Pirate of My Heart: A Novel (5 page)

John only shot her a knowing smile and murmured, “So I noticed. I do believe, my dear lady, that this voyage is going to be very interesting.”

Kendra paced the short breadth of the cabin she had so impulsively confined herself to. She did hope that the nice man, John Lucas, would come back for the promised tour of the ship. And where were her trunks? For goodness sake, the captain was right behind them when she boarded. They held all of her belongings in the world and she wasn’t about to let the ship sail without them.

Peeping out the door, she looked down the narrow passageway. A man was just going out of sight around a corner.

“Excuse me, sir,” she called out, waving her arm.

The man turned around and then gaped at her with slack-jawed astonishment.

“I’m looking for my trunks. Could you be so kind as to check with the captain as to their whereabouts?”

“Three big trunks? We just carried them up to the first mate’s bunk. But I’ll let the captain know you’re wantin’ them, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Well, if she didn’t quite have the nerve to search the ship for the elusive captain, at least she could get a message to him, and she felt better just knowing her things were on board. Kendra shut the door and studied the room. It was something of a surprise—elegant and well appointed, complete with a high feather bed and satin counterpane the color of thick cream. There was a mahogany writing desk and chair in the corner and a rectangular table made of a peculiar light-colored wood with two matching chairs that looked as if it had come from some exotic island. The cabin would be well-lit at night with plenty of candles in elegant silver candlesticks and an oil lamp of modern design on the desk. Bookshelves lined the walls where, after a quick perusal, she found a few novels such as
Robinson Crusoe
, a book of fables, and poetic titles roaming between volumes on natural history and nautical interests.

Walking to the lamp, Kendra lit the wick to better illuminate the room. She was surprised to find that the furniture was secured to the floor, but as the ship rocked to one side, nearly knocking her off balance, she realized the wisdom in this. She carried the lantern to a table beside the most lavish piece of furniture in the room, a deep-shelved armoire. She opened it, her hand gliding across the enameled brown and gold doors to find it full of the captain’s clothes.

Before she had time to stop and think what she was doing she had pulled out a crisp, white shirt. It unfolded itself in a neat motion and hung from her fingertips. She held it closer, closed her eyes, and breathed in the captain’s scent—brine and wind, the sea, male—her insides slid and a melting feeling washed over her.

Goodness gracious! She balled the shirt up, threw it toward the back of the armoire, and slammed the door shut. What had gotten into her? She must, at all costs, avoid this captain of the
Angelina
!

Kendra woke early the next morning and wandered out onto the deck of the ship. She stood at the railing letting the gentle breeze soothe her rattled mind and body. Yesterday she had stubbornly remained in the cabin and missed their departure, which she regretted now. It could have been her last view of her homeland and she had let that infuriating captain keep her hibernated in the stuffy cabin. Well, that wouldn’t happen again.

She looked down at the endless lapping waves of the sea against the hull of the ship and breathed deeply of the salt-laden air, but her calm was unsettled due to the prickling sensation that she was being gawked at. Kendra glanced around and couldn’t help but notice all the stares she was receiving from the men who stood in various positions of pretending to work behind her.

Dorian watched, transfixed, as Lady Townsend approached the railing of his ship,
his ship,
with a mixture of awe and anxiety churning in his stomach. The sun shone bright on her uncovered head. She was wearing the plum dress but this time her hat dangled from her hand, feathers trailing the wood boards of the deck that had been scoured with sand until they were almost white. She raised her hand to her eyes and looked out over the endless gray waves to the sunrise. The light was rosy on her face, making her hair come alive with glints of gold.

He expelled a breath and then clenched his jaw closed as he realized he’d been holding it in. His view couldn’t be better, directly above her on the quarterdeck. It also afforded him a bird’s-eye view of his crew. As reality returned to him, the commotion she was causing with his men became evident. Anger flared into his cheeks.
Get control, man. And get control of this ship!

His booted steps rang out on the wooden stairs as he marched down to her side. He came up behind her, leaned in, and rasped out in a quick staccato in a voice that never failed to cause his men to pale with fear and rush to obey. “I remember ordering you to remain in your cabin.” He took a firm grasp on her elbow.

She swung toward him, her violet gaze a rapier’s thrust. The nearness of her, the touch of the silky skin of her upper arm left him rolling, reeling, like a rowboat in the midst of rising thirty-foot waves. Her gaze narrowed at his tone. “But my dear captain, since you ignored my message last night I was forced to search you out myself and find the whereabouts of the mysterious disappearance of my trunks.” Her voice lowered to a soft purr. “It seems you only deem yourself worthy of their care.”

Dorian bit his tongue, shoved what he wanted to say back down inside, and took a step back. The woman was enough to make a saint curse. “If it’s only trunks that you seek, then by all means, we will fetch them this instant.”

He turned away to order the trunks delivered to her.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. It was a mere brush of a touch but it seared his skin and his muscles jumped where her fingertips encountered his upper arm. It took him a moment to be able to concentrate on her tirade.

“Captain, let us come to an understanding. I will not be locked up in a stuffy cabin during the entire voyage. You cannot treat me like a prisoner. I am a paid passenger and expect a passenger’s rights.”

Dorian found himself gazing at her fast-moving lips, thinking how he would like to take her into his arms and kiss her silent. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sensation that someone had stuffed his mind with wool. “This, Lady Townsend, is not a passenger ship. Therefore you have no rights. I am captain of this ship and you will obey my orders like the rest of this crew.” When she opened her mouth to argue, Dorian cut her off. “This is for your own good. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the attention you are receiving from my men.” Her stunning eyes widened at the statement but he didn’t believe her. She must be aware of her feminine charms. “I will not have my men distracted from their duties to satisfy the vanity of a spoiled English
lady
.”

Kendra gasped as if she’d been slapped. “Your opinion is formed from your vast experience with the ton, I presume? Why, I’m quite certain a man like yourself”—she allowed her glance to flick down to his feet and then back up to his furious gaze with all the condescension she’d seen her uncle Andrew flay someone alive with—“has attended any number of social events with the aristocracy. Next, you’ll be telling me you are on excellent terms with the king. Ha. You’re little but a heathen and a-a
American
pirate!” As soon as the words flew from her mouth she stopped, eyes widening as shame filled her.
Lord, forgive me. I don’t know what’s come over me!

It’s not My forgiveness that you need to seek.
The words thundered in her ears as her face filled with heat. Taking a step back she bit her lower lip and peeked up at the captain’s face, which had turned ashen with shock and anger. “I’m sorry. That was ill played of me.” Kendra looked at the floor, at his boots, and thought she quite deserved to have to polish them. Maybe if she offered . . .

When he didn’t say anything, just stood there as one frozen with the shock of her audacity, she began to babble. “Of course I don’t want to cause any trouble, and I had no idea that I was, uh, doing that, you must believe me. But really, I cannot possibly be confined to that cabin all of the time. Isn’t there some arrangement we can make so that I can go above to get some fresh air, properly escorted, of course?”

“I keep a sparse crew. There is no one aboard this ship who can give you a
proper
escort,” the captain said with a dry note lacing his deep voice.

“Not even yourself?”

“I am quite busy running this ship and I don’t have time to escort a woman on strolls.” But he sounded uncertain. The captain took a step toward her and searched her eyes. Kendra met his gaze and held it, waiting, knowing he was battling with the decision of what to do with her. His face changed from stiff and stoic to resigned. “As I can see that you are trying to be reasonable and compromise, I would be willing to escort you above in the early morning and after dinner when most of my men are not on deck. That is, if you don’t sleep well into the morning as most English ladies are apt to do.”

Oh! Had there ever been a man more provoking?
Patience!
She took a deep breath and said in as calm a voice as she could manage, “I will have you know that I am up before the servants and will be dressed and ready at any time you wish.”

The captain gave her an assessing look then turned to leave.

“What about my trunks?” Kendra asked after him.

He paused but did not turn to look at her. “Go to your cabin, Lady Townsend. I will have them brought to you immediately.”

Her heart pounded as she hurried to the cabin. As soon as the door closed Kendra fell back on the bed with a groan. Had she really called him a heathen pirate to his face? She grimaced at the outrageousness of her insult, remembering how those silver-blue eyes held her caught and confused. The power he had to make her angry and giddy, hot and cold at the same time, was distressing. He was like no one she’d ever met.

Shaking her head, she tried to put some sense to her thoughts. She needed to be planning her future not daydreaming about an arrogant captain. He was part of her problem anyway. If he hadn’t been so eager to take her as a passenger aboard this ship, she might have had more time to try and convince Andrew to let her stay home and stay unmarried. Why had Andrew been so stubborn and determined to get her out of his life? That was a question she had no answer for.

She rolled over and curled into a ball, grasping the elegant coverlet with one hand. If only she had someone to talk to about these rollicking emotions. The gaping hole in her chest expanded and ached as she thought of her father. She had always been able to talk to him about anything.

A psalm came to her mind:
“A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.” Oh Lord, I need that right now. Please be my Father and guide me. Help me control my tongue around that man. Help me behave in a way pleasing to You. I’ve never felt this way before. He makes me so . . . mad and frustrated and . . . thrilled and excited, all at the same time. What is happening to me?

Chapter Five

D
orian hurried through his dinner in anticipation of his duties as escort. He watched himself with self-loathing as he shoveled in the food on his plate at record pace but he couldn’t seem to help it. There was a growing anticipation, like when dark clouds swirled and the waves began to heave, at the thought of seeing her again that he had never had with a woman before. What was it about her that held him captive, like moth to flame? He’d never been the moth; he had always been the flame. Women had tried to ensnare him for years, using every trick in the book. But none of them had ever made his heart pound as it did when he was sparring with the sharp-witted Lady Townsend.

Minutes later Dorian stood outside her door,
his
door, he corrected with a flash of irritation, took a short breath, and knocked.

“Come in,” her sweet voice called.

He opened the door, feeling large and clumsy as he entered the cabin. His voice came out in gruff disharmony to hers, “Are you ready for your fresh air?”

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to come tonight, but I would love to get out of this cabin for a little while. Do you think we shall see the sunset? I do imagine that the best parts of sailing are the sunrise and sunset.” She flashed him a brilliant smile that gave his knees a strange weakness. He barely heard her feminine chatter.

He cleared his throat, noticing the simple blue gown and low-scooped neckline. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from her rising and falling bosom. He cleared his throat again and turned his head toward the wall. “The wind is a bit cool tonight, you should take a cloak.”

“Yes, of course. I imagine the wind blowing off the cold Atlantic can be quite chilly at night, even in the summertime. I have so much to learn about ship life. Have you been sailing long?” It would seem she wanted to start anew and had forgiven his earlier comments. She reached for a blue satin cloak that was hanging on one of the hooks beside his bed as the stream of chatter continued.

Dorian stepped forward to fasten it for her, a movement of habit, as he would have done with his mother or sisters. He didn’t consider the differences of what he was doing until he was near enough to smell the light scent of some floral fragrance she must have applied. He didn’t usually care a jot about perfume, thinking it more a nuisance than an attraction, but something about the mix of lavender and mint perhaps, he wasn’t sure what it was, was pleasing to his senses. “Here, let me help you with that.”

Lady Townsend hesitated for a second, her gaze assessing, and then gave him a thoughtful smile and handed him the cloak. She turned, her hands reaching up by the slim column of her neck to grasp for it. Dorian’s hands just brushed across the cool skin of her neck before she grasped the ties and took a step away, but he was certain he’d heard a tight gasp when he touched her. She turned toward him, her face becoming pink, her gaze darting about the room, roving on anything but him.

Dorian held out his arm. “Shall we, my lady?”

Lady Townsend bit her lower lip with little white teeth and then took his arm, her prattle ceasing with the tension.

Minutes later they had traversed the narrow hall, climbed the stairs to the top deck of the ship, and were standing side by side at the railing. Dorian searched for a topic of conversation to get her mind off what had happened in the cabin and restore some semblance of normalcy to their outing. “Was the man who was with you when you boarded really your uncle?”

“Yes, he was my father’s twin brother.”

“Was?”

“My father died over a year ago.” As she said it a great heaviness seemed to fall upon her. Her slim shoulders drooped; she looked down and gazed into the lapping gray water.

She appeared so forlorn, standing there rubbing the backs of her arms as if to ward off the chill her words had caused. He fought the astounding urge that filled him—to take her into his arms and comfort her. Instead, he murmured, “I’m sorry, my lady. I am very close to my parents and can’t imagine the day when they will no longer be with me. It must be difficult for you.”

She looked up at him with a small, sad smile. There was a look of honesty and vulnerability in her face, glowing with the last rays of the sun, that took his breath away.

“Yes, it is. Thank you. And Captain. Please, call me Kendra. I find the phrase ‘my lady’ coming from you sounds more an insult than an honored title.”

She said it with soft humor, causing Dorian to look down and laugh. “Thank you, Kendra, I am honored. You, of course, must call me Captain, as I like hearing that word in your lilting English accent.”

Kendra smiled back at him with compressed lips and sparkling eyes. “That hardly seems fair, sir. Am I not to be included as a friend and an equal?”

“An equal? Why, my dear Kendra, no one is equal to the captain. If they were, chaos and anarchy would rule the high seas.”

The little minx flashed white teeth at him and bowed her head in acquiescence. “I see your point. Let us hope we don’t run into each other on land, as then I will expect to be told your given name.”

“Ah, yes. You travel to the countryside beyond Yorktown to nurse your aunt back to health?”

Kendra’s gaze snapped to his, confusion evident in her eyes. “To my knowledge, sir, my aunt is in perfect health.”

Dorian’s brows came together as he explained, “But your uncle told John that she is ill and in need of your care. We assumed that was the reason for your hasty departure and one of the reasons John agreed to taking on a passenger.”

Kendra looked away, but Dorian could see her rapidly batting lashes. That she was trying not to cry made him want to drive his fist into her uncle’s handsome face. “My uncle lied.” Her voice was shaky but angry too. “After my father died he tried to marry me off, and when that plan proved unsuccessful he made arrangements to ship me to my aunt, whom I have never met and know next to nothing about. You can see how badly he wanted rid of me.” A hiccup of sound came from her throat as she stared at something off in the distance.

Dorian’s arm strained to reach for her, but instead he kept it tight to his side. “The brute deserves to walk the plank,” he said in his best pirate voice, trying to distract her.

She made a choked little laugh and turned to look at him. Had anyone held her since her father’s death? Had anyone helped her with her grief? He thought of his large, happy family and found himself overcome with feelings of profound thankfulness and chagrin. He had so much love from family and friends, people who cared and doted on him . . . and he took it very much for granted. This brave, impish young woman seemed to have no one.

He took a step toward her, staring at the sunset with her. Her skirt brushed against his legs as he turned and looked down into her eyes. He smiled a slow smile. She was holding her breath and he could see her pulse throb at her throat. He lifted one hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek.

She swallowed hard, eyes wide. “Pirate.” She whispered.

Dorian’s grin deepened. “I can assure you, madam, that my business dealings are all above board. I’ve had fights with true pirates, though.” He lifted one brow and pressed his lips together in a grim smile. “Stories that would curl your toes.”

The motion of the waves caused the ship to dip. Kendra tumbled into his chest where his automatic response was to wrap his arms around her to keep her from falling. “Oh!” she yelped, and then sprang back with a gasp. She looked up at him with wide eyes, yanked her arms from his grasp. “I think I should retire now,” she rushed out. “Thank you for the walk, Captain.” She turned and fled from the deck, skirts swaying in her effort to take herself back to the cabin.

Dorian stood where she left him for a long time, gripping the rail and allowing the night air to cool his heated blood. She’d bewitched him. He barked out a laugh and turned to stare out at the cresting waves of endless sea. He’d been wrong to withhold his name from her.

After this night, perhaps he should be calling
her
captain.