My Runaway Heart (19 page)

Cursing under his breath, Jared scowled at Walker, but
the American didn't blink, staring right back as if daring him to deny his
charge.

Which, of course, Jared couldn't. He was ranting and
raving and acting unreasonably; he knew it. And if Walker could see it so
clearly, what of the rest of his men?

"
Cooky
!"

His roar making more heads turn than the grizzled cook's,
Jared lowered his voice, but not by much.

"Tell Dag to escort the prisoner to the
quarterdeck."

"Aye,
Cap'n
!"

Stunned by the gap-toothed smile splitting
Cooky's
face as the old sailor disappeared into the hold,
Jared groaned to himself.

Was the chit planning to cast her spell over every man
jack aboard? It was bad enough that he couldn't seem to free his mind of her,
what little sleep he'd gotten in Cowan's bunk—his first mate having graciously
given up his cabin to sleep in the crew's quarters—plagued by scorching dreams
of an entirely carnal nature.

He wished now that he had availed himself more often of
Della's generous charms, or those of some other willing wench, but none had
appealed after he laid eyes on Lindsay. And if she hadn't been a blasted
innocent, he would have kissed those beautiful breasts by now and buried
himself in her dusky woman's curls, in the heat of her, the scent of her—

"A guinea for your thoughts."

Jared bristled at Walker's wry smile, but made himself
look out to sea at the sunlight glinting off the water. Better that than say
something he might regret. Long, silent moments passed while he stewed,
frowning.

Blast and damnation, Walker had been right. Confining
Lindsay to his quarters and pretending she didn't exist was a lot easier than
dealing with this devilish lust.

But obviously his men wanted none of that, the
ridiculous chit having charmed even his next in command into championing her
cause. If he didn't keep himself and his crew well occupied, before long she'd
have them so twisted around her fingers that the
Vengeance
would more resemble Cleopatra's barge drifting down the
Nile, with them indulging her every beck and call, than a ship of war!

"Good morning, Captain. My, isn't it a marvelous
day?"

Chapter 17

Jared caught Walker's openly admiring glance before he
turned from the railing himself; he clenched his teeth against the resentment
twisting his gut. But it was nothing to the effect Lindsay had upon him when he
faced her, her brilliant smile hitting him like a blow.

He hadn't seen her smiling so gaily since London and he
realized at that moment, much to his displeasure, how much he had missed it.

"Yes, it is a lovely morning, Miss Somerset,"
came
Walker's pleasant reply. Jared felt suddenly like
an ill-mannered school boy, that his friend had been made by his silence to
answer for him.

"Forgive me," he muttered, glancing darkly
from Walker to Lindsay, whose smile hadn't dimmed. "Miss Lindsay Somerset .
. . my second-in-command, Mr. Burke. Walker Burke."

"So nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Burke. I've
never met an American before. You are an American, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Well, you're quite a long way from home."

"My home is this ship, Miss Somerset. And I've
never met a baronet's daughter before . . . or seen a young woman dressed so
fetchingly in breeches."

Jared looked, too, realizing that he'd been so focused
upon Lindsay's winsome smile and the playful look in her eyes that he'd given
little heed to her attire. He scowled when she spun for them as if displaying
the latest London fashion, though he'd never seen any gown, no matter how sheer
and clinging, accent a woman's form to greater, or more dangerous, perfection.

"The legs were a little long, so I rolled them up
a bit."

Jared sucked in his breath at the snug fit of his
doeskin breeches against her pert rump, scowling all the more when she stopped
her pirouette to hook her thumbs in the strip of lilac silk cinched tightly
around her slim waist.

"And the shirt was far too big for me, but tying
the ends into a knot resolved that problem."

As she glanced down proudly at her handiwork, Jared
couldn't take his eyes off the ripe swell of her breasts beneath the ivory
fabric, wishing now that he hadn't torn her corset in two.

Wishing, as a stiff breeze rippled through her silken
hair, startlingly white in the sun, that he'd held his ground and kept Lindsay
in his quarters, where she belonged, and not on deck, where she could tempt the
very devil.

"So, Captain, what do you think? I'm quite pleased
myself. I never dreamed men's clothes could be so comfortable."

Her sparkling blue eyes lifting to his, Jared could see
plainly that her pleasure was genuine, while he felt as if he didn't trust
himself to speak.

What did he
think?
Was the wench daft? Blind? Couldn't she see . . . even sense . . . ?

Walker clearing his throat was Jared's rescue, though
his compatriot's voice held no small trace of humor.

"I think, Miss Somerset, that you might have Dag
accompany you around the ship and then return you to your cabin—"

"That won't be necessary. I'll accompany her."

Lindsay gasped, Jared taking her arm so abruptly and
hauling her alongside him to the companionway that she practically had to run
to keep up.

"You—you don't have to rush so!"

"No, Miss Somerset? Has it slipped your mind that
I've a ship to captain, my time not to be frittered away escorting a
prisoner
on a ridiculous promenade?"

His tone was so harsh, Lindsay felt much of her delight
fading at being temporarily free of the cabin's confines, and she started when
he shouted brusque commands that
rang
from bow to
stern.

"Walker, see that the men continue their watch,
everyone's eyes on the sea.
Dammit
, we've ships to
hunt or they'll be hunting us! Dag, go below and get some rest. A rotating
detail will guard Miss Somerset from now on—to change every eight hours. And no
one enters the cabin but
Cooky
with her meals. Have I
made myself clear?"

Apparently Dag thought so. As Jared pulled her after
him down the ladder to the lower deck, impatiently grabbing her around the
waist to lift her clear of the last few steps, Lindsay glanced up to see the
big Norwegian hastening to leave the quarterdeck as well. And Walker was
ordering sailors to climb the rigging to keep a lookout, and then he turned
himself to study the distant horizon with a spyglass, making Lindsay marvel
that Jared's men were so quick to obey him.

Wondering what could have earned such loyalty in a man
so foul-tempered—although she imagined her presence was only making things
worse—she thought to tug her arm away from him as he hustled her along the deck's
perimeter. Then she remembered her determination to enjoy herself. The sun was
bright with not a cloud in the sky, the sea a deep, mesmerizing blue, the
weather surprisingly warm, so why not? With a deft move she wound her arm
through Jared's, ignoring his frown as she drew fresh salt air into her lungs
with great exaggeration.

"Ah, Jared, how lucky you are to be surrounded by
such wild beauty every day! I've rarely been on a ship before, only a few
times, and that was compliments of Captain Oliver
Trelawny
,
a good friend of
Corie's
. He has a fine ship, a
cutter called the
Fair Betty
, though
I haven't the faintest notion how he came upon the name. His wife's name is
Rebecca and his daughter's was Sophie, so it really doesn't make sense—"

"And what if I told you I've no bloody interest
whatsoever in whether you've ever been aboard a ship and what its name might
have been?"

Lindsay shrugged lightly, telling herself that she wasn't
going to take any unkind thing Jared said to heart; no, she simply wasn't, not
anymore. "I don't understand at all how you can be so sour on such a
glorious day." She grinned when his frown only grew deeper. "I feel
wonderful and these breeches are so remarkable! I'm certain more women would
wear them if they'd just give them a try."

"Give them a try? That would be a revolution I
doubt the world—or its unsuspecting male population—is quite ready for."

She glanced at him, as astonished by his lighter,
albeit sarcastic, tone as that he had finally slowed his pace to what could be
considered a comfortable walk.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. What would happen to
all the poor dressmakers and corset makers— Oh, Jared, I think I just saw a
fish jump! A big silvery one!"

Lindsay let go of his arm and ran to the railing, where
she scanned the glistening waves. She was so engrossed that she scarcely
realized Jared had come up beside her until she felt his hip grazing hers. Heat
flared in her cheeks and she turned her head to find he wasn't looking for any
fish but was studying her intently.

"Does it really take so little to delight you?"

She gave a small shrug, his scrutiny coming very close
to unnerving
her,
his eyes were so incredibly blue in
the sunlight. But she sensed no malice in his query which made it easy to
answer candidly. "I suppose. I've always loved sunny days—we have a lot of
them in Cornwall. I missed that in London, but I liked the damp and fog, too.
And all the people and the bustle of the place. It was so big and grand."

"Did you like Tom's Cellar?"

She laughed, tilting her head. "Truly?"

At his nod, she flushed, wondering why he would want to
know.

"Well, not at first. The noise, the smoke, but I
grew used to it. It reminded me of the
Trelawnys
' inn
in
Porthleven
, actually, and that was often a merry
place."

"So you had been to a tavern before?"

"A few times, yes—"

"I should have known. A young woman who freely
admitted to sneaking from her father's house at all hours?
No
wonder the blasted place didn't upset you."

Jared's tone sarcastic again, Lindsay nonetheless did
not allow it to daunt her. "That's not entirely true. I did feel sorry for
that doctor everyone was teasing."

"Dr. Foote."

"Yes, poor man. But I didn't want you to think I
wasn't enjoying myself, because I was, truly. It was so wonderful to be with
you, yet I—"

"Damnation, woman, I thought we were done with
that romantic nonsense! Remember, no games, no illusions? Have you learned
nothing yet from what's happened to you?"

Lindsay stared at him, stunned and doing her best to
swallow the sudden lump in her throat. "You . . . didn't allow me to finish.
I didn't know then you weren't a spy."

"And what if I had been? I've never met any other
young woman willing to risk life and reputation to follow me into
God-knows-what danger, only you! You'd have done better to pen your ridiculous
dreams and fantasies onto paper and sell them as Gothic novels than to come
after the likes of me—"

"My dreams aren't ridiculous!" Realizing she
had shouted, Lindsay also knew she didn't care, she was so angry and hurt, too,
tears jumping to her eyes. "Who are you to judge anything about me? You
don't know me any better than I know you, yet you have the gall to—to—"
She spun around to the railing, the lump grown so big that she couldn't swallow
it down or finish what she'd meant to say. Instead she stared blindly at the
waves, her joy in the morning all but fled.

So much for not allowing Jared to upset her. So much
for not taking anything he said to heart.

"Lindsay."

She brushed at her wet eyes with the palm of her hand,
not answering.

"Lindsay, it's true. I have no right to judge you."

Still she didn't answer. Even when she heard him sigh,
she refused to look at him.

"Be angry if you will, but I've simply tried to
impress upon you that your dreams have gotten you into trouble. Could get you
into more trouble. You're too trusting—"

"Oh, and what was I supposed to think when I heard
you were a military spy? That it wasn't true, when obviously everyone else in
London believes it, too?"

"A rumor easily started and then circulated by
frivolous, idle people to explain my sudden appearances and
disappearances—quite credible, I'm pleased to say. The ton is so preoccupied
with its own bloody amusements that it pays little heed to what is truly
happening in the world, anyway."

His voice had grown undeniably bitter. Lindsay hazarded
a glance to find him looking not at her but down at his hands, which were
balled into fists. But it was his expression that drew her, his handsome face
appearing almost haggard, as if some secret pain had been exposed. Touched in
spite of herself, she felt some of her hurt melting away.

"But they're paying heed now, Jared. I heard more
talk of the Phoenix than anything else in London, and with the reward—"

"They'd sooner think I had left to capture him
myself than guess at the truth. Besides, the fools believe the Phoenix to be
American, and never would they think him so bold as to frequent their parties,
their insufferable balls."

"Funny, I thought they were insufferable, too. At
least until I met you at the
Oglethorpes
'—"

Lindsay fell abruptly silent, realizing when Jared met
her eyes that she was talking in circles. And she had no wish to hear him
attack her again about how foolishly romantic she was, or to hear him reveal
any more of himself to her, either.

Fearing the more she knew about him, the less likely she
might be able to convince him to release her, she set off along the deck, not
surprised when he caught up with her and grabbed her arm. This time she tried
to wrest herself free, but he held her fast; she'd become a prisoner to him
again, which stung her as much as anything he'd said.