Time After Time (61 page)

“You!” Emily turned on him, her pent up fear looking for release. “This is all your fault. If you had not put it into his head that he was a sailor. You gave me your word that he would stay out of danger. Is this what your word is worth, Captain Brentwood?” she asked sweeping her hand toward the bunk.

“I kept my word, Miss Wentworth. I had ordered him below just as I did you. He had no business being up there, but I was too busy tending my ship to be playing nursemaid to two errant children!” he stormed.

“I am not a child!” Emily shouted furiously.

“As I recall, you were also wandering about on deck after I had given you orders to go below.”

“I will not be ordered about by you, Captain Brentwood! I am not one of your sailors! And I am not a child!”

“While you are on my ship, Miss Wentworth, you will do as I say.” He towered over her, and then overcome with weariness and weak from loss of blood from his injured hand, Jonathon began to sway dizzily. He reached a hand out to steady himself and, seeing his condition, Emily caught him with her shoulder beneath his arm to brace him. The contact of her soft bosom against his hard chest startled her, and looking up, she caught a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“No, you are no child, Emily,” he grinned at her.

Mr. Gates coughed softly behind them, and then stepped forward to relieve Emily of her burden. She gratefully accepted the brandy he offered as she relinquished with equal gratitude the heavy form of the injured captain. Mr. Gates half carried him out of the cabin.

Emily’s hand trembled as she raised the glass to her lips and took a long sip. The fiery liquid lent its usual warmth and she choked down the threatening coughs. Her mind whirled with confusion as she looked down at her brother. As worried as she was about him, she was also distressed at the emotions that tumbled within her as a result of her close contact with the dashing sea captain. She shook her head to banish those thoughts from her mind and, sitting beside Andrew, gently took his hand.

The rest of the day flew as Emily cared for her brother. Following Mr. Gates’s orders, she kept him warm and, propping his head up on her arm, pressed warm broth to his lips. She forced herself to keep busy, concentrating on Andrew and his needs, so that further thoughts of Captain Brentwood would not seep into her mind.

• • •

By nightfall the storm had spent its rage and dwindled to a constant, steady rain. Thunder could still be heard in the distance, but it cast no threat toward the ship. Men had worked throughout the day to salvage and repair the mast.

Emily had stayed by Andrew’s side throughout the afternoon, and at suppertime Mr. Gates arrived with a tray for her.

“I shall watch him for a while, child. You need to eat and rest,” he said gently.

Emily’s back ached and her eyes felt heavy, but she was reluctant to leave her brother. She took the tray and began to eat.

“Thank you, Mr. Gates; I did not realize how hungry I am. But I think I shall just stay here awhile. Andrew may awaken, and I would like to be here.”

“You must rest, too, if you are to be of any help to Andrew, Miss Wentworth. You will not do him any good if you tire yourself out and have no strength. I shall inform you should he awaken during the night. Now go, child, and lie down,” he urged.

Emily turned, and then hesitated. “How is Captain Brentwood?” The question had burned in her all day.

“He will recover. He needs rest, too. We shall watch his hand for putrefaction of the wound. I have some ointments aboard that should help, and if I can keep him down, which I doubt, he will have no trouble at all. I seem to have a couple of patients who resist my ministrations,” he said sternly, a twinkle in his eyes betraying him.

Emily grinned. “All right, I shall rest now. But you promise to call me if Andrew awakens, Mr. Gates?”

“I promise, Miss Wentworth,” he replied raising his right hand solemnly.

As Emily returned to her cabin, she passed Jonathon’s quarters. Hearing movement inside, she impulsively knocked. Instantly she regretted her action. Hoping he had not heard, she turned to walk away, but the door opened and she turned back to look into amused brown eyes.

“I — ” Raising her chin she met his gaze. “I wanted to thank you for saving my brother’s life,” she stated flatly.

“Madam, your sincerity overwhelms me,” he replied. “However, if we are to continue this emotional exchange, may we do so within my cabin? I fear my strength is sorely sapped.” He did indeed look pale and his mouth was set against any grimace of pain. Emily regretted her brusqueness realizing he was injured and weak because of his rescue of her brother. He stood aside sweeping an arm in invitation. Eyeing him warily, Emily hesitated.

“Do you fear me, Miss Wentworth, even in my weakened condition?” he teased.

“I fear no one, Captain Brentwood!” And tossing her head, she stepped past him into the room. Closing the door behind him, Jonathon followed her. Again Emily was struck with the clean, masculine atmosphere of his quarters. It smelled of polished wood, fine leather and a faint scent of brandy. Jonathon picked up a half-full glass of that drink and saluted her.

“Doctor’s orders. It deadens the pain,” he indicated his hand. “Will you join me, Miss Wentworth?” he grinned.

“If you intend to humiliate me and insult me, sir, I shall leave immediately.” She started toward the door.

Jonathon caught her arm and turned her toward him. Their closeness was disconcerting, and Emily felt flushed as her heart hammered insistently in her chest. He smelled of brandy, and she guessed he had consumed quite a bit that afternoon. His hand encircled her upper arm and was close to brushing against her breast. She could feel his eyes burrowing into her and kept her gaze straight ahead, which had her looking at the thick mat of hair revealed by his half–open shirt.

“Forgive me, Em; it is not my intention to humiliate or insult you. But you persist in your coolness toward me and challenge me at every turn. I do not understand why you dislike me so. Have I given you just cause? Enlighten me so that I can make amends. Have I been cruel or untoward? Tell me how I can attain your good graces. Have I taken liberties and become an object of repulsion to you? Have I not, and earned your scorn? Perhaps if I showed more daring in our relationship I could earn your respect as a man.”

Jonathon slid one arm around her waist, the other hand lifted her chin and, as blue eyes looked up into brown, he gently lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. Emily’s mind reeled and her body burned with newly awakened desire.

Intending only an innocent kiss, Jonathon was surprised at the impact made by those soft, full lips against his. Combined with the headiness of the brandy he had been drinking, his innocent kiss became intense as his lips moved over hers, searching their sweetness.

Emily became aware of his arms encircling her, pressing her close. She responded instinctively, lost in the spell of his tenderness. His lips parted and she felt his tongue move to open her mouth. Regaining her senses, Emily pulled away and staggered back. To deny she had enjoyed that kiss would have been a lie. He knew that too. She looked up at him in surprise and dismay, her breasts heaving as she gasped for air.

“Emily — ” Jonathon began, but she swirled and fled from the room.

Reaching her quarters, Emily slammed the door and stood with her back pressed against it, lest he try to follow. Her body betrayed her with its sensual, pleasurable glow. She felt her hot, flushed cheeks with trembling hands. Her mind tumbled, confused, and she could feel the pressure of his arms around her like a brand. Her lips ached for more of his kiss, and she grew angry at their betrayal. She denied to herself that she was willing in his arms, and suddenly realized in horror that her arms had reached up along his shoulders in welcome.

Throwing herself on the bunk, Emily sobbed into her pillow. Her world was turning upside down. She had lost her parents, left her homeland, almost lost her brother, and now this colonial was launching an attack on her senses. And physically, she seemed more than willing to comply. Was she some sort of wanton woman? She should have married Michael Dennings and been assured a respectable life in London. But, as many times as Michael had stolen kisses, they had never set her on fire the way Jonathon’s had. She warmed even now as she remembered it. Exhausted, Emily drifted off to sleep. Somewhere in that hazy dreamworld, strong arms held her close and soft lips urged a welcoming response. Anyone peeking in on the sleeping girl would have noticed a delicate smile on her lips.

• • •

Morning dawned sunlit and warm, belying the previous day’s storm. A gentle tapping on her door brought Emily to full consciousness. Rising, she realized she was still in the rumpled clothes she had worn the previous night, and her hair was a mass of golden tangles. Visions of her encounter with Jonathon assailed her, and she halted before the door afraid that he might be on the other side.

“Miss Wentworth, are you awake?” Mr. Gates called.

Relief swept her and she answered, “Yes, Mr. Gates. Is Andrew all right?”

“He is conscious, but very weak. I wanted to keep my promise to you.” She heard the amusement in his voice.

“I shall be there shortly. Thank you, Mr. Gates,” Hastily she doffed her clothes and sparingly used her precious rainwater to freshen up. Pulling a comb through them, she managed her tousled locks and in a moment had them pulled back in a shining cascade down her back. Tears stung her eyes in witness to the quick, but determined styling. She donned a light blue muslin frock that mirrored her eyes. Realizing that she was dressing hurriedly for Andrew, but carefully for Jonathon, she slammed down the ribbons she was about to arrange in her hair, afraid to admit to herself that she was taking more care than making haste.

Her heart pounded faster as she reached her door and realized she might come face to face with Jonathon. Inevitably she would have to face him today, but she did not know what she would say. Her cheeks burned at the thought, but deep inside a glimmer of excitement thrilled at it. Setting her lips in a grim line, she flung open the door ready to do battle. No one was about. With a sinking feeling, she hurried to Andrew’s cabin.

On entering she was surprised to see Andrew much as she had left him the previous night. But as she neared the bed she was aware of his deep, even breathing. His coloring had improved, too, but he was sleeping deeply. She looked questioningly at Mr. Gates.

“He was awake for only a moment, lass. He will be slipping in and out for a day or more. But a promise is a promise,” his eyes twinkled.

“Let me relieve you now, Mr. Gates, so you can rest,” Emily offered.

“Aye, lass, it is a fine, fair day. Most of us will be resting after the raging tempest we experienced yesterday,” he replied. “Call if you need me, child.” Rising he went to the door where he paused and turned. Looking closely at Emily he asked, “Did you sleep well, child?”

Unconsciously raising a hand to her lips, Emily wondered frantically if she had been branded by Jonathon’s kiss.

“You look a bit flushed, but very refreshed,” he explained.

“Oh, I slept very well, thank you, Mr. Gates,” she said quickly.

Still watching her, Gates weighed her words. Then nodding, he turned and left.

Emily sank back in the chair. She looked down at Andrew sleeping peacefully. She shuddered as she recalled the events of yesterday and the deathly pallor that had covered his face. She closed her eyes to block that picture, but Andrew’s face became her father’s and an ache began in Emily’s stomach. The familiar tightness clutched her throat. Tears streamed down her face and dropped onto her clenched hands. Loneliness and confusion overwhelmed her.

“Em?” She heard a whisper like a sigh of a summer’s breeze. “Em?” Opening her eyes she saw her brother’s lips move. Brushing the tears away she leaned close to him.

“Andrew, I am here.”

Struggling to open his eyes, Andrew whispered, “What happened…?”

“Andrew, you must rest, please, just rest.” Emily whispered. “You were on the mizzenmast during the storm. It snapped and you fell into the sea. Captain Brentwood saved you.”

“Jonathon … yes, Jonathon …” he mumbled and drifted back into oblivion.

The mention of Jonathon’s name brought the memory of soft lips against hers and Emily shifted in her seat. She still had to face him today and had not yet settled on what to say. Trying to decide filled the rest of her morning.

• • •

Refreshed after some food and relieved of her watch over Andrew early in the afternoon, Emily decided, encounter or not, she was in dire need of some fresh air. Bracing herself for the inevitable meeting, she climbed the ladder to the main deck. It was quiet on deck today. Most of the men were taking a well-deserved rest after the frantic rush of yesterday. As few hands as possible were guiding the ship on the gentle breeze. Emily made a brief sweep of the deck trying to sight Jonathon before he spotted her. Forewarned is forearmed she thought. But he was nowhere in sight. Relief mixed with a twinge of disappointment filled Emily as she strolled.

As clear as the sky and as bright as the sun were, a choppiness of the water gave evidence of the previous day’s violent storm. The air was cool against her skin, but the sun tempered it with warmth. Emily reveled in the free open feeling after being in confining cabins for so long. She watched the men work with none of the urgency that had spurred them on the day before. The rhythmic rise and fall of the ship was bracing and soon the turbulent emotions that had caused her to despair earlier were eased and calmed.

That day and the next, tending Andrew occupied her. Gradually he came to awaken for longer intervals. Emily busied herself with spooning broth into his mouth at every opportunity and reassuring him gently whenever he rose to consciousness. Walking on deck when she had a brief respite, Emily had the opportunity to convince herself that what had happened in Jonathon’s cabin was entirely his fault and that her reaction should be one of justified indignation. She even prepared a little speech to reprimand him and cause him to beg her forgiveness. But she grew frustrated when he did not appear.