CERYNISE STRUGGLED TO find a shadowed haven from the radiance filling her world. The light was bright and obtrusive in its boldness, intruding into the nebulous haze that seemed to surround her. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she sought to banish the glare into the nether realm, for surely it was a torment born of hell. Alas, it remained undiminished beyond her protesting lids. Finally she yielded a cautious peek through silken lashes and found the culprit to be the morning sun, shining through the expanse of windows somewhere behind her left shoulder and reflecting off an oval mirror fixed atop a shaving stand located across the room. Had they been of steel, the brilliant shafts radiating into her face might have pierced her brain.
All around the shimmering oval aura, indistinct shapes remained darkly aloof and pensively silent in their distant detachment. Some were far too large and bulky to claim human form, and yet, hard as she struggled, she could not lay face or body to others that seemed of more manly dimensions. Or was it only her imagination that made her think that she was not entirely alone?
Cerynise realized with some relief that she was no longer plagued by a feeling of discomfort. Indeed, she was warm and cozy in a bed, her body encased in clean-smelling sheets and a feather comforter, her hair dry with curling strands partially masking her face, and her toes no longer pained by the cold. If not for the penetrating ball of brightness shining between her narrowed eyelids, demanding that she pay heed, she might have still been slumbering in peaceful contentment.
A soft sigh slipped from her lips as she rolled away from the offending light. The goose down pillow beneath her head was a bit firmer than she was accustomed to, and with a balled-up fist, she punched it into some semblance of comfort, eliciting a strangely masculine essence that bestirred her senses like a warm caress. She rubbed her nose against the downy softness, deliberately extracting fleeting whiffs of the scent, and in quixotic reflection, licked a tongue languidly over smiling lips as several delicious fantasies swept through her mind. It was momentarily delightful to imagine that she had been carried off by a handsome sultan who, after claiming her, had banished his harem to the four corners of the earth, proving himself totally smitten by his love for her. Just as captivating was an illusion of a swashbuckler, handsome and daring enough to carry her off to his ship, where he promised to lay the world at her feet.
A slight shifting of her bed and a subtle creaking, similar to that which the masts of a ship might make, brought Cerynise’s eyes flying open in sudden alarm as she realized she was not housed on solid ground. The paneled wall that met her astounded gaze seemed unusually close. She reached out a hand to touch it, trying to bring it in line with what was familiar to her, but as her fingers lightly traced the delicate molding, she became aware that her world was once again swaying incongruously to all that seemed right and customary in her life. Her hand flew to her mouth, smothering a gasp that was more mental than actual. She was definitely on a ship, she concluded, but whose?
Her ears caught a sound, and as she listened, her apprehension mounted. A faint scratching, like a quill on parchment, came from behind her.
As her thoughts became fraught with growing anxiety, her hand moved to her throat. Abruptly her eyes widened as she realized the slender column was no longer bedecked in a stiff ruffle. Her heart began to hammer as she slipped an arm first beneath the feather tick and then the sheet that covered her. Her fingers swept hurriedly downward, appraising her state of attire, and brushed a naked breast. In rising astonishment she continued her examination and found her hips and thighs equally devoid of clothing.
Her panic was too great! Twisting around, Cerynise gathered the covers up high beneath her chin and came upright in the bed to escape the reflected sunlight as she searched for the other occupant of the cabin, for she had no doubt now that there was another in the room. It didn’t much matter to her at the moment whether he was a swashbuckler or a sultan. The man was definitely a cad for having stripped her naked! And heaven only knew what else he had done!
Cerynise saw the man immediately. He was sitting at a desk with a quill in hand, making notes in a ledger that lay open before him. At her movement he dragged his gaze from the book and lent her his undivided attention. She found herself meeting eyes of deep emerald green in a face warmly bronzed by the sun. His black hair was wont to curl ever so slightly and was just long enough at the nape to brush the open collar of a shirt that appeared no less than dazzling white in the morning light.
“I’m glad to see that you’re alive.” His voice was deep and imbued with warmth and humor. “You were sleeping so soundly, I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake. As it is, you’ve slept the night and most of the morning through.”
“Where are my clothes?” Cerynise blurted the question out in a rush, stricken with horror at the evidence surrounding her.
“You took a bad chill, Cerynise, and your clothes were too wet to leave on you. I had my cabin boy wash and dry your undergarments, but I fear your gown has been ruined beyond repair.”
Her mind raced. He had called her by name, and yet he was a stranger to her. “Do I know you?”
A smile tugged at his lips as he laid the quill across the ledger and rose from his chair. Though she pressed back warily against the wall behind her, he came forward with eyes glowing with amusement. Bracing an arm across the upper frame of the bunk, he leaned forward slightly and stretched out his other hand to capture a long, silken tress that had tumbled forward over the quilt.
“Though Moon was informative about your father, I’ve never known but one in my entire life who had this particular shade of hair. She was a young girl who sometimes sat in her father’s classes, taking notes as if she were every bit as old and advanced as the rest of his students. Whenever I’d tweak her nose, she’d be inclined to stick her tongue out at me and declare me a hopeless tease. Still, she seemed disposed to follow at my heels whenever she could.…”
Cerynise’s mind flew. There was only one of her father’s students whom she had ever looked up to with such devotion. He had left Charleston at the age of ten and six to find his future on sailing ships, but whenever he had returned to home port, he had always brought back gifts for her that he handed out during his visits with her father. “Beau?”
“The same, my girl.” Stepping back, Captain Beauregard Birmingham clicked his heels and swept an arm before his chest in a debonair bow. “A pleasure to see you again, Cerynise.”
“You’ve changed,” she breathed in awe. Indeed, he was very much a man now, and more handsome than she had once dared to imagine he would become. He was taller, heavier, with shoulders wide enough to make his waist and hips seem as narrow as any woman’s. In all, he was every bit the princely vision she had thought him to be when she had tagged along behind him yearning for a glance, a smile or a wink, any kind of recognition that would assure her that he was just as taken with her as she was with him.
“So have you,” he murmured, his lips curving into a lopsided smile as his blue eyes twinkled back at her. “You’ve become quite a woman, Cerynise…a very beautiful young woman.”
Cerynise could feel the heat rising to her scalp. Though unspoken, the insinuation was there, burning to be probed. “W-who undressed me?”
Beau’s gaze never wavered. “I fear I would have shirked my responsibilities as captain of this vessel had I let some member of my crew perform the service. And since I was once your protector when other boys were wont to badger you, I couldn’t very well allow any harm to come to you now.”
Cerynise groaned in abject misery. “Please tell me you kept your eyes closed.”
Beau met her searching gaze with an amused smile, momentarily awed by her eyes as they caught a shaft of light from the mirror. For the moment, they looked similar to dark green crystals, but he knew from experience gained years ago that they could change color in a shifting light or with the donning of another color. With some difficulty he dragged his mind to full attention. He knew she was upset and pondered how he might soothe her shock. “If it would make you feel any better…”
Cerynise glared up at him accusingly. “Are you going to tell me a lie, Beau Birmingham?”
His knuckle pressed against smiling lips as he struggled to contain his laughter. “My only concern was for your state of health, Cerynise,” he assured her, making every effort to present a gallant mien. “You were nigh frozen, and I feared for your life. You had to be warmed, which would have been difficult to do with all of your clothes on. They were thoroughly soaked. Believe me, I’m no lecher.…”
She groaned, thoroughly humiliated. “Neither are you blind!”
“Nay, I’m not blind,” he admitted with a chuckle. “And though under different circumstances I would have been pleasured by the sight of your perfection, I was deeply concerned for your welfare, Cerynise.” Having been delayed by an autumn ice storm in Russia several years ago, he had seen firsthand the ravages frostbite and shock could reap upon an unsuspecting man, even to the point of death. But he carefully avoided mentioning that, after stripping away her clothing, he had placed her in a tub of comfortably steaming water and left her to soak for some moments while he tried to spoon warm brandy between her blue lips. Failing for the most part in that endeavor, he had taken her to his bed and briskly toweled her body dry before gathering a blanket around her and holding her against his own warmth. She would never have understood the feelings that had washed through him when finally her trauma began to ebb and she nestled close against him. Even so simple a thing as her breath tickling his throat had been startling in its effect on him, and he had realized that he wouldn’t be able to trust himself with her if she accompanied him to Charleston. She was far too tempting for a man who’d been too busy trying to convince the local shipping authorities that he hadn’t broken any of their asinine laws with his weaving in and out of ports. An hour or two in the arms of a winsome wench might have done much to ease his manly vexation. At least, it would have made it easier for him to be around this one.
Cerynise turned her face toward the wall, allowing a lengthy silence to pass between them. Though the arguments were there to give testament to the appropriateness of his action, she was nevertheless mortified by the idea that he had been so bold with her.
“Would you like something to eat?” Beau asked, wisely changing the subject. “I was hoping you’d wake so we could dine together and perhaps talk a bit. The last time I saw you was at your parents’ funeral, shortly after I returned from a voyage. Before I knew what was happening, Mrs. Winthrop was whisking you away in a carriage. I didn’t even have a chance to offer my condolences. Then your uncle told me that you and the widow were making haste to catch a ship bound for England.” He paused briefly before continuing in somber tones. “Last night Moon informed me that you’ve been left very much out on the street by the Winthrop heirs and are wanting to go home. And that you’re hoping I will take you.”
Cerynise faced him again, anxious to know his answer. “Will you?”
Beau sighed heavily, knowing he dare not. As lovely and womanly as she had become, he knew he’d find it difficult to conduct himself with the sort of gallantry his mother might expect of him. He wished that he could still think of her as that scrawny little girl whose tongue had been as keen as her wit, but after viewing her in the altogether, he’d never again be able to return to that former way of thinking. She was very much a lady now, and the consequences of dallying with sweet innocents ensconced on his ship could affect his life in a most permanent fashion. At the very least, there would be hell to pay when he arrived home. “This is a merchant ship, Cerynise. There are no suitable accommodations for passengers.” He stretched the truth only by a slim margin, for the cabins had been filled to the hilt with the more precious cargo he was carrying. “I will, however, arrange for Captain Sullivan to see you safely home on the Mirage. He’ll be sailing before the week is out, but I’ll probably be leaving a bit sooner. Until I do, I give you leave to stay here and use my cabin.”
Disappointment overshadowed the surging hope that had first arisen within Cerynise. “I tried to explain to Captain Sullivan that Uncle Sterling would pay for my passage after I arrived,” she murmured dejectedly. “But he said his shipping company would expect an accounting.”
“You needn’t concern yourself about the fee,” Beau assured her. “I’ve already told Moon to make all the necessary arrangements for you. I’m sure you’ll have nothing to worry about with him watching over you. That old man is tenacious when his loyalties take root. I learned that when we sailed together years ago.” Beau leaned his head aslant as he looked down at her. “I rather gathered he now thinks of himself as your private paladin. He was nearly beside himself with worry after you passed out.”
“I couldn’t have made it this far without him,” Cerynise acknowledged quietly.
Beau stepped to one of two tall lockers neatly recessed in the wall at the far end of his bunk and pulled out a gentleman’s robe. Draping the garment over his arm, he paused beside a chair and gathered up a bundle of folded clothes that had been left there. Cerynise recognized them as the undergarments she had been wearing beneath her gown. Yet even at first glance she could tell that they had been badly stained with dark splotches.
“What happened to my clothes?”
“I’m afraid your gown faded on them after you got drenched in the rain,” Beau replied, handing the undergarments to her. “No one on the Audacious knew what to do to whiten such frilly things.”
“And my gown? Where is it?”
“The velvet was still damp as of a few moments ago, but even dry, I doubt that you’d find it serviceable.” He shrugged his shoulders at the sudden confusion she displayed. “A child might.”
“You mean it has shrunk in size?”
“Precisely.” Beau brushed the back of his hand across the robe draped over his arm. “For the moment this is the best I can offer as a replacement. I’ll try to find something more conventional for you to wear later this afternoon. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have more time to purchase a gown for you. While you’re dressing, I’ll inform my chef that we’d like to eat.”
With that, he quit the cabin, allowing Cerynise the privacy she needed to collect her scattered thoughts. Struck by an awareness that she was now occupying the domain of a man with whom she had been infatuated since childhood, she rose from the bunk and looked around with a feeling of reverence as she slipped into the oversized garment he had left with her. A faint essence of a manly cologne claimed her attention, tantalizing her with images of one Beauregard Birmingham. The scent was subtle yet strangely stimulating to her womanly senses. Indeed, she found it rather amazing that she could be moved to such a degree by the presence of one whom she hadn’t seen since her departure from her parents’ funeral. Fearing at the time that she would never see him again, she had strained to watch him from the windows of the carriage. After a lengthy absence, his appearance had been well worth noting even then. It had certainly held her attention until they were out of sight, and thereafter she had suffered a deep regret that he hadn’t arrived in time to talk with her. But now, in his manly maturity, he was no less than magnificent.
An unquenchable grin flitted across Cerynise’s lips as an unusual blissful feeling filled her nigh to overflowing. With eyes glowing, she considered the tasteful interior and the fine furnishings that contributed to its masculine appeal. The quarters were like the man himself, handsome, polished, distinguished, yet comfortably open to the world and its adventures, like the spacious expanse of small-paned windows located above the stern gallery. The massive desk, hand-tooled with a leather top and solidly made of mahogany, was the most impressive piece in the room. Beau had looked quite imposing behind it, she had thought. For a moment she snuggled back into the leather confines of the chair and found to her surprise that only her toes reached the floor. The way he had loomed over the bunk, she could surmise that he had reached a height easily equal to his sire, a man whom she remembered standing at least a head taller than most women and a fair number of men as well.
Curiously Cerynise scanned the titles of books through the glass doors of a pair of bookcases located on either side of the windows and to her amazement found a fine collection of biographies, poems and fiction mixed in with those immediately more pertinent to sailing and navigation. Her lips curved in a smile, and she shook her head in wonder at the man. What had once seemed a bland indifference toward classical literature on his part as a student had undoubtedly been well contrived for the benefit of his male companions, who might have supposed that such inclinations were evidences of weaknesses in the male species, in spite of the fact that Beau had always ridden, raced, and swam better than most of them. It seemed her father was right after all, for he had always claimed the lad was far more mentally astute than he had cared to let on.
Across the room, a table and four chairs resided beneath a hanging lantern. Several low, curved-top chests sat here and there, no doubt containing the captain’s possessions. The shaving stand, upon which the sun had lit earlier, stood beside a paneled opening that had been left slightly ajar. Within the cabinet she glimpsed an oval tub hanging on a peg and tucked almost out of sight. Moving near, she smiled as she imagined the long-legged man trying to bathe with some comfort in such a compact receptacle. Then her eyes caught on a long tawny strand of hair that had been snared on the rim, and her breath was snatched inward with a shocked gasp, for she suffered no uncertainty that it was her own.
“He bathed me?” she cried in an astounded whisper. Full comprehension was only a fleeting breath away. “Good heavens, he bathed me! He bathed me!”
Her astonishment knew no end. The idea that Beau Birmingham had taken such liberties with her heightened her coloring to a vivid scarlet. She wanted to moan, weep in misery or do something to find relief for the overwhelming embarrassment that swept through her.
Opening the robe, Cerynise stared down at her naked body as if she had never seen it before. Indeed, she felt somehow foreign to it now that she knew that Beau had gazed upon it, too. Her breasts were full and delicately hued, her waist slender, her hips and thighs smooth and sleek. Had he been her husband, she would have gladly yielded him all the sights she had to offer, but since he was the one whose memory had never failed to quicken the beat of her heart all these many years, Cerynise could only wonder what he had thought about while he bathed her. He had meant it for her good, she assured herself, but had there been something about the incident that he had tried to hide from her? Was that why he hadn’t told her that he had bathed her? Or had he only meant to save her the anguish of humiliation that she was now suffering?
For the time being, Cerynise shunned the idea of wearing a corset, but she hurriedly donned the rest of her undergarments. Over them she wrapped the oversize robe around her and folded back the sleeves, trying not to think of how Beau’s long, lean fingers might have stumbled on the tiny buttons that had fastened her camisole between her breasts. A man would have had difficulty with anything so small. Or had he casually dismissed her nakedness and performed his charitable deed without dwelling on the fact that she was a woman now?
Cerynise faced the small mirror above his shaving stand and, managing to blank her mind for the present, proceeded to brush her teeth with a forefinger and a small amount of salt that she had found in a silver box wedged firmly in a groove on the table. She combed her fingers through her hair, raking out most of the snarls, and tore a bit of lace from the hem of her petticoat to tie it with. Deeming herself decidedly pale, she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to bring forth a brighter hue. As she surveyed the results, it dawned on her that she had never taken such care to look her best when she had foreseen the likelihood of passing one of three young swains who, after taking close account of her customary strolls with Lydia through Hyde Park, had often waited for her somewhere along the path with the hope of gaining an introduction from her guardian. Lydia, however, had taken mischievous delight in thwarting their attempts, having been dedicated to the idea that her ward would become a famous artist or, at the very least, marry into the nobility.
A light rap of knuckles came upon the door. “Are you decent, Cerynise?” Beau called through the wood. “May I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” she answered quickly, making sure the collar of his robe was tucked securely around her neck. Her attempt at modesty, Cerynise thought wryly, was like closing the gate after the sheep had fled. It hardly served much purpose after Beau had seen her without a stitch of clothing.
Upon entering, Beau stood aside as he held the door open to admit a small, energetic, black-haired man with sparkling black eyes and a small black mustache that curved like a cherubic bow above his upper lip. The curled ends extended upward in a cheery smile.
“Zee mademoiselle iz about to taste zee finest cuisine she has ever sampled in her life. Philippe has cooked zee food ’specially for her.…” the man announced. Then he paused in acute surprise as his eyes finally lit on her. Suddenly a-smile with appreciation for her beauty, he pressed a hand to his chest as he sought to make amends. “Mademoiselle, you must forgive le capitaine for not presenting us. I am Philippe Monét, Capitaine Birmingham’s chef de la cuisine.” Turning his hand with an elegant flourish, he halted any further introductions. “And you are zee Mademoiselle Kendall, whom le capitaine failed to mention is zee most ravishing creature in all zee world.”
Cerynise laughed with pleasure at the lighthearted exuberance of the wiry, little man, but when she glanced toward Beau whose brow had become slightly quirked, she had the distinct impression that he had grown rather perturbed with the chef. The reason was a mystery to her. Did he resent being chided for his failure to make a mannerly introduction? Or was he totally unappreciative of the fact that his cook was gushing over a guest with so much enthusiasm?
Unable to find any definite justification for his displeasure, Cerynise faced the chef and replied graciously, “Enchanté de faire votre connaissance, Monsieur Monét.”
Philippe’s mustache twitched with unquenchable delight as he heard his native tongue spoken with such elegance. It was obvious the lady had been schooled by an articulate Frenchman to pronounce the words so divinely. Eagerly Philippe began spouting off a stream of fluid French, but Beau quickly held up a hand to halt his verbosity. “Please! Converse in English for us poor unfortunates who are not fluent in a variety of languages.”
“Excusez-moi, Capitaine…” the cook began.
“Philippe, if you please!” Beau rebuked impatiently, his eyebrow now sharply peaked.
“Your pardon, Capitaine,” the smaller man humbly apologized.“I fear I forgot myself when zee mademoiselle answered me in my own language.”
“Control yourself, if you can,” Beau urged aridly. “I know Miss Kendall is beautiful, Philippe, but she is my guest, and I would prefer that she not be embarrassed by your ardor.”
“Oh, Capitaine, I would not wish zhat for zee world,” Philippe declared, wringing his hands fretfully as he faced Cerynise.
“Then would you mind serving us our meal before it’s too cold to eat?” Beau implored curtly before the man had time to launch into another apology.
“Of course, Capitaine.” Blushing lightly at his captain’s reprimand, Philippe responded with a clipped bow and promptly clapped his hands.
Immediately a freckle-faced boy, who had been waiting patiently beyond the threshold, carried a large tray laden with their morning meal through the doorway. When the youth saw Cerynise, he displayed none of the cook’s jubilance, but halted awkwardly in mid-stride, unable to say a word. His jaw slowly descended as he stared agog.
“This is Billy Todd,” Beau announced, having been chided for his lack of etiquette enough for one day. “He’s my cabin boy and a good sort who generally does his job”—he dropped a hand on the back of the boy’s neck as he continued—“at least when he remembers to keep his eyes in his head and his chin above his shoulders.”
Billy’s cheeks took on a speckled ruby hue. “Sorry, sir, miss…ma’am…mum…”
“Miss will do,” Beau informed him bluntly. He had never seen members of his crew so affected by a pretty face before. But then, he had to remember that he hadn’t been exactly clearheaded either when he had held the girl snuggled within his arms. “Now put the tray down, Billy, before you spill something.”
“Aye, sir,” the cabin boy replied, complying with great dispatch.
Philippe assisted the youth, and in no time the small table was laden with a rather lavish meal of smoked salmon, crepes with caviar, vegetable ribbons lightly sauteed in lemon butter and, waiting to be enjoyed afterwards, a lime souffle chilled on ice. The latter was considered a rarity for sea voyages, but from Russia, they had brought back a small amount of ice packed in sawdust. Soon the chef and the cabin boy retreated, leaving Beau to assist Cerynise into a chair on his left.
“For a man who travels across vast oceans, Captain, you seem to enjoy the best that life can offer,” Cerynise commented, surveying the elegantly presented dishes.
“You needn’t be so formal, Cerynise,” he chided with a grin, lifting his gaze briefly to hers. “You’ve called me Beau for as long as I can remember. I give you leave to continue.”
At that precise moment Cerynise became convinced that there were no eyes in all the world bluer than the ones which now smiled at her. As a child she had once found herself staring into his mother’s eyes, thinking how beautiful they were. Then later, she had realized they were the same color as Beau’s. Staring into those darkly translucent depths now, it was easy for her to imagine a woman being swept away by admiration for him without a single word being uttered.
Cerynise mentally shook off the spell he unwittingly cast and scolded herself for acting as addled as a dazzled schoolgirl. “Moon mentioned something about you traveling to Russia.”
“Some of the fare we now have sitting before us came from there.”
“It must have been exciting for you to go there, but it seems so far away.”
“Not nearly as far as you might think, Cerynise. In fact, it’s rather a short jaunt in comparison to sailing around Cape Horn on a voyage to China. Even that will soon be shortened once they perfect the sailing ships they’ve begun to make. Clippers, they’re called, and beauties they are. Being heavily sparred to bear a greater width of canvas and with their hulls as sharp as a razor, they’ll slice through the ocean in no time.”
“It sounds like you’re married to the sea,” Cerynise replied rather wistfully.
“Not really,” Beau answered. “I want a home and family just like the next man, but I’ve yet to find a woman who can steal my heart from the sea. Perhaps in another ten years I’ll be ready to give up sailing, for I seriously doubt it will come any time soon.”
“Stealing your heart will be a difficult task for any woman to accomplish, I think,” Cerynise mused aloud. A pause in their conversation allowed her a moment to sample a crepe. She found it so delectable that she promptly forgot the drift of their discussion and rolled her eyes skyward in sheer delight. “Oh, Beau, the crepes are wonderful! Truly, I’ve never tasted anything so heavenly.”
A soft chuckle accompanied Beau’s reply. “I’d say that it was the caviar if I wasn’t aware of the talent of a certain chef in my employ. Philippe is so accomplished, I fear I’ll be losing him one day to someone who’ll promise him a kingdom if he would but go and cook for them. He’s been with me for three years now and takes over my kitchen in Charleston whenever we’re at home.”
“Do you have a house there?” she queried in surprise. “I’d have thought with being gone so much that it would be easier for you to stay with your parents while you’re there.”
“I enjoy my privacy too much to roost in the wings of Harthaven while my ship is in home port,” he explained, tossing her another grin as he flaked off a piece of salmon with his fork. “Besides, when my father and I are in the same house together for too long, we begin to act like a pair of stallions fenced in the same paddock.”
The idea of the Birmingham men snorting and stamping about within the confining walls of a house wrenched giggles from Cerynise. Her hilarity was such that a piece of crepe which she had been in the process of swallowing got caught in her throat. She choked and promptly began coughing, trying to dislodge it.
“Now I’ve done it,” Beau declared, rising to his feet. He caught her hand, bidding her to stand as he stepped close behind her. Much to her astonishment, he slipped his arms about her slender waist. “Now bend over as far as you can go, and try to relax and cough it out.”
Hanging her upper torso downward over his forearms as he squeezed her ribcage with sharp, quick jerks was the most undignified position that she could have ever been in as far as Cerynise was concerned. She felt very much like an awkward goose of a girl, which some boys had been wont to call her years ago. The long robe only made her more clumsy, for in her attempt to keep her backside a respectable distance from her host, her foot got tangled in the dragging hem and she stumbled backward, falling literally into Beau’s lap as he dipped his knees to catch her. For a moment his arm clasped her tightly to him, and she felt secure, but as she pulled away from his stabling grasp and tried to stand, her foot slipped once more on the robe and she went flying, this time in a lateral direction. Beau flung an arm outward to catch her, but while drawing her back he lost his balance. In the next moment they both sprawled backward, he to the floor and she on top of him.
Cerynise’s breath rushed forcefully outward in surprise as she fell, and whatever small particle had hitherto been lodged in her throat came free. Although relieved, she didn’t think anything could assuage her embarrassment over her own awkwardness. She could feel her face flaming hotly as she struggled to sit up. Her every thought was on making good her escape, for she was sure by now that Beau was mentally questioning her propensity for calamity, and she didn’t want to lend further weight to any suspicion of that sort. Too late she realized that in her effort to get up, she was now straddling his loins, albeit from a rearward perspective. The swiftly growing firmness beneath her buttocks made her eyes widen. Hot coals might have had the same effect. Scrambling to her feet, she kept her back deliberately presented to the man upon whom she had landed and made a pretense of straightening the wayward robe as she waited for her hot cheeks to cool.
Beau pushed himself to his feet. He had known well enough that he was in dire need of a woman in his bed, but he hadn’t realized to what extent until Cerynise Kendall had come aboard his ship. Her womanly softness pressing down upon his loins had ignited a fuse that had proven far too explosive for a display of coolheaded logic. The fact that he greatly desired to have his way with her this very moment was reason enough to hasten her departure to the Mirage. It didn’t matter that she had always been the little girl following at his heels. She was very much a woman now, too beautiful for his peace of mind. He couldn’t trust himself around her, no matter how much he had respected her parents.
Beau collected his aplomb by gritted-teeth tenacity and, after a moment, was able to gain control of his goading lusts. Returning to the table, he seated himself once more, but he noticed that a deeper blush had invaded his companion’s cheeks and could well assume the reason. He had no idea what Cerynise had learned about men while living in an aging widow’s staid and sterile house, but he could imagine that her knowledge was sorely lacking in that area. If she stayed around him very long, however, that was bound to change. She’d soon come to realize that he wasn’t made of stone. Indeed, he could foresee their relationship coming down to a simple test of endurance, with one of them definitely being pressed to the limit.
Silence prevailed between them as they finished the meal. Beau’s appetite for food had waned with the blunt realization of his own craving for carnal appeasement. He couldn’t very well take his guest to bed, as much as he might have reveled in the experience with such a fresh subject. Neither could he throw her out of his hungering sight without decent apparel. The only choice that remained was for him to leave the ship. Perhaps when he had the time, he could search out a wench who might satisfy his manly needs. Only then would he be able to act the gentleman in this one’s presence.
Later that afternoon, Billy Todd rapped his knuckles lightly against the captain’s cabin door and called through the wood, “Miss, are ye awake?”
“Yes, Billy, just a moment please.” Cerynise clutched the robe closer around her neck and lifted its long skirt as she hurried to answer the summons. She greeted the boy with a smile, but it was no brighter than his. “What is it, Billy?”
Billy held forth a small bundle of clothing. “Yer pardon, miss, but the cap’n said ye were in need of somethin’ ta wear for the time bein’, an’ what with me bein’ the smallest seaman aboard, he asked if’n I’d be willin’ ta share with ye for a spell.” Seeing her eyes widen in sudden dismay, the lad rushed on to plead, “Please don’t think me forward, miss. The cap’n said ye might be wantin’ ta wear somethin’ ‘sides that there robe o’ his, seein’ as how it’s so big an’ all.” His eyes passed quickly over the length to the slender bare feet and trim ankles showing beneath the raised hem, which dropped abruptly at his inspection. Billy’s freckled cheeks flushed darkly, and in some confusion, he pressed the garments into her hands. “They be clean, miss. I washed ‘em meself.”
“Oh, I have no doubt they are, Billy,” Cerynise assured him, worrying far more about the propriety of a woman wearing a boy’s clothing. “And it’s very kind of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
The look of adoration that briefly swept his face conveyed a willingness to do much more if she but asked him. “Please take ‘em, miss,” he cajoled, “else the cap’n’ll wonder if I even offered ‘em ta ye.”
Cerynise laughed, brightening the lad’s countenance. “In that case, I think I’d better. I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble on my account.”
“Anything else ye need, miss, ye be sure an’ let me know.” Blushing even more fiercely, he added, “I’d be only too glad ta see ta yer wishes.”
“Thank you, Billy. I’ll let you know if I should think of anything,” she replied, and then directly began to wonder if she would have time to try on the clothes before Beau returned to his cabin. “Will the captain be on deck for a while longer?”
“Oh, no, miss. The cap’n left ta visit some friends o’ his ‘bout an hour ago, but he said for me ta tell ye he’d be comin’ back ta have dinner with ye later this evenin’. Till then, he asked if’n ye wouldn’t mind stayin’ in his cabin…” Billy sensed that she was waiting for him to continue and, with a lame shrug, explained, “Seein’s as how the men might gawk an’ forget ‘bout their duties if’n ye come up on deck.”
“The captain bade you to tell me that?” Cerynise queried in surprise.
Billy winced in chagrin and seemed suddenly unsure of himself. “Well, maybe the last part wasn’t meant for yer ears. Ye won’t tell him I said that, will ye?”
Cerynise shook her head and smiled. “No, Billy, ‘twill be our secret.”
The cabin boy sighed in relief. “We ain’t ne’er had a woman on board longer’n a couple o’ hours, miss, so ye can expect our manners ta be a bit raw.”
“If the other seamen are as gallant as you, Billy, then I have no doubt the Audacious is manned by a crew of gentlemen.” Her smile widened, bringing a glow to his cheeks and a buoyant grin to his lips. She guessed the lad to be only a few years her junior, and although life at sea could sometimes be terribly harsh on the young, in Billy’s case it was obvious that he had landed on his feet. Though as lean as a reed, he looked well nourished, clean and happy, all indications of the integrity of the man who captained the ship upon which he sailed.
“I’d best get back ta work now, miss. If’n ye need anythin’, just ring the bell what’s outside the door an’ I’ll come runnin’.”
Soon after the portal had closed behind the boy, Cerynise examined the garments and gingerly tried them on. As slender as she was, she was not without womanly curves, which posed a problem in putting on the narrow duck trousers that were similar in shade to the sails. They had to be worked up over her pantalettes, for there was no way she would consider wearing the rough cloth next to her skin. She’d surely be chafed raw. After buttoning them, she adjusted the small mirror on the shaving stand and considered the results, turning this way and that to view every angle. The front was vulgar enough to brighten her cheeks, but when she caught sight of her backside, she gasped in astonishment, for the pants showed nearly every detail, cleaving to her buttocks like a second skin and snuggling into the cleft between. Even without Beau’s request. Cerynise knew it would have taken a team of stout drays to drag her up on deck. Wearing such indecent garb around seamen would be an open invitation for them to do more than just gape.
The tail of the shirt was long enough to cover her hips, allowing her to wear the ducks with some measure of modesty, but the fabric was soft after many washings. Seeing how it clung to her breasts, Cerynise quickly dispensed with the notion of wearing a corset, which would have pressed her bosom close to overflowing the top of her camisole with no doubt imprudent results. Even the most casual glance into the neck of the garment would convince the viewer of her lack of modesty.
Despite her qualms about wearing Billy’s clothes, Cerynise decided there was no harm in making use of them while Beau was away and she had the cabin to herself. The long robe hindered her movements and was so wide across the shoulders that it was forever falling open to her waist. Still, if Billy or someone else came in, she’d have to seek the enveloping folds of the larger garment to hide what the lad’s clothing readily displayed.
Billy Todd returned a couple of hours later to inquire whether she was hungry or not. Cerynise declined his pleas to eat, telling him that she preferred to rest instead. She still felt drained from the events of the past week, and she could think of no better succor for her physical and mental well-being than sleep and relaxation.
Folding down the coverlet on Beau’s bunk, she laid the robe on the mattress near the wall where it would be easily accessible if there came a need while she napped. She snuggled beneath the comforter and closed her eyes, thankful for the hospitality her host had extended to her.
The realization of Beau’s absence began to settle down upon Cerynise as she stuffed his pillow beneath her head and became aware once more of the elusive scent of the man. It came as something of a shock to her that she was just as susceptible to his absence as she was to his presence. The woman she had become was hardly much different from the youngling she had once been. Long ago she had pined her heart away after Beau had gone to sea, but now, with only a short interval since his departure, she found herself eagerly anticipating his return. Considering their lengthy separation over the last five years and the voyages that had kept him away prior to her taking residence in England, Cerynise could find no cause for the hollow feeling that now plagued her in his absence. It seemed farfetched to think that one man could move her to such extremes, yet when she compared the joy she had experienced over their reunion to the strange, inexplicable yearning that presently thwarted her mood, what else could she lay it to?
With the exception of another brief visit from Billy Todd in the middle of the afternoon, when he had brought her tea and crumpets, the hours passed slowly in the solitude of the cabin. Soon after the tea tray was taken away, Cerynise strolled to the gallery windows and curled up on the padded seats cushioning the storage compartments that had been built underneath. She was enthralled with the activity along the wharf and would have enjoyed painting the ever-changing scenes and the variety of people whom she could see through the small panes of glass. The sounds that flowed from the quay were muted by the transparent barrier, but not so much that she couldn’t hear them altogether. Finely garbed gentlemen rubbed shoulders with swarthy seamen, while plump merchants tried to shoo off ragged urchins who wouldn’t desist their pleading until a handful of coins was tossed in their direction. Fishwives strolled along with baskets balanced on ample hips, hawking their wares. Other vendors wheeled carts laden with vegetables, fruit, eggs, and all manner of fresh foods. Cerynise saw Monsieur Philippe bustling out to greet several, and on occasion, a sailor had to be called to help carry back the abundant purchases.
As twilight approached, the activity on the quay diminished, but a different sort of peddler became more prevalent. The gaudy garb and heavily painted faces of the harlots clearly marked their profession even before they began to call out to passing sailors or to the men on the Audacious. They were not above displaying a goodly length of thigh or lowering their blouses to a greater depth to entice customers. Some even went so far as to show off swelling mounds with vividly rouged nipples. Cerynise felt her own face flaming at their wantonness, and yet, after her own recent experience with being destitute, she couldn’t help but sympathize with their plight, though she thought she’d rather be dead than exist by selling her body to strangers.
A carriage rumbled to a halt in an open space nearby, and Cerynise’s heart leapt with excitement as she saw Beau alight. He paused at the door of the conveyance to gather what he had taken with him, laying a pair of long guns over his arm and then slinging a burlap bag over his shoulder. As he paid the driver, several of the strumpets pranced forward. When he turned, he was immediately beset by a variety of invitations, the boldest being a pretty wench who rubbed herself against him in a provocative manner as her hand dipped downward to boldly explore his loins. Beau seemed unabashed by her inspection as he casually scanned her and then the others who were vying for his attention, but when the winsome harlot stood on her tiptoes and tried to extract a kiss from his lips, he turned his face aside with a chuckle and shook his head. Waving the strumpets off with a smile, he strode toward the ship, leaving the comely one pouting with arms akimbo.
Cerynise eased her constricted breath out in a long sigh of relief, knowing how distressed she would have been if Beau had taken one of the women under his arm and escorted her to some temporary haven. Indeed, she probably would have sulked more than the harlot.
It had always been Beau for whom her heart had awakened whenever he had come into a classroom or ridden near. Cerynise listened just as intently for his footfalls to approach the cabin door. After a moment she heard the floor creak just beyond the portal. Then a light knock accompanied the announcement “Cerynise, it’s Beau. Can I come in?”
“Yes,” she called, somewhat surprised by the nervous catch in her voice. Then, because she couldn’t bear to have him realized that she had witnessed his encounter with the strumpet, she fled the gallery. Espying the robe on the far side of the bunk, she suddenly recalled her need for its protective covering and scurried to fetch the velvet armor, but not quickly enough to avoid being caught in a most unladylike position.
Beau swung open the door and then halted abruptly as he stepped within, for he found himself confronting a very fetching derriere clothed in ducks and stuck up in the air like a flag of truce. He would have gladly accepted the young lady’s surrender almost on any terms, yet he was prone to wonder if he was having another lewd fantasy involving her. He found his brain as well as his breathing ensnared, and it came as no surprise to him that she had acutely awakened his manly cravings when none of the harlots had succeeded.
Cerynise backed off the bunk and nearly made her admirer groan with the sharp hunger she evoked within him. He was certain he had never seen anything quite as stimulating as those snugly bound crevices, for the tight trousers hardly left anything to his imagination. Where his eyes were fastened was unmistakably where he wanted to be.
Turning quickly aside as she got to her feet, Beau made a pretense of washing his face and hands at the shaving stand. The cold water helped to some degree to cool his imagination, but it was a lengthy moment before he managed to regain control of himself and face the girl in any guise of control. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her attired in his robe again. At least with her in that all-consuming garment, he could look at her without fearing that in the very next moment he might forget all logic and sweep her down upon his bed.
Cerynise dared a small, timid smile. “Billy’s clothes are surprisingly comfortable.”
Beau could have cursed himself for having thought of the idea, which had come to him after breakfast. She had looked too damned appealing and accessible in his robe. Were she garbed as a boy, he had thought, he’d be able to ignore her better, but the lad’s breeches had deftly conspired to make her look all the more feminine and desirable. She was a child-woman of such beguiling beauty, he seriously doubted that he’d ever be stricken with such ravenous cravings while looking upon another, at least not until he managed to thrust this one’s image far into the realm of forgetfulness. Her hip-length hair swirled in shimmering tawny waves around her slender form, while her widened eyes, soft as the deep glen of a wooded copse, stared back at him in indecision. “’Tis best that you don’t let any of my men see you in Billy’s clothing. The sight might prove too much for them.”
The intense scowl creasing Beau’s brows made Cerynise almost quail. She was unable to discern the cause of his anger and ventured forthrightly, “I sense that you are displeased because I’m wearing them. And yet Billy said you wanted me—”
“Displeased hardly describes what I’m battling now, Cerynise,” Beau interrupted, striding across the room to put his desk safely between them. He faced the stern windows and frantically sought to divert his thoughts toward a different path. He cast a searching glance about, skimming the cushions that he never took time to sit upon. His eyes paused as he noticed a slight depression similar to the breadth of Cerynise’s slender hips near the far side of the bench. When he glanced outward toward the dock, he saw the young strumpet awaiting a customer near the spot where he had left her. Beau had no need to ask what his guest had witnessed, for it was evident to him where she had been ensconced just prior to his coming aboard.
Beau turned his attention upon Cerynise, wondering if she might have been offended by the fact that he had allowed the wench to fondle him. No doubt to an innocent it might have seemed a rousing caress, but at the time, he had reluctantly had his mind on seeing Cerynise again and hadn’t been the least bit interested in taking the harlot up on her offer.
Beau found Cerynise watching him with equal alertness. “Philippe has dinner prepared. Are you hungry?”
“Immensely!” She managed a grin despite her misgivings. “Are you?”
“Starved,” Beau replied, making an attempt to chuckle. He strode back through the door, rang the bell which Billy had told her about earlier, and then returned to his desk. While the cabin boy and the chef laid out the food on the table, Beau made notations in his ledger and sorted receipts. Philippe and Billy were both quietly restrained, as if they, too, sensed their captain’s dark mood, and with no more than a murmur the two made their departure. Cerynise approached the table, and in quick response Beau unfolded his long form from behind his desk, crossed the meager distance between them, and pulled out a chair for her. Graciously she accepted his assistance and folded her hands demurely in her lap to hide their trembling as he took a seat.
In silence he poured her a goblet of wine, and she, in turn, addressed her attention to arranging food on his plate. Though the cuisine was just as delectable as it had been earlier that morning, Cerynise found that she had lost her appetite, for it was impossible for her to ignore the captain’s brooding vexation.
There was definitely a strange unreality about sitting at a table with the man. She had imagined this moment for so many years that it might have become a trifle hackneyed after their lengthy separation…except that nothing about Beau Birmingham would ever seem trite or insincere to her. If he had been a god, she could not have adored him any more than she did now or had done during all the years she had known him. Even if they went their separate ways and married others, he would always remain her champion on a white charger.
“I’m sure Billy informed you that I wanted you to stay in my cabin,” Beau said after an uncomfortable silence. “Were you able to enjoy the afternoon in spite of that?”
“I rested for most of the afternoon,” she replied. “I couldn’t seem to sleep after Mrs. Winthrop’s death…it came so abruptly…and the suddenness of it was…well…rather devastating.” Cerynise took a tiny sip of the wine, hoping it would lend her courage, and wondered if she had been as timid and fearful of the younger Beau Birmingham as she was of the man. She lifted her eyes to him. “Did you have a pleasurable day?”
“Actually, I did. I went hunting, which I haven’t been able to do much lately. I enjoy the sport while I’m in the Carolinas, but it’s not always easy to do in other parts of the world.”
“I’ve missed not being home,” she murmured, reminiscing.
“Your uncle has certainly missed not seeing you these last few years,” Beau surmised. “I’ve visited him from time to time when I’ve been in home port, but most of our discussions have been about you.”
Cerynise groaned softly. “I’m sure you couldn’t have found that very entertaining.”
“Your uncle and I have been laboring under the misconception that you were nothing more than a child. He’ll no doubt be amazed when he sees you.”
“My uncle was in good health when you last saw him?” she queried hopefully.
“As hardy as he has always been.”
She smiled in relief at the news. “Captain Sullivan suggested that Uncle Sterling may have died, and I began to worry that it was true.”
Beau thought he needed to caution her about sailing on the Mirage and tried to do so without frightening her. “If you can at all manage it, Cerynise, try to stay in your cabin as much as possible during your voyage home. Captain Sullivan doesn’t always know what his crew is up to, so it may be best if you just keep out of sight. Moon is to be trusted and will see to your needs.”
“You won’t change your mind about taking me home?”
Beau sighed, knowing his limitations only too well. “I fear not, Cerynise.”
That was all he said, and that was all he needed to say for her to accept his answer as final. Abruptly she changed the subject, for the thought of leaving him left her despondent. “If I use your cabin tonight, where will you sleep?”
“I’ll string a hammock in my mate’s quarters. Mr. Oaks sleeps so soundly he won’t even know I’m there.”
“I fear that my presence aboard your ship is putting you to a great deal of bother, Beau.”
“You’re a friend. What are friends for if they cannot help one another?”
Beau arose soon after the meal was concluded and took his leave, barely managing a smile for her. Cerynise quietly waited while Billy cleared the table, and then upon his departure, she braided her hair, doffed her clothes, and washed her chemise and pantalettes. Sliding naked into a bed was something that she had never done before. It seemed totally wicked, yet she didn’t have enough clothes to spare any to sleep in. She was totally surprised to find a rather thrilling experience awaiting her as she slid between the bedclothes. With the elusive scent of Beau drifting through her senses and the sheets caressing the soft peaks of her breasts, she could almost imagine him as her phantom lover. The idea aroused sensations she had never encountered before. They were quite titillating. Indeed, there flourished a strange yearning in her woman’s body that led her to stroke her breasts inquisitively while illusions of Beau hovered near. She imagined her hand caressing him much as the harlot had done and wondered what she would find if she were ever so bold.
Stirring as it was, her fantasy gave her no ease, for it awakened a sharp hunger within her that made her toss and turn in discontent. Whatever she craved was not something she was cognizant of, but she had no doubt that Beau would have the answer. Someday, perhaps, he would instruct her as her husband.…
“Foolishness,” she hissed in the dark, growing angry with herself. Beau didn’t even want to let her sail with him! How much less motivated would he be to take her to wife?