Sea Mistress (20 page)

“Reilly,” he called to the top deck. “Go ahead and pull her up.”

Bess panicked. “Seth?”

“It's all right. I'm going with you. Hang on.”

To Bess's astonishment, the rope moved, holding her and Seth's combined weight. They had ascended a foot or so when she bumped against the side of the ship, grimacing as her knee hit wood, but her skirts protected her from any real injury.

“Halt!” Seth shouted after hearing her stifled cry of pain. “Put your feet against the side, Lisabeth,” he told her.

She tried to, but couldn't. Her feet skidded off the side and fell against Seth's legs. Bess wondered what to do. She was in danger of losing her slippers, but didn't want to say so, because it seemed a silly thing under the circumstances to worry about one's shoes.

Seth shifted, and Bess gasped with fear. She sensed that he'd wrapped his ankles about the rope, forming a cradle of sorts for her body. Bess relaxed, feeling safe once again.

“Are you all right?” His words caressed her right ear.

She nodded.

“All right, men, pull!” he commanded.

The rope moved and Bess, snug in the hollow formed by the position of Seth's muscled body, felt herself rising up the side of the ship. And she felt no fear. Finally, she was eye level with the ship's rail. She had reached the top safely as Seth had promised. Now she had to somehow climb over the rail.

Bess saw that the men who had remained on board had formed a team to haul up the rope. She recognized Richard Reilly as the man in front.

“Take the rail,” Reilly said.

Instantly, she grabbed the rail, and someone— a young sailor she didn't know by name—caught her wrists and tugged her until she tumbled unladylike over the rail and onto the wooden deck.

“Sorry, Miss,” the sailor said, blushing.

Bess, whose face was as red as that of the embarrassed seaman, turned to check on Seth. The captain was climbing agilely over the ship's rail.

Seth flashed her a grin. “Good girl,” he said.

And she beamed back at him, all feeling of embarrassment gone as she basked in his praise. “Not very graceful,” she admitted with a chuckle, “but safe.” Her expression became serious. “Thank you,” she said, her tone soberly sincere.

He nodded, before he abruptly turned away. Bess, disappointed in his reaction, listened as he addressed a seaman.

“Mr. Reilly, please see my wife to my cabin,” Seth said. Richard Reilly nodded respectfully.

Seth turned to Bess, who privately seethed that he hadn't asked her whether or not she wanted to go to his cabin. A bride not a full day and already her husband was deciding things for her!

“I have a few things I must see to, but I need to speak with you. Will you wait for me in my cabin?”

It had been on the tip of Bess's tongue to refuse, but Seth's gaze was tender, as was the sensual smile he gave her. She studied his handsome face, heard his gentle voice, and found she couldn't deny him.

She nodded. “I'll be waiting.”

Tension suddenly filled the air between them as both recalled a time long ago when Bess had uttered the same words when Seth had been leaving her to go to sea.

“Good,” he said after several heartbeats. His face changed, concealing his thoughts he left her abruptly, leaving Bess to stare after him.

“Mrs. Garret?”

Bess looked at Richard Reilly, who stood by waiting until she was ready to go below. Her pulse had quickened at the sailor's use of her married name.
It's only make-believe,
she silently reminded herself.
Don't let yourself forget it. You mustn't forget about the baby . . . you mustn't lose sight of why you're here . . .

“Yes, Mr. Reilly,” she said, “I'm ready to go— thank you.”

Bess followed the man down to the berth deck. There, she sat down on Seth's bunk to wait for him.

Seth stood at the rail and watched as the dinghy approached the
Sea Mistress.
His eyes narrowed as he made out the occupants of the small craft. He had known they were coming, but he didn't like it. These passengers would bring them nothing but the trouble during the remaining two months of the voyage. He'd have his hands full keeping his men from strangling the couple. In the short time he'd known the Dunnons, he had wanted alternately to strangle and throttle them himself.

James Kelley joined his commander. “My God, Garret,” he said, using his friendship with Seth to speak his mind. “What on earth possessed you to agree to take them along? Two months in the Dunnons' company . . .” He pretended to shudder. “They'll have us all mad within their first day.”

Seth's mouth twisted as he stared at the boat and nodded his agreement. “I have to take them. It was part of the agreement.”

He sensed his friend's questioning regard and looked at him. “It was the only way Dunnon would consent to perform the wedding ceremony.”

“Damn,” James said.

“Aye,” his captain said. “It will not be an easy voyage, I'm afraid.” He paused, his gaze returning to the two heavyset people in the small craft. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Bess's safety, he thought. Only the sanity of the crew.

“Dunnon claims he was shipwrecked,” Seth continued. “Sent by God to Brazil to preach to the inhabitants there. But a protestant minister in a Catholic land . . . his word wasn't heeded. I suspect, though, that the man wasn't shipwrecked at all, but put off the ship of some aggravated captain. As for the people listening to his sermons . . .” He smiled crookedly in James' direction. “Would you listen to a man of God with a taste for riches and who knows what else?”

James' chuckle filled the air, making Seth's smile more genuine.

“Laugh now, my friend,” Seth said. “An hour from now things won't seem so amusing. That horrible woman will be whining and making you crazy.” Seth tangled his fingers in the hair at his nape, tugging slightly. “I have never in my life met a person who carries on and complains so.”

“Yet you agreed to put up with her so you could marry Bess.” James' voice was soft. “You must love her desperately.”

Seth shot him a startled look. He quickly looked away lest James see his pain, his confused feelings for the woman who had recently become his wife. Bess had again enslaved him with her beauty and spirit.

“Yoo who!” Mathilde Dunnon's shrill call caught the two officers' attention, effectively putting an end to their conversation, and Seth was grateful for the reprieve. He wasn't ready to face his true feelings for Bess. He wanted her. But desire wasn't love. He couldn't possibly be in love with her again. He couldn't be so foolish.

“Captain! Captain Garret!” George Dunnon hailed Seth as the dinghy neared the side of the
Sea Mistress.
“Captain, how are we to get into your boat?”

“In a moment, Mr. Dunnon,” Seth called back. Stifling his impatience, he waved over one of his crew. “Pete, throw down two rope lines,” he commanded.

The youth nodded and did his commander's bidding, after securing one end of each rope.

“Mr. Dunnon, grab the ropes,” Seth called without feeling. “And climb on board.”

He turned from the rail, ignoring the astonished cries of the horrified couple, who hadn't a clue how to climb a rope. It might have been amusing to stay and watch the two struggle to get on board, Seth thought, but he had better things to do. Only moments earlier he'd ordered Mark to move his wife's belongings into his cabin. He'd better go and talk with Bess, prepare her for Mathilde Dunnon's presence on board.

Bess wasn't going to like having the Dunnons as fellow passengers, Seth mused as he descended the ladder to the lower deck. She'd barely been able to tolerate the couple during the brief time it took for the wedding ceremony. What was she going to say when she found out that they would be with them for the remainder of the voyage to California?

Seth braced himself for Bess's anger.

 

 

Bess was restless. She hadn't minded waiting for a while in Seth's cabin, for it had given her a chance to satisfy some of her curiosity about her new husband. She studied the maps on his chart table and wandered about the room, examining his personal things. Why then was she no closer to knowing anything more about his true nature?

He was the same man, yet different from the younger Seth she'd known. His features were more mature, more handsome and rugged. But what about inside? What was Seth thinking when he looked so stern? What about when he smiled?

Bess wanted to understand him. She needed to know why he'd never returned when he'd promised. Had his promise been a lie from the start? Had his profession of love for her been a cruel game designed to lure Bess into his waiting arms? How could she have surrendered herself to him so quickly?

So far she'd found nothing to help her. A shirt of his lay across the seat of the built-in bench, and she went to it now, lifted it to her nose, and inhaled his fragrance.

Bess closed her eyes and fought a rush of tears. God, how she'd once loved him. How she'd missed his scent—and everything else about him that had attracted her to him.

A knock resounded on the hatch, and, startled, Bess threw the shirt back where she'd found it. She waited for a few calming breaths, before she went to see who it was. She knew it couldn't be Seth. The captain wouldn't knock before he entered his own cabin.

“Mrs. Garret.” Mark Hawke, Seth's steward and personal servant, gave her a respectful nod.

“Mark,” she murmured, stepping back to allow him entry. Her gaze widened as she noted that his arms were laden with clothing—her clothing.

Mark, seeing her look, explained his presence. “The captain asked me to move your things.”

“Move my things,” Bess echoed dumbly.

“Aye,” the steward said. He walked past her to lay the garments on Seth's bunk. “I'll just put these here for now, until you decide where you want them.”

Bess's breath strangled in her throat as she took in the implications of the move of her belongings. She wanted to order Mark to return the garments to her cabin—the cabin across the passageway— but by the time she opened her mouth, Mark had gone. She stared through the open door and saw that he'd gone back to her cabin for more of her things.

By the time Mark came back with her brush and comb and a few other personal items, Bess was unable to speak. Panic-stricken, she swallowed as she watched Mark set down her brush. She felt panic become anger as he arranged her comb near her hairbrush. Bess blushed as he next stowed her chamberpot in a cabinet under the washstand.

Her anger burned, intensifying to red-hot fury. How dare Seth presume that she'd agree to move into his cabin!

Seth's earlier words came back to disturb her.
“Every man on board ship must believe that our marriage is genuine. Marriage to me will offer you little protection if they don't.”

Bess took several calming breaths as she tried to reason out the captain's order. Perhaps she was panicking for nothing. Perhaps he wanted her clothes stored in his cabin simply to make it look as if they were properly married. Maybe she was wrong; maybe he didn't expect her to sleep in his cabin, only to give the appearance of doing so.

Then a horrifying thought occurred to her.
But then won't the officers expect to move back into their cabin, the cabin I've been using since we left Wilmington?

Her chest tightened as her panic resurfaced. She wouldn't allow Seth to manipulate her into doing what he wanted. She certainly wouldn't allow him to use her in the physical way.

She couldn't share his cabin. If she did she'd be in danger of surrendering to the wild passion that threatened to block all her reasoning powers whenever she was in Seth's presence. She knew what would happen should she be forced to live with him. If she were to spend countless hours in his company she'd be in danger of allowing him to consummate their marriage . . . and of losing sight of her quest for justice . . . and
revenge.

She was tempted to find Mark and question him further. Only if she knew Seth's motives were innocent would she find peace.

A peek out into the passageway showed her that Mark had gone, probably to the upper deck. Bess scowled. She'd have to save her questions for her new husband. Her questions, and her anger.

A few minutes after Bess stepped back inside Seth's cabin and closed the hatch,
he
came. The door opened, and he stepped into the room, his presence looming over her like some dark, threatening specter.

“Bess,” Seth said, noting that her clothes rested on his narrow bunk. “We need to talk.”

“We certainly do!” she exclaimed. “What are my clothes doing here in
your
cabin? Why did Mark bring them?”

Her outraged cry seemed to echo in the ensuing silence. Had she imagined it, or did his lips tighten when she'd mentioned his steward?

“I told you the crew must believe us married,” he said.

“So it's all for appearance's sake?”

He nodded.

She sighed with relief. “Then you don't expect me to stay here.” Her voice trembled slightly. “With you.”

Seth's face turned grim. “I do.”

“You will be sleeping here, Bess.
Sleeping.
A wife stays with her husband.”

“Not all married—”

“This one will,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. “My men will not believe the marriage real otherwise.”

She gasped. “But why can't I just pretend to sleep here? After the crew retires, I can slip into my own cabin, and—”

“Your cabin will be occupied.”

Her worst fears had been confirmed. “The mates.” She had thought the officers would want to regain use of their quarters.

But Seth was shaking his head.

“No?” she questioned, her voice weak in her puzzlement.

As if on cue, a feminine voice penetrated the walls of Seth's cabin. “George, be careful going down that ladder!”

Seth watched the surprise register on Bess's face as she recognized the owner of the voice, followed by a look of dawning horror.

“No,” she breathed, closing her eyes. “Tell me it's not so.” She met his gaze. “That you haven't given the Dunnons my cabin. Tell me that they won't be with us until California . . .”

He couldn't reply, but he knew his expression was answer enough for her.

Bess struck him then, unexpectedly, square in the chest with her fist. “How could you?” she cried. “How could you allow them to come on board?” She didn't know what bothered her more—that she would have to endure Mathilde and George Dunnon over the next sixty or more days, or that she would be spending that same amount of time sharing Seth's cabin. And his bed.

Enduring the Dunnons' company was going to be difficult. Being close to Seth and maintaining a personal detachment from him was going to be hell.

“I'm sorry.” Seth's soft apology made her blink up at him, her eyes full of tears. His apology sounded genuine.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated. “There was no other way . . . no other choice.” He looked away as if he couldn't bear to see her hurt and dismay.

“No other choice,” she said. Hadn't he used that argument before? To reassure her about the marriage? Well, as it hadn't then, it did little now to make things any more acceptable or any easier for her.

“Like our marriage,” she said with bitterness.

“Aye.” He fixed her again with his blue gaze, and the heat of it seared her like his fiery touch had years ago each time they'd made love.

“It was the only way,” he said. “We needed to marry. The Dunnons wanted to go to California. George could perform the ceremony; I had the means of transportation, the vessel that could transport him to where he wanted to go. It was that simple.”

“He coerced you?” she asked. She was astonished that a man of God would resort to such methods.

“A man does what he has to do.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?” Was that Seth's edict for life, too? Was that why he'd never come back to Wilmington for her years ago?

“Captain? Captain!” Mathilde called, while she beat on the wooden hatch.

Seth sighed, his patience with the lady obviously worn thin already. He gave Bess an apologetic smile before he opened the hatch.

“Yes, Mrs. Dunnon.” His tone was polite.

“Where is our cabin, Captain? I do hope it's sufficient. Is it sufficient, Captain? My George—well, he's not a well man, so it's important that our stay on board your ship be pleasant.”

Seth nodded and allowed the woman to ramble on, which she did for five full minutes. When it was clear she was done, at least for as long as it took her to catch her breath, Seth gestured toward the door across the passageway.

“Your cabin is there, madame,” he said.

“Oh, oh,” she blustered. “Well, why didn't you say so? Why did you let me go on? I say, we had an awful time coming on board. How could you have left us? Will it be this difficult to go ashore, when we reach California?”

Bess, standing behind Seth but out of Mathilde's view, felt herself getting a headache as she listened to the woman's complaints. She heard about the terrible ride the Dunnons had in the dinghy, about the awful climb up the ropes to get on board, about how the crew had to pull them up in the end because they couldn't climb, and about how Mathilde had banged her knee as she toppled on board while the men manhandled her as they tugged her onto the ship.