Sea of Desire (38 page)

She’d almost begun to think of him as
invincible, till her gaze focused. “My God, what happened to you?”
Merideth’s eyes widened, and she leaped from the padded bench.

“ ‘Tis nothing. I’m fine.”

“Fine! Fine?” The captain stood, his muscular
legs spread against the sway of the ship, his jacket gone, his once
white shirt in shreds. The left sleeve was stained a rusty red, and
the arm inside it hung limply at his side.

When Merideth grabbed for his hand, the lines
etched about his sensual mouth deepened. “Ouch, dammit! Is this how
you minister to the wounded down in the surgery?”

“No, but then they have the sense to come
below rather than bleed to death.”

“I was never in danger of bleeding to death,
Merry.”

His use of her pet name was surprising, but
she made no comment, for the captain didn’t seem to realize what
he’d said. But the endearment, for that’s how she viewed it,
softened Merideth’s tone. “Come sit on the bunk and let me
see.”

He looked at her, his green eyes shaded with
suspicion and something else Merideth couldn’t read. But he
followed as she took his right hand and guided him toward the bed.
Once the captain, grunting with relief, was settled on the
mattress, Merideth carefully peeled the tattered linen from his
shoulders. It smelled of gunpowder and sweat, and it bore the
coppery scent of blood.

The cords of muscles across his shoulders and
down the length of his arms tightened when she tried to unstick the
cloth from his wound. And bright crimson mingled with the dark rust
stain.

“Christ, Merideth,” he hissed, yanking his
arm from her hands.

“Be still.” Straddling his bent leg, Merideth
clutched his elbow. She narrowed her eyes, examining the blood,
crusted and fresh, that covered his upper arm.

“But the damn thing hurts,” Jared
insisted.

“I know that.”

“Well, you don’t act like you know it.”

Merideth just stared at him. It was all she
could do to keep from crying and throwing herself at his feet. Her
hands trembled from the effort of being brave and trying to help
him when she thought of what might have happened.

The wound wasn’t mortal, that was apparent,
but it could have been. And she wanted to plead with him to never
put himself in such danger again.

But that was ridiculous. That was his
life.

“Come over to the bucket,” she finally said,
and knelt on the deck when he did. Using the torn shred of his
shirt, she sponged water down his shoulder, biting her bottom lip
when his teeth clenched.

“How did this happen?” she asked when the
wound was free of material. She could now see the angry, swollen
slash starting near his shoulder and slanting down toward his
elbow.

“Saber fight. The damn British captain was
reluctant to surrender.”

“And I suppose you wouldn’t have been.”

“I didn’t lose, Merry,” he said, grinning,
his teeth shining white in his dirt-streaked face.

Oh, but you could have, Merideth thought,
though she didn’t say it. She patted his arm dry and motioned for
him to resume his seat on the bunk. “Did you kill him?”

“Nay. A saber point to his throat convinced
him the battle was over. He’s locked in his own brig, and a prize
crew is aboard... What the hell are you doing?”

“Threading a needle.” Merideth held her
fingers to the lantern and squinted.

“What the hell for?”

“If I don’t sew your arm, there’ll be a
scar.”

“I’ve my share of scars anyway. Now wait a
minute, Merideth, I’ve no desire for you to go at me with that
needle.”

“Yet you allow someone to go at you with a
saber.”

“That’s different. ‘Tis war.”

“Then consider this the price you pay. Now
give me your arm and don’t make a fuss.”

He didn’t fuss, though beads of sweat broke
out on his forehead and upper lip, where the whiskers were black
and coarse. When she finished, Merideth brushed back the raven hair
that had come loose from its queue during the battle.

“Would you like some dinner? The galley fires
must be relit by now.” Her own evening meal had consisted of sea
biscuits and cold pork because the cook had not yet relit the
flames he’d doused when the battle began.

“Nay.” Jared stretched his long legs out on
the bunk. “I could use a bit of whiskey.” He motioned with his free
hand. “In the chest over there.”

After finding the bottle among stacks of
books, Merideth poured enough to cover the bottom of a pewter cup.
His brow arched questioningly when she handed him the paltry
amount. “Are you rationing me my own whiskey?”

“What? Oh, no.” Merideth shook her head,
trying to rid her mind of the memories the smell conjured up. “It’s
just, that my father drank whiskey. Quite a lot of whiskey,
actually. He was... not pleasant to be around...”

“I’m not your father, Merideth. I don’t abuse
drink.”

She knew that. Apparently the bottle, near
three-quarters full, had been in his sea chest all the while she’d
been on board the
Carolina
, and she hadn’t seen him drink
from it. Carrying the amber bottle, Merideth moved toward the bunk.
She hesitated, then held it out to him.

“ ‘Tis all right.” Jared swallowed the fiery
liquid. “I think I need rest more than liquor anyway.”

Merideth removed his boot, then helped him
wipe his face clean and shrug out of his breeches. When he was
beneath the covers she blew out the lantern.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” he asked, his
voice soft in the darkness.

Without another thought Merideth pulled the
shift over her head and carefully climbed into the bunk. She
snuggled into his good arm and pressed her body to his.

The following weeks were the, best Merideth
could ever remember. In spite of being on an enemy ship. In spite
of the fact that she didn’t know what the future would bring. Or
maybe it was more that she did know. At least she knew it would
bring her unhappiness. So she tried to enjoy every minute.

The weather was perfect, clear skies and
freshening winds. The war seemed far away. Not an enemy vessel
crossed the
Carolina
’s bow. And the captain himself was
agreeable.

At first she thought he spent more time with
her in the cabin because of his wound. But only a few days after
the battle, he proved to her that he could do, and do well, most
everything he’d done before.

She woke early and, being full of energy,
decided to take a stroll on deck so as not to disturb him. She had
just pulled a saffron-colored gown over her head when she heard his
voice.

“What are you about so early?”

“Oh.” Merideth’s head popped through the neck
of the dress and she smoothed the bodice over her ribs. “I didn’t
mean to wake you. I’m getting dressed.”

He slowly shook his head and the sight of his
heavily lidded, sleepy eyes and tousled hair fired her blood. “But
I thought I’d go on deck—”

“Take it off, Merry.”

Swallowing her breath coming in shallow
gasps, Merideth met his eyes. “The gown?”

“Aye, the gown. Take it off.”

She did, slowly slipping it down over one
shoulder, then the other. If the cabin was chilled, she no longer
noticed, for the heat of his stare left her burning. The silk fell
about her ankles in a soft whisper.

“Now the shift,” he said, propping his shaggy
black head on the bend of his elbow.

Releasing the drawstring between her breasts,
Merideth let the thin fabric glide down her body. When she stood
before him, naked and drunk with desire, she watched as his eyes
wandered over her.

Her breasts, their nipples rucked and ripe,
swelled beneath his gaze. Her pulse quickened when his eyes strayed
lower.

“Come here, Merry.” His voice was low and as
rich as black velvet.

“What of your wound?” Merideth moved
forward.

“ ‘Tis another part of me that aches far
worse than any arm.” He glanced down to where the blanket tented
below his waist.

With a flick of her wrist, Merideth flipped
the wool aside. He lay gloriously naked, swirls of midnight-black
hair cradling his large, swollen manhood. He let her look her fill
before reaching up and grabbing her

“Come, Merry,” was all he said as he pulled
her down to mount him.

“He was fascinated by plants.”

“Who?” They were sitting in the window seat
one evening as dusk turned the sea and sky dark. Merideth’s feet
were in the captain’s lap, and he idly traced the curve of her
instep.

“My brother. He was a fellow of the Royal
Society, and he studied how flowers reproduce.”

“Really.” This was the first he’d mentioned
his twin since the truce between them began, and Merideth feared it
might be the end of it. She didn’t know what she’d do if he began
accusing her of betraying John Blackstone.

“He was a genius. But then so were my
parents. Both of them studied nature and kept journals full of
observations. My father was in the Royal Society too.”

“You’re very smart,” Merideth said in defense
of the man she was growing to love more each day.

He simply snorted as his eyes met hers.
“Clever maybe, but not smart like they were. They were the kind of
people who leave their mark on the world. Like Dr. Franklin.”

“I still think—”

He leaned forward then, brushing his lips
across hers to silence her protest.

“I’m a sea captain, Merry. Nothing more.”

“Tim thinks you can do no wrong.”

Merideth stood beside Jared on the leeward
deck. She smiled up at him when he glanced down in surprise.

“He’s a fine lad.”

“Mmmm,” Merideth agreed. “He told me how you
found him on the docks after he ran away from the poorhouse at St.
Philip’s. How you took him in.”

“I needed a cabin boy.”

“Tim said Skeeter was your cabin boy and you
promoted him to sailor.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you
implying?”

Merideth shrugged. “Not a thing.” She ran her
finger along the polished rail. “He also says you teach him all
about navigation. That you’re an expert.”

“There are experts and there are experts,”
Jared said, draping his arm around Merideth. After a fortnight it
was almost as good as new. “Seeing that Tim knew nothing about the
subject, I would think anyone would seem knowledgeable.”

“He says the entire crew thinks you’re the
greatest captain ever.”

Jared turned to face her, his countenance
sober. “Don’t make me out to be a saint, Merry. For believe me,
‘tis far from the truth. What?” He jerked around to look in the
direction she pointed. “What is it?”

“A gull,” Merideth said, her heart heavy. “We
must be close to land.”

“We are. Have been for days. I’ve been
waiting for the moon to wane so we can slip past any British ships
that might be blockading the port.”