hoping she refused any offers to dance. However, when Mr. Graves and Mr. Dodd approached her, Blake excused himself abruptly.

Not that he thought she’d accept their offers, but because both men tended to make the women on board uncomfortable. Mr. Graves because of his unsociable demeanor and the sinister way he stared at everyone from afar and Dodd for his mad gold-hunting dreams and prurient glances toward the ladies.

Placing her gloved hand atop his, he twirled her about the deck. Between the music and laughter and all the spinning and stepping, conversation became impossible. He longed to speak with her in private. He must know her feelings. Though at the moment, Blake was the happiest of all men simply to be near her—to be the one touching her, the one to whom she cast her smiles. They danced a cotillion, a country dance, and then a quadrille. And when the musicians took a break, she stood by his side chatting with the other passengers.

Finally, he could stand it no longer. Begging everyone’s pardon, he led her to the larboard railing away from the crowd and fetched her a drink of whiskey-tainted water. Thank goodness, Eliza’s smallpox ruse had sent the Union sailors scrambling for the safety of their frigate before they absconded with every ounce of spirits on board, or the
New Hope
‘s passengers and crew wouldn’t be able to drink the stale water at all. A night breeze wafted over them, cooling the perspiration on Blake’s neck, as he strained to see Eliza’s features in the shifting lantern light. Why did his chest feel as though an army marched across it?

Eliza scanned the crowd. “Look, Hayden and Angeline are dancing. I’m so glad. I all but dragged her above. I do hope she has a good time.” Eliza prattled on as if she were nervous about something. Or worse, as if she were trying to avoid bringing up their earlier conversation.

She cast Blake a sly look. “I’m afraid Hayden received quite a tongue-lashing from Magnolia earlier.”

“Yes, I believe the entire ship heard.” Blake had actually felt sorry for the man. But he didn’t want to talk about Hayden or Angeline or Magnolia. He shifted his stance and gazed over the ebony sea. What was wrong with him? He’d commanded hundreds of men without batting an eye, but he couldn’t ask one woman to accept his courtship. Squaring his shoulders, he faced her and opened his mouth to speak when Eliza pointed upward.

A shooting star sped across the black expanse like a fiery rocket, drawing “oohs” and “ahhs” from the crowd. The brig jolted, and Blake took the opportunity to slip his arm around Eliza’s waist. To keep her from stumbling, of course. The promise of rain tinged the air, and the musicians packed up their instruments. Some of the passengers and crew went below. Blake’s throat went dry. He must ask her before she retired for the evening and it was too late. Before he had to live another moment in this agony. “Eliza.” He took her hands in his. “You never answered the question I posed earlier today.”