Jack paced his cabin, glaring at his captive, but her composure didn’t crack. For all her exterior looked soft and fluffy, she was as tough as a Boston fishwife, and he began to believe the little thief would walk through Hell barefoot for fifty thousand pounds. Or even twenty-five thousand. He’d insulted her, threatened her, kidnapped her off her ship, but she still watched him as she did in that damn cave, looking at him like he was nothing more than a temporary irritant.
He needed the map. Despite what he’d said earlier, he believed Captain Tanner might know the location of the treasure, and with fifty thousand pounds—which translated into a great deal of American dollars—he could buy more ships and increase his holdings.
“You make a most persuasive argument, Miss Deford,” Jack said. “But have you considered this? If you don’t give me the map, we will have to travel together if you wish to beat Whitfield and find the treasure. If you stay with me aboard the Jade I cannot answer for how you will be treated in the future by society. Is Mrs. Deford concerned about her reputation, or would it not bother you to be labeled an adventuress? Or worse?
“Draw me the map, and I will pay you for it. Not twenty-five thousand, but enough for you to profit from this journey without putting your life and your reputation at risk.”
She watched him with no expression. If she was insulted by his words, she never let it show.
“I am not a girl fresh from the schoolroom, Captain Burrell. My reputation is my concern.” She paused for a moment. “However, there is something we must settle between us. Whatever you think of me personally, you can either treat this as a business opportunity and act accordingly, or you can forget about ever finding Garvey’s Gold. I will be treated as a partner, or I will take my clues with me to Florida, or to the grave.”
She stood, and put her hand out.
“Shall we shake hands on our new partnership?”
After a moment’s hesitation Jack stuck out his own hand. Hers was soft but firm in his, and she looked him in the eye as they shook hands.
“Stay here,” Jack said abruptly, feeling a need for distance from his unwelcome guest. He turned from the door and frowned at her, standing so demurely in the middle of his cabin. “And try not to sabotage my ship while I am gone.”
* * *
“When you are quite finished, Mr. Rice, we will discuss this situation.”
“I’m sorry, Cap’n,” George Rice said, taking out his handkerchief and wiping his streaming eyes, “but you have to admit, it’s damned amusing.”
“Not to some of us,” Jack Burrell muttered.
“I still cannot believe that little girl is the one who hoodwinked you. After your tales I was expecting a strapping Amazon hurling lightning bolts, not some china dolly!”
The first mate started laughing again, which didn’t improve his captain’s mood.
“A coral snake is small and attractive, but its bite is nonetheless deadly. Strive for some composure, Mr. Rice! You and the late Captain Tanner share warped senses of humor.”
“Ah, but I miss Erasmus! There was a man who knew how to get the most out of life. And he was a damn fine sailor.”
“Erasmus Tanner, for all his good qualities, was a dreamer,” Jack said, but his voice softened as he remembered the man who’d taught him so much of sailing these waters. The war had driven them to opposite flags, but it didn’t keep them from maintaining their friendship and respect for each other.
However, it was Captain Tanner who’d put him in the situation he found himself in today.
“There is nothing funny about being coshed over the head, tied up naked and robbed, Mr. Rice.”
“Well, considering how we’re always hitting and robbing other people—though we have yet to leave them tied up naked—I’d say there is a great deal to laugh about here.”
Rice blew his nose vigorously, then shook his head as he put up his cloth. “On the other hand, Cap’n, there’s nothing funny about having a woman aboard a privateer, guest or no.”
“Indeed. However, Miss Deford and I have unfinished business and I need to get information from her before I set her down in Florida. I don’t believe the ship’s discipline will be compromised if she stays aboard for a few days.”
“Maybe not, Cap’n, since it’s your ship and your guest. But what do you intend when you get to Florida?”
“That will depend on what she tells me over the course of the journey. The Jade needs careening and if I have to stay with Miss Deford this is an opportune time for you to get that done.”
“Aye, Cap’n, I can do that for you. But if we stop in Georgia your family will want news of you.”
“I will figure something out. In the meantime, let us focus on our immediate needs. Do you still want to put in at Fernandina?”
“Aye, Cap’n.” The mate scratched his head, thinking. He was a stump of a man, browned to the texture of old boots by years spent in tropical waters. Rice and Burrell went back to the conflict with England in 1812, when merchant seamen and ships’ owners like Burrell’s father scrambled to get privateers manned and out on the water. Since the war, though, it was only the occasional Spanish merchantman and sometimes, when they weren’t being particular, ships of other nations, like the Primrose. Rice had had the dubious pleasure of serving on one of His Majesty’s ships before escaping to an American vessel during the war, and he had no love for the English or their navy.
The war was over, but neither man was prepared to settle on shore yet, not with the unrest in South America, Florida, and Mexico keeping them busy. Political turmoil meant governments too busy to pay attention to stray privateers, and stretched too thin to put their resources to work keeping the sea lanes safe for shipping.
And Amelia Island and the port town of Fernandina, situated just over the border from the United States, was a congenial spot for a sailor looking to trade goods or procure goods for trade with few questions asked about their provenance.
“For tonight I hope to make it to Key Marquez, Mr. Rice. We can replenish the water there.”
Jack felt the wind on his face, judging almost by instinct the time to their destination if the weather held. He knew the ship beneath his feet, every plank and cable of her. The Jade had been his father’s ship, a Baltimore schooner that could work fast to windward like a dancer performing a pirouette. During the war she’d taken many a blow, but the skill of her American gunners and crew made her the envy of other sailors and the bane of British shipping.
He could go home now. His mother was always writing him it was time for him to return to the farm and take up his duties as eldest and heir, but Jack knew his brother Malcolm was more suited to the life. He loved the land as Jack loved the sea, and with Garvey’s Gold he could afford to deed the properties to Malcolm and stay out on the ocean.
Mr. Rice cleared his throat, bringing Jack back to the present.
“If Miss Deford is staying aboard ship, have you given any thought to where you’ll stow her?”
* * *
A similar question was going through Sophia’s mind as she explored the captain’s cabin. After Burrell’d huffed his way out, she waited a few minutes, sitting demurely in his chair, until there was total silence outside the door. Then she scurried over to his seachest, pulled a pair of pins from her hair and opened the lock.
“Now, what have we here a girl might need?” she murmured.
There was a wicked looking dagger, but hers was better, so she ignored that. She did take out the roll of banknotes and toyed with the idea of removing half of them, figuring it was only just compensation for the aggravation he’d put her through this day.
“But that would make me a common thief.” She smiled as she put back the money. His log was quickly scanned through and memorized—one never knew when such knowledge might come in handy—but she ignored the gold watch in a pocket on the side of the chest. That was an item he’d realize was missing. The double miniature was interesting. It was an older woman and a young girl, and the thought “wife and daughter” passed through her head, but then she saw the resemblance between the women and her captor, and “mother and sister” made more sense.
So, the fierce privateer had a family? Nothing odd there, most people did. She was a rare exception in having few living relatives, and if they were of the same mold as Whitfield she had no desire to meet any of them.
The miniature showed the lady wearing a dress quite fashionable a few years back, and a substantial pearl necklace. More clues as to her highwayman turned privateer’s life. She knew he was what passed for a gentleman in America, otherwise he would not have been playing cards with Lord Whitfield. Not a common seaman, more likely an American merchant family.
Sophia wasn’t overly familiar with Americans as a breed, but she had enough experience with men of all stripes that she felt confident she could deal with Lucky Jack Burrell to her satisfaction. After all, he hadn’t killed her yet.
Sophia took another look around the cabin, while she assessed all the new factors involved in the hunt for Garvey’s Gold. The cabin was modestly furnished, with an unusual stringed instrument on the bunk, long necked but with a round, flat base. She’d never had music lessons as the family’s fortunes ebbed and flowed, so she ignored it. The bunk did look larger than one lone privateer would need. Did he intend for her to sleep here? With him? If that were the case, he was in for a rude awakening. Or she’d have to make it clear if he forced himself on her, he wouldn’t wake again. But she’d deal with that later. She picked up the book he’d tested her with, then tossed it on the bunk next to the instrument. For now Fanny Hill was abandoned because she knew how it ended, she’d read it years before on a foray to Mr. Deford’s library looking for something to entertain her while he was off with his friends in town. It had been entertaining. And educational.
Sophia made use of her hairbrushes and the captain’s private facilities. Burrell had commanded her to stay in his cabin and she gave said command all the consideration it deserved.
Her captor eyed her darkly and came over to her when he saw her walking abovedecks.
“I thought I told you to stay in my cabin. Maybe I should clap you in irons to keep you from wandering about!”
“You could, but the air up here is fresher. I did not think you wanted me to have an unfortunate experience caused by the tossing of the ship,” she said, wrinkling her nose for emphasis. “However, if you prefer I be sick all over your bunk, then there’s nothing for it,” she said with a sigh, holding out her wrists.
Burrell scowled at her.
“Stay out of the way of my men then. I have a ship to run, and your interference could cause trouble.”
“Of course,” Sophia said as he walked away, but as she watched the men at their tasks it was the captain who caught her eye the most. He’d been a bad joke as a highwayman, but as the captain of a privateer it was clear he was in his element, the sea and the sky framing him like an oil painting, the seaman in his natural setting.
The Jade was skimming over the water, making her voyage on the Primrose seem like a float in a rowboat by comparison. Sophia turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes, feeling the wind blowing across her. It almost felt like flying.
“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
Sophia turned to the sailor standing beside her. He wasn’t much taller than she was, and part of his left ear was nothing but a scarred mass.
“English musket,” the sailor said when he saw her looking at his mangled ear. He gestured at it. “I heard the ball fly by and if felt like a hornet’s nest exploded in my head. Didn’t hear nothing out of that side for days, but we took the ship and I got silver as well as this souvenir.”
“Was that during the war, Mr…?”
“Sorry, ma’am, my manners go begging. Rice, George Rice. I’m mate on the Jade.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rice,” Sophia said, offering him her hand and one of her best smiles. He turned three shades of red and lightly touched her hand, then jerked back like he’d been burned.
Sophia not only knew to play the hand she was dealt, she was the mistress of turning events—and people—to her advantage. And the smile was genuine. Rice did not appear to be a threat to her, and in strange circumstances every friendly face was a potential ally.
“We don’t get many ladies aboard the Jade.” he frowned. “Come to think on it, you’re the first lady we have had aboard. But we will be in Fernandina soon, and you won’t have to spend too much time here.”
“Oh, but I like this ship!” she enthused. “It feels like we’re flying over the waves! I have never experienced sailing like this!”
Now Rice positively glowed, not from embarrassment, but from pride in his master’s vessel.
“Aye, the Jade is a treat. You won’t find better sailing in these waters than with a schooner, miss. We can go places that tub you were on would never be able to navigate, with us skipping as lightly as a cat walking ’round a mud puddle.”
“Tell me more. Is this ship well protected against pir—”
“Mr. Rice!”
The stern voice from the mainmast brought both of them looking round. Captain Burrell was standing there glaring at the two of them, and Sophia raised her eyebrows at his tone.
“I am sure you have better things to do than to be flirting with this person.”
Rice looked like he was going to speak, but then just said, “Aye, Captain,” and with a nod to Sophia left the two of them alone on deck.
“Flirting, Captain? Is that how you describe a casual conversation between two adults?”
Burrell came closer and taking her firmly by the arm, led her to the rail, away from the prying eyes and open ears of his crew.
“Flirting, Miss Deford. No doubt it is as natural to you as breathing, but I will not have it aboard my ship!”
“You made me come aboard the Jade. There is a solution to this problem. Place me ashore, in civilization, and I will find another guide to locate Garvey’s Gold.”
Jack Burrell shook his head and looked down at her.
“No. Erasmus Tanner made you my responsibility, and unpleasant as it is, I owe him this debt. But that doesn’t mean you can be up to your usual tricks with my men.”
“Tricks? The only trick I have ever involved you in was taking advantage of your gullibility. And you can hardly blame me for your misadventures.”
She knew it wasn’t wise to bait him, but something about Captain Jack Burrell brought out the worst in her. Ah well, the day was lengthening and she was still alive. That bode well. On the other hand…
“My things are in your cabin. What is your intention regarding sleeping arrangements?”
He looked at her a moment, and then that expressive mouth curled up at the corners.
“Are you anxious to share my bunk, sweetheart?”
“Not for all of your share of Garvey’s Gold. But I am curious as to how you will house me aboard your ship.”
“I cannot have you wandering about a ship full of sailors. For your own safety and my peace of mind you will stay in my cabin, Miss Deford, and we will work out the details later.”
“Are you giving your cabin to me, Captain?”
“No. As my…guest…I insist you stay close at hand aboard my ship. And as we discussed earlier, if we are going to be traveling about Florida hunting fairy gold, then we will of necessity be forced to spend many nights together.” He smiled that cold smile again. “Any second thoughts on accepting my offer to buy the map?”
“Fifty thousand pounds, Captain. Remember that number. If you will keep your hands to yourself, I can suffer through more time spent in your company to get the prize at the end.”
“Of course. That is the only answer I should have expected from you.”
“We could play a hand of cards and wager over who sleeps in the bunk.”
“Hardly necessary, since I already know I’m sleeping in my bunk. Not to mention I suspect you’d cheat. The only thing left to determine is where you shall sleep. That should give you something to think about between now and nightfall.”
Sophia merely raised a brow at this veiled threat and turned to the bow of the ship, where the coast of Florida was a smudge on the horizon. The wind off the water whipped her hair around her face and she was glad she’d left her bonnet below, though she knew she’d pay for it later with reddened cheeks and nose. As fair as she was it only took a small amount of sun to burn her, and she’d heeded the warnings of other travelers from the Indies about the harshness of the tropics.
Nonetheless, there was something wonderfully freeing about feeling all of nature at work, the sun, the wind, the salt spray off the ocean and the calls of the frigate birds and seagulls as they neared their destination.
“I suggest you find yourself a spot out of the way of the men and allow me to get back to running my ship,” Captain Burrell said, pulling her out of her musings.
Sophia did as instructed, watching the men working, and after a while fetched her sewing from the captain’s cabin to keep her occupied while they sailed closer to Florida. The sun dipped lower in the west and it was clear as the smells of food cooking drifted up from the galley they’d be aboard ship this evening.
“Miss Deford? Ma’am?”
Sophia turned around to see a youngster behind her, a boy not yet in his teens with hair flaming like the sunset when he snatched off his cap.
“I’m Mick, the ship’s boy, ma’am, and Captain Burrell sent me over to tell you it is almost suppertime, and would you please dine with him in his cabin?”
She cocked her head to the side and smiled back at the reed-thin boy, all browned arms and legs and a gap-toothed grin.
“Was that what Captain Burrell said? He invited me to dine with him and said ‘please’?”
The boy blushed and looked at his bare feet, then back at her.
“No, miss, that ain’t what he said, but my ma would snatch me bald if I spoke rude to a lady.”
“You have family, Mick?”
“Yes’m. There are a bunch of us back in Savannah, and Ma figured I could earn my way at sea. And I do.” He pulled himself up proudly. “Part of my share goes home to help out there.”
“Ah, I do understand,” Sophia said, and she was speaking the truth. She’d helped her family’s finances by playing cards and participating in wagers at an early age, and understood what it meant to young pride to be a contributing member of the household.
“Very well. Please tell Captain Burrell I will join him shortly.” She looked down at her dress. “Since we’re dining in his cabin I do not suppose I have to change for supper.”
“Why would you want to change, miss? That dress looks just fine to me,” Mick said, puzzled. “My sister Nell’s a seamstress and your dress is just as good as what she sews.”
“No doubt that is true, Mick, and I’m foolish to worry about what I am wearing.”
“Yes, miss. I’ll see you later then,” and with a nod of his head he was off, bare feet pattering across the deck.
“Flirting again, Miss Deford?”
Honestly, that man walked like a cat. Of course, he was barefoot also, and it made it easier to sneak up on her. She tried not to look at those feet. Most of the sailors aboard the Primrose had foregone shoes, but there was something disturbing about seeing Lucky Jack Burrell’s bare parts. Every time she did, it reminded her of that cave in England.
“With a handsome fellow like Mick it is hard to resist,” she said, smiling up at the former highwayman. He looked startled by her smile, then suspicious, but then his own face relaxed a bit.
“Yes, he has all the makings of a real heartbreaker. I knew his father well, and the blarney rolled off Michael’s Irish tongue.”
“Is his father dead? Mick mentioned his mother sending him to sea to earn money for the family.”
Burrell’s face took on a shuttered look.
“Yes. Mick O’Shea was one of my best gunners. He was killed in an action with you English during the war. Time to go below, Miss Deford. Supper awaits.”
Sophia suddenly felt unaccountably nervous, but she did her best to hide it.
“Are we dining alone?”
“And let you slip poison into my food when I’m not looking? Not hardly. Mr. Rice and Mick will join us.”
Sophia felt some of the tension ease out of her neck.
“I am hungry, Captain. This day has been more eventful than I anticipated it would be.”
Burrell said nothing to this, but motioned for her to follow him. He went down first and waited for her.
“In case you slip, Miss Deford,” he said when she reached the deck. “Looking up your skirts never crossed my mind.” He favored her with a bland smile, then motioned toward his cabin.
Inside, the table had been set and a flat-bottomed decanter of red wine sat at the head of the table. Mick, freshly scrubbed with his hair still wet and slicked back, and Mr. Rice, now dressed in a coat and neckerchief, waited for them.
Another sailor, one she’d seen earlier boarding the Primrose, brought their supper to them, chickens which she suspected had also been purloined from the British ship, mangoes and guavas from the islands, and a rice dish dressed with onions and peppers. It was a simple supper, but delightful after weeks aboard the Primrose. When she remarked on this, Rice smiled at her.
“That’s the best part about sailing these waters, miss. We’re never too far from fresh food and fresh water, and we eat better than those poor sods on the North Atlantic run.”
Captain Burrell didn’t have much to say during supper, and Mick and Mr. Rice carried most of the conversation with Sophia. Jack lowered the amount of wine in the decanter substantially, but did not appear to be affected by it, save for a slight shine to his eyes. She had taken one sip of her wine, and set it aside, drinking instead the tea that was offered.
“You don’t like the wine?” Lucky Jack asked abruptly.
“No, the wine is quite good, Captain.” But she didn’t add more. And when Mr. Rice and Mick asked her about her life, she only spoke of the bookstore, and living in Portsmouth.
The evening was finished with cheese and nuts, and the two older gentlemen shared some port while Mick and Sophia chatted.
Rice rose, a bit unsteadily, and raised his glass.
“Gentlemen…and lady…I feel I must offer a toast.”
“‘Confusion to the enemy’?” Jack murmured, looking at Sophia.
“No, you rascal, a toast to absent friends. It was Erasmus Tanner who brought us here tonight, and we should offer a toast in his memory.”
Jack almost looked inclined to argue the merits of Erasmus Tanner’s actions that brought them together, but he dutifully raised his glass when Rice offered, “To absent friends!”
“To absent friends,” Sophia said, and felt a suspicious prickling in her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she would miss the old seadog. She took a swallow of her wine, setting the glass back down before she gave in to the temptation to finish it. It was an excellent vintage, and she wished she could enjoy more of it.
As the night wound down, her tension ramped up. She suggested a hand of whist, but Mr. Rice and Mick declined, saying they’d be up at four bells for the morning watch. They helped clear the cabin, but after the door closed behind them it was quiet. Too quiet. Sophia could hear the rigging creaking above them, and the muffled sounds of the night crew while Burrell watched her, rolling his glass of port between his fingers. He abruptly stopped, rummaged in his pocket, and pulled out his black eyepatch, putting it over his left eye.
“What is wrong with your eye?”
“Nothing is wrong with my eye. Do not worry about it.” He tightened the knot holding the patch in place. “And so, alone at last,” he said softly.
Sophia squared her shoulders and looked at him, knowing her own mask was firmly in place. He would not succeed in intimidating her. No matter what provocation he offered, no matter how piratical he looked, she could weather it. The prize awaiting them in Florida guaranteed that.
“Indeed we are, Captain. And what arrangements have you made for my sleeping tonight?”
He rose to his full height, and said nothing, but started to take off his jacket. She swallowed, her mouth gone dry, but held her ground, only raising one eyebrow at this new development.
After removing his jacket, Jack walked over to his wardrobe and rummaged around until he brought out what appeared to be a length of cloth and rope.
“Here is your bed, Miss Deford, unless you have changed your mind about sharing my bunk.”
He took the cloth over to bolts attached to the bulkhead and tied it at each end.
A hammock.
“You expect me to sleep in that?”
He shrugged. “I really don’t care where you sleep, as long as you stay in this cabin. You have a choice of the hammock, my bunk, or the deck.”
“Fine!” she snapped. “I will sleep in the hammock. It looks comfortable.”
He just smiled and said, “Oh, it is comfortable. After you get used to it.”
He took a blanket and a pillow from his chest, and handed it to her, then resumed removing his clothes.
“Are you going to remove everything?”
Her voice was higher pitched than she would have liked, but she still thought she was showing him her best bland demeanor. Even if she did clutch the musty bedding to her a little bit harder as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head.
“I am accustomed to sleeping bare, Miss Deford. And after all, there is nothing of me you haven’t seen before.”
There was a distinct bite to that last sentence, but Sophia stood her ground.
“Quite true, Captain Burrell. I, however, prefer to sleep in a nightrail.”
“As you wish.” He shrugged, and continued taking off his clothes as she watched, convinced she could deal with this without losing her composure. When he got to his trousers and started loosening the buttons, a smile played around his mouth.
“I don’t want to shock you, Miss Deford, but I think it only fair to warn you, I am not in the habit of wearing smallclothes in the tropics.”
She was tempted to call his bluff and see the rest of the performance, but instead turned her back on him and arranged the bedding in the hammock. When she turned back, he was in his bunk, watching her, and she could only stare at the picture he presented.
Lucky Jack had pulled the covers up to his waist, but was sitting up, leaning against the bulkhead, his arms crossed over his chest. It was a chest browned by hours aboard ship, lean but sleekly muscled, with a scattering of hair that caught the lamplight and gleamed golden, arrowing down into territory now covered up.
Sophia swallowed. As pleasurable as it had been to look upon him naked and unconscious, it was different to look at the bronzed and very much awake and aware privateer sitting across from her.
“My offer still stands,” he said, breaking the spell.
She sniffed dismissively. It was a good act.
“If you have seen one naked highwayman—or privateer—you have seen them all. No thank you.”
“As you wish.” He raised his arms and placed his hands behind his head, bringing more muscles into play and causing problems with her breathing. “Aren’t you going to get undressed for bed now?”
“With you watching?”
He shrugged. That didn’t help her respiration either.
“I can’t very well leave, since I’m undressed and ready for bed. But if you like, I’ll blow out the lamp.”
“Thank you,” Sophia said, hanging on to the shreds of her dignity.
* * *
Putting the eyepatch back on had been one of the smarter things Jack had done that day, and he congratulated himself as he lifted the patch to take in the delectable sight of Miss Sophia Deford removing her clothes in the dark. The smallest glimmer of moonlight peeking in through the cabin window gave him the outlines of a slim torso, revealing now a snug little corset and once that was untied and removed…
Jack took a deep breath. She might have fooled him once into believing her a child, but there was nothing childish about the pert breasts rising above her chemise. She had a sylph-like silhouette, and while there wasn’t much of her, it was delightfully packaged. A pocket Venus indeed!
He shifted uncomfortably in his bunk, which seemed too confining, wide as it was. She stopped unrolling her stockings and looked over at him, and he knew she was straining to see him in the dark, trying to determine if he could see her.
“Are you still awake, Captain Burrell?” she whispered.
He faked a small snore, and after a moment she went back to unrolling stockings down legs he knew weren’t long, but now appeared more than long enough to wrap around his waist.
This kind of thinking was not healthy. He suspected he would have a better life expectancy if he took an alligator to his bed than if he placed Miss Deford beneath him, but he was only a man, and it had been a long time since he’d sought recreation in port.
Now she was pulling her chemise over her head and he swallowed. No, this wasn’t wise, but he hadn’t earned the nickname Lucky Jack by leading a life of prudence. She pulled her nightrail over her head, and climbed into the hammock.
At least, that was her intention, and the show she was putting on brought a grin to Jack’s face and helped make up for some of his frustration.
She pulled down the edge of the hammock and tried to sit on it, but Jack had tied it too high. It would be mean-spirited to say he tied it too high on purpose. Once she realized she couldn’t sit on the edge, she made a brave leap at jumping in, and managed to dump the hammock over and herself out onto her rounded little bottom.
“Wha—Why, Miss Deford, are you injured?” Jack said, pretending to come awake.
She swore an oath no proper young lady should know, then said, “No, Captain, I am well. Go back to sleep!”
Jack settled himself a little further into his bunk and watched her next attempt, which involved throwing herself across the hammock and hanging there, arms and legs dangling over the side.
Oh, this was bad. The image of Miss Deford’s bottom, up in the air, swaying in the hammock, was not healthy for his frazzled nerves and frustrated evenings. It was giving him all sorts of ideas of what one could do with a partner in that vulnerable position, suspended in mid-air.
But those thoughts were set aside by the sight of her falling out again as she tried to slip into place, this time landing on her feet.
No sense pretending to be asleep now.
“The offer to share my bunk is still open,” Jack said helpfully.
She consigned him, his bunk, and all sailing vessels to perdition.
“Tsk! Miss Deford, really!”
“I will master this, Captain Burrell! I do not need your assistance!”
“As you wish,” he murmured. He wasn’t about to cut this entertainment short if he wasn’t getting a bunkmate.
This time she was more or less diagonally across the hammock, and grabbed onto the top ropes, holding on for dear life until the swaying stopped. Then she slowly, and to Jack’s eyes, delightfully, humped her hips around until she was on her back inside the still moving hammock—but it didn’t dump her out.
“I did it!” she said in a breathless voice. “I am in the hammock. Good night to you, Captain!”
He had to give her points for pluck. She was indeed in the hammock. However…
“Captain Burrell?”
“Yes, Miss Deford?”
She hesitated.
“I was not able to get the covers and pillows into the hammock with me. Would you give them to me? Please?”
Jack ran various responses through his mind, but it was getting late.
“Since you said please…”
He got up and picked up her pillow and cover, brought them over to her. Her eyes were tightly shut, and when they popped open she carefully kept them on his face, not his nude body.
“Here you are. Unless you would like me to tuck you in?”
“No!” She carefully reached out one slender arm to take the bundle from him, the other holding tight to the side of the hammock.
“Thank you.” She peered at him more closely. “What happened to your eyepatch?”
“Stop worrying about my eye, Miss Deford. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Captain Burrell.”