Commanding Heart (6 page)

Matthews looked to where his niece moved
alone along the forward deck; pity and anger mixed in the lines of his
weathered face: “He knows nothing of Catherine… and does not care to know I am
sure. She is an asset of his empire and her marriage will no doubt increase his
already considerable wealth and power. He will have seen to that most
definitely. The rest will be Catherine’s fate to endure alone.”

Their discussion was interrupted by
the ringing of the ship’s bell. At the summons, Matthews gave a last, fatherly
look at his niece, then squared his shoulders and moved off to his appointed rounds.
Captain Knight remained at the rail, his watchful eyes following the graceful
figure of Catherine Gibson. She felt his stare and stopped her walk to return
his gaze. Sunlight bounced off her golden hair creating a halo of light that
framed her features. The sight was incredible, but it was the beauty and simple
honesty in her look that caught Knight completely off guard. A dark flush
spread over his face at his disquieting thoughts about this young woman. Knight
silently cursed himself for probing into her private affairs, and then cursed
the father who could so abuse such a woman.  A midshipman approached Knight
with a question but the captain seemed not to hear; his complete attention was
held by Catherine. The young officer cleared his throat loudly and spoke once
more, starting Knight from his reverie. The captain felt annoyance at being
caught in such distraction. He forced his attention away from thoughts of
Catherine, gave her a curt nod in salute and turned away to speak with his man.

Across the deck, Catherine was struck
by the raw emotion she’d witnessed on the captain’s face. She blushed and
turned away in confusion over what it could mean.  Placing a steadying hand on
the rail, she took a deep, calming breath and remained staring out to sea until
she was quite certain that Captain Knight, with his unfathomable blue eyes, was
gone.

Chapter VIII

For several days after, Catherine’s
mind raced in concern for Tom Foster. The captain’s bleak story of Tom’s entry
into the navy had touched her deeply. But what gave her even greater pause were
the details of the Fosters’ home life that Tom himself gradually came to share
with Catherine. The young cabin boy was a painfully shy creature, but Catherine
had continued to seek him out, and between the two there grew a gentle
friendship. After many shared conversations, Tom began to tell Catherine
something of his old life back in England. He never spoke directly of his
father, and Catherine never pressed him for details, but Tom talked with great
warmth about his sister who remained at home. “Martha is the smartest girl you
could ever meet,” Tom said during one of their chats: “She taught me how to
read and to cipher, and teaches other children around when she has a moment to
spare.” Catherine smiled kindly in reply; “She sounds like a generous young
woman, Tom, to share her own knowledge so freely with others.” “Yes,” replied
Tom quietly. “My mother taught her well, but now…” he trailed off without
finishing. “But now?” Catherine prompted gently. “Now,” Tom continued, “she
won’t have any chance to do the one thing she loves. My father will see to
that. Before my mother died, Father would criticize her for teaching Martha to
read and write. He said it ain’t proper. And now that I’m away, all the heavy
work has fallen to her.” Catherine felt her heart wrench at his words. “Perhaps
there is something that can be done?” she suggested softly to the boy. “I do
what I can, miss” Tom replied with pride. “I’ve arranged for a good bit of my
pay to go to Martha to help her out. Someday I’ll see that she’s set to rights.
Maybe even send her to a proper school where she can become a teacher.”
Catherine gave the boy a quick hug and agreed that it was a wonderful plan, but
in her heart, she knew the idea was well beyond the capabilities of a child of
no means.

A long sleepless night followed this
conversation but Catherine arose the next morning with energy, her mind full
with a plan of action. She quickly dressed in a simple linen dress of soft
lavender, arranged her hair in a plaited braid, and set forth in search of
Captain Knight. On the quarter deck she was surprised to find her uncle at the
helm, rather than the captain. “Oh!” Catherine said with some disappointment,
“It is you uncle.” “Well, now” Matthews rejoined with mock dismay, “And what a
greeting for your poor old uncle!” “I am sorry,” Catherine returned with
warmth; “It is just that, I was hoping to speak with the captain this morning,
Uncle.” She looked down at the ground, hoping the lieutenant would not press
her as to the reason for this requested interview. Matthews could easily see
that whatever his niece was up to, it was not a matter she wished to share with
him. He felt a small sleight but offered his assistance: “Captain Knight has
just returned to his day cabin. You will find him there, Catherine if you
require a word.” Catherine could sense her uncle’s curiosity at her request but
knew he would not ask for information she was not ready to give. And at this
point, Catherine’s plan was but the germ of an idea that would rely much on
Captain Knight’s assistance.

Catherine moved quickly through the
ship’s quarterdeck until she reached the captain’s day cabin. At her knock, she
received a brusque, “Come” from the other side.  Catherine opened the door
without a word and stepped across the threshold. Once inside, Catherine paused
uncomfortably. The captain stood with his back to the door, hands resting on
the great table at the room’s center as he peered over a collection of maps. Instead
of his usual careful uniformed figure, Knight was but casually dressed in
breeches and shirtwaist, his formal coat slung carelessly over the back of a
chair. Catherine had never seen John Knight in anything but his full dress
uniform. The sight of him in such a relaxed state of dress seemed completely
foreign. He still held the same powerful presence but there was something else
too – a sensuality that could not be denied. Her eyes moved over his person,
taking in at quick glance the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms;
the fabric of his shirt pulled taught across his broad shoulders; the strong,
taper legs that held him in an unaccustomed casual pose. A rush of color came
into Catherine’s cheeks and in a moment of panic she turned, thinking to leave
rather than interrupt him. At the sound of her movement, Knight turned around,
his own eyes widening in surprise at finding her there: “Miss Gibson,” he
spoke, and Catherine turned back around to face him. “I thought you were one of
the lieutenants. I was not expecting such fair company” he finished dryly. He
gave Catherine a sweeping glance, his eyes taking in her slight frame in the
lavender dress, the golden shine of her hair, and the unmistakable embarrassment
that stained her cheeks. Catherine was startled anew at the sight of his undone
collar, the deep tan of his broad chest showing in the wide vee.

“Sir,” she stammered uselessly; “I apologize
for the intrusion. I had a question for you….but I see you are busy. I will
return at another time….” She trailed off in confusion. “Stay” the Captain replied
in calm command, his eyes twinkling with wicked delight at Catherine’s obvious
discomfort. “Please,” he said, gesturing to a set of leather wingback chairs in
the corner, “Be seated and we can discuss… whatever is the matter.” Catherine
hesitated only a moment then walked forward to settle primly in the offered
chair. Catherine’s tiny frame was dwarfed by the large scale, masculine
furniture. She perched at the edge of the seat self-consciously smoothing the
fabric of her linen gown as Captain Knight moved to join her, his large frame
folding into the chair opposite. He stretched his long legs out in casual
attitude and Catherine pulled her own feet further back to avoid any contact
with his imposing frame. His casual state of dress and teasing, informal
attitude seemed completely out of character, leaving Catherine’s thoughts completely
disrupted. She steeled her nerves a moment longer then looked boldly at the captain
as she focused her turbulent thoughts on her request.

“I have come to ask your help,
Captain” she said formally. Knight’s eyebrows twitched in amusement at her
attempted reserve and serious demeanor. “But of course, Miss Gibson,” he
replied with a wry grin. “I am at your disposal. What can I do to be of
assistance?” Catherine heard the undercurrent of humor in his tone and
stiffened in pride. She faced him squarely and began in earnest: “As you know,
I have spent some considerable time in conversation with Tom Foster.” The
captain nodded his head in agreement, wondering to what this conversation might
be leading. “I understand,” Catherine continued, “That the… the difficult
circumstances of Tom’s home place are still a matter of concern for Tom’s sister,
Martha.” Captain Knight’s dark eyes widened in surprise at her speech; Tom was
a very private boy and few knew anything about the nature of his arrival
onboard, or of the sister who remained at home in England. “You surprise me,
Miss Gibson,” the captain said softly. “You must be a very special friend for
Tom to have confided such knowledge.” Catherine reddened again at his words but
she felt encouraged to continue with her speech: “It is my wish, Captain, to
assist Martha with her schooling. I would like to arrange for her tuition, as
well as room and board, at a proper school for girls so she might train to
become a teacher. I expect,” she said haltingly, “that there may also be the
requirement for some sum as compensation to her father for her
loss
.” Catherine’s
face twisted in anger a moment at her own words before she continued; “My hope,
Captain, is that you might help me to do this thing without Tom knowing. He is
a very proud boy and I fear he would be offended if I made this offer directly
to him.”

Catherine felt somewhat breathless as
she finished her speech. She anxiously awaited a response from the captain who
had remained silent to this point. Knight looked at Catherine a long time
before he finally spoke: “I am familiar with Tom’s town, Miss Gibson, and a
school such as you desire is not far off. However,” he continued, his face now
becoming somber; “I must tell you that such an undertaking is not inexpensive.
I do not wish to question your judgment but this would be a matter of
considerable effort and expense.” Catherine boldly met the captain’s gaze and
nodded in understanding: “I am well prepared, Captain, for any expense or
effort that may be required. I am more than able to meet those needs. What I
lack is the proper local connections to accomplish such a task, or the
knowledge of how to make such an arrangement with Tom’s father. I hope you
might be willing to assist me in this regard.”

Catherine paused, sensing the hesitation
in Captain Knight’s posture. She braced herself for the inevitable question
that she knew the captain would ask. Knight drummed his fingers a moment on the
arm of the leather chair before catching her with his penetrating gaze; “You
seek my help in this matter, Miss Gibson, but I think it my duty to enquire why
you do not employ your father’s assistance instead? His connections are
obviously extensive, and he may have some wish to direct your hand in a matter
of this… significance” he finished brusquely. Catherine’s face darkened and she
launched to her feet at his words. She swept past Captain Knight and angrily paced
the room, her usually serene features betraying strong emotion. Twice she
crossed the room in complete silence before she could compose herself once
more. Turning to face him, Catherine drew herself up to her full height, every
inch of her slender frame speaking proud defiance. Although she attempted to remain
calm, beneath Catherine’s response was a barely disguised anger; “The money I
offer, Captain, is solely at my discretion. It is a sum left to me by my mother
after her death. My
father
has no claim upon it, nor has he any right to
inquire as to its use. I choose to spend it in this way and I hope that you
will help honor my wish.”

Catherine’s impassioned speech hung sharply
in the air a moment, then a heavy silence settled over the room. Catherine remained
standing at the cabin’s centre, her body held in a stiff attitude of unease.
She could not bring herself to look at Captain Knight, dared not for fear of
finding a look of amusement or, even worse, derision. This mission on Tom’s
behalf was of vital importance to Catherine for so many reasons and she feared
lest she had made a mistake in approaching Captain Knight. As the silence
lengthened, Catherine clasped and unclasped her hands, nervously awaiting some
response to her request.

From his position on the far side of
the room, Captain Knight sat in silence, his face unreadable as all manner of
thoughts passed through his mind. Catherine’s strange request, her subsequent
outburst about her father, could only serve to drive his curiosity about her personal
situation. He longed to know more about her background, to understand fully
what Jamaica represented. But even now, when her personal request to him might
have opened this door for inquiry, his strong sense of honor would not allow
it. Captain Knight looked in admiration at the proud, stubborn young woman
before him. He rose to his feet and moved to where Catherine stood in anxious
expectation. She trembled as he drew near; her head hung low to shield herself
from what she expected would be a rather curt dismissal of both her and her
request. To Catherine’s great surprise, Captain Knight did not speak but reached
out instead, capturing her two hands in his own. She felt the warmth and
strength of his long fingers envelop hers and a tingling sensation like fire
raced through her body at the contact. Catherine remained with head bent low,
her eyes starring in wonderment at the spectacle of her hands captured in those
of the captain’s. With great gentleness, Captain Knight raised his hand to the
soft line of her jaw and tilted her face upward until her blue eyes were caught
and held by the light of his own. Catherine’s heart hammered in her chest at
the closeness and unexpected intimacy of the moment. Anxiously she searched his
normally stern face, still certain that her request was to be dismissed as
childish fancy. Instead, Catherine was astonished to find Knight’s features lit
with warmth and kindness. His fingers brushed against her cheek softly as he
spoke; “You have my word, Miss Gibson that I will help. I am yours to command
in this matter.”