Loving Sarah (13 page)

“We have no choice now, much as I wish it were not so.”

With that, he shoved his arms in his shirt and his feet in his boots and left the room. Her stomach growled when she realized he’d left the tureen with the stew. Half afraid he would return, she waited a few minutes before going to the table and lifting the lid. Taking a spoon, she fished out a piece of the meat and tasted it. Returning it, she decided she could go without tonight, having suddenly lost her appetite.

She didn’t think he’d be quite so upset and honestly thought he’d accept what she would have proposed had he not erupted with anger—an affair for the duration of the trip to New York. For a man who admitted to feeling an attraction to her, why wouldn’t he want to pursue a possible future with her? She might not be a
ton
beauty, but was not entirely unattractive, and she was descended from the best families in England. And Ian, merely because of his bloodline, would make a good choice of husband for her.

…
much as I wish it were not so.
Except he didn’t want her, and that hurt most. If she had not invited him to sin, he likely would never have pursued the physical attraction he felt for her.

Sarah opened the door to the cat’s scratches and bolted it after she’d entered, then boxed in the tureen on the table so the congealing contents wouldn’t spill. She doubted Ian would return, so she stripped down to her shirt again and climbed into bed. He was beyond unwilling to forgive her for her actions, even though she had apologized and admitted trapping him was not her intent. She just hadn’t thought her plan through and had now made an even bigger muddle of things. Only this type of muddle caused permanent, life-long changes to both of their lives.

Damn her for getting aroused by that silly book, and damn Ian for breaking her heart! How was it he had the ability to make her desire the one thing she swore to herself she would not seek with him? Where had the sudden desire to hear him say sweet words of love come from?

She had a romantic heart, like most other women. Except after three years on the market and receiving not one,
not a single one
, offer for her hand, she thought perhaps there was something wrong with her, which was why she wanted to have this sexual experience with Ian now before she took herself off the market. She hadn’t planned on coming aboard his ship. Had not planned on finding that book either. But secretly, she was glad she had and happy to have experienced the sex act with him. Now she knew what it could be like when someone felt that type of passion.

She wiped her eyes with the sheet again, determined to push aside this sudden turn of emotion and remain honest with herself, keeping in mind that when she embarked upon this seduction of her host, she’d known exactly what she wanted. None of which included a marriage proposal or any vow of everlasting love. She’d wanted sex. Just sex. With him.

Which was exactly what she got.

I
an went above to check the ship’s progress. The second crew was on, and they were sailing quickly through the night, on course and blessedly ahead of schedule if his calculations were correct.

Thinking back over the past hour, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Couldn’t believe she’d done that. When he left the room, he’d been in an anger-filled daze. Though it might have since diminished a bit, but he was still left asking himself what on earth would possess a young woman to do something so shocking, so irresponsible, so desperate, so…so damn selfish! He’d never have taken her in such a manner had he known she was a virgin.

If he was honest with himself, he knew from the moment he recognized who she was, that her actions—whether intended or not—forever changed his future. Whether he’d bedded her or not, his plans changed the moment she boarded his ship. He reasoned he could either be angry about experiencing one of the most satisfying sexual encounters of his life or he could be angry with the lad who’d left her on the wrong damn boat.

He had to reconcile himself to the fact that he didn’t stop upon discovering her maidenhead either. Oh no. Damn his horny hide. He went on and completed the act to both their satisfaction. There was now the possibility of a child. Whether the thought of fatherhood frightened him or not, whether he was ready for marriage or not, both were now in his future.

He mentally counted the weeks until they returned home. If he never touched her again during the rest of the voyage, she should know before reaching Liverpool if she carried a babe.

Then again, if he was going to marry her anyway, sharing his bed and their bodies would be accepted.

Since the night of the mouse in the cabin, whenever he was in her presence he got nervous inside. Tonight was no different. He was actually glad she’d never been with a man because she stirred feelings inside him no other had ever made him feel before she stepped onto this boat.

Now he had to reevaluate his plans, because marriage hadn’t been a part of them for years yet. He had nothing but this boat. Where would they live? How would he support a family?

And there was his grandfather…. The bastard was one of the reasons he wanted to wait to take a bride. He didn’t want his grandfather’s disgusting vitriol to touch her or her family. The old bastard hated him—especially since that day in the study—and he didn’t want to imagine the words the old earl would have for him if he found out he’d married Caversham’s sister. He’d remind Ian once again that he was not fit to wipe his dead uncle’s boots and that he was not a true Brit because he was born of a servant in that heathen-filled country across the sea. Each accusation he’d heard before, and all things he’d wanted to protect any wife of his from experiencing. But it was the other accusation that kept them both quiet, and for how much longer he didn’t know. The only freedom would come when the man died.

As he scanned the horizon once more before seeking a hammock for the night, the old sailmaker and make-shift cook Seamus came up behind him.

“Ye ken she’s the Duke’s sister, don’t ye?” he said, his nearly rotted-toothed grin obscured by the shadows of night.

“I know who she is.”

“Then ye’d best do the right thing by her.”

“Not that it’s any of your business old man, but I’ll do what’s right for the lady,” Ian said. The veteran sailor had been with Ian since he and Lucky had started sailing these boats four years earlier. He’d come highly recommended by his previous captains, having sailed on the duke’s ships for many years. As a result, the man was familiar with the Caversham family dynamics. If it weren’t for that fact, and that he was excellent with a needle as a sailmaker—if someone threaded it for him—and a tolerable cook, the man would not now be on his boat.

“Ah, that’s a good lad,” the old salt said as he walked away. And as he did, Ian swore he heard him mutter something about dancing a jig at his wedding, or on his grave, it was his choice which.

The quarter-moon shone down on the water, reflecting off the surface, and he looked ahead at
Avenger
. He didn’t want to think about Lucky’s anger at learning his sister-by-marriage was with him. Not only that she was on his boat, but that he had also bedded her. Ian knew that if he had a sister, he’d be angry with his friend if Lucky had so thoroughly ruined her. But would he kill him? Probably not. Not if the woman in question was of age and a willing participant in the liaison. Both of which Sarah was.

He had no idea how he would manage an explanation to both Lucky and the duke, but he’d have to for both of their sakes.

But for right now, he had to get over this feeling of being caught in a snare. If he was honest with himself, it that helpless feeling of being trapped with no way out that frightened and angered him most. That his whole future was decided for him because of the imprudent actions of one spoiled little chit.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

T
wo days after she’d served herself up to the captain, Sarah hovered in that blissful reverie that she often felt before becoming fully conscious, a clap of thunder so loud as to reverberate through the beams of the ship jolted her awake. Rolling out of bed with some measure of difficulty because the boat was pitching about on a choppy sea, she went to the portholes and without needing to open them, she could tell the rain was coming down in sheets. She scrambled back up onto the safety of the bed with the cat, wrapped the blanket tighter about her, and wondered where Ian was and if he was safe.

He had not come to see her since he’d stormed out the other night. Thus, Sarah had come to a satisfied conclusion regarding the events of that night. She was going to deny they happened if anyone asked. She didn’t think Ian would admit to her family that they’d been intimate. And as she’d been to the galley several times to get her meals, she could say with some certainty that none of the crew looked at her differently. Not even Seamus, who knew what had taken place because he had taken the linens from the room, had mentioned it to anyone.

The boat rocked hard starboard, and she heard her captain’s voice over the sounds of the rain and wind and knew he was struggling against the worsening storm.

I
an cursed as the fore upper topsail tore away from the crewman trying to hang it. The winds were blowing hard out of the north-northwest, and with the tight, dark cloud formations, rising swells, and murky water, he knew they were in for a worsening storm within a matter of hours. Perhaps he shouldn’t have ordered the changing of that sail. It had begun to show wear, and he’d thought to replace it before the storm, rather than lose it during, possibly killing a man putting the replacement up.

Glancing down from the foremast after the crewman regained control of the line, he saw a flash of long golden braid over a gunmetal gray slicker standing at the rail. Foolish woman! Didn’t she know her safety was in jeopardy with the conditions as they were? All he needed was to have her fall and slide overboard through a scupper. She wasn’t tied off to the lifeline as the rest of the crew was during this type of weather.

He wanted her back in the safety of his cabin, but when he called out for her, his voice was drowned in the howling of the wind. So he did the only thing he could do. He motioned toward her to a crewman standing on the quarter-deck, and the man went to fetch her.

“What are you doing up here? Get back in the cabin,” he shouted.

“I wanted to see what was happening and check on the weather conditions.”

“We’re on the edge of a storm. I won’t be able protect you and my crew at the same time. Please, go back to the cabin and sit tight. I’m not sure how long we’re going to be in this thing.”

She was completely ignoring him, scanning the horizon. “Where’s Lucky? I don’t see him.”

“He’s out there somewhere. I promise you, he’s fine. Now, go below.” When she made no move to leave, he added sternly, “I am not asking you, Sarah. I’m commanding you.” He nodded to the man next to her. The man offered his arm and led her to the companionway.

When she opened the door to the cabin, the cat scrambled back in with her, seeking a hiding place from the storm no doubt. Sarah went to the bed and lay upon it, the cat jumping up to lie with her, and as she cuddled the cat, she prayed that they would all make it through the storm unharmed.

As the hours passed, the rain, wind, and lightning grew more intense. The rolling and dipping motion of the vessel became more violent, prompting her to pray harder. Not for herself, but for each of the men on both boats, and most especially those who had wives and children back home. She learned early in her volunteering that widows and children were the ones to suffer most when their husbands and fathers died.

Hours later, as night fell, she decided to forego lighting the lantern for fear of breaking it and perhaps causing a fire. So she lay there on the bed, in the dark, holding the cat, and trying desperately to rest, even knowing that sleep would never come because of her worries. She had confidence in Ian. She did. He’d been to China twice already with Lucky, and she remembered hearing that he’d sailed as a child, just as Lucky had, so he was as comparably skilled a sailor as Lucky. And she was sure he had no desire to die in the middle of the Atlantic, so surely he would do everything in his power to see them through.

At least that was what she told herself while she prayed for their safe exit from this horrible weather.

This storm was larger and more dangerous than the one a few days earlier. Several times the ship pitched so steeply, it nearly rolled her out of the bed. If she’d managed to catch any sleep, she might have fallen out. Moments after a particularly hard pitch, she heard voices on deck crying out “man overboard.” Fear gripped her, for she’d come to know every man aboard the boat. She wanted to know who to pray for and if Ian was well after all this. She wouldn’t go on deck, but she had to see what the conditions were. She’d go no further than to stand at the top of the stairs in the companionway. She had to go. Had to see for herself if everything was being done to rescue the man. Even knowing she’d have to face Ian’s wrath if he saw her, she opened the door and climbed up the stairs. She reached the main deck just in time to witness him jumping off the side of the boat into the angry ocean.

Sarah screamed as she fell back into the companionway with another pitch of the boat.

When she awoke, it was to find the cook, Seamus, standing over her in the dim lantern-light of the cabin as she lay on the bed with a cold, wet rag on her head. Why? What was she doing—Ian! He’d gone over the side of the ship. Where was he? Was he alive? She had to find him. Sarah attempted to sit up so she could go above and find him.