Sea of Desire (15 page)

“Aye, but John is dead.”

“And so I’m asking you. It’s important,
Jared.”

“So where are you now, Cousin Daniel?” Jared
mumbled to himself as he crossed the narrow street and walked along
the wharf. The warm air vibrated with the sound of mallets striking
hawsing irons, and it smelled of tar and salt water.

Morlaix was a favorite with Yankee
privateers, and the packed shipyard bore that out. Vessels in
various stages of repair and refitting lined the shore, their masts
pointing skyward like skeletal spires.

Jared spotted the
Carolina
, her
ocher-and-red hull, which made her resemble an innocent
merchantman, shining in the sun. It wasn’t till one noticed the
sharp, sleek lines of the hull that her true beauty came to light.
But that beauty was marred now, and Jared shook his head as he
realized again how much.

The crew had cleaned up the debris of
shattered railings and splintered spars, but the shorn mast left a
void. That and the hole in the hull made Jared recall how lucky
they’d been to escape the British cruisers. But their luck didn’t
seem to be holding out.

The
Carolina
would be land-bound for a
time... longer than Jared wished to be. And he didn’t know where to
find Daniel.

“Appears the lady’s had a rough time of it.”
Padriac came up beside Jared and stood for a moment. Like his
friend, he studied the schooner.

“Aye, she has.”

“But she’ll be good as new in no time.”

Not exactly how Jared would have described
it, but he nodded all the same. Together they walked toward the
gangplank.

“So, did you find your cousin ready to
question our little spy?”

“I didn’t find my cousin at all.” Jared
stepped aside as a tar carrying a bucket of treenails passed by.
“It seems he’s off to points unknown. At least his landlady
couldn’t tell me where he is.”

“What’s to be done with Lady Merideth?”
Padriac called as Jared strode across the deck toward the
hatch.

“A good question. A good question indeed,”
Jared called over his shoulder before climbing down the ladder. And
one he couldn’t honestly answer. Except to know he wished to be rid
of her. She wasn’t going to tell
him
a thing... she’d made
herself clear on that point. And if she was to do the Americans any
good at all, he needed to get her to someone she would talk to.

Daniel Wallis wasn’t available. That left one
man.

“Come in.” Merideth stopped pacing the small
cabin when the knock sounded. She was almost pleased to see Captain
Blackstone, which was ridiculous considering their distrust of each
other. But perhaps he would tell her what was going to happen to
her.

They’d been in port... a French port... for
several hours, and no one had told her a thing.

“He’s not in Morlaix.” Jared shrugged.
“Possibly not in France at all.”

“Who?” Merideth’s eyes narrowed when he
scowled at her.

“Your contact.”

Would he never cease this silly notion that
she was a traitor? Weary of even trying to explain, Merideth
sighed. “Pity.” Her tone was sarcastic, but in truth she was sorry
to hear the news. Perhaps a face-to-face meeting with this man
who’d told the captain she and her father were traitors was needed
before she could return to England. Unless, of course, Captain
Blackstone planned to release her because her so-called contact was
gone.

But Merideth didn’t think there was much
likelihood of that. Jared was leaning against the bulwark, his arms
crossed. He was staring at her. Despite all she’d been through at
his hands, Merideth had a foolish desire to smooth out her skirt
and straighten her hair. Not that either would do much to improve
her appearance. There were neither clean clothes nor pins to dress
her hair since her abduction from British soil. Add to that the
trials she’d been through, and Merideth imagined she was a sight
indeed.

She didn’t care, Merideth reminded herself as
she returned his stare. What the captain thought of her mattered
naught.

“I suppose we’ll be off to Paris, then,” he
said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

Paris. For a moment Merideth was a small girl
again, wanting more than anything for her father to take her with
him to the French capital. But she wasn’t eight, and the man before
her had most likely killed her father. Turning, Merideth settled
onto the window seat, almost afraid to ask, yet fearing the unknown
more. “What’s in Paris?”

“Not what...
who
. And the answer is
Dr. Franklin.”

Benjamin Franklin. Merideth had heard of that
colonial from her father. He’d been fascinated by Dr. Franklin’s
work with electricity, though Lord Alfred hadn’t completely
understood the concept. “What have I to do with Dr. Franklin?
Surely you don’t think that I—”

“I don’t know what to think anymore. Daniel
told me he was Franklin’s emissary. Daniel isn’t here.” Jared
shrugged as if he’d explained the situation... or as if it were
unexplainable. In either case he seemed tired of the subject and
their discussion, not bothering to answer her inquiry as to who
Daniel was. He only paused before taking his leave to order over
his shoulder, “Gather your things together. We’ll leave for Paris
on the morning post.”

Her laugh made him stop. “My things?”
Merideth mimicked. “Just what ‘things’ am I to gather?”

A scowl spread over Jared’s face as he looked
at her... really looked at her. He’d studied her on this voyage
more than he liked to admit, her face, the blue of her eyes, the
curve of her cheek. And her hair. God, how he loved to see the sun
shining in her hair.

But as his gaze drifted down over her form,
he noticed the torn, bloodstained gown instead of the womanly
curves beneath. What in the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t take
her to Paris like this. “Hmmm.” Jared cleared his throat to hide
his embarrassment. “I’ll send Tim out to fetch you something.”

“Tim?” Merideth questioned, but the captain
was already out the door. Leaning her head back, she decided it
didn’t matter. She doubted Tim was very accomplished at selecting
ladies’ apparel. But anything would suit so long as it was
clean.

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

Merideth tugged on the gown’s bodice. It did
no good. Her breasts still seemed ready to spill over the narrow
row of lace. The deep breath she took only made matters worse.
“Good heavens,” she whispered to herself on a moan.

Tim obviously had a penchant for bright
colors. The gown was a vivid red, with bright-blue swans
embroidered on the quilted underskirt. A dress to catch the eye if
ever there was one.

“Ain’t it a beauty?” Tim asked, obviously
pleased with his purchase. He’d come into the cabin after she’d
dressed, but so far Merideth didn’t have the nerve to let him see
the front.

“Yes, oh, yes it is.” Closing her eyes,
Merideth turned from the small looking glass the captain used for
shaving. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought. When Tim said
nothing, her lashes drifted open. She couldn’t help smiling at the
way the boy’s eyes bulged.

“I... I didn’t know it were so... so red,” he
mumbled, as his face turned nearly as bright as the gown.

When the knock sounded at the door, Tim
reached back and opened it without shifting his gaze from the
dress.

“Are you read—” Jared stepped into the cabin,
his mouth clamping shut when he saw her. What in the hell was she
doing dressed like a strumpet? A quick glance from Merideth to Tim
almost made him groan. What in the hell was he thinking, sending a
lad to buy her a gown?

Without a word, he strode to his sea chest. A
moment of rummaging and he pulled out a cloak. It was long and
black, obviously not made for a woman, but he heard Lady Merideth’s
sigh of relief when he swept it around her shoulders.

“We shall miss the coach if we don’t hurry,”
was all he said.

Merideth followed him off the gangplank,
doing her best not to trip over the hem of the too long cloak. With
an unexpected feeling of regret she stepped onto the wharf. To be
off Captain Blackstone’s ship should be a relief beyond words, but
as she glanced back to see Tim waving from the deck, she longed to
turn about and race back.

“Don’t be silly,” she admonished herself just
before stumbling over the long, fluttering hem. As she caught
herself before falling, Merideth decided it was fear of the unknown
that caused her foolish longing to return to the vessel. But unlike
her recent experience, this foray into the shadowy future would
hopefully be better. At least she wouldn’t have the pigheaded
captain to contend with. He’d made it perfectly clear he couldn’t
wait to be rid of her.

Jared paused to look around when he heard her
mumbling... grinning in spite of his ill humor. Lady Merideth—who
often, despite her angel face, managed to appear haughty—looked
comedic. Beautiful, Jared had to admit, but comedic all the same.
Again he chastised himself for not personally seeing to her attire.
He hadn’t much experience with buying ladies’ clothing, but he
could have done better than the trollop apparel she wore under his
cloak.

Slowing his pace, Jared offered his arm,
which she took after a moment’s hesitation.

The air was warm and humid, smelling of salt
water and the press of humanity. The cobblestones were uneven and
difficult to traverse while holding up the heavy cloak. Merideth
was tired and hot by the time they reached the courtyard of the inn
where they were to catch the coach to Paris. She welcomed the
chance to enter the cool, ivy-covered taproom and rest.

The barely perceptible hush of voices that
accompanied their entrance lasted only a moment. The captain seated
Merideth on a bench near the door and went to purchase their
passage. He returned with a short, rotund man who introduced
himself as Monsieur Gerald, the innkeeper. A smile creased his
fleshy face and his chins quivered as he asked how he might serve
her.

“Some tea, please.”

“Ah, tea for the lovely lady, and for the
gentleman, rum,” he said in his thickly accented English before
turning and yelling something in French to a serving girl. She
scurried to do his bidding so quickly that Merideth wondered if
Monsieur Gerald was as amiable as he seemed.

In any case, he appeared determined to stay
about, hovering over the captain and herself.

“Captain Blackstone tells me you are off to
see Dr. Franklin.”

“Yes, we are.”

“He is a wonderful man, Dr. Franklin. So
beloved by the French.”

“Yes, I suppose he is,” Merideth agreed.

“But then all Americans are. Especially men
like Captain Blackstone, the famous privateer.”

Merideth raised her brow at the innkeeper’s
description of her companion and saw the captain flush beneath his
sun-darkened skin.

Monsieur Gerald seemed not to notice. He went
on wringing his fat hands and grinning his insincere grin. “Captain
Blackstone has told me of Charles Town, his home in America. Are
you from the Carolinas also?”

“Actually, no. I live in England, Banistar
Hall. Captain Blackstone kidnapped me after killing my father.”

Merideth thought she could feel the air grow
still. Jared Blackstone, sitting across the small round table from
her, scowled, his jaw clenched so tight she could see a muscle jump
in his cheek. The little innkeeper glanced from one of them to the
other, seemingly at a loss as to how he should react. Then suddenly
he laughed, tentatively at first, then with more gusto.

“It is a joke,” he chortled. “You are making
light with me.”

Since Captain Blackstone was already
chuckling along with the innkeeper as if he saw humor in her words,
Merideth smiled. Obviously the innkeeper was so enamored of Captain
Blackstone he would not believe anything she said. Besides, she
doubted he could be much help against the captain. But that didn’t
mean she wouldn’t find someone later who could.