Surrender the Heart (40 page)

“Trust me.”

Unable to sleep after Noah left, Marianne bound her hair up in a loose bun, dabbed a moist cloth over her face and neck, and went to the galley to fetch the captain’s breakfast of oatmeal and a biscuit. Carrying
the tray, she nodded toward the marine who stood guard outside the cabin, then entered when the captain screamed her name.

“Where have you been? I’ve been awake for hours,” he grumbled as he flipped his coat tails and took a seat at his desk.

“My apologies, Captain, but it’s not yet eight bells, and I had no way of knowing you had risen.” She squelched the frustration in her voice and instead kept her tone lighthearted.

This seemed to appease him as he took to his meal with gusto, all the while muttering about making port in Antigua, about meeting Admiral Pellew, and being entertained on the flagship. Marianne listened intently for any valuable information that she might pass on to Noah as she brushed off his dress uniform and polished his boots before laying them out beside his bed. But the only thing of import she gleaned was the captain’s mention of receiving orders for his next mission—a mission he seemed most anxious to embark upon.

After he left, Marianne quickly scrubbed and polished the deck, eager to go above as soon as possible. With her eyelids heavy from lack of sleep and her chest still wound tight from last night’s frightening storm, she hoped some fresh air would both revive and calm her. She hoped, too, that it might clear her head, still whirling with what had transpired between her and Noah last night.

As she rose above deck, a flurry of morning activity met her gaze. The majority of the crew were on their hands and knees holystoning the decks. Midshipmen sauntered about issuing orders at the petty officers who were armed with rattan canes with which to strike any laggards. A light breeze, fresh and crisp from the storm, wafted over Marianne, and she inhaled a deep lungful as she carefully made her way to the larboard railing. Above her, Captain Milford and his officers stood upon the quarterdeck, like masters of the sea, ruling the ship and the men upon it with an iron scepter.

Shielding her eyes from the rising sun, Marianne dared a glance aloft, seeking the cause of the ceaseless confusion in her mind and the odd feeling in her belly. But Noah’s eyes had already locked on hers. A flicker of a smile lifted his lips.

“Land ho!” a cry came from above and all eyes scoured the horizon. A gray mound broke through the endless sea off their larboard bow.

Despite her doubts that Noah could orchestrate their escape, excitement flared in Marianne’s chest at the sight of land. She’d been at sea so long, she was beginning to wonder if the earth hadn’t been swallowed up by this vast blue ocean.

As the ship grew abuzz with activity, Marianne clung to the railing and did her best to keep out of the way. She did not want to go below and miss seeing the island grow as they drew near.

The sun rose into a clear cerulean sky that held no trace of last night’s storm. She wished the same were true of her own heart, for she could not stop thinking about Noah’s tenderness toward her—or his kiss. Heat rose up her neck in a wave. Though Marianne had no experience in the matter, she couldn’t believe a man would kiss a woman with such passion unless he harbored some affection for her.

“You enchant me.”
His words bubbled in her heart like a fresh spring, soothing the parched places and dashing the cobwebs from the corners. She longed to embrace them, believe them, and allow her heart to soar with the hope that he truly loved her.

Yet somewhere deep down, fear arose, fear that it was just a dream, a cruel joke. He had made no declaration of affection, no declaration of intent. Perhaps he had simply been trying to allay her fears of the storm.

“Trust me.”
His last words to her echoed in her heart. And right now, she wanted to trust him more than ever.

Blinking the fatigue from his eyes, Noah focused on wrapping his toes around the footrope as tightly as he could. He elbowed Blackthorn and nodded toward the island that had just been announced as Antigua. Never had a piece of land looked more beautiful. With its sea of green vegetation swaying in the wind and its sparkling blue harbor, the island appeared more Eden than a British outpost. Each minute brought them closer, and soon Noah made out a thicket of masts bobbing in the harbor.

Blackthorn’s tepid grin fell short of the enthusiasm Noah longed to see. In fact, the doubt screaming from the man’s expression began to stomp on Noah’s excitement. Yet he couldn’t blame him. The last time Blackthorn had attempted to escape, he’d lost a friend and gained a flogging. But things would be different this time. Noah had made a promise to a certain special lady, after all.

He glanced down to the object of that promise, still clinging to the larboard railing. He loved her. This woman he’d once thought to be a plain, plump, and pompous woman. But she was none of those things to him anymore. When he weighed her on the scales against Miss Priscilla, Miss Priscilla became the common shrew and Marianne the beautiful lady. How could he have been so wrong?

She gazed up at him and smiled. His body reacted to the remembrance of their kisses.

A gusty breeze tore over him, the sweet smell of earth and life riding atop the scent of the sea. Though Noah had long since stopped believing in miracles—especially when it came to his own life— if Daniel had indeed heard from God, then maybe, just maybe the Almighty would grace them with a miracle now. At least for the sake of the boy and his father.

Noah glanced down at the quarterdeck where the captain stood, flanked by his officers. Two quartermaster’s mates gripped the huge wheel as they took direction from the sailing master.

“A leadsman in the chains, if you please,” the captain bellowed, and one of the sailors dropped the lead-and-line into the water to determine its depths as they approached the harbor.

“Hand the courses!” a command bellowed from below. “Release topsails!”

More hands clambered above to help Noah and the others carry out the captain’s orders. The humid Caribbean air swamped around him. Sweat streamed down his back and stung his wounds. Once the courses were taken in, the frigate slowed, and calls from the forechains indicated they had plenty of depth to maneuver.

Noah dared a glance at the burgeoning harbor—a huge, glittering,
turquoise bay separated in half by a hilly spit of land. The ship canted to starboard and headed toward the right fork. He squinted against the glare of sun on wave to see the dichotomy of ornately decorated brick buildings standing beside shabby wooden taverns and primitive thatched huts—all three dotting the harbor and extending into the green hills. The clamor of bells along with the squawk of gulls filled the air. An impressive gathering of ships of the line, ensigns flying high, bowed in the water like courtiers before the king.

“Prepare the anchor!”

Men scrambled to remove the lashings from the anchor catted to the starboard bulwark.

The quartermaster hoisted the ship’s flags up on the halyard. They snapped in the warm breeze.

Noah climbed down to the deck as the order to back the foretops was given. Luke and several waisters hoisted on the lines to bring the bare yard around. As they passed what Noah assumed was the flagship, captain Milford gave the order to fire a salute and the starboard-forward-most gun roared its booming greeting.

Marianne covered her ears, and Noah gave her a gesture she hoped would allay her fears as one after another of the guns fired until six had spent their powder-only loads. Four thunderous booms cracked the sky in response from the flagship.

When the ship had slowed to but a crawl, Captain Milford gave the order to let go the anchor, and with a mighty splash the iron claw dove into the turquoise bay. The captain disappeared below, then emerged moments later in his full dress uniform. He climbed down into a boat that had been lowered in his absence and hoisted off from the frigate with a boatful of sailors at the oars. Excitement crackled in the air as the crew expressed their hope that they would be chosen to go ashore.

Noah’s excitement joined with theirs. The others tasted rum and women.

But he tasted freedom.

CHAPTER 21

M
arianne swept through the captain’s cabin, busying herself with dusting and making sure the captain’s instruments and trinkets were in a line just as he demanded—even though everything had already been set in place. A quick glance out the stern window at the graying sky tinged with pink told her that it would soon be dark. The captain had been gone for hours and by the sound of the thrumming of feet above and the constant harping of an off-key fiddle, she guessed the crew was as anxious as she was to discover their next mission.

She yawned and opened her eyes wide, lest her lids drop like weights to her cheeks. Though she longed to retire for the night, she must remain awake and alert enough to play the spy when the captain returned. Noah and the others depended on her for any information that would tell them the best time to make their escape.

She had already poured the captain’s nightly port and laid out his nightshirt. Glancing over the cabin, she searched for something to occupy her time and keep her awake when thumping sounded in the passageway. The door flew open, crashing against the bulkhead. Captain Milford charged in like a drunken bull, stuttering and
staggering, and entangling himself in his dark blue coat as he tried to remove it. Lieutenant Garrick and Reed followed after him on a gust of hot wind tainted with sweat and rum.

Garrick gave her a salacious grin. Ignoring him, Marianne moved to the captain’s side and helped him ease out of his boat cloak, then she hung it up in the armoire. The captain plopped into one of his stuffed chairs and released a heavy sigh. His officers stood at attention before him.