War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (12 page)

Randall was directly across from her,
intently watching her sip at her soup. She ate quietly, listening
to the conversation around her. The entire battle was repeated and
analyzed. She tried to hide her happiness as the disgruntled men
discussed Washington showing up with reinforcements.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a
stiff drink,” the Colonel finished, pushing back from the table.
Randall and Ryan moved to follow as Tristan excused himself to
study plans in his room.

Panic clutched at Sarah, realizing she was
to join him tonight. Not wanting to follow him just yet, she headed
to the study. She was immediately drawn to the leather bound tomes.
She chose a book of poems and sat down in a high back chair to
read. The candlelight flickered across the pages and soothed her
somewhat as the poems revived her spirit. After a while, her tired
eyes started to droop and her head lolled back against the
chair.

***

Tristan paced the floor, glancing at his
pocket watch. Midnight. She had agreed. Where was she? Determined,
he set out to find her. Her bedroom was dark and the door was
locked. Using his key he quickly alleviated that problem. A quick
peek showed the room to be empty. He growled, shutting the door
quietly and heading to the stairs. He hesitated outside of Ryan’s
room; the thought of Randall having her filled him with anger. He
pushed the thought away and headed downstairs to search the house.
He checked the front door, finding it locked. The thought of her
leaving made him anxious and he quickened his pace.

He spotted the dim light from the study and
opened the door. He spotted her asleep in the chair and had to
catch his breath. She was beautiful, the glow from the melted down
candle licked across her skin and he slowly took a step forward. He
hated to wake her; she seemed so peaceful.

Not wanting to rouse her, he decided to
carry her to bed. His conscious screamed out for him to treat her
properly, but the devil on his shoulder had other ideas. Feeling
just a bit guilty, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to
bed.

His bed.

Seeking warmth, she snuggled into his chest
as he ascended the stairs. Thankful the hallway was empty; he
entered his room and laid her on the bed. He stared at her still
form for a moment and pondered his next move.

She was overly dressed; surely she would be
uncomfortable. He unlaced her boots and slipped them off, letting
them drop to the floor. Next came her dress. He expertly released
the pearl buttons down the front of her bodice and slipped it off
her shoulders, revealing her creamy chest underneath. Swallowing
hard, he tried to control his need. He stripped her down to her
shift and bloomers. Seeing the bruise on her arm, he ran his hand
over it. Doing a quick look over for more injuries he noticed the
round bruise on her neck. Remembering she had run into Randall
earlier, he clenched his fist in anger. He again lifted her and
tucked her into the covers. Blowing out the candle he undressed and
joined her.

He contemplated shaking her awake to fulfill
her promise, but couldn’t bring himself to wake her. The fact that
he chose her needs over his surprised him. He couldn’t remember the
last time he had considered others first. The thought startled him.
With a sigh, he pulled her into his arms and cradled her as she
slept.

Sarah’s eyes peeked open as he settled
behind her. She was afraid to move lest he know she had been awake.
Hearing his steady breathing she closed her eyes and drifted off to
sleep.

She awoke at the first breath of dawn.
Grabbing her clothes in the dim light, she bundled them up in her
arms and snuck into the hallway. She stopped short, seeing Ryan in
a similar state exiting the Colonel’s bedroom. Wordlessly they
passed each other, each returning to their assigned rooms.

Sarah washed up in the basin, getting ready
to start the day. She would have loved taking off on Molly again,
but she needed to see the
Vixen
. To check out the
accommodations and figure out how many men it could carry.

***

Tristan awoke soon after Sarah left; he was
disappointed to find his bed empty. Perhaps he should have
requested her to stay in his room, instead of just visiting?
Disgruntled, he dressed before heading down the hall to Sarah’s
room.

She answered his knock and stepped back as
he entered. “Sleep well?” she asked.

“We had an agreement.”

“Yes, I shared your bed, now you need to
show me the
Vixen
.”

Tristan’s expression was comical and a small
giggle escaped her and she received a glare. “Sure, I would love to
take you for a ride.”

He offered his arm to her and guided her out
of the room. He intended on keeping her in his sight today. Not
trusting himself to face Randall this morning, he stopped by the
kitchen and picked up a sack of food for the day. Heading to the
stables, he had the carriage readied and they were on their
way.

Tristan’s carriage was very nice and would
fit four comfortably. She sat next to him on the front seat while
he expertly guided the horses. Not wanting to talk in the open, he
was quiet, just enjoying her company.

Sarah looked around as they passed the city.
The
Vixen
was moored in a different port. She was almost
relaxed while he drove the carriage. In another time, this would be
considered normal. However, there was no such thing as normal in
Sarah’s world.

Her world consisted of pain and loss. She
wondered how long it would take for the hole in her heart to heal.
Some part of her believed she would never be whole again. She
couldn’t imagine a future at this time. She was just happy to
survive each day. Each sunrise was a blessing.

Tristan parked the wagon, jumped down, and
went around to help her. Sarah reached for his hand and he guided
her down the high step. Sarah appraised him; he was dressed in
flattering Navy pants, a frock shirt, and tailored jacket. He
looked very dashing and her heart fluttered.

It was hard to look away, but she did with a
lump in her throat. Knowing he was only helping to fulfill his own
needs made her heart ache. Thank goodness her head was stronger.
She squared her shoulders and held her head up high as they walked
along the planked wharf.

The
Vixen
was one of the larger ships
tethered, and clearly the most majestic. Tristan was unable to hide
his pride when he introduced her.

“It’s larger than I thought,” Sarah replied,
leaning her head back to take in the full view.

There was no crew on board, so Tristan made
a grand show of jumping to the ladder and climbing easily to lower
the gangplank for her to cross. She hesitated, taking in the water
below her. The walkway was about two feet wide but for some reason
she couldn’t take that first step.

Tristan, seeing her reluctance to cross,
took it in two strides. “You will befall no harm with me,” he
whispered, taking her hand and leading her across. Sarah wished she
could count on his words.

She stepped on the deck and Tristan pulled
the plank back on board. Her only exit had just disappeared.

“Let me show you around,” Tristan said,
grabbing her hand. Warmth filled her at his touch and she hated
herself for it. He was offering her nothing; she did not need to
get caught up in girlish dreams.

He was so different than Robert, where
Robert was noble and brave; Tristan was more cunning and shrewd. Of
course Robert made no promises to her either. Why was life so
hard?

He led her to the hold and she insisted on
climbing down to see the condition. No sense in transferring them
from one hellhole to another. He threw down a rope ladder into the
hatch and she looked down into the darkness.

“It isn’t necessary. My ship is well
maintained.”

“We shall see,” she said, throwing a leg
over and grabbing the edge. She took a deep breath before throwing
over the other leg. The ladder swung wildly and she hung on for
dear life until it steadied.

“Wait, I’ll go and shine the light for
you.”

She glared up at him while feeling with her
foot for the next rung. She slowly lowered herself a foot at a
time. She counted the rungs to keep her mind occupied. The darkness
surrounded her as she descended, cursing herself for not bringing a
lamp. As she looked up at the square light from above she could
imagine the men’s terror while they were held in captivity.

Her arms were burning from the exertion.
Even though she was in good shape, she was using muscles she never
knew existed. Her foot slipped and she cried out in surprise, she
felt gravity tugging on her, wanting her to fail. Hanging on for
dear life as the ladder swung dizzily, she tried to steady
herself.

Tristan’s call of concern from above only
heightened her resolve to continue. The rope bit at her tender
hands and she was grateful when her feet touched the bottom.

“I’m here, can you send down the
lantern?”

Tristan lowered the lit lantern with a rope
and Sarah grasped it in relief as the world around her
materialized. She had to shield her eyes a bit from the darkness
but what she did see was pleasing. The rope ladder jerked and for a
second she was terrified he pulled it up as some cruel joke.
Instead he grasped it with his legs and climbing sideways he
agilely made his way toward her. He was about ten feet up when the
ladder gave way. Sarah screamed and jumped out of the way as he hit
the wooden floor hard.

He lay unmoving and she rushed to his side.
Her nursing skills took over and she used her hands to examine him
from head to boot. Feeling for any noticeable injuries her hands
glided over every inch of his body. Finding none she returned to
his head. His eyes were closed but he was unable to hide his smile
as it widened under the light.

She smacked his chest. “You are faking!”

He chuckled, sitting up rather slower than
normal. “I guess you aren’t the only one whom can feign sleep.”

Sarah blushed at his words. If he knew she
was faking last night why did he not call her out on it? She
decided to ignore him and instead looked up at the dangling ladder.
It was hanging by a thin strand and she doubted it would hold one
of them, much less two.

“What are we to do?” she asked.

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

“Well one rope slipped. I could shimmy up
and fix it,” he suggested.

“Hmph, I don’t feel like being crushed to
death by your falling body.”

“Well, you could step out of the way.
Again,” he emphasized.

Sarah glared at him, turning her attention
to their surroundings. Well since she was down here she might as
well look around. The room was spacious and clean and she saw no
signs of trash or rodents. She was quite pleased.

“How many men will this hold?” she
asked.

Tristan frowned when he lost her attention.
“150, maybe.”

“And how many are being held on the
hulk?”

Tristan shrugged. “Maybe twice that.”

A frown fluttered across her face.

“The men on board are unhealthy, they are
full of vermin and sickness. Some won’t have the strength to
escape.”

Sadness over came her. She knew not all
would make it; she would like to have given everyone at least a
chance though.

“They won’t be strong enough to climb down.
Is there any other way for them to gain access? A basket
perhaps?”

“Perhaps. I would think you should be more
concerned about your own welfare. You are trapped in a boat with no
way out.”

Sarah smiled, “If it gets too desperate, I
could sustain myself off your flesh for a week or so. Of course,
I’m sure the clever Major Johnson would have discovered me gone by
then. He seems to find sport in following me.”

“Humph! I suppose we could wait for rescue.
Or we could just take the stairs.”

“Stairs?” Sarah asked, her eyes narrowing as
she turned on him.

“I haven’t finished the tour yet. I was
going to show you those next.”

She turned her back on him as she took the
lantern and walked away, leaving him in the darkness. She was so
angry she didn’t trust herself to speak. If she killed him now, she
may never escape this wretched boat. She headed for the wall and
methodically followed it around. Finally, she found the narrow, but
well-built stairs leading up to another entrance.

A hand rested on her shoulder and she
jumped. “Found it all by yourself. You are quite clever.”

“And you, sir, are an ass,” she spat back,
turning to start her ascent.

Tristan followed her closely, feeling a bit
of remorse for his trick, but she was so delectable when she was
angry. She paused at the top, trying to push open the hatch with
her jelly like arms.

“Allow me,” he said, pressing in closely to
her as he joined her side. Sarah was next to the thin railing and
she wrapped her arms around his waist in fear of falling. If she
was going down, so was he.

Tristan’s hands stopped their search for the
latch at her movement. Fire roared inside of him. He pulled her to
him and sought out her lips. Caught up in the moment, Sarah
complied, trusting him to not let them fall to their deaths.

His arms wrapped around her, caressing her
back and leaving a trail of heat as they went. She leaned into him,
needing more as he awakened every nerve in her body. He felt
himself swaying a bit, so he shifted, sitting on the step and
pulling her onto his lap.

She clung to him desperately as if her very
life depended on him. She felt his hands moving down her legs and
under her dress, hiking it up to her waist. She tried to grab his
hand to stop him from his goal, but her attempt was feeble at best.
She gasped against his mouth when he cupped her soft mound between
her legs. Only her bloomers separated him from her flesh.