Within a Captain's Treasure (23 page)

“Cook makes the best fish dinners,” agreed Brighton while beaming with pride.

“But, Father,” cried Rebecca, “my fish isn’t for dinner. I want to keep him. He’ll be no trouble. He’s quiet, and he only eats worms.”

Alice bit her lip and soothed Rebecca. “Let’s talk about this outside and let your father get back to his meeting with Mister Blake.”

Carlton walked them to the door. “Thank you for sharing your good fortune with me, children.”

Rebecca frowned. “They’re not fortunes, they’re fish.”

“Come along.” Alice ushered the small fishing party through the doorway. She kept her gaze away from Emerson. There was no telling what he’d read on her face. “I am sorry we interrupted you.”

Children and fish were delivered to their respective places. After debating with Rebecca, she agreed perhaps a drawing of a fish was better than a dead fish. Even if he was quiet. They found him a shady spot in the garden as his final resting place.

Using the children’s respite, Alice found her own shady spot. Taking a book she’d borrowed from the Whitmore’s library, she settled herself beneath one of the huge oak trees that graced the edges of the garden. Beneath its wide shadow, it was blissfully cool and comfortable.

Alice plucked at the clover next to her, rolling the tender stalks between her fingers. Dropping it into her lap. Try as she might, she couldn’t concentrate on the words within the book. Her encounter with Emerson Blake still nagged at the back of her mind.

Perhaps she was being paranoid, but the way he looked at her at times, was most disconcerting. They were talking about her. In what context?

Alice turned the page without reading a single line, and picked another stem, absently twirling the small round blades of its leaves like a top. Perhaps they were still determined to capture Gavin. Had something else happened? Seems there were new reports of pirate activities all along the coastline and throughout the outer banks.

She sighed in worried frustration and leaned her head against the rough bark of the oak. She even tried to convince herself it wasn’t just Gavin she was concerned about, it was everyone. MacTavish, Robbins, Bump, and the rest. But in her heart she knew the truth of it. The ache of Gavin’s rejection had lost some of its edge. She understood why he’d pushed her away. Had the boot been on the other foot, she might have done the same thing. If she had been the captain of the
Scarlet Night
and feared for a member of the crew, she’d have put them ashore, too.

So why didn’t that knowledge and conviction ease her worries more? Because of the one thing all the rational thought and distance and practical understanding couldn’t explain away? The love. What was she supposed to do with that? Try as she might, she couldn’t stop loving him. In fact, if anything, her feelings for Gavin had only grown since she’d been here.

She missed him with all her heart and even missed that infuriating look he would give her when she had exasperating the hell out of him. But it was the look in his eyes the day they had made love. He never said the words, but she saw the hunger and passion in his eyes.

It was in his touch and his kiss. The way he put his lips to the scar upon her thigh before lowering is mouth to—

“A picture of quiet contentment.” Emerson Blake’s voice startled Alice out of a dream.

She leapt to her feet, heart pounding, brushing bits of green from her skirt. “I-I didn’t hear you approach.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, but I’m most anxious to speak with you.”

Short of shimmying up the tree to escape him, she couldn’t think of any way to avoid him. “What did you want to talk about?”

“May I sit with you?” He indicated the grass.

“If you wish.” They sat upon the soft ground. Alice kept her back to the stout tree trunk with her book in her lap.

Emerson sat facing her. “That was impressive earlier.”

She gave him a questioning glance.

“The children.” He smiled.

“They run faster than I.” She lifted one shoulder.

“You handled them brilliantly. Carlton and Isabelle rave about you.”

“They’re not difficult to
handle
.” She plucked another piece of clover. Curiosity made her ask. “Did you finish talking about me after I left?”

Emerson’s smile tipped up on one side. “Actually, yes. Carlton and I were celebrating a small victory. The British have agreed to increase their patrols along the coast, and we heard the
Scarlet Night
was spotted leaving port farther south. With any luck Captain Quinn will sail right into their hands.”

A cold finger of fear ran down Alice’s spine. She fought to remain calm. Struggled to think of what she could do without bringing the entire British Navy down upon her head. Her heart thundered in her chest while Emerson Blake kept chatting away. She’d lost track of what he was saying. Something about safe futures and higher profits on shipments.

Emerson leaned forward. “I’m a man of action.” He reached for her hand, crushing the clover’s tender stem she held between her fingers. “I work hard. When I see something I want, I take it. I’m direct. It’s my nature. I want you, Alice.”

She jerked as if he’d struck her. How had the conversation moved from Gavin being captured to this? “I b-beg your pardon?”

Emerson released her hand and stood. “It’s no secret. I want a wife. I want children.”

Alice’s mind spun. She was back on a pitching deck trying to find her footing. “Weren’t you courting Harriet Appletree?”

“Applegate.” He smirked. “She’s a fine woman. Everything I wanted in a mate.” He knelt before her and lifted her hand. “But then I met you.”

Alice tugged her hand away and stood, dropping her book. She stepped clear of him. “You’re confused. You hardly know me. I’m sure once Harriet returns, the two of you—”

“I don’t want her. I want you.” He reached for her again.

Alice dodged his hands. “Stop saying that.” She turned her back on him and placed her hand over her pounding heart.

He moved to stand behind her. “It’s true. I find you captivating.”

She spun, catching her skirts as they brushed his legs. “Proper. You said she was a proper woman. Fine stock, remember?” Alice took another step back, shaking her head. “I’m neither of those things.”

“You’re a rare find, Alice Tupper. Intelligent. Strong. You know your own mind.”

“Translation,” she laughed. “Odd. Opinionated. Stubborn.”

Emerson smiled. The dimple in his cheek flashed. “I can be just as stubborn.” He closed the space between them. Alice moved to step back and met the tree. “I realize you’re unconventional. Spirited.” His gaze lowered. This close he had a clear view into the top of her gown. She was breathing so hard, he was getting quite the show. “It may be against my better judgment, but I don’t care. I’ve decided.” Emerson’s voice was low. He was so close. Alice could smell his cologne. The lingering scent of cigar smoke on his clothes. The brandy on his breath.

If she moved a fraction of an inch, he’d be kissing her. “You’re drunk.”

His eyes locked with hers. “I’ve never been more sober in my life.” His gaze moved to her mouth. “I can offer you so much. I have land. Wealth.” He moved to touch her, his fingers a whisper away from her skin. “I’d never raise a hand against you. Never hurt you.” Emerson closed his eyes and released a deep breath. “You don’t love me. I know. But in time.”

She waited for him to lift his gaze before she shook her head. “Emerson, you have no idea who I am.”

He eased back, opened his arms wide and smiled broadly. “I’ll learn. I’ll court you. You’ll see, I’ll win your heart.”

Alice pushed away from the tree and skirted him. Picking up her book, she held it to her chest. “That’s impossible.”

“I don’t know the meaning of the word.” He caught her arm as she tried to leave. “Nothing is impossible.”

She pulled out of his grasp. “I’m afraid this is.”

The flowers began to arrive within the hour. An invitation to tea interrupted the flow of blossoms. Alice replied with a curt refusal together with an insistence Emerson cease sending her flowers.

At dinner that evening, Alice apologized for the uproar caused by the persistent Mister Blake.

“I’ve told him to stop, but he is determined.”

Carlton laughed. “You’ve underestimated him. Emerson is like a dog with his teeth in a new bone. He can be relentless.”

Her patience snapped. “I’m not a dog’s bone, Mister Whitmore. His proposal is ridiculous.”

“I wish you luck persuading him otherwise.” Carlton chuckled. “Tell her, Isabelle.”

Isabelle dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “He’s right, Alice. Emerson can be most single-minded. But in truth, he’s a wonderful man. He’s the most eligible man in the county. You’d want for nothing. He’d make you a fine husband.”

Alice couldn’t believe she was hearing this. “I just became your governess. Now you want to marry me off?”

“Of course, we’d hate to lose you as our governess, but the opportunity to marry a man like Emerson doesn’t come along every day. We could still be the best of friends. We’d still see you all the time.”

The fish course was served. Brighton’s fish. Alice fiddled with her fork. How could she get them to understand short of telling them the truth? She’d need their help in dissuading Emerson from this ridiculous notion. She’d make as fine a wife to Emerson Blake as Rebecca’s fish would make a lovely pet.

Isabelle took a sip of her wine. “If he’s planning a wedding after the last harvest, that wouldn’t give us much time to make all the proper arrangements.” She turned to Carlton. “People would need sufficient notice and travel days. I suppose we could put some of the wedding guests up here.”

Alice muttered around the food in her mouth, “Wedding guests?”

“I’ll have to make a list for Cook. Oh, and we would need to contact the dressmaker at once. And the minister.” Isabelle shook her head at Carlton. “You men rarely think of the time it takes to plan these things.”

Trying to swallow and object, the bite of fish took a wrong turn in her throat. Alice choked and started coughing. Violently.

Isabelle was on her feet, “Carlton, do something.”

He rushed over and gave Alice several quick raps on her back, until, with eyes watering, she lifted her hands in surrender. She grabbed for her water and took a drink to clear her throat.

“Alice, are you all right?” Isabelle fussed.

“No,” Alice coughed.

“More water, Carlton,” Isabelle insisted.

Alice caught his arm and stopped him. “No, I don’t need more water.” She coughed once more and stood. Catching her breath, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “There will be no need to contact a dressmaker, or give a list to Cook. I’m not marrying Emerson Blake.” She dropped her napkin to the table. “I don’t care if he is mule-headed, nor do I care if he has all the money in the world and buys me gowns of solid gold. I don’t wish to insult a friend of this household, but I’m telling you, I’ll not wed him.”

“Foolish girl,” sputtered Carlton.

“Why ever not?” asked Isabelle. “Any other woman would jump at the chance to marry Emerson. Does this have something to do with your voyage here?”

“No.” Alice took another breath and fought the urge to scream.

Isabelle would not be quelled. “What reason could there be?”

Carlton held up a hand. “Isabelle, it is no business of ours. If the girl doesn’t wish to marry, so be it. For goodness sake, she was taken by pirates. She’s been traumatized. She’s hardly in her right mind.” He took his seat again. “If you’ll think about it, it is actually rather amusing. Watching Emerson Blake
not
get what he wants for the first time in his life?”

“Excuse me. I’ve lost my appetite.” She didn’t wait for a response, but left the Whitmore’s to the remainder of their dinner.

Entering her room, Alice was overcome with the dizzying smell of dozens of flowers that had been placed there. She opened all the windows and resisted the urge to hurl them into the back garden. After moving them into the hallway, Alice dropped to lie across her bed.

What in hell was wrong with men? Were they all daft or simply the ones she happened to cross paths with? When had the word no come to mean something other than no? When had yes become yes, but only for a day? Or a night? Do they speak a different language? How had so many words become convoluted? Want. Need. And what about love? Is it even in their vocabulary? Why were men either making her crazy or trying to kill her?

Alice sat before her mirror and pulled the hairpins from her hair. Tugging the braid loose, she attacked it with her brush. She shook the brush at her reflection in the mirror. “I know the fastest way to dissuade Mister Emerson Blake and remove the infuriating twinkle in his eye. He wants to get to know me? Let him get to know me. I’ll bet his fascination would shrivel like grapes in the sun once he learns his sweet, unassuming wife-to-be is actually a murderer, a thief, and a liar. It would serve him right to wed him. Perhaps I’ll wait until he carries me to our wedding bed before I announce he’s taken a pirate for a wife.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, there was a quick knock on the door. If it was more flowers, she was getting her pistol. Alice opened the door to find Isabelle standing with a tea tray.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but your light still burned and you didn’t eat much of your dinner.”

“That’s kind, but—”

“I wanted to apologize for our behavior earlier. I know we upset you. Please. I won’t sleep with this hanging between us.”

Alice stepped to one side and let her come in.

Isabelle set down the tray. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you? Cook sent along some of her delicious cookies.”

“I do love Cook’s baking.” Alice gave her a small smile.

The women settled into the matching armchairs. Isabelle went through the motions of pouring them both a cup of tea. “We did upset you at dinner, didn’t we?”

Alice accepted the steaming tea. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m frustrated that I can’t seem to make Emerson realize I’m not the right woman for him.”

“Don’t you want to get married? Keep a fine house? Have children of your own?”