Mistress Below Deck (9 page)

‘And what will happen to Jane if the ransom is not paid?'

‘She will remain a prisoner.'

‘And—what else?'

‘A servant in her owner's house—or…'

‘What?' He looked at her. ‘Tell me.'

‘It is likely that she will become her master's concubine.'

‘Concubine? You mean—like a paramour?'

‘Yes, something like that.'

Tears filled Rowena's eyes and she turned away so he would not see them. ‘My poor sister,' she whispered. ‘How frightened she must be. She is not strong and she might even die from this. More than ever, I have to find her.' When she looked again at Tobias, her eyes were large and pleading. Slipping off her seat, she went and knelt on the floor before him, placing her hand on his knee, unaware as she did so how the lean, hard muscles of his thighs flexed beneath the tight-fitting breeches at her touch.

‘Will you pay her ransom fee if we find her? Please, Tobias. You said I was proud, and I say, yes, I am proud—proud and difficult and reckless and the most wilful female you could ever meet. But if you will do this I will do anything you ask of me—even to humbling myself to any task you give me to do. I'll mop your cabin as often as you wish, polish the woodwork until my fingers bleed, and wait on you like the humblest of servants. I swear that I will repay you a thousandfold.'

Tobias glanced at her lovely face framed by her short cropped hair. She was in earnest, and all the more desirable in her vulnerability. He could feel the heat seeping into him from the small, yet long-fingered hand resting on his knee. Desire was already tightening his loins—and she only had her hand on his knee. He didn't
understand why she had such a volatile effect on him, but he understood that he wanted her. He wanted her warm and willing in his arms, and for that he would give her the earth if he possibly could.

With her huge, fear-widened eyes riveted on his face, Rowena saw indecision flicker across his hard features. ‘Please,' she whispered, mistaking his silence for refusal. ‘You know I cannot possibly afford to pay the ransom, Tobias.' She looked at him pleadingly. ‘Will you loan me the money?'

He finally spoke and Rowena tensed with hope. ‘Is there to be no end to your demands, Rowena?'

‘I have no one else I can ask.'

‘What of your husband-to-be? He is rich.'

‘Yes, but he isn't here and you are. So, will you loan me the money if a ransom becomes necessary?'

He looked at her through narrowed eyes, and she was too overwrought to notice the odd, meaningful note in his voice as he said, ‘It will cost you. That will be two nights you owe me, Miss Golding, instead of the one.'

She swallowed hard. ‘I thought you might say something like that,' she retorted, turning a heated glower on him and snatching her hand from his knee. The fact that she was betrothed to another man meant nothing to him. In willingly surrendering her honour to him—not once, but twice—she would become a whore, a disgrace to herself, her family and her future husband, and no matter how she told herself she despised him, she knew it was possible for an arch player like Tobias to break her heart.

‘Do we have a bargain, Rowena?'

She lifted her small chin, looking like a proud young queen who'd just been betrayed by someone she trusted. Although her resentment remained, she had to fight against falling under the spell of his deep voice and those compelling blue eyes.

‘You know, you really can be quite obnoxious.'

Tobias smiled lazily. ‘I know. But I am still rich, and you still need me.'

‘I wish I didn't.'

The smile did not waver. ‘I know. I will ask you again. Do we have a bargain?'

Rowena hesitated an endless moment, knowing she had no alternative, before nodding imperceptibly.

His smile was one of immense satisfaction. ‘If you're worried that I mean to extract payment on our bargain immediately, then you may put your mind at ease. It is my aim to secure Jane's release first, and besides, I have duties enough to occupy me for the present.'

‘Such as tracking down Jack Mason.'

‘Exactly.'

He averted his gaze, and for a space he stared beyond the delightful young woman at his feet, through the window at the sparkling blue-green sea, deep in his own thoughts. All his life he had believed he was a man who could get what he wanted if he tried hard enough. He was a man who was sure of himself and his own abilities, strong in himself and in his position, and yet weakened by what Mason had done to him and those he employed, and he could not tolerate his own inability to make him pay.

Hoisting himself out of his chair, he stretched and donned his jacket to go on deck. ‘One thing has been puzzling me since I became aware of your deception, Rowena. What happened to my cabin boy?'

‘I sent him with a letter to Tregowan Hall, asking Lord Tregowan to find him work.'

‘And what did you tell your father?'

‘I didn't. I left him a note. When will we reach Algiers?'

‘If the winds are favourable, about three days. We will put in for water south of Lisbon before we pass through the Straits of Gibraltar. It's the corsairs' hunting ground and the most dangerous part of any voyage, where they target vulnerable merchant vessels passing through. Hopefully we'll sail through unhindered.'

A
panorama of rich green vegetation rose to tree-covered hills that stood out sharply against a sky of cloudless blue. Unable to resist the white surf creaming on the golden sand, as several members of the crew carrying empty casks left the ship, which was anchored close in shore, Rowena turned to Mark Dexter.

‘How long do you intend being here?'

‘Three hours or little more. Why? Would you like to go ashore?'

‘If I may—for a while.'

‘Then don't stray too far.'

With bare feet and wearing her floppy hat, Rowena was soon clambering down the rope ladder hung over the ship's side and walking along the seemingly deserted palm-fringed beach. Strolling round a headland, she found herself in a small cove. Looking back, she found that she could no longer see the ship. Unconcerned, she looked at the sea lapping at the shore,
prisms of light dancing on the surface. The sun was hot and she longed to wade into the crystal-clear water.

She sauntered unhurriedly down the sandy slope to the water's edge, where tiny crabs scuttled away. Confident that she was quite alone and with the sea exercising a magnetic pull, to allow herself more freedom she removed her bindings, taking the first deep breath since applying them earlier.

Wading into the shallows, she found the water was warm and welcoming. She plunged forward in a gentle arc, immersing her entire body, the gentle swell billowing out her loose shirt. It was an exhilarating feeling as the blessed coolness enveloped her, caressing her skin like silk, and as she swam beneath the surface her body seemed to liquefy. It was wonderful. When she remembered swimming in the Cornish waters, even in the middle of summer, it had been much colder than this.

Breaking the surface, she set out to swim across the small bay, her arms and legs falling into the remembered rhythm, and she moved effortlessly through the water, pausing now and then to float on her back, rising and falling with the gentle swell, her face turned up to the sun, her eyes half-closed.

It was during one of these periods of respite that she became aware of a soft, regular splashing close by of someone swimming. She reared up out of the water just in time to see someone swimming fast and powerfully towards her, cutting the water in a clean, graceful line before diving beneath the water and disappearing from sight. Realising the foolishness of swimming alone like
this in a place totally unknown to her, in sudden panic she trod water, looking around frantically for the swimmer to surface—but where?

To her horror a hard arm threaded around her waist, jerking her back against a hard chest. She opened her mouth to scream, her voice dying in a gurgle as she was pulled down and she swallowed a mouthful of sea water. Mercifully her assailant lifted her up and she heard him laugh.

As first she was amazed, outraged and furious. ‘Tobias Searle!' she gasped, indignant. ‘I would have thought you'd have more to do aboard your ship than to follow me. How long have you been watching me?'

A slow appreciative smile touched his lips. ‘Long enough.'

‘Long enough for what?'

His smouldering gaze passed over her face. ‘Long enough to realise you swim like a fish.' His arm still holding her waist; time was suspended as, trying to ignore her mixed emotions, Rowena stared at him. A lazy, devastating grin swept across his tanned face. ‘I was curious to see what my cabin boy was up to. You seemed to be enjoying yourself so much I thought I would join you. You really do swim very well—not at all bad for a cabin boy.'

‘I live in Cornwall, by the sea,' she replied, glad she hadn't removed her shirt and trews when she'd decided to take a swim, for she had been sorely tempted to feel the cool water caress her flesh without the hindrance of clothes. ‘There's no shortage of water in which to swim.'

‘I know of no other woman who would want to. I came to find you to make sure you were all right.'

‘I suppose I should be grateful—but, as you see I am not properly dressed to receive you.'

‘You could be dressed in sackcloth and ashes for all I care. I assure you, Rowena, that shirt and those trousers are most provocative at all times.'

Rowena thought that after almost three weeks on board ship with just his crew for company, any woman would probably appeal to him. ‘The last thing I want to do is look nice for you.'

She was unaware that the dark brown hair, soaked and clinging to her head, was many different shades and dazzling lights, as her eyes flared into life. Tobias's expression was unreadable, smiling, watchful, a knowing look in his eyes.
What kind of man are you, Tobias
Searle?
she wondered, and realised she had no idea at all. She gave him a speculative look, deeply conscious that his easy, mocking exterior hid the inner man.

Brought abruptly from her ponderous thoughts, she let out a startled shriek as his hands again jerked her down beneath the surface, gasping for air. ‘That,' she cried with laughing severity when she resurfaced as Tobias raked his wet hair back and grinned at her, ‘was a very silly and childish thing to do. Almost as childish as this,' she said, sliding her hand over the surface of the water and sending a spray of water into his face before ducking for cover under the water to avoid reprisal and swimming round him.

There followed a laughing, carefree ducking,
swimming and racing session that left Rowena breathless and exhausted. Swimming to the shore with Tobias close behind, she padded up the beach before flopping down on to her back, her chest heaving from her exertions.

‘You play too rough,' she reprimanded good naturedly.

Hands on hips, Tobias stood looking down at her, dripping water, and quietly, he said, ‘I would be as gentle as you wish me to be, Rowena.'

Rowena melted inside at the meaning she read in his words and his eyes, when she half-opened her own and squinted up at him. Through the veil of her eyelashes she could see the rugged planes of his face. The breath froze in her throat. His only article of clothing was his white sodden breeches, rolled up over his muscular calves. He was well over six feet of splendid masculinity, firm muscled and broad shouldered and narrow hipped. His chest was covered with a furring of black hair that narrowed as it reached his flat abdomen and dipped below the waistband of his breeches.

Disconcerted and embarrassed by the way the sight of his bronzed, shining wet body was affecting her, she closed her eyes. From the moment he had taken charge of her in her seasickness, a subtle change of power had taken place. Until then she had been confident and in control of their relationship. Now, she felt confused and extremely vulnerable.

He sat down beside her, bending his knee on which he rested his arm. ‘Your clothes are wet,' he remarked, a slow grin spreading across his lips. He seemed casually unconcerned with his state of undress.

‘They usually are when one's been swimming,' she replied, her tone lightly sarcastic. ‘It doesn't matter. They'll soon dry in this heat, and I can change when I get back to the ship.' She sighed contentedly. ‘It's a beautiful day, don't you agree?'

He gazed at her for a moment, excruciatingly aware of the luscious shape concealed beneath her loose shirt and trews. Her calves and ankles above her well-shaped feet gleamed pale in the sand. His wide, sensual mouth turned upward in the faintest of cynical smiles. ‘It's still too early to tell.'

As his gaze swept down the length of her and back again, Rowena abruptly realised how very alone they were. ‘Don't you have things to do while the ship is at anchor?'

‘Such as?'

‘Oh, I don't know—counting water barrels—making sure you don't leave any of the crew behind.'

‘I have others to do that. I'd much rather be here with you.'

She glowered up at him. ‘Trying to seduce me, you mean.'

He trailed his fingers lightly down her bare lower arm. Her face, young, vulnerable and defenceless and already turning a lovely golden colour, was naked beneath the heavy crop of her hair.

‘What do you think I am doing right now?' he murmured, sliding his fingers under the loose wet sleeve of her shirt.

Rowena gasped and wrenched backward. ‘I shudder to think. Stop that!' She snatched her arm away.

Frustration crossed Tobias's face for just a moment, as though he'd forgotten he was teasing. If he had been teasing. ‘One day very soon, Rowena,' he murmured in a low drawl, ‘you will not draw away from me. You'll beg me to continue.'

‘I assume you are referring to our bargain. If you must know, I get little sleep just thinking about it,' she said in a vein of honesty, fretting over it. ‘But if you don't mind, for the time being I will enjoy what is left of my pride.'

Tobias's eyes gleamed with devilish humour, and his lips drew into a slow smile. ‘Very sensible, my love.'

Rowena lifted her chin. ‘I am not your love. You are a scoundrel, Tobias Searle, and I am certain I am just one in a long line of women.'

‘That I cannot deny. But had you been the first, you might well have been the last.' His eyes had become serious and seemed to probe her being.

Confused by the gentle warmth of his gaze and the directness of his words, Rowena could not determine whether he mocked her or told the truth. She had never known a man with such persistence and single-mindedness.

‘And you have a silken tongue. No doubt you found the tavern girls accommodating in Falmouth during your stay. I believe a pretty young girl called Molly who works at the White Hart is rather free with her favours.'

‘I know the wench you speak of. She often sat at my table—even invited me to her room,' he told her casually.

Rowena turned her head and looked at him in
shocked disbelief, unable to quell the sudden rush of jealousy. ‘She did? And you went? Just like that?'

Tobias frowned and considered her question before answering. ‘No. She recognised I had coin in my purse and might be—generous.'

‘Do tell. I'm curious.'

Leaning over her, Tobias shook his head and laughed. He was too much of a gentleman to admit that willing bed partners had always been available to him, but that he preferred discreet, exclusive liaisons with sophisticated women. He looked into her expectant gaze. ‘Suffice to say I am not one to dally with tavern wenches. There were many appealing young women in Falmouth who were prepared to be more than accommodating. But not one of them appealed to me.'

Rowena conjured a scowl, which wasn't very difficult considering that she was torn between getting up and running away and demanding to know what he would do next. ‘Do you always get what you want?'

‘Usually,' he answered. ‘Perhaps because I am arrogant or inconsiderate—or selfish.'

‘Or all three,' she was quick to bite back, careful to avoid looking at his naked chest.

‘Am I bothering you, Rowena?' he asked softly.

‘You know you are. Suddenly I feel less like your cabin boy and more like a tasty morsel you are about to devour,' she murmured lethargically before she could stop herself.

He gave a satisfied chuckle. ‘A very delectable morsel, Rowena. You should not have come here alone.'

‘Am I allowed no freedom? I told Mr Dexter I was going to take a stroll. He didn't object.'

‘Which was why he told me.'

‘The place is deserted.'

‘It might seem that way, but it is not always the case. This place is part of the mainland and not uninhabited. Your presence might attract a group of locals—and very possibly a herd of goats. Mine is not the only ship to put in hereabouts. Stray too far and you might have more company than you wish for.'

Sitting up, she tossed back her gleaming hair with a flick of her head. ‘I have. You.'

He rose to his feet and stepped back apace, staring down at her. Her soaked shirt clung to her body, outlining the shapely peaks of her breasts that were high and firm, fuller than her wraith-like slenderness indicated.

Seeing where his gaze was directed, Rowena quelled the instinctive urge to draw her arms across her chest. She felt indecently exposed without the bindings and could feel her nipples tightening.

‘Please don't look at me like that.'

‘It's hard not to, when you're wearing so little. Might I suggest that before you return to the ship you bind yourself, otherwise my crew will see you for what you are and your life on board won't be worth living.'

Tobias could feel himself responding to her closeness. Maybe it was an indefinable impression, an illusion, a trick of the sun's bright light reflecting off the water, but she seemed changed somehow. What was it? What was in her eyes, and what was in the soft turn of
her lips as though she smiled at some private thought? Her soft young face was turned to his and she was gazing at him strangely too, assessing him in some way, her gaze reflective, a glow of something in her eyes, which were a soft green velvet now, the bright gleam gone all of a sudden.