The Countess' Lucky Charm (9 page)

Rounding the bulwark, he found the source: Simone had found herself a card game with two of the crew members and was doing very well at it, judging by the coins in front of her.

He stifled the urge to join in. No matter how much he enjoyed a brisk round of cards, he couldn’t waste time gaming—Simone must hear of the captain’s decision.

So instead, he stood and watched, silently applauding Simone’s prowess.

“That’s mine!” crowed Simone, throwing down her final card, the ace of hearts, onto the crate that served as makeshift table.

“I’m out.” A disgusted Thomas Becker tossed down the rest of his cards at the squeal of the
bosun’s
whistle. “It’s coming up to my watch.”

“Saved by the bell,” laughed Samuel, exposing gapped teeth beneath a fierce black moustache.

“Aye, I had no luck today.” A muttering Thomas Becker stood and stalked away, patting his empty pockets as he disappeared from sight.

“Shall we play?” Simone asked of Samuel as she gathered the cards.

“No, Lady Wellington, I’ve sails to mend.”

“Coward.”

“Aye, I know when I’m out of my league.” He laughed again. “But count me in for the next game.” He groped for his crutch and hauled himself up, adjusting the red bandanna about his neck before stumping away on one wooden leg.

“May I?” Temple pointed to the keg vacated by Samuel. At her nod, he settled himself. “Whatever possessed you to play at cards?”

Surprised at her apparent good humour, he gazed at her. Childlike blue eyes sparkled back at him. Clearly, the game had agreed with her although he wondered at the too-taut face and brittle smile.

“Because of what you told me last night.” She shuffled the cards. “We shall lose the wager.” She paused, holding the cards in one hand. “If that is so, I believe we owe double our fares. And,” she put down the deck, “we don’t have enough money for that.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I thought to help.”

“How do you know I’m not able to pay the wager?”

“I watched you count out the coins to pay the captain that night we came on board. Your money sack was almost empty when you put it back in your pocket.”

Wonder at her acuity rushed through him. But why would it? As a thief she knew very well the value of money.

“Not to worry about the wager, it is off without penalty.” He deliberately made his voice casual.

“What?” She gaped at him. Was that disappointment or relief he saw in her eyes?

He nodded. “Evidently, the captain’s wife has taken a shine to you. She’s been scolding him nonstop over what she perceives is his ill treatment of you. He was only too glad to let it go to spare himself. There is, however, one stipulation.”

She cocked her head and looked at him.

Relief, he decided, for she appeared much happier, the previous tautness of her face relaxed.

“You must avoid the crew. Ladies of quality mingle with their peers, not with others not of their station.”

She flushed and nodded. “I understand. No more card games. But what shall I do instead?”

“You still have your sewing lessons with the captain’s wife. Besides, I should like to continue your instruction.”

He meant every word. The wager may be over but that didn’t mean he couldn’t live up to his vow to teach her to become a lady of quality.

Astonishment flooded her eyes. “But the wager is over.”

“I am bored silly.” He lifted his hands. “I’ve nothing to do. I’ve read all the books in the ship’s rather limited library. Besides, I detest unfinished business.”

A few splatters of rain sprinkled the deck, the breeze stiffened. The
Annabelle
bucked the growing swells and around them, crew members ran in organized pandemonium to furl the snapping sails. A storm brewed.

“Shall we go below deck?” He held out his arm.

“Aye, but you go ahead. I’ve things to tidy.” Cards fluttered in the breeze and she pounced on them, slipping them into her pocket. Then she gathered up the coins and palms cupped, held them out to him. “For you.”

 
Sudden suspicion nudged him. “Where did you get the ante?”

She coloured. “I, ah, I borrowed a shilling. From you.”

“Bloody hell.” The oath erupted from his very core. He should have realized she knew where he had hidden his money pouch. They did, after all, share a cabin.

He didn’t know whether to paddle her bottom or congratulate her on her success.

He did neither. Rather, he did the one thing he had wanted to do since Petey had accosted her on deck.

He kissed her.

Buffeted by the wind and pelting rain, he pulled her close, wrapping one arm about her shoulder and tilting her head back with his free hand. Dimly, he heard coins bounce and roll away as her hands tried to push him away, fluttering uselessly against his strength. His mouth landed on hers, forceful, teasing her lips, nipping them until they parted.

It was as if he had never kissed anyone before.

The second his lips touched hers, serenity washed through him like dairy cream pouring from a pitcher, thick and sensuous and frothy. Awareness of his surroundings receded until there was only the feel of Simone in his arms. He lost himself in her essence, in her warmth.

More. He wanted more.

With a groan, he thrust his tongue into her mouth to tease hers, sucking, on and on until that cadence was matched by the cadence throbbing in his loins.

Simone didn’t try to resist, couldn’t fight the attraction he had for her. With a whimper, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes to get closer. Of their own volition, her eyes closed and she melted into him, drawn into his heat, his strength. She wanted to hold him forever, to feel his lithe body this close to hers forever. Time ceased to exist. All that existed was her and Temple, locked in an ageless battle. It was a heady sensation and she wished the moment would last forever. She moaned.

Her moan was lost among the hoots, applause and catcalls of the watching crew. The sound must have distracted Temple for he pulled his lips away to look down at her with hooded eyes. A smile ghosted across his lips. “That wasn’t so bad, was it,” he whispered before stepping back.

He looked down and, suddenly business-like, squatted on his haunches to collect the coins.

She gazed down at his bent head and lifted trembling fingers to her mouth to touch her lips, lips still tingling with the feel of him. It had been magical, transporting her to another world, another time.

Yet somehow she sensed there was more, for her woman’s place pounded and hot dampness spread there, between her thighs. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the disconcerting reaction of her body.

Coins collected in his palm, he picked out a shilling, tucking it into his vest pocket before handing her the rest with a conspiratorial wink. “Keep these. You earned them.”

Simone looked down at the coins in her hand and from the corner of her eye watched him swagger off, soon to disappear behind the bulwark.

A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth and she tucked the coins into her pocket. Hugging herself, she marched back to the tiny cabin.

It was empty when she arrived there. Grateful for the opportunity to steady herself, she poured some water from the tin pitcher on the trunk that served as nightstand into its matching basin and splashed her face and neck. After wiping her face on the cloth that hung from a peg above the nightstand, she lay down on her cot to ponder what had passed between them just now.

Her air of insouciance when he had found her playing cards had been just that, an air. Inside, she was bitterly disappointed over losing the wager. She had wanted to please him and prove him right for believing in her ability to transform herself. As well, she had come to realize that she could build a better life for herself with a bit of education. Maybe even open a gaming house. And with the proceeds of the gaming house, make things a little bit better for Mrs Dougherty.

Now she yet had a chance, for Temple had said he would continue the lessons. She’d have to find a way to repay him for that.

Oy
, her debts toward him were piling up.

Then there was the matter of his kiss.

The light from the oil lamp glowed through the curtain. She studied the wall beside her, counting all the knotholes she could see, then all the planks, and then all the nail heads. She even resorted to counting backwards from one hundred, not once, but several times.

Anything to avoid thinking about the kiss because she wished for him to kiss her again and that was an entirely improper wish.
 

* * *

Simone slept when Temple finally returned.

He had spent the last couple of hours prowling the deck, trying to scrub the desire that Simone had inadvertently evoked in him. It was just a kiss, he had scoffed to himself. Snatching a kiss was not something that caused him remorse. On the contrary, it had been good sport that had a time or two led to the adrenalin rush of a sunrise duel, which had made it even better.

No, this kiss had been different. True, he liked her, in fact, liked her very much. But there was more to it than that.

Simone aroused feelings in him he didn’t want to face. Not yet.

He undressed quickly and climbed into his bunk. Her even breaths bathed the cabin in tranquillity but the thought of her behind the sailcloth tortured him. Her proximity had never bothered him before but now he paid for his folly. Tonight, this very moment, his loins ached. Manners battled with desire.

Why not take her? She was an urchin, a disreputable ragamuffin.

Because she trusted him, and he couldn’t betray her trust like that.

With a groan, he pulled the bedclothes over his head in a futile attempt to block out the gentle sigh of her breath.

* * *

Gentry Ted threaded his way through the boisterous crowd filling his favourite pub in London’s east end, the Pint and Platter, until he found a spot at the scarred counter. Signalling the barkeep, he waited until the man came over with a pint of ale before he posed the question that had plagued him for the past few weeks.

“Have ye seen Mona?”

The barkeep stopped and, with a surprised look, glanced around the room as if he could spot the missing girl there. “No,” he replied. “No, I
ain’t
. Now that ye mention it, I
ain’t
seen her for at least a month.”

“Nobody’s seen her, it’s like she’s dropped from the face of the earth.” Gentry Ted’s voice was puzzled.

The barkeep shrugged. “Like as not she’s found greener pastures. She’ll come around.”

“I
ain’t
so sure,” muttered Ted before lifting the foaming mug to his lips. Mona, that one, what a peach, had her hands in and out of a pocket in a twinkling, so smooth that the bloody nobs she picked had no idea.

He well remembered the day he had dropped her off at Mrs Dougherty’s workhouse. Somehow, those blue eyes had stuck with him and he had made it a habit to check in on her regularly, sometimes even throwing a coin or two Mrs Dougherty’s way to help out. It had given him great pleasure to see her success on the streets, particularly after being told she was not suitable for that kind of work.

He drained his mug, slapped down a coin, and stood to leave. He turned to scan the room as if Mona had somehow miraculously appeared in the past few moments but of course she had not.

Adjusting his cravat, he made his way to the door and out into the street. He shook his head as he walked. Maybe Mona were just lying low because the constables were after her.  

Chapter Eight

Temple
and Simone did not talk of their kiss and after a while, it seemed as if it had never happened. The days sailed by as smoothly as the
Annabelle
sliced through the Atlantic Ocean. Two weeks flew by, then three, then four.

The at times tedious morning sewing lessons had produced another dress, this one a sprigged muslin, as well as several shifts and a nightgown. Simone thanked Mrs Featherstone repeatedly and the kindly woman would always give an airy wave of her hand. “I say do unto others as you would have them do unto you. There’s nothing to thank me for. You making something of yourself and making your lord proud is all the thanks I need.”

Her afternoons with Temple, however, were golden. She concentrated on every word and every phrase, wanting to do her best for then he would reward her with a smile or a curt “Well done.” She memorized endlessly, practicing the pronunciation over and over until Temple was satisfied she got it right. Then they would move on to the next.

Nay, her afternoons were never boring, they were exhilarating.

Bit by bit, she began to believe, she, Simone Dougherty could become a lady of quality and have a better life for herself.

And bit by bit, she found herself falling in love with the darkly handsome Lord Temple Wellington, a man above her in station.