Sea Mistress (17 page)

Bess's curiosity was piqued. He had bought her a gown! His thoughtfulness disturbed as much as it pleased her. What kind of gown would Seth chose for her? “May I see it?”

He stared at the package before he met her gaze. She could feel the rapid thumping of her heartbeat as he gave her a silent nod while handing her the bundle. Bess carefully carried the package to the table where she usually ate her meals.

The bundle was a fabric wrapped package. She set down the object and undid the muslin fabric.

“Oh, Seth . . .” Bess gasped, stunned by what she found. The garment was a lovely creation of yellow taffeta, adorned by ribbons and laces and tiny satin flowers. “It's—it's . . . breath-taking!”

“On you, perhaps,” he said, and she felt her face heat anew. “Do you like it?” he said, as if he couldn't tell how much she loved it.

She nodded. “It's beautiful. May I try it on?”

“Of course.” He turned his back so that she could take off the blue gown and don the yellow one in its place.

“I'd like you to leave.” Her heart raced as she kept her eyes on Seth, on the dark hair that curled against his white shirt collar . . . at the broad expanse of his muscled back.
“Please.”

He faced her, studying her intently, before he nodded. “I'll wait outside.”

Her fingers fumbled over the garment she wore until finally the buttons were free. The blue gown fell to the floor and Bess stepped out of the way of its skirts. She tossed the discarded gown on her bunk and reached for the one of yellow taffeta.

She was struggling to get the garment over her head when suddenly Seth was beside her, taking hold of the gown. “Allow me,” he said.

“I didn't tell you to come in!” she gasped. “I'm not dressed yet!”

He smiled wickedly. “It's nothing I haven't seen before.”

Which was true, she thought. He had seen her naked, touched every quivering inch of her aroused body. Still, she was annoyed and embarrassed as he helped her into the gown.

He adjusted the skirt so that it fell easily to the floor. The bodice fastened up the back. Seth's hands went to work on the tiny hooks, and Bess's skin warmed with his touch. Her breasts tingled at the memory of the last time he'd caressed her intimately . . . when he'd made her whole body come alive.

“There, that does it,” he said, and Bess felt the loss of his titillating touch.

She stood back so that he could eye her critically. Self-consciously, she touched her hair, wondering if it had become mussed as she'd dressed. “How do I look?”

“Looking for me to tell you how beautiful you are?” he asked.

She was horrified at the suggestion.

“I'm only teasing you, Lisabeth,” he said, his tone gentle. “You look . . .” His blue eyes glowed. “. . .. very beautiful, and very desirable.”

Bess swallowed against a suddenly tight throat. “Thank you,” she said, “for the compliment— and the gown.”

His smile was genuinely warm. “You're most welcome.”

She was aware of the intense physical tension between them, and she fought to dispel it. This new side of him was dangerous to her state of mind. Don't give in to the attraction, she thought. You've too much to lose.

“The minister is waiting,” she said.

He nodded. “Aye.” Seth appeared entranced with her appearance, and she was pleased. He extended his arm toward her. “Shall we go?”

In answer, Bess put her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her from the cabin, toward the ladder to the upper deck.

He warmed her hand on his arm with his fingers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You make a breathtaking bride, Lisabeth,” he whispered.

She felt her throat tighten as she thanked him again.

With his help, Bess climbed the ladder to the top deck. She heard voices and was discomfited by the realization that anyone below could see her ankles. Seth was holding up her dress so that she could ascend the ladder without tripping. As she came to the top of her climb, the sight of the men lined up on the main deck waiting to greet her made her forget her embarrassment.

James Kelly came forward to assist her last step. “Miss Metcalfe,” he said, “you look lovely.”

The sentiment was immediately echoed by members of Seth's crew.

“Thank you, James,” she said. “Gentlemen.” She was aware that Seth had climbed up to stand behind her. She frowned, aware of the sudden tension in Seth's lithe frame, but unable to explain it.

“Are you ready?” Seth said softly.

She faced him. “No.” She gave him a twisted smile and saw his mouth tighten.

Seth noted the sheen of tears in Bess's eyes. He saw her lips tremble, and experienced a surge of sympathy for her. His intended was more than a little nervous, which was understandable. After all, she believed they were marrying not for love, but out of necessity. How would she act if she knew the truth? He wanted her in his bed. Before the voyage was completed, he would have her there.

“I must admit I'm a little scared about this,” she said to him alone.

He touched her cheek. “Don't be. Just think of the freedom you'll have on board ship.” He led her toward the rail. “Come. The minister is waiting.”

Bess strained to see him. “I can't see him.”

“He's waiting for us on shore.”

“On shore! But you said—”

“I know what I said, but this is different. I'll be with you, and several of my men.” He lifted a silky strand of her hair. He grinned. “I thought you would prefer marrying on solid ground.”

“Amusing, Seth,” she said, and returned his grin. “You think you know me so well.”

He sobered. “No,” he said. “I don't think I know you very well at all.”

Chilled by Seth's reply, Bess rubbed her bare arms.

The dinghy was on the starboard side of the vessel, manned by Mark Hawke and another seaman. Bess eyed the distance from the rail down to the small boat. How was she going to climb down?

“Mr. Kelley,” Seth said.

Immediately, the first and second mates appeared at Bess's side, ready to lift her over the ship's rail.

“Wait!” She was afraid. “You're not going to throw me like you did that man in Wilmington?”

The men chuckled. The captain appeared startled. “I don't believe so,” Seth said, his amusement returning. “Are you, mates? You're not going to toss her overboard?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Bess, turn around; it'll be easier. James and Richard are going to lower you over the rail. When you can reach it, I want you to grab hold of that rope.” He showed her the life line that would keep her from plummeting into the sea.

“I'll go first,” Seth said. He climbed over the side, grabbing the rope and securing himself with his feet against the
Sea Mistress's
hull. “Now you, Bess.”

Encouraged by his position, Bess nodded, and Seth ordered the men to lift her up. She gasped as the two men hefted her high before lowering over the side. They held her by her shoulders, their grip firm. Bess closed her eyes as she was suspended over the water. She had visions of falling into the sea and drowning, tangled beneath yellow taffeta.

Then she felt Seth's hand settle upon her waist. “Grab hold, Bess,” he said. He was behind her, his grasp firm on the rope. He seemed in no danger of slipping, even when he shifted to encircle her waist with his arm.

“We're going to fall!” she cried.

He chuckled, and the sound was pleasing, soothing to hear. “Nonsense. You weigh no more than a feather.”

He tightened his arm about her middle, fitting her snugly to his hard frame. “Don't you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice whether I do or not?”

He gave a snort. “Some of the old spirit, eh, Bess?”

“Will you please get me off this blasted rope and into that damn boat?”

He clicked his tongue, scolding her. “Careful, my dear. Do you want the crew to hear the true nature of your tongue?”

And he realized that she was truly, deathly, afraid.

“Relax, but don't let go. I promise that in a few moments you'll be down safely.” He sounded stern when he continued. “I need you to listen, to trust me.” He paused. “Do you think you can do that?”

She nodded, a quick dip of her head that told him she was afraid to move.

“All right,” he said soothingly. “When I tell you to, I want you to ease up on your grip. Slowly.”

“You won't let go?”

“I won't let go,” he promised.
I'll never let you go.

How could he get her to loosen up? He needed to get her to relax so that she could listen carefully and obey.

“I've done this a thousand times,” he told her, hoping to instill confidence.

“You have?”

“Aye.”

Reassured, Bess did as she was instructed.
I do trust him to see me safely down.

Once in the dinghy, she realized that the distance from the small boat to the clipper ship's rail wasn't as great as she'd first perceived. Her initial fear seemed silly now. She'd climbed higher in trees when she was a child. The dark water had made her nervous, she decided.

Seth helped her to sit, arranging her skirts so that she was comfortable, before turning to give an order to his men. Within seconds, they were joined by James Kelley.

“I'm to be best man,” James announced with a grin.

“I see,” she said, and smiled slightly at his obvious delight. Her smile faded as Bess thought of Reeves and his refusal to come ashore and be witness to the wedding. He'd elected to stay behind and watch the ship with Richard Reilly. Seth had given Reeves a gun to help protect not only the vessel but the merchandise stored below.

To her surprise, the men steered the dinghy up coast, and not toward the main dock. The craft stayed quite a distance from shore. The men kept it well away from the other ships and vessels anchored in the harbor. Bess wondered why, but didn't ask. She assumed she'd find out the reason soon enough.

After approximately twenty minutes of steady rowing, Seth raised a hand. “Here,” he told his men. “We'll put in here.”

Seth removed his boots, and then he jumped over the side, his bare feet splashing in the crystal-clear water.

Bess frowned as James Kelley followed suit. Was she too supposed to take off her shoes?

James came to her side of the dinghy.

“No need to take off your slippers, Bess,” he said. “I'll carry you.”

“I'll carry her; thank you, Mr. Kelley,” Seth said with quiet authority.

James nodded and stepped aside.

Bess stared at Seth's extended arms and felt her breath change. Her chest tightened as she struggled to take in air. “I don't understand. Why are we getting out here?”

“There's a sand bar from here to the shore,” Seth said. “We'll have to wade in the rest of the way. The dinghy won't make it.”

“Oh.” Bess rose, using her future husband's shoulder to steady herself when the boat rocked as she stood. His flesh burned beneath her palm. The thought of his carrying her made her tingle with anticipation.

Seth smiled at her in encouragement. “Come here.” His eyes gleamed. “Or are you afraid?”

She flushed. “I'm not afraid of you, Seth Garret.”

“Good.” He scooped her up in his strong arms, and James Kelley helped to arrange her skirts so that they wouldn't drag in the salt water.

The three of them headed for shore, followed by the other two sailors, who had gotten out of the small vessel and were hauling it toward dry land.

Bess was overly conscious of Seth's hard, muscled form as he carried her toward the sandy beach. She felt every movement of his firm thighs as he waded through the shallow water. His clean, masculine scent tantalized her, weaving its magic spell. She was seduced by Seth's nearness, his husky laughter as he responded to something James Kelley said. She wanted the illusion of being a happy bride-to-be marrying her beloved to be real. She wanted to forget the past, because her desire for Seth was a reality.

Closing her eyes, Bess sought to create the illusion, to pretend that the wedding and their happiness was real, that she and Seth were five years younger, and that they were marrying for love. He shifted her within his arms as his feet touched dry sand. “Hold on a moment, and I'll find a place to set you down.”

“Anywhere is fine, captain,” she said. She was disturbed by the sudden change in her feelings for him. She needed to put some distance between them. She had to escape his spell.

“Very well, Miss Metcalfe,” he said, and released her, setting her gently to the ground. He appeared to be amused.

Immediately, Bess backed away. She felt the hot sand invade her kid slippers, and she grimaced. In deference to the temperature, she'd worn no stockings, and the tiny grains irritated the sides and soles of her bare feet.

Bess bent, raised her skirts, and removed her shoes. She rose, smiling with relief. Her smile froze in place and then vanished altogether. Seth's men were frankly admiring her, their faces in various expressions of appreciation. Apparently, they'd enjoyed the sight of her bare ankles and calves.

She glared at each one of them, including Seth. Each man turned away, looking uncomfortable.

Seth cleared his throat. “Shall we continue?” He gestured toward the line of trees ahead that bordered the sandy beach. “This way, please,” he said. He took her arm as they moved forward. Bess allowed him to assist her across the sand toward the woods.