Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) (7 page)

Not that he felt the need to explain himself.

Despite her recklessness in the rigging, Caroline was blessed with uncommonly good sense.  Her desire to help with chores was commendable.  She did not fuss over herself and never complained.  Neither was she given to histrionics, a trait he found offensive in so many of her sex.  As captain of the ship, it was his duty to dispense discipline when needed.  The courtesan had taken an unnecessary risk and had been punished, as would any member of the crew.  It sounded plausible.

She would understand.

And so it was with that rationale he descended the steps leading to his quarters.  The tension in his shoulders eased, and he relaxed.  As he passed the galley, Trevor’s cabin boy gave him pause.

“A word, Cap’n?”

“Aye?”  As he looked forward to settling matters with his charming captive, he swallowed his impatience at the delay.  “What is it, Billy?”

“It’s the lady, sir.”  Staring at the tips of his boots, the lad shuffled his feet in obvious discomfort.  “She didn’t eat any lunch.”

“I am sure everything will be fine now.”  At least he hoped it would be.  What on earth would he do if the woman were still sobbing, offer her a handkerchief?  Trevor frowned.  “Serve dinner at eight.  We will be ready.”

Surely half an hour was sufficient time to wash, explain his position to Caroline, and partake of a pleasant meal.  And he had a few persuasive weapons at his disposal.  Perhaps they would share a few conciliatory kisses.  He smiled at the thought.

Reaching the entrance to his chamber, Trevor twisted the knob and entered.  Closing the door, he turned around--and ducked.

The object on a collision course with his head connected instead with the wood panel.

Whack

Before he could say anything, he caught a glimpse of another item and barely avoided it.

Moving into the room, Trevor crouched again.

“Caroline, stop it.”  He raised his arms in defense even as he sidestepped her bombardment.

“Go to the devil!”  She launched another volley.

“I demand that you cease this childish behavior and talk to me.”

“Childish, indeed.”  Her blue eyes glittered with fire and ice.  “I should think you would expect it, as you spanked me in front of everyone.”  Her arm flung wide, catapulting an additional attempt to de-brain him.

As he evaded another attack, Trevor lowered his hands.  “So help me, if you throw one more thing, I will do it again.”

With high dudgeon, she stomped her foot.  “You wouldn’t dare.”

Snorting in surprise, he couldn’t stifle a chuckle.  No woman had ever defied his authority, and at that precise moment, ill timed as it was, he decided he liked it.

“I would dare,” he said in jest, because, devil take it, Trevor couldn’t resist her.

“Who do you think you are?”  Drawing herself up, looking every inch a blueblood, though he knew she was not, the demirep pinned him with a narrow stare.  “You do not own me, and I am not a member of your crew to be ordered about or subjected to your abuse.”

“Come now, we both know I did not hurt you.”

“That may be, but I am not to be disciplined as one of your men.”

“I’ll grant you that, but you are aboard my ship.”

“We both know how I came to be here.”

In that he could not argue.  Gazing on the beautiful ladybird poised with a book in her grasp, no doubt considering another shot at his head, Trevor could not be mad at her.  And he was trying, with every ounce of strength, to summon anger, indignation, ire--anything to keep the mistress at a safe distance.

She stood before him, breasts heaving, thick hair jutting wildly, her cheeks flushed in fury, and all he wanted to do was kiss her silly.

Every inch of her.

But that would violate his promise.  Revenge had been won at the expense of young Randolph.  There would be no seduction tonight, because he had sworn a personal oath that he would not take Caroline to his bed.

“We will continue our conversation when you are ready to discuss this as an adult.”  He crossed to the washstand, peering out the corner of his eye on guard for another barrage.  “Dinner will be served soon, so I suggest you settle yourself.”

“Rot you, Trevor.”  Her chin rose to impressive heights.  “And don’t ever touch me again.”

He reached for a towel as she marched to the bunk.  “Are you not going to eat?  The ovens are lit, and we’ll have warm fare tonight.”

“I shall do as I please,” Caroline snapped.

“Suit yourself, madam.”

Movement on the floor caught his attention, and he retrieved a brass candlestick holder.  A brief search yielded the mate where it had come to rest.  Then he found the hairbrush they had been sharing.  The next discovery was a bar of soap and, at last, a leather-bound tome.

Pursing his lips, he forestalled the laughter dancing on the tip of his tongue.  It did not take a genius to know his little hellion would not appreciate his good humor, and he was no glutton for punishment.

Someday, when the seas no longer entertained his roaming spirit, and he decided to fulfill the duties of his title, Trevor resolved to find a mate with a more docile temperament.  An agreeable spouse, one who would give him heirs and content herself with being seen--not heard, was just the woman for him.

At present, however, there was work to be finished.  Respite from the evening’s drama was found amid a stack of logs requiring entries.  Rolling up his sleeves, Trevor served himself a healthy portion of stew, sat at his desk, and opened the first ledger.

Hours later, he consulted his timepiece and closed the last journal.  Plagued by a lack of concentration, it had taken him twice the usual effort to complete his tasks, and his distraction remained where she had been before, during, and after dinner, curled on her side, facing the wall, in his bunk.  Why had he not given her alternate accommodations?

Caroline had not made a sound, had not moved an inch.  What was he supposed to do with her?  Well, if the ladybird expected an apology; that was not in his vocabulary.  Convinced tomorrow would see her set right, he turned out the lamps, undressed, and slid into bed.

In the solitude of night, Trevor wondered what had possessed him to strike her?  She was correct in her assertion that he had no right to punish her, because she was a guest, albeit, one taken by force, aboard his ship.  Yet he had acted before he’d realized what he had done.  Why had he lost control?  Why had her jaunt among the ratlines sent him spiraling in panic?  It was a puzzle begging to be solved.

But he would rather walk the plank.

#

A new day dawned, and Trevor found, much to his everlasting frustration, that Mistress Caroline could be every bit as stubborn as a man.

“Morning, sweet.”  Determined to make amends, he waited on her, for a change, setting a tray loaded with covered dishes on the table.  “Breakfast is served.”

A feminine sniff was her only response.

Such intestinal fortitude should be confined to the male species.

After inhaling a plate of fruit, bacon, and toast, he gathered his charts and glanced at her motionless form.  The damn difficult demirep was causing him no end of torment.  Then again, she was a woman.  Making a mental note to break for lunch, he decided he would coax her into eating that afternoon.

But despite his good intentions, things did not work out as planned.  The winds picked up, and the sails needed to be reefed, so Trevor lunched with the first mate and the helmsman on the quarterdeck.  They discussed their current course and the time it would take to reach London.  Once they reached their destination, he would put the beautiful courtesan ashore and never see her again.

“Cap’n, a word.”

“Aye, George, what is it?”

“I passed young Billy in the galley.”  The first mate scratched his head.  “He tells me yer lady hasn’t been eatin’.  She did not break her fast, and her noon meal went untouched as well.  Is she ill, Cap’n?”

Trevor frowned.  If he let her, Mistress Caroline would be his downfall.  Lovely or not, the ladybird could not maintain her tack, and she had not eaten since the previous morning.  Why he cared he was not sure.

“She is not ill, George, she is just being a woman.  Take over here, I am going below.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Had he the time, he would have taken issue with the broad smile on George’s face.  But he was determined to remain focused on the task at hand.  In his mind, he formed a suitable argument he was certain would bring the demirep around--until he found himself before the door to his quarters.

Caroline was as predictable as the weather.

Upon entering his cabin, Trevor noticed the lamps had not been lit.  It was a menial chore she had assumed and performed with unfailing efficiency.  A check of the bunk confirmed his suspicions.  The small female form hadn’t budged.  At the knock on the door, he flinched.  “Come.”

“Cap’n, I have your dinner.”

“Set it on the table and light the candles.  We will serve ourselves.”  Hell would freeze before Trevor allowed anyone to witness what he knew must be done.  “That will be all, Billy.”

“Aye, sir.”

At the washstand, Trevor splashed cold water on his face, stalling until his cabin boy exited.  He had never dealt with an angry woman.  In the past, whenever a lady got fussy with him, he simply took his leave.  As they were at sea, that was not an option.

Once he was alone with his quarry, he sat on the bed.  “Caroline.”

“Go away.”  Her voice was curt, her body tense.

Rubbing his temples, he summoned every ounce of patience within him.  Willing himself to remain calm, he tried again.

“Please hear me out.”

Silence followed, but he was not sure that was a good sign.  There ought to be a codebook to decipher such behavior.

“When I disciplined you, my intent was neither to hurt nor embarrass you.  Seeing you in the rigging...you could have been injured or...”  He could not say it.  “I swear you took ten years off my life.”

Staring at the ceiling, Trevor raked a hand through his hair and wondered if this could be any more difficult.  “I am sorry I struck you.”  He swallowed hard; uttering the words left a bad taste in his mouth.  It was hell being a gentleman.

But Caroline did not move.

It appeared his concession was getting him nowhere.  “Believe me when I say I sincerely regret what happened on deck.”  Resting a palm on her hip, he leaned near.  “Caroline, please look at me.”

All of a sudden, she rolled on her back and stared him straight in the eyes.  Remorse tore through Trevor in direct proportion to the pain he spied in her blue depths.  Inside him, something fractured.

He had done this.

But he could make it right.

“I am sorry.”  He cupped her cheek, as the heartfelt apology fell from his lips without hesitation.  “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Then why did you hit me?”

That was an excellent question for which he still had no explanation.

“As God is my witness, I do not know.”

“You gave me permission to help the watch.”

“To mend a sail, yes.”  Tapping a finger to the tip of her nose, Trevor smiled.  “Not to climb the rigging.”

“But you did not forbid it.”

“Because I did not think I had to.”

Caroline furrowed her brow.  “So you thought I was in peril?”

“Aye.”  He should have guessed that she would not be appeased by a mere expression of regret.  “And if something were to happen to you, I could not live with myself.  You must understand, I am the captain, and the men rely on me to lead.  This ship and her crew are my responsibility.  I must maintain control if I am to maintain discipline.  But when I thought you were in danger, I lost composure.  Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

“Yes.”  Caroline dipped her chin.  “I think I do.”

Her too-satisfied countenance gave him the chills.  It was as if she knew the answer to a riddle he could not solve.  Against his better judgment, he studied her lips.  How he ached to claim her mouth.  But Trevor knew he would not be satisfied with a simple kiss.  “Am I forgiven?”

Again, she nodded once.

Standing, he sketched his most elegant bow.  “I would be honored if you would consent to dine with me, my lady.”

To her credit, Caroline devoured every morsel he put before her--and that was no small feat.  He was determined to have her consume something akin to the four meals she had skipped.  Teasing and cajoling, he plied her with wine until she pushed her plate away and begged for mercy.

“I have a surprise for you.”  Trevor walked to the door.  Holding it open, he hailed two of his crewmen, who carried in steaming buckets and began filling the bath.

“Saltwater is so harsh.”  Caroline wrinkled her nose and rubbed her forearms.  Once they were alone, she crossed to the bathing area, dipped a hand, withdrew it and touched a finger to her tongue.  In an instant, her eyes grew wide.

“How did you--”

“From the storm, though I cannot take credit.  It was George’s idea.”  Rocking on his heels, he folded his arms and delighted in her look of wonder.  Pleasing her pleased him.  “He had the men lash a barrel to the railing.  As hard as you have worked, you have earned a treat.  Were we in London, I would find a more suitable gift, one worthy of your contributions.  At sea, I am afraid a freshwater bath is all I can offer.”

Caroline rewarded him with a radiant smile that left him breathless.  Rising on her toes, she wrapped her arms around him and favored him with a delicate kiss on the corner of his mouth.  “Thank you.”

And he just stood there, like a giddy schoolboy, painfully aroused with his Jolly Roger at full sail.  Mortified by the burn of a blush in his cheeks, Trevor shuddered and cleared his throat.  “I will be back in half an hour.  We will share a brandy.”

But not my bed
.

CHAPTER FIVE

True to his word, Trevor returned to the cabin precisely half an hour later.  Anticipation swelled in his veins, as did the unholy serpent in his breeches, when he entered the chamber.  Despite the internal dialogue in which he had engaged, while prowling the decks, as a reminder not to seduce the courtesan, he was ready to devour a dish of chestnut-haired mistress.  It required every ounce of his heretofore-vaunted self-control to restrict his appetite to the standard fare on the table.