Jennifer Horseman (40 page)

"We shall see, Leif. Less than two days now until we meet the fleet, and then, who knows? Let it go for now. Check out those bolsters, will you? The way she's rigged one more day of sail will be a goddamn week." Discouraged, Leif nodded and left as Garrett combed back his wind-tousled hair and went to his desk, looking for something as he took in the scene. "What the hell are you doing, Gayle? Aren't you suppose to be topside? That is, if your duty as the lady's maid is through? Hmmm? Can you spare the boy now, love?"

Gayle stood promptly but otherwise ignored Garrett's sarcasm. "It's no use," he said to Juliet, and not for the first time, though now he meant it. "Any harder and I'll get the ring and your finger."

Gayle left as Juliet held perfectly still, staring at her sore, reddened finger as she fought the effects of Gar-rett's proximity. Her heart escalated as she tried to swallow to push down her unnatural response to him. Always, since the first moment she raised her eyes to see him atop that stallion, staring back at her with unmasked animosity, he had affected her in a powerful, nay, brutal way. Physically and emotionally, she was at all times aware of him and his nearness. The long weeks of intimacy and his constant company had done nothing to ease it. True, Garrett's presence affected everyone powerfully, but ever since that night at the Moroccan palace and the day afterward, the force of his power over her had built and built, growing with each second of each hour of the five days since that night he had put her under a spell.

She felt like a creature possessed. Possessed by that night and by his spell—of which she suspected the ring was a part. Was there really such a thing as a spell? Leif said aye, but it was called mesmerizing. He wouldn't say any more past that mesmerizing was an ancient art, practiced throughout parts of the Orient and India where Garrett had learned the skill. Yet how did he do it?

She looked up to where he sat at his desk and felt herself blushing just remembering the force of his passion, the wild, uninhibited passion and love—

Love? Love? Dear Lord, could he have fallen in love with her? She knew he felt responsible for her and her situation, just as he felt protective of her—a thing that caused her so much grief. Like Leif and Gayle and so many of the men, she knew he cared for her, too, but love? Nay, not her . . . she was . . . well, she was noone. When she imagined the woman with whom he would fall in love she imagined a lady as he had described Lucinda, his wife: beautiful, vivacious, sophisticated, not at all like her. He could never fall in love with someone like her, she knew, she felt certain. Except—

Except when she thought of that night. She stood up and moved away, abruptly wringing her greasy hands

together, unconsciously tugging on the ring. Dear Lord, but what if he had? It would explain so much; it would explain his animosity toward Tbmas. . . .

Emotions rose to greet the idea: anxiety and guilt and heartfelt sympathy. Dear Lord, what should she do? Would he be hurt when she left?

"Garrett, Garrett?"

Garrett did not look up. "What?"

"I was wondering ... I need to know, I —H

The uncertainty and fear in her voice brought his gaze up and he saw apprehension. "What, love?"

The words caught in her throat and she swallowed. "Ah ... I was wondering ... if, if ... if you could please get this ring off?"

He looked confused for a moment, then irritated. "After Gayle wasted half his morning trying?" He got up to go to the door. "Leave it, love. It's probably just your monthly swelling, anyway. Kyle!" he shouted loudly out the door.

"Captain, sir?"

"Get those measurements in here now!"

He shut the door, returning to his desk.

She blushed at his reference to female physiology. Was there nothing he didn't know? She'd never forget the morning she woke to find herself in that situation. Her embarrassment could hardly be described, yet alone borne. She never would have guessed a man might know of a woman's curse. Stella had always acted as if it were a terrible secret; she had been embarrassed by the slightest reference to it. The idea of having to explain to Garrett, if only to ask for a sheet, felt as easy as slaying Goliath. Which was why he had awakened that morning to find her sitting rigid in a chair with her face buried in her hands. "I need a sheet."

"A sheet?" he repeated in a question, swinging his long legs over the bed. "You need a sheet," he repeated :o himself, as if to make certain he had heard right, studying her with confusion. "Jesus," he chuckled softly as he understood at last, rising to go into the dressing room. "I half thought you were bent on hanging yourself. You mean dowsing strips, is that it?"

To her shock, he returned and placed a neat white pile of already made dowsing strips on her lap. "Ah, love," he smiled still, raising her chin to make her face him. "How could you be embarrassed by the natural cycle of your body? It's a blessed sign of health and well-being, God's greatest gift to women, the ability to conceive life. What could be embarrassing about that?"

The warmth of his amusement made her blush more, but then he asked: "Do you feel poorly?"

She had shaken her head.

"Ah, a good sign." He rose and rang for breakfast. "Do you bleed heavily?"

Blushing crimson, she barely managed a nod. She did bleed heavily, but then who knows? Maybe all women bleed this heavily. How was she supposed to know?

"Another good sign. You'll have a much easier time in childbirth "

Presently Kyle came in with the figures and then left. Juliet watched as Garrett began working them into his formula, lost to his- task. She methodically soaped her hands to wash off the grease before drying them on the towel. Love, love, she had to know, that was all. Point blank, she'd just ask the question ....

Juliet came to stand in front of his desk and patiently waited for his attention. Finally Garrett looked up from his figures to notice. "What is it now?"

"I need to know if you've fallen in love with me."

Braced for the terrible news, she watched his reaction carefully, fully expecting to see a nod followed by a disquieting confession. This did not happen. Her confusion mounted as she noted his amusement, worsening as it mixed with a hint of some inexplicable anger.

"Am I in love with you?" he repeated, chuckling with unmistakable condescension. "No other woman I know would need to ask that question; it makes me see how young you are. Is not your birthday this month? Let us hope its passing brings you more wisdom, a little would help so much. But do tell," he paused with a cruel edge to his tone as he returned with indifference to his work, "What was it that inspired your curiosity? Something I've done? Something I said?" He looked briefly back at her. "Some trite poetic sentiment perhaps? The way I look at you? Something of that sort?"

She stood perfectly still in silence, a silence that became a roar in her mind, until she abruptly realized she had stopped breathing. A small shocked gasp of breath brought an avalanche of emotion crashing over her. She caught the slight tremble of her lips. "I'm sorry ... I was thinking—"

"Just what were you thinking, Juliet? That I'd drop to my knees and declare myself? Only to then endure your . . . your what? How were you planning to respond?" He studied her for but a moment. "I see. Condolences and sympathy. Be glad your little fantasy didn't travel that far. You would not like to know what I'd do with your sympathy."

She disappeared quickly into the dubious privacy of the dressing room, where she held her sides tightly as the waves of humiliation and horror washed over her. What a fool she was! What a fool he had made of her! What had she been imagining he'd say? Of course he didn't love her. The very idea was preposterous and laughable to him. Dear God, how that hurt! It hurt so badly she felt as if the life and air were being squeezed from her lungs —

Because if he didn't love her it meant he had used her. Used her terribly. Used her as nothing more than a convenient vehicle for a base kind of physical release ... as a man uses a ... a whore.

Darkness eventually crept into the small space and she heard Leif arrive for supper, then Gayle and Kyle, and she stayed there still, trying desperately to cling to the idea that Tomas loved her. Didn't he? What if 'twas a wholly laughable idea to him too? No, no, she closed her eyes to hear his words, "I love you, I love you. . . ." Dear Lord, please help me keep my faith. . . .

The Raven sailed with the wind to reach the British fleet waiting in the Gibraltar Straits. Garrett spent every waking hour pressing his men and his ship for all they were worth in the barest whispers of wind The Raven sailed beneath. The last dawn broke beneath the cloudless skies of yet another warm Mediterranean day, as at last the jagged cliffs of Sardinia rose on the horizon.

The innumerable white sails of the British fleet dotted the sea. The great ships were in a state of readiness, waiting only for The Raven to point out the direction of their destiny. To prevent anyone from spotting The Raven, long before flags could be seen, Garrett sailed her east to a rendezvous point on the other side of the island, where Garrett, Leif, and a handful of others left in a longshore boat, heading to an isolated spot around the bend. Once they were there, a trusted young sailor would get word to the Admiralty, and within the hour Admiral Nelson and his most trusted advisors would arrive to greet Garrett and whatever fate he brought.

A great commotion sounded with a thunderous clamor on the deck as The Raven dropped anchor three ship-lengths from the desolate shore. Juliet watched Garrett and his party move through the water in the longshore boat. She felt relief, simple and pure, and while the day filled with history in the making, it also meant to her she was one day closer to her own destiny. One day closer to her reunion with Tomas.

The tension Garrett put between them was unbearable; she had not the armor with which to deal with it. She felt torn between confusion and fear, not knowing exactly why, except she supposed life had taught her to question the idea she would ever feel safe, yet alone find her happiness.

Yet she would be with Tomas soon, she had to believe that. The things she had endured, the things that had happened between Garrett and herself, would not matter. For if it did matter, if Tomas abandoned her, she had nothing: no love, no means, nowhere to turn, no dream left to dream. Nothing but hopelessness . . .

Six seamen rowed in perfect rhythm across the water. Leif followed Garrett's gaze to where she stood standing at the rail. She looked so small and forlorn, as if she had lost her very soul. "What did you do to her?"

Garrett's gaze did not stray. "Nothing I could have helped, nothing I can change. I've only grown weary of our pretense."

Leif studied him thoughtfully, seeing for the first time the control Garrett placed on his emotions. A dangerous situation, and with the noted exception of Edric's death, one he had not seen in Garrett for any number of years now. Garrett did not often fall victim to emotions, far less to emotions he had to control. "Should I speak about it at last?"

"Just asking that question is enough."

"Nay, I don't know the whole of it, Garrett. She doesn't know, does she?"

"An interesting question. On some level she must know."

"Did you deceive her?"

"Only by pretending I didn't know. No more than you. It was Gayle. I've been waiting for him to tell her, but I see now he will make me force the issue."

A brief flash of anger quickly followed Leif s surprise. "My God, I never thought ... I will beat him myself. What will you do to him?"

"Leif, it was a move meant to change her. I let him; I wanted it to work. His only punishment will be seeing how badly he has made me hurt her again."

Juliet stared out as the last long arms of the sun sunk over the towering tips of Sardinia's cliffs. Shadows had fallen hours ago, like a great dark blanket, and only a handful of minutes remained before complete darkness arrived. The towering cliffs rose straight up at a sharp right angle as far as the eye could see, an awesome sight and one she never imagined she'd know. Manny ran along the deck, lighting lamps. The crew still bustled about in preparation to set sail, Garrett's last order sent over an hour ago now. The ship would sail in the cloak of darkness for England.

A freshwater stream had been found a mile or so around the bend and Pots ordered all barrels to be filled, causing groans from everybody, for it was not likely to be needed on the short return trip to England. Pots was ever cautious about his supplies. Presently the freshwater barrels were being noisily hoisted on the leeward side, while sails were raised and ballasters checked.

She waited to spot the return of Garrett and Leif in the longshore boat. Leif said they'd return long before nightfall. Still there was no sign of them on the darkening horizon. She turned to the small group of men fishing nearby. "Michael, why is it taking so long?"

"No doubt Nelson's pressin' Garrett for all he can give. He knows better than most what worth to assign Garrett's advice."

"Advice?"

"Battle plans, Juliet. More than anything else, the thing Garrett hates to put his mind to."

An hour passed before the light of the longshore boat finally appeared. She rushed back to quarters, where she waited for another hour as she heard Garrett address the crew, a long speech frequently broken by cheers. A call for the raising of the anchor sounded. Another half hour passed as Garrett and Leif remained topside, until at last she felt the motion of the ship on the sea, heading home to England.

The door burst open and she looked up to see Leif. Something went wrong, she could tell by his face, the way his gaze held her as he took a deep breath with a glance to the ceiling—as if in search of heaven-sent help—before he came to where she sat at the sofa. Garrett's creatures surrounded her: Vespa sat on her lap, Polly on her shoulder, while Tonali stretched out on the sofa along side her, resting his huge black head against her leg. The great cat sat up to stare at Leif too, apparently sensing something amiss. Polly bawked and chattered, spreading his wings and hopping restlessly from leg to leg. His claws hurt and she banished him as Leif settled into the chair opposite her. "Is something wrong? Did it not go well?" "Oh, aye, it went well enough. That is, if Garrett's purpose in life is to be a celebrated hero. Nelson did everything but drop to his knees to kiss Garrett's boots. You as well. Here," Leif handed her the envelope in his hand, "This is for you." Juliet took the envelope, examined its seal and opened it.