Wicked Angel (Blackthorne Trilogy) (32 page)

      
Joss looked exceedingly dubious. "There are two bunks," she said, walking into the small cabin. "I suppose we could work something out."

      
Barbara smiled and nodded. "Of that, I have no doubt, my darling."

      
When Alex finally reached the ship, Joss had all their belongings secured. She sat perched on the edge of the room's lone chair, like a rabbit ready to bolt, clutching a book that she pretended to read.

      
Alex knocked, then entered. Standing in the cramped quarters he seemed larger than life, bronzed as a great golden lion in the flickering candlelight. He closed the door behind him and stared at Joss with unreadable eyes.

      
Joss swallowed a lump the size of Eastcheap and said, "I was worried about you. Did you find Drum?"

      
"No. I searched everywhere but it seems the bloody bounder is off in the country somewhere. I shall have to send him a letter before we sail, bidding farewell." He paused, then said, "My mother informed me about our, er, cramped sleeping arrangements."

      
"I'm quite certain we shall deal famously once we set a schedule for retiring and arising to preserve each other's modesty," she replied, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

      
"Oh?" He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest.

      
"Yes, well, I am by habit an early riser and go to bed accordingly. You have always preferred the nights and arisen late. So—"

      
"You will be all tucked in with the candles doused when I return each evening," he supplied helpfully. Damn but she looked fetching in spite of the bloody eyeglasses that perched on the end of her nose.

      
"Unless you would prefer a different arrangement?" she said hesitantly.

      
Alex blinked, then realized what she meant—or at least, what he
thought
she meant. Doubtless, she wanted to share his mother's cabin...but maybe...He quickly dismissed the ridiculous idea. "The arrangement suits, Joss," he replied coolly.

      
"Do you prefer the upper bunk or the lower?" she asked, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue.

      
His mouth felt dry as dust. "Lady's choice, Joss, but I'd imagine with a night rail, you'd find the bottom one easier to deal with."

      
She nodded. "Very well. It's all settled then."

      
He looked at her for a moment without saying anything, then strode over to the writing box sitting on top of his trunk. "I must dash off something to Drum."

      
Drum dropped Alex's letter on the small table next to his chair. What absolutely damnable luck! His friend had searched for him in all their usual haunts, but he had been out of the city, forced to visit his father to placate the old man and insure the continuance of his allowance.

      
The dandy closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. Still and all, perhaps it was for the best. A public good-bye would have quite unmanned him. Alex, Alex...

      
Opening his eyes, he fingered a smaller envelope that had been delivered along with Blackthorne's, then tore it open and extracted the note.

      
My Dear Drum,

      
      
Perhaps you are correct about the females of our
      
species possessing the traits of the spider. I am already
      
becoming devious. I intercepted the footman whom Alex
      
sent to deliver his letter and will add this missive.

      
      
Of course, I did not presume to read his sentiments.
      
However, if my husband is as inept as most men in
      
expressing their love for another of their gender, then he
      
has made a most miserable parting with the truest, most
      
loyal friend he has ever had. I cannot chance such a failure
      
when it concerns one to whom both Alex and I owe so
      
much.

      
      
Therefore, Drum, should you find your life as
      
unsatisfactory as I would find mine without the nearness of
      
Alex, I shall welcome you to America.

      
      
I expect that we will meet again...soon.

      
      
      
      
      
      
      
Yours in friendship,

      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
Joss

      
Drummond smiled. "My Amazonian friend! What a remarkable creature you are. And what a superlative choice our Alex has made...hmmm...well, stumbled upon. Nonetheless, what a delightfully ridiculous idea. A Drummond in America!"

      
Alvin Frances Edward Drummond laughed, and the lamp on the little table seemed to burn brighter.

Chapter Sixteen

      
"Have a care and close your mouth lest a gull fly in," Barbara said merrily to Joss, who stood staring up into the rigging where Alex climbed into the sun and wind.

      
She turned to her mother-in-law with a startled gasp. "He's going so high I fear he'll fall into the ocean," she said, looking once again at the bronzed half-naked figure moving with sensuous grace and skill.

      
"La, I'd not worry. Alex first stowed away on a ship bound for the China trade when he was twelve. He was gone for over a year before one of our captains was able to bring him home tanned and toughened as seaman's hardtack."

      
"He does seem to know what he's about. He told me he'd run off to sea," Joss replied, forcing herself to look away from Alex's mesmerizing figure. The amused yet sympathetic understanding in Barbara's eyes made her cheeks bloom with color. "Am I all so obvious, then?"

      
"You're his bride. People expect you to look a bit lovesick."

      
" 'Tis a sadly one-sided lovesickness," Joss replied with a touch of wistfulness in her voice.

      
"How is the sleeping arrangement working out?"

      
Joss sighed. "Quite smoothly. We've scarcely seen each other the past two days."

      
"Not precisely what I had in mind when I proposed it," Barbara said dryly. "Perhaps 'tis time to reschedule things a bit."

      
Joss, who was once again drawn to observe Alex's descent from the crow's nest, only half heard Barbara's remark. Once he reached the deck and disappeared among a crowd of sailors, she turned back to Barbara. "Reschedule what?" she asked vaguely.

      
"I have an idea ..." Barbara replied, taking her aside.

* * * *

      
Alex stood at the bow of the ship watching the western sky fill with brilliant stars. He never tired of the magic of nightfall. "I never realized how much I missed the sea," he murmured to himself as he stared at the dim horizon where the roll of black water and the calm of night sky merged.

      
In a few weeks he would be home in America.
With an English wife in tow.
How would Joss adapt to living in a country at war with her own? Would she find his Georgia and Muskogee relatives crude, offensive? Since they'd set sail she seemed to avoid him, continuing the estrangement that had begun after they were wed. He had hoped her agreeing to accompany him to America meant that the old camaraderie would return, but it obviously had not.

      
He was disturbed by the transformation his mother had wrought in Joss as well. Why the devil had a female of such iron-willed and serious-minded determination decided to deck herself out in ruffles and curls? She was disturbing. She was just not...Joss. And he missed his old laughing, accident-prone, disheveled companion a great deal.

      
His disquietude might also stem from sex—or rather the decided lack thereof for the last few months. The cargo ship had taken on several other American passengers eager to return home before actual hostilities commenced. One was a perky little redheaded widow from Philadelphia who had been eyeing him with predatory interest since they sailed. Perhaps he could reach an agreement with her that might please them both, he mused idly, but the idea held no particular appeal.

      
His ruminations were interrupted by a loud rumbling purr and the flick of a tail as an enormous black cat brushed against his pant leg, then leaped gracefully up onto the railing and looked at him with one glowing emerald eye. The other had been lost in a legendary waterfront contest with a huge rat.

      
"Tar, you old rascal. I thought Captain Neale would have thrown you overboard for stealing from the cook's larder by now," he said, scratching the grizzled ears. The cat butted his big head against Alex's chest and let out a rasping meow as if to say, "Surely you jest. Neale could never catch me."

      
"I'm amazed you haven't tangled with Poc yet, but then that might explain your absence since we set sail." The mention of the terrier brought Alex's thoughts once again around to his sleeping schedule in the crowded quarters below. "Well, fellow, it's past time I turned in."

      
Tar watched him stride across the deck and vanish be-lowstairs.

      
The corridor was dimly lit by a low-burning tallow candle flickering on the wall as Alex made his way to the cabin, suppressing a huge yawn. It had been a long time since he'd done seaman's work. Strenuous exercise and fresh salt air combined to make him more than ready to sink into his bunk.

      
In bed before midnight and all I can do is sleep,
he thought with grim amusement as he shed his shirt and boots before quietly lifting the latch to their cabin door. He was always careful not to awaken Joss, who he knew rose at daybreak. As soon as he opened the door a thin shaft of pale light startled him.

      
Alex froze. His eyes widened as he stared at the vision silhouetted in soft candlelight. She wore a sheer voluminous garment that swathed her from neck to ankle in soft white cotton yet fully revealed the outline of her body—slender but lithe with high breasts, sweetly rounded hips and long, long legs that were elegantly curved. Her hair was thrown over one shoulder as she plied it with a brush that sent sparks crackling through the curls. The candle glow illuminated soft yet brilliant highlights of bronze and various shades of gold from tawny to pale.

      
A bolt of pure lust shot through him with startling ferocity, rooting him in the doorway. Poc broke the spell, jumping off the lower bunk, which he had taken to sharing with Joss. He let out a soft yip of welcome as he walked over to sniff Tar's scent on Alex's breeches.

      
Joss turned with a startled intake of breath. The brush tangled stubbornly in her iong, heavy hair as she struggled to pull it free. Although she did not know it, her raised arms all the better outlined the upthrust fullness of her breasts.

      
"You're up late," he said idiotically, unable to think of any excuse for spying on her so blatantly.

      
Joss stared at the thick gold hair on Alex's bare chest, longing to sink her fingers into it, remembering the crisp, springy texture from her one night of passion. In the small confines of the cabin she could smell the scent of aroused male calling forth from her a deep feminine response, although she was unaware of her own musky perfume. She felt as if a hard fist had clenched tight inside her belly.

      
Her breath hitched. He was staring at her and she was practically naked! What if he did not like what he saw? She was too tall, too thin, too lacking in female wiles for this. Barbara had been mistaken. Yet he continued to stare at her as if she were a prime roast of beef and he a starving man.

      
Gathering her scattered thoughts, she yanked the brush free of her hair, pulling the tawny mantle around her shoulders. She fought the urge to clutch her hands over her intimate parts like a silly virgin and instead stood straight and met his glowing dark eyes. "I am sorry I did not retire at my usual time. I...became engrossed in reading." She laid down the brush and picked up a slim volume. "
Lyrical Ballads
. I am especially fond of Mr. Coleridge's
Rime of the Ancient Mariner
. It teaches a superb moral lesson, don't you think?"

      
She was prattling on like a ninny, unable to stop herself from drawing nearer, her extended hand offering him the book.

      
"I've never been much for moral lessons, Joss," he replied, forcing a grin that was much more like a grimace. He felt as if he'd explode if he did not do one of two things—seize her and ravish her or leave at once.

      
"I'll peruse Mr. Coleridge while you finish preparing for bed," he replied, grabbing the book and disappearing through the doorway.

      
When Alex reached topside, the last thing on his mind was reading about a sailor cursed because of an albatross. Hell, he had his own curse to bear. Clutching the book in his hand, he walked to the railing at the bow of the ship and stood staring into the darkness, letting the cool night wind blow against his scorched bare flesh. He struggled with the inner demons of lust that cried out his deep, pulsing need for this woman.