The Captain's Caress (14 page)

Brent eyed the two of them, a frown gathering on his forehead. “A little more of this, and I’ll set you both adrift. I have a position to maintain in the eyes of the crew.”

“If you didn’t look like one of them, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.” Summer let her eyes wander over him with leisurely nonchalance, hoping that they didn’t show how powerfully his presence affected her. “Of course there are some things that clothes can never do, but when it comes to conveying rank and station, they are an absolute necessity.”

“I’ll remember that when I feel the need to make a good impression,” Brent responded coolly. “But right now we’re wasting time.” He walked away, and Summer had to tear her eyes from him. How could she get him out of her heart when she couldn’t keep from staring at him?

“First set of runners,” Smith called out, and three young men of nearly the same size and age lined up at the line drawn on the planks of the deck.

“You all know the rules,” he said. “Start at the sound of the pistol and run four times around the deck. Remember to stay outside the red barrels. Anyone going inside is automatically disqualified. You can cross over in front of a runner as long as you’re far enough ahead not to impede his race. The winner qualifies for the next race. That clear?” The three nodded. They were impatient to begin. “Are you ready?” called Smith, and they knelt at the line. “Get set. Go!”

The last word was punctuated by the loud report of a pistol, and the three men sprinted toward the bow of the ship. The outside runner, shorter and lower to the ground than the others, made a faster start and was able to cross over to the inside before they reached the first turn. It was a sharp bend that doubled back almost one hundred and eighty degrees in three or four strides. The runners slowed abruptly to keep from colliding with the rail, then accelerated quickly, the shortest man still in the lead. They rounded the broader turn at the stern at a faster pace and pounded past the starting line for the first time, about two yards apart.

The order remained unchanged during the second circuit, but during the third, the trailing runners began to close the gap. They fell back on the turn coming onto the last full circuit, but made a supreme effort to pass the leader before the short run to the bow. Once again the leader held his place. On the far side the second-place runner was passed by the last runner, who ran up to the leader’s heels just as they made the final turn. He angled out from behind the leader two strides before they hit the stretch so that when they straightened out he was only a yard behind with a clear shot to win.

Not daring to even glance at the men coming toward her, Summer stood at the finish line, her eyes fixed on the spot where they would cross it. She didn’t want to be involved in the contest, she just wanted to see which color passed the line first. She heard the thunder of their sturdy feet pounding toward her, and her heart beat faster and faster. “Oh please, don’t let me get it wrong,” she pleaded softly. Then a blur of color passed before her eyes, and she called, “Green!” loud and clear. Summer had just called her first race.

“You won’t get a closer race than that, and you got it right on the button.”

She hadn’t noticed Brent come up behind her during the last lap.

“Thank you,” she said, beaming with pride in spite of her effort to remain cool. When he looked at her like that, it was impossible to think of anything except the color of his eyes.

“Why don’t you watch the beginning of the next race with me?”

“I’d better stay here,” she decided. “I’ll get too excited if I watch the whole race.” She didn’t add that his physical presence would destroy her concentration as it was doing at the moment. She pretended to close her eyes against the glare of the sun, but the image of mighty limbs and a tanned torso was burned into her memory. Just knowing he was within inches of her fingertips was enough to bring a flush to her cheeks.

The winner of the heat came up to receive congratulations from the captain. Summer smiled and offered him her hand. The poor man was exhausted, but his shining eyes bespoke his pleasure in the captain’s words and his delight in being able to touch Summer’s dainty hand.

“If you smile like that at every winner, they’re all going to knock themselves out trying to win,” Brent barked, heedless of listening ears. “I can’t afford to have good men disabled.” He sounded disgruntled.

“I’ll do my best not to overexcite them,” Summer snapped. “It’s a shame it won’t work on you,” she added.

“Has just the opposite effect, doesn’t it?”

Summer turned her back on him, not daring to meet his laughing eyes. “Not even a dunking in the Arctic Ocean could cool you down,” she said, hoping the sting of her words would wipe the smirk off his face, but Brent grinned even more broadly.

“If I had you to keep me warm, I could melt the whole polar cap.” He looked at the thrusting curves of her breasts, the outline of her hips and thighs as the wind molded her dress to her body. “With the sight you’re affording us right now, we may overheat long before noon.”

Summer tried to pull her thin dress away from her body, but it only whipped more tightly about her legs. Brent’s crack of laughter did nothing to improve her temper, and all at once she found his presence less exciting. “I can’t concentrate on the next race when you are intentionally making me angry. Please go away.”

“Certainly, Countess.” He only called her Countess when he was angry or trying to aggravate her. “I can save it all for tonight when you’ll be able to concentrate on me alone.”

He whispered the last word in her ear before going over to the runner kneeling for the start of the second race.

“That man is a beast,” Summer said under her breath. “I don’t know why I let him taunt me like that. I’d like to shoot him.”

Bang! The pistol shot startled her. But three sets of feet pounding the planks of the deck reassured her that all was normal. All she had to do was keep track of the number of laps and then wait to see which color crossed the line first.

It was green again, but the race was easier because the winner came in a full yard before his closest opponent. The third race found Brent competing against the two tallest runners; he won easily after leading all the way.

“Where’s my blinding smile?” he asked, in a voice calculated to provoke her. “You can’t give me less than you give my crew.”

“I wish I didn’t have to give you any more than I give your crew,” she said in a low hiss.

“Captains always receive special treatment,” he retorted. Then he took her chin in his hand and forced her head up until her gold-flecked eyes met his azure blue ones. “And I intend to claim the winner’s privilege.”

She wrenched her face out of his grasp. “Don’t be too sure. You haven’t won yet.” The fire in her eyes matched the heat that coursed through her body.

“But I shall, Countess, I shall.” He chucked her under the chin and walked away, leaving her shaking with rage. She felt that she had been humiliated in front of the whole crew, and she burned with a desire to punish him. But before she could indulge in any wishful thinking, the pistol sounded and another three runners were pounding toward her. Maybe he’ll slip and crack his head, she thought savagely, but she didn’t put much faith in that idea.

The morning wore on, and contest followed contest. Teams competed for the best time in setting a sail, in taking one down, and in climbing the rigging and descending. There was a tug of war, a contest of brute strength in which contestants struggled to haul up the ship’s anchor, and there were many contests involving various weapons, some of which Summer had never seen. “Does anyone get hurt?” she asked Smith, as two men dueled with long swords whose curving blades flashed in the sun.

“Not often. The judging is based on skill in handling the weapon, not mere strength. If they inflict an injury they lose points or are disqualified. That shows a lack of control, both in the handling of the weapon and of the temper. And control is something the captain prizes.”

“Is everything the crew does planned according to the captain’s wishes?” she asked, revolted.

“Of course,” Smith replied. He was surprised that Summer would even think it necessary to ask such a question. “The captain’s word is law on any ship.”

“The captain, the captain, the
captain!
” she repeated, loathing in her voice. “I’ve heard that word until I’m sick of it!” She thought of his earlier treatment of her. “I’d have thought you’d have too much pride to give in to everything he says. Does everyone quiver and quake each time he opens his mouth?” Summer fought to keep a hold on her emotions; she hoped Smith wouldn’t see that a breaking heart was at the root of her angry tirade.

“I don’t think you understand the nature of the relationship between a ship’s crew and its captain,” Smith answered, at a loss to explain the vehemence of her outburst.

“I understand that not one of you has the backbone to stand up to that grinning bully.” The accumulated wrongs she’d experienced closed in on her, and she became so angry she started to shake. “You just say ‘Yes,
Captain’
and ‘Of
course
,
Captain,’
and then run off to do his bidding like good little boys.”

“As I said, you don’t understand how a captain and his crew work together.” Smith decided not to try to explain the complex relationship to Summer. “I doubt anyone can who hasn’t been to sea at least once.”

“If this is the result, I don’t want to understand it,” she said pettishly. She swept her arm around to indicate the whole ship, and nearly hit Brent across the chest. “Oh!” she gasped, and jerked her arm back to her side.

“Is the countess preaching sedition and trying to foment rebellion?” Brent chuckled.

“I was just trying to explain how a captain and his crew work together,” Smith explained.

“I’ll wager she didn’t understand,” Brent said. He smiled at Summer in that superior way that made her long to hit him. “I’m sure she feels that you indulge me too far, and take my commands with too much complacency.” Summer flushed deep red at the accuracy of his words. “She probably believes that a little well-timed opposition would do me a world of good, that it might even keep me from becoming too spoiled and set up in my own conceit.”

Summer started to turn away, but Brent grasped her wrist and forced her to look at him in the eye.

“Am I right?” he said, giving her that galvanizing glance that never failed to set her pulses racing.

“The countess did feel that the men might express themselves a little more freely,” Smith said smoothly. “But I pointed out that she would need to spend more time at sea before she could appreciate the relationship between a captain and his crew.”

“And what did the countess have to say about that?”

“At that point you came up, sir.”

“Too bad I didn’t wait a little longer. Her answer might have been very revealing.”

“As to that, sir, I wouldn’t venture to say,” remarked Smith.

“You’re a wise man, Smith. I suppose that’s why I put so much trust in you.”

“Thank you, sir. I deeply appreciate your confidence.”

“Be careful not to lay it on too thick,” Brent chuckled humorlessly. “You’ll have the countess fairly bursting with indignation. She might even accuse you of licking my hand like a whipped dog.”

Summer was so blazingly angry that she nearly gave utterance to the first incautious thought that came to her, but she managed to check her tongue. “I would never refer to Mr. Smith in anything like those terms,” she declared.

“What kind of words would you use to describe me?” Brent asked, his strong white teeth bared in a full smile and his enormous eyes twinkling with wicked pleasure.

“I wouldn’t demean myself by using the words capable of describing you.” Summer’s suppressed anger made her voice quiver. “But I can assure you I don’t share the crew’s feeling.”

“I’m glad of that,” Brent retorted. “I wouldn’t be able to turn my back if they felt like you. But then they’re sound men, of good moral character and well brought up. They’ve been trained in the common civilities, and have been taught to obey those who know more than they do.” He noted that Summer’s eyes nearly jumped out of her head at the intentional brutality of his words. “They understand loyalty, as well as how to exercise a little common sense. That does give them the advantage over you, doesn’t it, Countess?”

“Of all the loathsome, cruel things to say.” Summer’s entire body was shaking with fury. “You should be tied to a rack and pulled apart with hot tongs.”

“I would love to continue this conversation, but Smith thinks we should get on with our business.”

Smith studied his lists and didn’t look up at the mention of his name.

“And I have to get ready for the next event because I’m in it.”

“You despicable…”

“Don’t waste it all,” he said in an infuriating whisper, a knowing glint in his eye. “You can save the rest for tonight.”

Summer thought she would either die right there or break out into blood-curdling screams. Only Smith’s presence enabled her to keep from throwing herself at Brent and clawing his smirking face to ribbons.

The effort she made to control her wrath was so intense it was visible, but she turned to Smith and said in as normal a voice as possible, “We’re late. We’d better get started before the men begin to wonder what’s wrong.”