Chapter Six

“What a mad, foolish scheme,” Griffin declared moments after the brute captain vacated the tiny cabin.

Shoulders braced, Lily steeled herself against more of his outrage. How on earth would they co-exist in this cramped space of furniture and trunks? She could scarcely blink without calling attention to herself. She’d have no peace. Escape from him was impossible.

“How could you do this?” Glowering, he stood between the narrow bed on his left and the desk at his right. The window behind him threw his face in shadow.

“I do apologize,” she offered, perplexed that in spite of hostile circumstances she found the loose, curling hair at his shoulders enticing. “I had no idea my company would cause such a fracas. I assumed once the ship was out to sea, I could show myself and the matter of my presence would be…well, at least tolerated.”

He grunted.

Even in the midst of a churlish temper, he looked attractive.

“What an optimist.”

His sarcasm irked her, but she didn’t blame him for being angry, although she considered his reaction, along with the nasty captain’s, overdone. Throw her overboard? How preposterous. She wasn’t a scoundrel or a murderer in need of punishment. She deserved better. “I had to do this. There was no other choice.”

Hands jammed on his slender hips, he paced several steps over to the table and stopped. “You most certainly did have other choices. You could have booked passage on another ship.”

“In a week’s time? By then Papa could be dead.” The image of sweet Papa in a fetid jail, riddled with disease and his belly empty, caused a sharp prick of tears. She steeled herself against crying, afraid that in her exhaustion she wouldn’t be able to stop.

Griffin rubbed the back of his neck and heaved a massive sigh. The motion emphasized again the spectacular breath of his shoulders. He frowned. “If only you’d waited and booked passage on another ship, you could have taken along a companion. Done it proper.”

The observation didn’t make her feel better. Under normal circumstances, she would have agreed. A proper lady would never place herself in such unseemly circumstances. Nor would she wear a servant boy’s clothes. To flaunt the conventions of society came with great risks. She knew the dangers and wasn’t an idiot. Just desperate.

“Tell me, Lily…” A softer tone, almost kind, registered in his voice. “Did you at least leave a note, some word as to your absence?”

“I’m not so cruel as to disappear without explanation. I left a letter where my uncle was certain to discover it.”

“You hope.”

Even as his sarcastic words chipped away at her confidence, she met his stern, unwavering stare. Uncle Percy’s glowered oppositions paled alongside Griffin’s unyielding scowl. How would she cope with him? Weak with fatigue and hunger, she longed for sleep. If she had to argue, let it occur later, after a much-needed rest restored her energy. What she didn’t need was an ongoing battle with another obstinate male—especially a man who eroded her poise with his handsome appearance and the jut of his strong jaw.

“Why does Captain Mulworthy distrust women?”

“Ask him, not me.”

The dismissive words chilled like a blustery March wind. In her estimation, the captain outranked her uncle for his loathsome qualities. To be fair, she hadn’t escaped Percy’s acrimonious snake pit only to wind up in another tense and rancorous situation. If she could make the time on this voyage more agreeable, even if it meant being pleasant to Griffin or the Captain, she’d do everything within reason to achieve this peace. Seeing her chance, she swept a leather tie from the floor where it had fallen from his hair. “You dropped this.”

He stared at her hand with an unreadable expression. Seconds passed while her uncertainty arose along with the heat in the stuffy room. She considered removing her coat, but not while he watched. It was somehow too personal; her body too exposed in the boy’s shirt. Sweat broke across her brow as she waited. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he accept her offering?

At last, he reached forward and grasped the hair tie. When his fingertips grazed her palm, a strange, thrilling charge skittered up her arm. She snatched her hand away and his lips twitched with amusement. As her skin seared, she spun toward the door, imagining she heard him laugh. With nowhere to run, she faced him knowing there was no other choice but to deal with him.

He sat on the bed with a bemused air. Resigned to her current fate and unsure about what to say, she removed her hat and set it aside. She watched him as a mouse watches a cat. With graceful fingers, he smoothed and tied his thick hair. After shoving a pillow behind his back, he relaxed and fixed his gaze on her again. “You cut your hair.”

She patted the queue at the nape of her neck. “It’s the same length as yours.”

“You had such…” He raised his hand as if he might touch his hair, then let it drop. “It’s nothing.”

“It’ll grow back.” The speed of her answer and the hope she might please him astonished her. Why should his opinion matter?

Short on sleep, her tired legs trembled. “I wonder if I might sit down.” Not waiting for an answer, she dropped into a chair at the table relieved for the rest.

Another long, uncomfortable silence ensued. For the first time in her life, she was alone with a man in his bedchamber. Her palms sweated. Rather than stare at his long-limbed physique stretched casually across the bed, she glanced anywhere but at him. Two shelves with books hung on the wall. Beneath it, on the desk, his papers lay in a disorganized mess. His clothes hung on hooks by the door. At the washstand lay his shaving cup and a straight-edge razor. His personal possessions marked his intimate space. She was a trespasser. “I’m glad you don’t wear a periwig,” she blurted and licked her dry lips. She would fill the awkward air between them with idle chatter. “Even if they are the height of fashion.”

“Nor do I powder my hair. None of that bears any significance. What am I to call you? Do you have a made-up name?”

“I hadn’t…” She considered a moment. “Adam. Adam Marks would do nicely.”

“Biblical. I like it.” As if praying, he focused on the whitewashed ceiling as though it were Heaven. “God created man, called him Adam and set him in the Garden of Eden.”

“This is hardly Eden.” Instead of lush greenery and fruit trees, dull wooden walls surrounded her, the drabness broken only by a touch of red in the curtains.

“Don’t be too certain. I’m sure there’s a serpent or two around here.”

He flashed a wolfish grin, but she took no humor in his teasing. Tired and out of sorts, she found him much too comfortable sprawled upon the bed for her peace of mind. One ankle rested over the other, arms crossed over his chest. He had an easy charm and was confident of his powers. In a sweat, she held his steady gaze. “I hope you’re wrong about those serpents, Mr. Faraday.”

“Oh, call me Griffin.” His speech was as unhurried as his languid sprawl. “We’re old friends, remember?”

She eyed him warily. What, precisely, was she to make of this creature before her?

Fingers intertwined, he tucked them behind his neck. His chest rose and fell on easy breaths. Beneath his penetrating stare, she might have been a toad, split and exposed for dissection. Ignoring a trickle of perspiration at her ear, she tapped a foot and waited for him to say something.

“When we’re outside this cabin, anywhere else on this ship, you will refer to me as Mr. Faraday.”

She drew back with alarm. “You can’t expect me to sustain this charade. I never intended it to last the length of the voyage. It was only a means to board. A servant boy would not have been turned away, but a woman? You can see the dilemma.”

He shook his head in disagreement. “If you have a problem with your status on this ship, I suggest you take it to Mulworthy. He will not countenance a sashaying woman. If his mother were alive and on ship, he’d be sorely tempted to throw her in the brig. Furthermore, it won’t displease him to keep you locked up for the remainder of the trip if doing so makes the day run smoother.”

“Do you intend to refer me to Captain Mulworthy every time I have a question or complaint?” The angry words rushed out.

He snapped his fingers with exaggerated surprise. “I forgot. As your master, you must answer to me in all things.”

Slimy cur. She ground her molars to avoid growling like a dog. When not outright angry, he reveled in sarcasm and seemed to take perverse pleasure in her strained circumstances. Releasing a measured breath, she counted numbers in her head to cool her ire. “You seem to find this state of affairs amusing.”

“In a time like this, humor is a lifeline. I leave tragedies for the playwrights.”

“This predicament needn’t be a tragedy if you’d have faith—”

“Faith,” he scoffed as he sat forward. He rested his elbows on his open thighs. “I can assure you I will pray to the good Lord for a safe and quick journey.”

“You needn’t get angry.” Goodness, his moods turned faster than a spinning wheel.

The linens on the bed crinkled when he shifted and dropped his stocking-clad feet to the floor. He leaned forward, and his fingers gripped the edge of the mattress. With rising apprehension, she sensed another shift in his mood. Then it came.

“If the circumstances had been different, if there wasn’t a war, I would have gladly helped you…” He paused with a forlorn expression. A wave of a hand dismissed whatever he’d intended to reveal. He stood, and back to her, stared out the window. “As the captain said, what’s done is done.”

Remorse knotted her stomach. She never meant to cause trouble. If only he could accept her decision. Passage on the Providence was her only option. If she had it to do again, she would.

“You must be proud of your quick work,” he said with an ironic note in his voice. He pushed away from the window and dropped into the chair across from her at the table. “Who else did you inconvenience to see your crazy scheme successful?”

Her chest squeezed. She hated to lie, but she could never reveal she worked for Cecil Jones. “My maid secured these servant clothes. When everyone was asleep, I managed to hire a carriage in the street.”

“I see.”

Discouraged by his cynical tone, she remained silent, uncertain what more she could say to make things better. She wiped her damp palms on her breeches. She wished she could trust him, but if Cecil was correct, Griffin was a spy. While her mind raced to redirect their conversation, her stomach grumbled. Blushing, she clutched her belly.

“Hungry?”

“A little.” In truth, she was ravenous. She’d eaten only a piece of cheese and a bit of bread since Uncle Percy’s party. Her throat was parched. “I could use something to drink.”

A pitcher and an earthenware glass sat on the table. He poured and slid the glass toward her. She drank it to the last drop. The room-temperature barley water tasted refreshing.

“I suppose you didn’t get any sleep last night?” His elbows planted on the table, he continued his study of her. “You look exhausted.”

“The rats were boisterous.” She shuddered. The living nightmare had required all her strength not to rush shrieking from the storage room. A seemingly endless and vile experience, it ranked alongside her first ocean voyage for sheer unpleasantness. On her first trip, she’d been scared, lonely and confused about why Papa had sent her away. In spite of last night’s adventure, she managed a few hours of sleep reclined on a sack of wheat. Even now, the smell of bilge water and mildew clung in her nostrils. How she longed to rid herself of her smelly clothes and wash her body.

“Which do you prefer first, food or sleep?”

Sleep? Her frantic gaze jumped to the rumpled bed covers.

“Not with me.” His brusque tone suggested he’d been insulted. “I’m not a brute although we must agree on reasonable sleeping arrangements. I meant, would you care to rest, alone, or would you care for something to eat?”

“Oh.” She swallowed her mortification. This tiring escapade had unnerved her more than she’d anticipated and caused her to act like an idiot. “Food would be wonderful.”

“Excellent.”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you, though.”

Chortling, he stood and stepped toward her. Alarmed, she swung away then realized her foolishness. Any notions she might be in danger were baseless. He’d always been a polite, nice boy. However, people change. This adult Griffin was a completely new beast. She didn’t know what to expect.

He thrust her hat at her. “Put this on and keep it pulled down.”

“Why?” She tried to read his face, saw the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Since you signed on as my cabin boy, you may go to the galley and procure food. While you’re there, get us ale, too.”

Her jaw dropped. All her life she lived with servants. Being cast in the role of his servant left her stunned. “Why, I never.”

“Come along.” His voice cheery, he tugged her to her feet.

No, she wouldn’t go, nor would she play this charade. Feet pressed to the floor, she tried to stand her ground but was no match against his strength. “I’m not hungry. I’ll wait until…until supper.”

One hand flung open the door. His other hand jostled her along. “You’ve been on a ship before.”

“Not in seven years.” She hated how feeble and afraid she sounded.

“Things haven’t changed much.” Smiling affably, he pointed toward the bow. “Make sure you tell Cook it’s for me and don’t dawdle. Once you get the food, it will be best to come straight back here.”

Hand at her back, he nudged her over the threshold. With an outraged bellow, she twirled around just in time to hear the door close in her face. “Bastard.” She resisted a blazing urge to kick the door.

A short while later, in a snit, she stomped back to his cabin. A tray of food in one hand and the other poised to knock on the door, she paused. Why should she do as he commanded? Who was he to order her about? If he wanted food he could damn well get it himself.