Conquered by the Captain Page 4

  She was quiet now, and he observed her a moment longer, hoping she didn't try to roll over and fall out. Moving the bearskin rug under the hammock, he carefully picked up two more of the blankets and placed them on top of it to soften her landing if she became fitful and fell from it during the night.

  Thoughtfully, he looked back at her one last time, before closing the door behind him.

  Chapter 4

  Thoughts of the Captain

  Bella snuggled deeper into the warmth of the blanket covering her as sunlight crept through the tiny porthole of her cabin. Lost in a pleasant dream, she fought against waking to face her bleak reality just yet. From somewhere, a deep voice comforted her as she enjoyed those last minutes of peace. He was promising to smile at her every day. It was a nice image, but the face of the man rocking her seemed to contradict what she already knew. Her subconscious struggled to imagine a smile on the unyielding face of the handsome captain.

  Earl's friendly grin popped up in her dream for but a moment, but it faded, only to be replaced by the arrogant, no-nonsense expression of a man with wavy dark locks and a piercing brown stare. The very notion made her lightheaded, and she turned to rest very slightly on her left side. Her bed conformed to her every move, hugging her tightly, giving her a sense of protection and warmth.

  Warmth? Somewhere, her memory clung to his strong arms holding her closely as she cried. Protection? A feeling of security pervaded her senses. Captain Smythe might not seem to fit well with either of those terms, yet he still clung to her dreams firmly.

  The clanging sound of a bell jarred her awake, and it reminded her of church bells that signaled services would start with or without those present. It was time for breakfast, perhaps? There were eight bells, with a pause between each two. No sooner had the thought taken hold, when Bella noticed her bed was strange, indeed. It was not a bed, at all. Somehow, she had come to rest in a hammock of sorts, anchored to hooks on the cabin walls. She had wondered about those strange hooks when she first saw them.

  She peeked down over the right side. How did one safely exit a swinging bed? It appeared to be a tricky task at best. What if she fell flat on the floor? Last night, she had been quite ill, and she would not likely forget it. Today, aside from a bit of lightheadedness, she felt well. She worried the hard impact with the wooden area below her would not improve her disposition. But when she sneaked a glance below, she found that someone had placed several blankets directly under her hammock. With a fanciful smile, she took comfort in knowing someone had obviously seen to her safety while she had been indisposed.

  But time was passing, and the captain would no doubt be put out with her lack of punctuality.

  "Hurry, Bella," she grumbled at herself. She would have to figure out how to exit the hammock so she could dress and be on her way. Adding to the challenge, Bella realized she needed the use of a chamber pot. Trying to sit up carefully, she allowed one leg to swing over the side of the rocking bed.

  As soon as the balance of her weight shifted, the hammock quickly responded. The entire structure began turning, not giving her a chance to plan out how to act accordingly. Grabbing the canvas above her head, she used her fingers to dig into it. Desperation, more than strength, saved her from sure disaster. Her feet soon came into contact with the blankets on the floor, and she managed to right herself.

  But as soon as she scanned the rest of the room, she laughed. If she'd just come down on the other side, she'd have landed on the bed.

  Perhaps today would not be as bad as the one before. The ship was only rocking mildly, this morning, and moving about her room was not as uncertain any longer. Taking care of her morning duties quickly, she dressed and wondered how she was going to locate the dining area today. She walked out into the corridor created by the area between her cabin and the side of the ship outside. Fresh sea air filled the walkway. Her belly was grumbling loudly and she was glad no one was around to hear the unladylike noise, when she heard a voice.

  "Good morning, Miss St. John. I was just coming to check on you."

  Bella tried to hide her blush as she turned to face the handsome sailor the captain called Earl.

  "Allow me to escort you to the morning meal." He put out his hand, and she sighed, hoping he had not heard her impolite stomach. "Something tells me you could use a solid meal."

  She groaned. He had heard.

  His teasing chuckle made it hard to hold his remark against him. Taking his elbow, she allowed him to guide her toward the ladder and then through the inner passages of the second level of the ship. "Did our schedule driven captain send you to fetch me, sir?"

  Another warm smile broke across the man's attractive face. "He would have come himself, but he had to check on something above board. Our other female passenger is already at the table, but we wanted to wait for you both before serving the meal."

  "So the captain is going to be late, too." Why did that notion lessen the tension in her belly? Bella wondered. "If we moved with haste, might we beat him to the table?"

  He threw back his head and laughed. "Possibly. But don't be too hard on him. Breakfast and supper schedules allow only forty-five minutes, each. Dinner, at noon, is an hour and a half. The captain doesn't have much say in that. It's the way things are always done at sea."

  Bella nodded. She wished Claude Picou were as personable as Earl. She realized even the frowning captain was more appealing than her intended. At least the captain and the commander of the Charlotte were both honest to the point of being blunt with her about their expectations. Bella always felt as if Mr. Picou was playing a game of chess when visiting her family. He was polite enough and followed all rules of courtship, but she could not help but feel weary of being a commodity born of a desire to improve financial futures. She'd never seen real tenderness from him. He hadn't made an attempt to kiss her, either, not that she longed for him to.

  She frowned. A bride should at least feel curious about such intimacies, not appalled.

  Her face turned crimson as she realized having her lips claimed by the captain was more palatable to her than by her fiancée. An image of the tall man pulling her to him, lowering his lips to hers, shocked her. What would it be like? Would his lips be hard like his manner? Demanding? Taking? Or soft and welcoming?

  She shook her head. She couldn't think about this. Not now.

  The commander led her downstairs carefully to the door of the dining room.

  She saw him, suddenly. The captain was sitting at the head of the same table where she'd found him the night before. She sighed. So much for making it here first. The woman called Lily sat next to him, irritation clearly visible on her face. The other men in the room smiled, but Bella realized everyone was no doubt put out with having to wait their meal because of an errant passenger.

  "Good morning, Miss St. John," His deep voice sounded friendly enough as he stood up and helped to seat her, but she dared not look at his expression, sure a disappointing frown marred his perfect face.

  "I-I'm sorry I'm late," she muttered. A big bowl of oatmeal was placed before her, and the captain stood to pray. The sounds of seamen as they began sitting and eating helped ease her embarrassment. When she finally had the courage to look up at him, she saw he was watching her closely.

  Captain Smythe had resumed his position, but his gaze stayed locked on her. Even without glancing up, she could feel his stare.

  "I hope you are feeling better this morning. We were quite concerned about you last night." Concerned? She frowned. Put out was probably a better description.

  "I'm fine, sir," she managed to mumble. "I do feel much better this morning, now that I've slept so well." She muttered the words without making eye contact, before picking up her spoon to move the food around in her bowl. The oatmeal, flavored with molasses, didn't slosh around with the rocking of the ship. Bella much appreciated that. Taking a small bite, she found it satisfying. She had not realized how hungry she was and started eating eagerly.

  After the meal
, she finally forced herself to face those around her at the table. Lily, sitting next to Earl, seemed aloof. Was she angered because Bella had come to the meal late? "Mr. Earl," she started, then she remembered he had told her no one but the captain called him that and tried again.

  "Um, I meant, Commander?"

  She caught a glimpse of the smile touching the captain's lips, and it unnerved her. Then she remembered Earl telling her the captain liked to tease him with that nickname. She pursed her lips in a sour expression at his unkindness, but he just widened his look of amusement.

  Arrogant devil, she thought.

  "I am still learning my way around the ship." She turned her head and did her best to ignore Captain Smythe completely. "Would you be so kind as to show the way to the very top level? I want to see what the ocean looks like today. I hear tell it is crystal blue, so unlike the Thames in London."

  Lily's caustic disposition seemed to have increased at her words, but it was the captain's voice, which prevailed. "After your reaction to sailing last night, I think it would be more prudent for you to return to your stateroom and rest. We have a long journey ahead of us, Miss St. John. A relapse so soon will not go well for the rest of your travel."

  Arabella didn't know whether to be flattered that he was concerned for her welfare or angry because he was refusing her request. She glared up at him. "I still prefer to see it," she challenged defiantly.

  He leaned forward, smiling at her again, as he shook his head from side to side. "Maybe, after your nap, I will consider it." Then, as if his word was the final say on the situation, he turned to the second in command. "If you would be so kind as to escort Miss Collingwood to the helm, Commander? She expressed an interest in observing the ocean, earlier, and that has the best view. Unlike Miss St. John, she seems to be better equipped to handle the movement of the ship."

  Bella was furious. Attempting to hide the unladylike comment that wanted to pass her lips, she brought her arms up to cross her chest in defiance.

  "I'm not a child, Captain. I'm eighteen and I don't take naps. Thank you all the same." She picked up her spoon and began eating the oatmeal, and a few moments later, grabbed an apple from the bowl. A brief glance across the table at Lily was even more disconcerting. The woman was wearing an arrogant expression.

  Captain Smythe did not even acknowledge her comment. He waited until she had finished eating and then stood up and reached for her hand. "Come along. I don't have time for belligerence. Ships like the Charlotte run on a tight schedule, and life is much easier when everyone sticks to the established rules."

  At her cabin, he saw her inside, as if making sure she followed his orders. The urge to stick out her tongue at him was hard to resist, but Bella had been raised to be a lady. "I am not sleepy, Captain Smythe, nor am I sickly and in need of a nursemaid."

  "The water is calm now, so you can probably rest on your bunk. If it remains that way, I might possibly have someone come later to remove the hammock. But the ocean tends to change at its own whim."

  "You mean you will have someone come by later to make sure I am 'resting' as you ordered." She did not even realize she stumbled, until the pain shot up her leg. "Oh!"

  He reached out and grasped her quickly, to steady her. "Are you hurt, Miss St. John?"

  "I'm fine," Her mouth flattened into a line. But she winced as she took another step.

  "Sit down, then. Let me take a look at you."

  "I don't need you to take—" She glared up at him as he set her down, firmly, on the bed.

  "Where does it hurt? Tell me."

  "It's my ankle." She took in a sharp gasp as his hand rested on her bare skin. Carefully, he raised her skirts up to her knee and slid the slipper from her foot.

  "Move your foot up and down." He waited. "Now, wiggle your toes."

  The strange feeling of little shocks that she felt each place he touched her skin sent tingles through her spine. She brought her gaze upward to meet his. He moved his eyes from her ankle to her face, and she was unable to look away.

  "I think it'll be all right," he said gently. "But I'll come back later to check on you. If needed, I'll have the medic look at you."

  "I'm sure it'll be fine…sir." She was blinking, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

  Standing to his feet, he gave a slight bow. "Then, I shall see you later," he said with a huge smile before turning to walk away.

  With his back to her, Bella could not help but give in to the urge to poke her tongue out at him. To her horror, he turned around at that very second. His smile disappeared.

  "Your tongue looks a bit pale, young lady. No doubt, resting will have your color restored in no time. Good day."

  Damn! When the door closed behind him, she moaned, cursing herself. She covered her face with both hands, falling back on the bed. He'd been so kind, so gentle, as he had checked her ankle with skillful hands. And her response was to stick out her tongue at him? How could she?

  She wiggled her foot again. It hurt but not terribly. However, she decided she would close her eyes for a moment, anyway.

  Just a moment.

  An hour later, she opened them, as she heard the door close. Someone had been in here?

  She sat up. Her key was lying on the small table next to the door. He'd returned it. She stood up on her feet, realizing her ankle only hurt a tiny bit, and went to the door.

  She could see his broad shoulders retreating toward the stern. When he disappeared from sight, so did she. If she could not go up to the helm, she would head down into the bowels of the ship. There was no way she was going to waste the rest of such a glorious day lounging in bed, no matter his orders. She would see the blue water soon enough, she promised herself. After exploring a bit, she would find her way topside and stay far away from the bossy man in charge of the ship.

  A thrill crept down her spine as she realized she had more freedom on this ship than she ever had at home. Her father would be watching her closely if he was here. Generally, she and her mother stayed in their country residence, away from the games and politics of the city. Her lack of knowledge of who was who and her occasional breaches of etiquette gravely disappointed her papa.

  She sighed. She'd disappointed her father from the moment she was born. He'd made no attempt to hide the fact that he'd wanted a son to carry on the family name. When she had grown up enough to catch the eye of a wealthy man who could offer Papa the power and wealth he desired, he'd finally seemed to appreciate her, at least a little. Arabella secretly thought it was probably the first time he'd thought her worth something as a daughter. And perhaps, in America, her ignorance of how things should be done would be of no consequence.

  Soon, she found her way back to the food stores. Pocketing four or five of the apples, she smiled. She could decide her own destiny for the next few weeks. All she had to do was to be on time for meals and avoid the captain. That should be easy enough.

  The sound of footfalls behind her startled her. Had he found her out? What could he possibly do, if he did? Would she be stuck in the brig of the ship for the remainder of the journey, all because she refused his suggestion for her to rest?

  The eerie, chilled feeling descended over her like a black cloud. Somehow, she knew it was not the captain who was walking just a few feet down the passageway. The steps were light. The captain's would have sounded much heavier.

  There was a screeching sound, as a door was opened behind her.

  No—oh, no! What she wouldn't give to face the stern Captain Smythe, right now. Shaking with fear, she ignored the pain in her ankle and started for the ladder, praying she would be able to make it back to her room before whoever was wandering around noticed her.

  Be it a crew member or a huge rodent, she didn't care. Bella suddenly felt the need to take a nice, long rest in her safe bed back in her cabin.

  Chapter 5

  Disappearing Food

  Two days had gone by. Gregory Smythe went back to his cabin after the noon meal. He did the usual—ch
ecking the sea charts again to make sure they were on course and putting his instruments away, before picking up the letters he'd read again and again.

  The one lying on top had come in Mr. Picou's writing, with his seal. The next, from Baron St. John, did not say the name of the man whom Arabella was to meet. However, he was certain she had said the name 'Picou' when she talked in her sleep. If his suspicions were correct, something was very wrong here.

  He scowled, looking out the row of windows in the stern of the ship. Perhaps there were two men? Brothers? Cousins? He needed to take Arabella aside and speak to her. But was it really any of his business? He scanned the letter again and set it down on the table, clenching his jaw. It would be his business, if he got to New Orleans and there was trouble. It was his experience that situations left unprepared for often turned disastrous. And quickly.

  He shook his head. If need be, he'd refuse to leave Arabella there. He'd take her all the way back to England before he'd knowingly let anything sinister happen to her. Yes, she was a bit of a brat. She was determined to do things her own way, on her own terms. And he suspected, even now, she might be down below deck, blatantly disobeying his orders. Perhaps it was time he took her in hand, before she got into too much trouble.

  "Damn and blast," he grumbled under his breath. "I knew these women were trouble when they got on." He dropped the second letter down on top of the first and left it there, leaving the cabin.

  He heard two bells, then silence, then two bells, silence, then one. It was time to meet the chief-mate for a check below.

  He waved toward Earl, who joined him portside, along the outside of the cabins. "Any idea where Miss St. John is?"

  "Not a single clue. She's been keeping to herself."

  "You must have spoken to her."

  Earl raised a brow. "About?"