CERYNISE LIFTED HER head off the pillow long enough to search for the pail that Billy Todd had solicitously left beside the bunk. Emitting a small, miserable moan, she closed her eyes and kept as still as possible in a hopeful quest to forestall her stomach erupting, but every pitch and roll of the vessel seemed to incite rebellion from that queasy area. She marveled that she had ever considered the mate’s cabin a haven of any sort, for it had become a place of writhing torment from which she longed to escape. The fact that they had encountered rough seas soon after their departure from England gave her adequate cause to solemnly vow never to sail again as long as she lived…if she managed to survive this particular voyage.
It seemed strange, but in the last five years she had somehow managed to thrust the more repugnant details of her voyage from Charleston out of her mind. Granted, it had been overshadowed by her grieving anguish over her parents’ deaths and the loss of the only home that she had ever known. Still, looking back upon it all, it seemed that she would’ve at least remembered her inability to cope with unreasonable motion. The realization that she was not a particularly good sailor could hardly have been ignored.
A faint smile curved Cerynise’s cracked lips and abruptly drew a wince of pain as she felt a tiny split open the skin. Not a good sailor? she mentally jeered. Horrendous would be closer to the truth. If she ever reached land again, no power on earth could compel her to get back on another vessel heading out toward the open sea. Indeed, if she had her way, she’d stay well away from the ocean and never look at another wave again or subject herself to the agony of a ship rising upon long, slow, roiling swells and then plunging into the deep troughs that followed. It seemed an endless, diabolical cycle of waves rolling past the ship one after another after another.…
Cerynise barely reached the bucket in time, and it seemed an agonizing interval before she was able to lift her head again. Soon after realizing she was about to be sick, she had tried to hide her symptoms from Billy, who was ever pressing her to eat, but one glance at the well-gorged tray he had brought to tempt her was all it took. Then her secret came out. To her amazement her retching didn’t seem to bother the lad as much as it had her, for he had rushed to give her aid, supplying a bucket and a wet cloth with which she could bathe her face. Afterwards, she had sobbed and pleaded with him not to tell anyone, most especially her husband. Billy had been reluctant, deeming it unwise to withhold such information from his captain, but he had finally acquiesced. Thereafter he had personally attended her few requirements, bringing fresh water and a bowl of light broth now and then, a supply of clean towels, and surreptitiously emptying the pail over the side along with buckets of scraps left over from the galley.
Beau had knocked on her door more than a few times and, with each passing day, had grown more insistent that she let him in. Burrowing beneath the bedcovers, she had sent him away with muted refusals to see or even talk with him. That he had assumed she was sulking had allowed her to avoid a visitation that would have caused her a most excruciating shame.
Her strength had continued to ebb, and her parched lips were now susceptible to bleeding whenever tiny splits occurred. She tried drinking water, but even that would come gushing up soon after it was downed. Sleep was her only refuge throughout the endless hours of torture, but waking was difficult, for it usually came with a need for her to heave up what little she had on her stomach. She couldn’t even fathom getting dressed or garbing herself in anything more than a nightgown. Her hair was now hopelessly snarled beyond repair, but she cared not a whit about anything, much less the way she looked.
Three light raps on the door signaled Billy’s return for the bowl of broth he had left an hour ago. It was still sitting untouched on the tray beside the bunk. At her weak call, he quietly entered the cabin and then halted in astonishment. He was certain he had never seen anyone looking so deathly ill before. He was sure she couldn’t have looked any worse had she been near the grave. The shadows underneath her eyes were darkly pronounced, giving them a hollowed look. Her cheeks were sunken, and those previously soft, winsome lips were marred from dehydration. Indeed, the sight of her frightened him so much that he whirled about-face and ran to get the captain, having no doubt that he had just cause for going back on his promise to her.
A short moment later, Beau stood beside her bunk, hands on lean hips, short raven hair tousled from the evening wind that had raked across the deck, and an unholy light burning in his eyes. “Dammit, Cerynise, why didn’t you tell someone you were ill? You look like death warmed over.”
She hadn’t seen him in days, and the fact that he loomed over her like some divinely perfect fabled god only made her more aware of her weak, sorry state. She had been immensely relieved that he had accepted her croaked commands to leave her alone without barging in, for she had known only too well that he possessed the all-too-manly temperament to do that and much more. Nevertheless he had been constantly in her thoughts, like a strain of music that kept running over and over through her head. Now here he was, glaring down at her as if her condition was somehow her fault.
“Go away,” she moaned, turning her face aside to hide a start of miserable tears. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“In sickness or in health, my dear,” he rejoined with more sarcasm than she could bear.
“Just throw me overboard,” she whimpered, clasping hold of the covers as he began pulling them away. “I don’t want to continue on another day.”
“Come on, sit up,” he urged, ignoring her pleas as he slipped an arm beneath her shoulders.
She started to shake her head, but promptly decided that was not a good idea. “I can’t! It only makes it worse. Just go away.”
“And let you die in peace?” Beau laughed shortly. “Never!”
Cerynise’s eyes widened in disbelief at his cruelty. “You’re a callous brute.”
“So I’ve been told.” He drew her up to a sitting position on the edge of the bunk and swept her bare feet to the floor, then proceeded to slip her arms into her dressing robe.
“Oh, what are you doing to me?” she groaned listlessly. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Take deep breaths,” he urged, hunkering down on his haunches to slide her slippers on her feet. “You’ll be fine.…”
His words had scant calming effect on her stomach. In sudden panic Cerynise collapsed forward toward the pail and relented to the dry, convulsive heaving of her stomach. At last, her queasiness ebbed and she fell back weakly upon the bed. The cooling strokes of a wet cloth on her face, throat and into the opening of her gown brought her a measure of relief, but she hardly had time to catch her breath before Beau was hauling her up again and pressing a tin cup to her lips.
“Wash your mouth out,” Beau urged, refusing to let her turn away from him.
Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Cerynise accomplished his directive and spat out the water into the pail. She sank back upon the bunk and lifted a doleful stare to her husband. It didn’t help in the least that he looked so hale and hearty.
“Now drink the rest,” Beau pressed, holding the cup to her lips again. “You’re as dry as an unearthed skeleton.”
“You hate me,” she mumbled against the rim, but relented enough to take a sip.
“Not true, madam.” He continued bathing her face and throat as she clasped the cup between trembling hands and drank tiny draughts. “But I am angry with you for allowing me to think you were pouting in here like a spoiled child when all the while you’ve been sick. If not for the fact that Billy thought he was being loyal to you, I’d have it out with him for not informing me of your plight immediately.”
“I begged him not to tell you,” Cerynise mumbled into the cup as he pressed it back insistently to her lips.
“Drink!”
“Oh, Beau…I can’t! Not any more!”
“I said drink!”
“’Twill only come up.”
“Not this time. Trust me.”
“Only a little,” she groaned in petulant tones, but he refused to take away the cup until she had drained it down to the last drop.
Despite her attempt to fall back upon the bed again, he drew her to her feet, braced her upright with his own body as he wrapped a blanket around her, and then swept her up into his arms. Kicking the door aside, he strode from the cabin, bearing her toward the companionway.
Cerynise cast an apprehensive glance over her shoulder and saw the stairs looming before them. “Please, Beau,” she whimpered, hating how frail and helpless she sounded. “I don’t want to go up on deck where your men can see me.”
“You need fresh air, madam. ’Twill help you feel better. Besides, after the way Billy came racing up to me in an anxious dither, my men will probably be expecting to see a funeral at sea.”
“That will come,” she assured him ruefully. “As soon as you finish me off with all that cold air you’re insisting upon!”
Beau smiled down at her but never broke his stride. His long legs closed the distance to the companionway in short order as he murmured, “I’ll keep you warm.”
The short twilight of autumn had already deepened into a dark gloom, but the moon, shining overhead, poured a silver ribbon across the water. Chilled breezes wafted across the deck, making Cerynise catch her breath, but they did nothing to bring her relief from her anguish.
“If you don’t put me down, you’re going to regret it,” she warned.
Beau complied only when he reached the nearest bulkhead and lowered her to it. Cerynise had little strength to hold herself upright and sank forward against him, leaning her brow against his neck and nestling her head against his shoulder. Had she been feeling better, she might have enjoyed his arms holding her close against him, but under the circumstances, she could only dread what might happen.
“Please, Beau,” she breathed against his neck. “I feel as if I’m going to be sick again. I’d like to return to my cabin. At least there, I won’t embarrass myself.”
“Staying down there will only make it worse, Cerynise.”
“But this isn’t making it any better,” she argued.
He turned her away from him, braced her slender form with his body and held her secure with an arm wrapped about her midriff as he pointed out to sea. “Look out over the top of the railing.”
“Nooo,” she moaned, and rolled her head in anguish. Was the man so merciless? Absolutely the last thing she needed to do was look at the water!
“Not at the waves,” he whispered against her hair. “Look at the horizon. There’s enough moonlight for you to see it, so fix your gaze there.”
Cerynise squinted in an effort to see the faint dark line between sea and sky. After focusing her gaze upon it, it took several moments before she became aware of its stability. “It isn’t moving.”
“Well, actually it is,” Beau replied with a soft chuckle. “The earth is turning, but you needn’t worry about that. As far as you’re concerned, it isn’t moving.”
Glancing up at him, she sighed wistfully. “I wish I weren’t moving.”
He smiled down at her. “Don’t look away from the horizon, Cerynise. Just keep your eyes fixed on the line, and keep breathing in the cool, clean air.”
Cerynise obeyed, for the moment satisfied to lean back within his encompassing arms. Time slipped past, but she was hardly aware of anything beyond the sheltering comfort of his large body. By slow degrees she became cognizant of the fact that she was beginning to feel better. Drawing in a long, slow breath, she released it again in a pleasurable sigh. “I do believe I’m going to live.”
Beau laughed and folded the blanket up close around her neck. “Warm enough?”
She nodded, snuggling back against him. “Quite comfortable now.”
The seasickness that had plagued her since the Audacious sailed from the Thames into the open sea was swiftly disappearing. But in its place was an exhaustion more profound than any she had ever known.
Her head found a niche between her husband’s neck and shoulder and, with a sigh, she closed her eyes. By slow degrees her breathing slowed.
Beau didn’t dare move. He was content to hold his young wife in his arms as the night deepened into a silky blackness studded with a myriad of stars. During her lengthy reclusion, he had been plagued by a nagging suspicion that something was not quite right in his life, a feeling that was, at the very least, unsettling. He had had to face the realization that he missed not being with the girl. Certainly those lively little wenches whom he had visited in the past had not been able to claim his mind longer than his departure from their doors. Yet day and night he had thought of Cerynise until he had been brought sharply to the awareness that he desired her company far more than the usual palette of women with whom he had been intimate.
The ship bucked at the contrary winds and, beneath the surface of the water, battled the Gulf Stream currents. Early in his sailing career, Beau had become cognizant of the fact that sailing westward was known as the uphill passage across the Atlantic. A downhill crossing could be accomplished in little over a month with prevailing winds blowing from west to east. But on the return leg, it could take as much as three months. Although that was hardly an appropriate length of time for a normal courtship, perhaps it would be enough for him to settle his mind on just what kind of commitments he wanted to make to this young beauty he held so closely within his arms.
When the watch changed, Beau carried Cerynise back to her cabin. She didn’t rouse as he laid her in the bunk, and he could detect no evidence of continuing sickness. He pulled off her robe and briefly admired her loosely flowing nightgown with its rounded neck trimmed with a wide ruffle of handmade lace. He dared not linger beyond the simple task of tucking her beneath the covers. If the experience of their wedding day had taught him anything, he would do well to limit such ministrations to nothing more than a brotherly concern.
“Don’t move,” Cerynise bade, focusing intently on the lines that she was swiftly applying to the nearly completed sketch of Billy Todd. “I’ll be finished in a moment.”
Anxious to see what she had drawn, the lad squirmed in mounting suspense.
“Hold still now,” she implored.
Curbing his curiosity, Billy managed to comply long enough for her to complete the drawing. But then, with such a view for him to look at, it was hardly any task at all. The lady had returned to her former health and beauty in a matter of days, and since then had been completely absorbed in something that had kindled the attention of nearly everyone aboard the Audacious. To say that she was talented would have been putting it mildly by an extreme measure.
“Done,” Cerynise declared in satisfaction, and finally turned the parchment around to let Billy see the results.
His eyes widened in growing amazement as he perused the results. “Would ye look at that, mum? That’s me!”
“Or at least a reasonable likeness,” Cerynise replied with an effervescent laugh. She studied the portrait with a fair amount of satisfaction, pleased that she had been able to catch the lad poised somewhere between childhood and maturity. There was still a telltale hint of softness in his cheeks and mouth, but the eyes were clear and steady. The chin was firm and hinted of strength to come.
“Do I really look like that?” he asked with a sheepish grin.
“Aye,” Stephen Oaks confirmed, halting close behind the cabin boy’s shoulder. “But it’s not your winsome face she’s caught, lad,” he teased. “She’s captured your nature right on the mark.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” Cerynise said, laughing as she dipped her head in an impromptu curtsy. “No artist could ask for higher praise.”
“You wouldn’t be in the mood to sketch another one, would you, ma’am?” Stephen inquired hopefully.
“I think I can be persuaded.” Cerynise reached for a fresh piece of parchment and, with a graceful sweep of her hand, motioned for the mate to sit down in front of her. The site she chose for him afforded her a view not only of her subject but also of the horizon, toward which she continued to glance from time to time. Even after more than two weeks of fine health, she still refused to take anything for granted. Feeling well had certainly buoyed her spirits and changed her attitude toward sailing. She was fairly confident now that she could survive another voyage, but right now she was going home. Home! For so long now the Carolinas had been little more than a distant memory. Yet circumstances had changed, and with each passing moment she was drawing closer to all the things she had remembered and cherished over the last few years. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what awaited her there.
Since regaining her health and falling into a daily routine aboard ship, Cerynise had returned to her art and soon found herself sketching the seamen and their life aboard the Audacious. Most of her work she gave away, keeping only a few for herself, among them the ones she labored on in the privacy of the mate’s cabin. She was beginning to suspect that she had the largest collection of drawings of Beau Birmingham in existence and, with each passing day, she was adding to it.
The afternoon watch came on deck before she finished Stephen Oaks’s sketch and handed it to him with a smile. “A handsome man you are, Mr. Oaks.”
“Well, I’m not sure about that, ma’am, but this drawing is a fine one,” he assured her with a pleased grin. “Why, I bet the fancy folk of Charleston would pay a pretty sum for you to do this sort of thing for them.”
Cerynise tossed her head upward with an amused chuckle. “I fear the contrary will be true, Mr. Oaks. People seem to look dimly upon a woman painting portraits, perhaps because all the great masters have been men. I’m sure the people in Charleston will be just as skeptical as those in England.”
“Then ’twill be their loss, ma’am, not yours.”
“Thank you,” she replied cheerily, accompanying her words with another pert dip of her head.
Becoming aware of a presence looming over her, Cerynise marveled at the tingling rush of excitement that affirmed Beau’s presence even before she glanced around to find him standing close behind her, studying the sketch of the mate. He had come upon them unawares, unnerving her with his penchant for appearing without a sound from almost out of nowhere. She doubted that it was a propensity he consciously strove to maintain, for there were times when she was able to catch some warning of his approach and could fortify herself against the trembling that would then beset her. Today she found herself decidedly disarmed and equally aghast at her own fluttering response. She was sure if he ever became mindful of her reaction, he’d be wont to think her unchanged from that little girl whose heart had always leapt with joy whenever she had espied him coming down the narrow lane toward their house and the nearby school. To think that he’d perhaps be wont to dismiss such weaknesses as something only a silly youngling might suffer made her cautious about revealing her strangely chaotic emotions. The inhibiting constraints she suffered in his presence only served to remind her that thus far he had made no promises to keep her as his wife upon their arrival in Charleston.
“I really don’t understand how someone so large can move around so quietly,” she scolded, as if he might have startled her.
Beau gave her a slow grin that did strange things to her pulse, for it started leaping like frogs cavorting on lily pads. “I’ll endeavor to give you more warning, madam,” he replied. “Will tripping clumsily over my own feet be enough?”
Gaining no answer, Beau stepped around to look at her drawings, which she had spread out alongside of her on the deck and had weighted down against the whipping of the wind. He was ever amazed by the realism of the likenesses she portrayed, for he readily recognized each face she had drawn.
When Cerynise glanced up, she was surprised to find him so close. Indeed, she could see the pulse beating steadily at the base of his throat where his shirt fell open. If only she could remain equally unaffected, she thought. She closed her eyes for a moment against the sudden whirling of her senses. When she opened them again, she nearly stumbled backward in surprise as she found Beau leaning over her, reaching for the cloak that had fallen from her shoulders. She felt his chest brush her sleeve and peered aslant into the opening as his shirt fell away from his chest. All too keenly she recalled his hand leading hers in a leisurely caress of that tautly muscled expanse and to what it had quickly led them.
Beau straightened and became momentarily engrossed in spreading the cloak around her shoulders and fastening the silken frogs beneath the hood. “You shouldn’t be out here without your wrap, madam,” he admonished softly. “I wouldn’t want you to come down sick again.”
“I won’t,” she whispered, lifting her eyes to the ones that slid slowly upward from her throat. When his gaze paused on her lips, she had the strangest sensation that he was going to kiss her, but she quickly dismissed that notion as some fantasy of her own and rebuked herself for having such faulty illusions. Still, when those green orbs captured hers, she found the simple act of breathing normally had become an impossibility.
“I’d be honored, madam, if you would dine with me this evening,” Beau murmured, smoothing the hood of her cloak around her shoulders.
Sudden visions of them lying naked in his bunk came unbidden to her mind, halting her breath with the ecstasy that always came with that apparition. She could only assume from the way she came undone whenever he was near, that such a simple invitation as dining with him might well lead her into nine months of seclusion without a name to give their offspring. Since the onset of the voyage, she hadn’t dared a return to the captain’s cabin for fear of that happening.
“Mr. Oaks will also be dining with us,” Beau added, seeking to ease the qualms she was apparently suffering.
“Oh.”
A raven brow lifted wonderingly as Beau perused his wife’s face. He could almost swear that he had heard a note of disappointment in her voice. He pressed a hand to his chest, solemnly promising, “I shall seek to garb myself more appropriately for the occasion, madam.”
Cerynise accepted his statement as an invitation for her to gown herself with equal care. Dipping into a winsome curtsy, she tossed him a coquettish smile. “I shall attempt to do the same, Captain.”
A silver-blue taffeta seemed the best choice for the evening, Cerynise decided after careful consideration. The bouffant sleeves and ankle-length hem were well in fashion, certainly as much as the demure baring of her shoulders. She wore no adornment on her throat, for the garment needed none. A draped sash of more brilliant blue swept upward from the right side of her waist to her left sleeve, where it was gathered in a flamboyant bow. Her hair was pulled back smoothly from her face, and from behind each ear, narrow ribbons of the brighter blue dangled prettily, adorning the small clusters of springy curls that bobbed there. The remaining tresses she had intricately woven in a weighty mass above her nape. The fact that she had spent over an hour fashioning the coiffure attested to her desire to win her husband’s approval.
Beau swung open his cabin door at the first light rap of her knuckles, and for a moment he stood before the opening, drinking in her beauty in silent appreciation. Cerynise accepted his slow, exacting scrutiny as an unspoken compliment, for the warmth of those emerald eyes had intensified significantly by the time they arrived at the smooth crown of her head. He seemed to enjoy taking his own sweet time perusing her, for he gave her a slow grin that was no less than hypnotic.
No doubt her own expression revealed a deep appreciation of the sight that greeted her, for Cerynise was once more struck by his penchant for garbing himself in fashionable garb. Crisply tailored buff trousers defined her husband’s narrow hips superbly, while a tan waistcoat and a dark green swallowtail coat complemented his wide shoulders and lean waist. The high folded collar of the coat was set off to perfection by a creamy silk cravat, which had been neatly addressed prior to her entry.
“Too bad Mr. Oaks is coming,” Beau remarked with a wayward grin that had turned a bit roguish. Taking her hand, he drew her into his lair and swung the door closed behind her, leaning near to whisper, “You look sweet enough to have for dinner.”
His suggestive talk brought a blush of pleasure to Cerynise’s cheeks and hastened the chaotic beating of her heart. Breathlessly aware of his encroaching nearness, she stood rooted in suspenseful alertness as he seemed to mold his long form against her slender back. She could feel his warm breath caressing her ear and his eyes devouring her. His fingers lightly brushed a bare shoulder, quickening her pulse.
“Lest you be confused by my recent efforts to avoid your cabin, madam,” he breathed, nuzzling her hair, “I haven’t stopped wanting you. The distance between us merely forestalls the possibility of rape.”
Cerynise briefly considered the probability of his excuse being nothing more than a wily ploy, for she deemed it totally out of character for the man to evade any meeting with her that might have ended in his desires being placated. Despite the overwhelming and equally titillating evidence of his unswerving dedication to seducing her, she banished her suspicions, but only because she wanted to enjoy the evening with him without a quarrel arising between them. The presence of their chaperon guaranteed that nothing inappropriate would happen between them.
Cerynise braced herself against the sizzling assault on her senses as Beau’s hand ventured slowly upward from her slender waist, but she could not subdue a soft fluttering gasp when his palm settled warmly around a breast. Indeed, the fires he lit as his thumb slowly strummed across a pliant nipple came nigh to stripping away her will. Of a sudden, it seemed a pulsing flame licked across the pinnacle, igniting a burning hunger within her womanly loins and setting her whole body ablaze with ravenous yearnings. She told herself that she should turn tail and run to the safety of her quarters before his hand moved on to other conquests, but her legs felt leaden and refused to obey her feeble command.
“I can’t look at you without becoming affected,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he savored the essence of her hair. “If you only knew how much I wanted you, you’d take pity on me.…”
A loud knock sounded on the door, allowing Cerynise’s breath to escape in a fluttering sigh of relief. The intrusion saved her from the quandary of submitting not only to her husband’s wandering hand but everything else he had in mind. It also left her suffering a recurring disappointment that she could not give herself to him in the safety of an enduring marriage.
“Too late,” Beau whispered, pressing a soft kiss upon her shoulder, causing Cerynise to close her eyes as she luxuriated in the warm brush of his lips. It seemed a moment of dreamy ecstasy, but with a last caress of her breast, he stepped away, paused long enough to cool his ardor, and then swept the door open.
Mr. Oaks had also taken pains with his appearance. He looked particularly well turned out in a wine-colored frock coat, gray trousers and waistcoat, and freshly ironed shirt and stock. He was an amiable fellow and a gifted story-teller. He regaled Cerynise with tales of his seafaring adventures with the captain and frequently had her waiting with bated breath for the conclusion of his story. Just as often he elicited her laughter with his wit.
They enjoyed yet another superbly delectable repast created by the talented Monsieur Philippe, and by the time the port arrived, Cerynise had cause to wonder when she had last spent so much time laughing. Beau seemed content to let his mate do the entertaining while he, for the most part, sat back and watched her.
“Which only goes to show,” Mr. Oaks concluded yet another tale, “that you can go partners with a Chinaman and a Moor, and everyone comes out ahead in the end.”
“I still don’t know why the sultan didn’t just imprison all of you,” Cerynise replied with a laugh and then warbled, “But I’m glad he didn’t.” She glanced at Beau, whose daring exploits had filled her with awe and yet a sense of dread for the risks he was inclined to take. She wanted to rebuke him for not being more cautious about safeguarding his life, but then, that urge was no different than what she had experienced as a child when she had seen him racing recklessly across the countryside on the back of Sawney.
At the moment, her husband leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out to the side, very much at his leisure. It occurred to her as she eyed him surreptitiously that he didn’t necessarily appear older than his years, yet he seemed vastly more mature than other men of the same age. He bore the weight of authority and experience remarkably well, she thought, for he seemed to casually accept the responsibility of his command, as if he had been born to it. It was also something he deftly maintained without a display of tyrannical demands.
Lamplight burnished his features, emphasizing the crisp line of his jaw and the noble elegance of his face. His eyes were darkened by the shadow which the hanging lantern presently cast across his face, leaving the color impenetrable, but she could sense his gaze hawkishly devouring her.
“When you left Charleston, Captain, did you deliberately pursue such an adventurous life?” she queried quietly.
Beau twirled a glass of ruby port between his long fingers and shrugged. “Our experiences only seem daring in the retelling, madam.”
“No such thing!” Mr. Oaks objected with a chuckle. “Every word was true and the captain knows it.”
“You’ve sailed rather close to the wind a time or two,” Cerynise persisted.
“More like a time or a hundred,” Mr. Oaks boasted. “There was that month we spent holed up in Majorca when—”
“I think that will do, Mr. Oaks,” Beau murmured tolerantly with a grin, but even so soft a rebuke was capable of shushing his mate. Beau was just lifting the decanter to refill the other’s glass when a disturbance in the companionway interrupted. He rose almost leisurely and swung open the door, revealing several crewmen who glanced at each other rather dubiously. One was pushed forward to serve as spokesman.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n, but there’s a spot o’ trouble below.”
“What sort of trouble?” Beau asked quietly. Stephen Oaks was already on his feet, moving around to stand beside his captain.
“Wilson’s drunk, sir,” another man blurted out. “He’s already knifed Grover an’ now he’s got himself an ax. Choppin’ away at the walls below decks, he is, sir. Thinks it’s funny, he does.”
Chopping holes in the walls of a ship while at sea didn’t seem particularly amusing to Cerynise. Neither did wielding an ax while raging drunk nor, for that matter, knifing a man. Yet Beau showed no visible sign of alarm as he turned back to her. “Please excuse us, madam.”
“Of course.” She stood up hastily. “I’ll go to my cabin.”
“No, you’d better stay here.” At her look of surprise, Beau further instructed, “Lock the door from inside, and don’t let anyone in here until I return. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain,” Cerynise acknowledged with an uncertain nod.
It might have been all well and good to challenge Beau Birmingham about their marital status, but she had the good sense to know this was not the time to argue about staying in his cabin. If truth be told, she was relieved that he was so well experienced in handling adverse situations, as Oaks’s discussions over dinner had confirmed.
With that in mind, she softly begged, “Please be careful.”
He was about to step through the door, but paused to give her a quick glance over his shoulder. He smiled faintly and left the cabin with Mr. Oaks following hard on his heels.
Cerynise released a quavering sigh, realizing just how anxious she had become, not for herself but for her husband. Oaks hadn’t really done her a favor by bragging on his captain’s daring feats. One thing she had learned from the mate’s stories, that when there was trouble to be reckoned with, Beau usually took charge, and her imagination conjured up a whole plethora of diabolical things that could happen to him while trying to take an ax or a knife from a drunk.
Cerynise pressed a trembling hand to her brow as she faced the gallery windows. Darkness loomed beyond the stern, but she would have seen nothing beyond the square panes even if dawn had been breaking. Her awareness that Beau was in danger reduced her to a quivering mass of womanly concern for a man whom she dearly cherished. At that realization, Cerynise sat down abruptly upon the cushions, barely an instant before her legs would have given way beneath her.
She was still frozen with anxiety when she heard footsteps in the companionway. Without giving a thought to Beau’s command, she raced to the door, unlatched it with fumbling fingers, and yanked it open. Her husband had lifted a hand to knock, but when she appeared, breathless and fearful, a sudden scowl darkened his countenance.
“Didn’t I tell you not to unlock the door until I told you to?”
He was right. Her behavior had been no less than foolish. Anyone could have been standing in the passageway. But she didn’t care at the moment. In a heartbeat, she flung herself toward him and clasped her arms around him. “Oh, thank goodness you’re all right! I was so worried.…”
Beau’s arms encircled her and steadily tightened until she was held snugly against him. He pressed a cheek against her hair, somewhat awed by her fear. It was much like the time Sawney had bucked him off and he had been knocked nearly senseless after his head scraped a nearby tree on the way down. He had awakened from his daze to find his head in Cerynise’s lap and her frightened tears pelting his face.
“Of course, I’m all right,” he soothed near her ear.
Released from the depths of her trepidation, Cerynise felt like soaring. Indeed, she was nearly giddy with relief and, in an instant, was pulling his head down and covering his face with laughing kisses, expressing her joy with girlish fervor. Her delight increased significantly as his mouth began to snare hers with quickening zeal. Brief though they were, his kisses were exotic little morsels that made her hungry for more. Rising on tiptoes, she locked her arms about his neck and clung to him unashamedly as she answered his questing tongue and lips with frenzied rapture. Even when his hand wandered beneath her buttock and pressed her up against him, she felt no desire to pull away from the burgeoning hardness that became evident even through the layers of her skirts and petticoat.
Fate would have it that the hapless Mr. Oaks chose that very moment to enter the passageway. Upon espying them locked in an embrace ill suited for the passageway, he gasped in surprise and then, abruptly realizing his mistake, made to reverse his direction. But it was too late. The couple broke apart, and Cerynise, upon spying Oaks, fled to her cabin with a vivid blush while Beau turned aside.
“I beg your pardon, Captain,” the mate apologized, horribly flustered. “I was just…”
“Never mind,” Beau bade curtly, and drew in a ragged breath. A battle of wills raged within him as he debated the choices between following his wife or returning to his own cabin. After the interruption, it was doubtful that Cerynise would want to see him, and certainly not with the same enthusiasm she had displayed only a moment before. A wise man would wait until her embarrassment had eased. A wise man would return to his own cabin and spend a hellish night tossing and turning in his lonely bunk while he cursed his mate’s untimely intrusion.
His eyes glittering dangerously, Beau strode to the familiar portal and, a brief moment later, slammed it closed behind him. Stephen Oaks winced sharply and retreated like a timid little mouse to the small cubicle that served as his temporary quarters. The captain hadn’t elaborated on the status of his relationship with his wife, but from all previous indications, the lady hadn’t seemed at all inclined to fall into her husband’s lap like Oaks had seen other women eagerly do in the past. The fact that she had apparently been responding with a fair amount of passion of her own only made his embarrassment more acute. He had certainly bungled it for his captain this time.
Exhausted and aching from a wearisome night of restless turning, Cerynise rose, bathed, and garbed herself in a demure, dark blue woolen gown. She gathered her hair in a somber knot at her nape and tried to pinch some color into her cheeks. Billy Todd arrived with her breakfast tray shortly after her toilette, but this was not the grinning, gregarious Billy whom she had come to know. This morning he was pale and silent, and apparently was struggling to maintain a semblance of composure that he wasn’t necessarily feeling.
“Is something wrong, Billy?” Cerynise asked in growing concern as he set the tray down.
Avoiding her gaze, he shook his head. “No, mum. Everything’s fine.”
She wasn’t at all convinced. Fevers could spring up so easily and even a strong boy like Billy could fall prey. “Are you perhaps ill?”
“Oh no, mum.”
Billy had left the door open when he entered the cabin, and though she strained to hear, the usual morning sounds from the deck to which she had become accustomed were not in evidence. In their stead was a somber silence.
An undefined sense of dread filled Cerynise. “Billy, are you sure…?”
The lad hastened toward the door, reluctant to answer any questions. “I’ll come back later to collect the tray, mum.” He hesitated briefly before adding, “Ye’d best stay put for the morn’n.’”
He flushed, nodded quickly and withdrew. Cerynise stared pensively at the tray of food. All she could hear in her mind was the silence that had been more deafening than the rattle of drums and fife. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she went to the door, opened it, and stood in waiting silence. The ominous hush drew out in ever-lengthening degrees.
There were almost a hundred men on board the Audacious. What could possibly have rendered them so deathly still? Having little knowledge of shipboard life other than what she had gleaned since their departure from London, Cerynise was at a loss to explain the hush that had settled over the frigate. They were making good time, but at present there was none of the thumps and rattles of daily chores being performed, the calls from the morning watch, the snatches of song or the low murmuring voices that were usually discernible in her cabin in the mornings.
There was only silence.
Cerynise slipped cautiously through the passageway and then ascended several steps of the companionway until she was able to have a look about the deck. To her amazement, she found the entire crew assembled in stony silence on the main deck, drawn up in ranks facing away from her. They stood with legs braced apart, hands clasped behind their backs, looking toward the forecastle. Cerynise couldn’t see beyond them and had to climb a few more steps to do so. This she did only to instantly regret it. A man, naked from the waist up, was lashed to the backstays of the foremast against the starboard rail. His wrists were stretched outward above his head and were secured with cords. Standing beside him was the burly bosun’s mate whose arms were as thick as battering rams. From his huge hand dangled a cat-o’-nine-tails.
That lash was the most wicked thing Cerynise had ever seen, and with an effort, she dragged her eyes away and sought Beau. He was also there on the forecastle, tall, stoic, his powerful body stiffly erect, a figure of immense power and authority, yet cold and distant as though devoid of all humanity. As she watched, her heart crept into her throat.
Mr. Oaks stepped forward and, in a clear voice, announced, “Seaman Redmond Wilson, having been found guilty of dereliction of duty, possession and excessive use of alcoholic spirits aboard ship, and endangerment of the life of one Thomas Grover, as well as the welfare of the crew and the condition of the vessel, is thereby sentenced to receive twenty lashes, punishment to be carried out forthwith.”
No one moved except for the bosun’s mate, who turned his head slightly in Beau’s direction. With a single nod, the captain of the Audacious signaled for the punishment to commence. The cat hissed forward through the air like a striking snake, making contact with human flesh and drawing a roar of pain from the man. Cerynise cringed, hardly aware that a sharp gasp had been wrenched from her own lips. In the grim silence that ensued, all heads turned toward her.
Her first instinct was to escape, but it was all too obvious what she had done. Pride refused to let her flee the consequences of her actions. Scarcely breathing, she climbed to the deck and mutely awaited her reckoning. Billy Todd stood nearby, staring at her in horror. The rest of the crew regarded her with expressions that ranged widely from disbelief to sympathy.
A path opened as Beau strode across the deck toward her. Not for a moment could she mistake his rage. He gripped her elbow and, without a word, escorted her down the stairs and through the passageway to her cabin.
“You shouldn’t have come on deck,” he rumbled as he threw open her door. “Didn’t Billy warn you not to?”
“He told me to stay put,” she admitted in a hushed tone.
“Usually there’s a reason for instructions of that sort,” he stated crisply. “In the future, madam, you’ll be wise to heed them.”
“I will,” Cerynise whispered, very close to bursting into tears.
Detecting an unusual brightness in her eyes, Beau stepped forward but caught himself abruptly, aghast that he should even think of apologizing. Whirling about-face, he stalked from the cabin, leaving her to close the portal behind him.
The muted sounds of Redmond Wilson’s screams drifted down to haunt her, and try as she might, Cerynise could not block them out. She knew the man had deserved his punishment, and because she was a passenger on a ship that usually carried none, she was the intruder, the one who had blundered into her husband’s affairs and caused him acute embarrassment in front of his men.
The screams grew silent at last and in a surprisingly brief time the customary noises of shipboard life began anew, but no one came to her door. Cerynise remained isolated in her cabin, and this time she vowed to stay until she was given permission to leave or they dragged her moldering from her crypt.
By nightfall, her nerves had been stretched taut. Billy Todd hadn’t appeared with the noon meal or even supper. That didn’t trouble her overmuch since she had grave doubts that she could’ve eaten a morsel. As full darkness descended, her agitation steadily increased. Obviously she was being left entirely alone to consider her guilt in disobeying an order, however casually it had been given.
Footsteps approached her door, and she forced her trembling limbs to perform the act of standing. A scowl still darkened Beau’s visage as he entered, but he paused and looked around in surprise. “Why didn’t you light the lamps?”
“I didn’t even think of it,” she admitted lamely.
He swiftly took care of the matter himself, and soon the light stripped away the gloom of the interior. It seemed to warm her with its golden radiance while it bathed her husband’s face with its soft, caressing glow. When she finally committed herself to meeting his gaze, Cerynise realized he was no longer frowning.
The small confines of the cabin had definitely shrunk with his presence, at least in her mind. Beau moved restlessly about, touching the back of a chair, the frame of the bunk, straightening the ewer of water on the small dresser, all the while seeming pensive and uncomfortable.
“I’ll send Billy with a tray of food for you,” he said at last.
“You needn’t bother the boy.”
Beau looked around in surprise. “But you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“I ate a good bit at supper last night.”
“I’ll send a tray anyway.”
“I said you needn’t bother,” she insisted. “I’m not hungry.”
“All right then! Forget it!”
“Why were you so angry with me for coming on deck?” she blurted, unable to stop herself. She glared at him through gathering tears. “What harm did I actually do by being there?”
“Do you have any idea what a man’s back looks like after a flogging, madam?” he asked, his jaw clamped, the muscles twitching in his lean cheeks. “The skin is sometimes flayed off in bloody strips. Do you think a woman should witness that?”
Cerynise blanched and shuddered. “No, Beau, of course not. You were right to expect me to stay in my cabin, and I was wrong to ignore Billy. But what actual harm did I do?”
Beau lifted his head to stare at the ceiling briefly before he gave her an answer. “You interfered with something that was none of your affair, Cerynise. Sometimes it’s necessary for a captain of a ship to dispense punishment and take actions that a woman might not understand. Without discipline, seamen would feel no obligation to extend respect for officers of any command. Order would be impossible—”
“You don’t have to explain all of that,” Cerynise interrupted, but halted suddenly as she grasped the full import of what he was saying. His distress, masked by an iron will, was evident just the same. “You didn’t want me to see what you had ordered done.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” he protested.
Despite his objections, she was confident that her conclusion had merit, but rather than press him, she asked gently, “Who disarmed Wilson?”
“I did, of course. This is my ship. I’m responsible.”
Exactly what she had thought the previous evening when she had trembled with fear that he would be injured. “Just as you were also responsible for punishing him. Both actions had to be taken to protect others.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Do you expect me to think you’re an ogre for having the strength to carry out justice when it’s needed? Oh no, sir, I do not. I have full confidence in your ability to be fair when it’s deserving and equally harsh when circumstances compel you to be. You’re the captain of this ship, and your responsibility includes everyone aboard this vessel.”
He came near and slipped a knuckle beneath her chin, tilting her head upward until he could search her face. His emerald eyes were gentler than she had ever seen them. “That makes me responsible for you, too.”
Perhaps it was the little imp resting on her shoulder that prompted her to goad, “Only until we reach Charleston, Captain.”
Beau wasn’t sure he liked the reminder. His brow gathering, he drew away and moved to the door. Pausing there, he glanced back at her. “Don’t forget to lock your door.”
This time, Cerynise did precisely what she had been told.