Jonathan paced up and down in his so-called ‘great cabin’ that spanned the entire width of the stern of the ship. In the meantime, the steward prepared the table for dinner. He had ordered that the finest silverware be placed on the table. All of it was booty from the vessels he had taken over the course of the war. In other words, Amelia would be dining with English ornaments and tableware all around her.

He had his best dress uniform on his person. Usually, he would abstain from such presentation, but somehow, he believed that Amelia might prefer a man who looked the part. He had taken his cue from the captured British captain, who no matter the harshness of the melee during the fight or his predicament as a captive, always looked as if he’d just partaken in a leisurely sail into the Thames Estuary on a fine day.

It still rankled him that when Amelia had spoken during supper the past days that her attentions were almost always directed at the English officer. She accorded him the respect and the deference he so craved. Jonathan didn’t understand why. Was he not the one who had defeated Captain Wimple in open combat? Was he not the manlier of the two?

He pressed his lips together. Sometimes, being a gentleman and an officer was so tedious. Were he a lesser man, he would have kept the captured English officers confined to the lower decks for the duration of the voyage home. Instead, Jonathan had asked for their promise as gentlemen that they would not attempt escape, and after receiving it, he had accorded Captain Wimple and his officers freedom of the ship. Consequently, they had attended supper every evening since the capture of their vessel.

Not this night – Captain Wimple had been offered symbolic command of the Triton under the watchful supervision of some of Jonathan’s trusted men. A gentleman such as he would not abuse his position, especially after giving his word as a gentleman that he would not attempt anything to facilitate his escape or the endangerment of the Triton.

Jonathan relished the opportunity to show Amelia that he was just as good a conversationalist as Captain Wimple, if not better. She would have to offer him some attention without the gallant British naval officer’s presence as a distraction. He winced when he remembered how she had brushed off his comments the previous night and adroitly deflected his entreaty on a political matter toward the Englishman with the words, “Captain Wimple, I would so much rather hear your opinion on the matter.”

The way Amelia had said it was icy enough to freeze over a lake. Worst of all, her gaze had never met his. It was as if she considered him an irritating presence that had to be endured under sufferance.

Jonathan took a brief moment to inspect himself. His black boots were shiny. His blue frock coat was neatly pressed and without holes. His cabin steward had starched his white shirt and the buttons on his tunic shone seductively. After running his hands over his white breeches, he decided that it was the best he could do. Amelia would have to take him or leave him.

He took a moment to look out of the window at the back of the ship. The sea frothed into a foamy white channel in the wake of the Triton’s passage. He tried to find solace in this simple sight, but he was unsuccessful. Every time he tried to just focus on the sea, her face would miraculously appear, as if the God Poseidon was teasing him with visions of things he could not have.

There was a knock on the door to the cabin. Jonathan tensed. Was it time already? He slowly turned to face the door. “COME,” he barked.

It creaked open. To Jonathan, it seemed to last forever until the door was fully ajar. “Good evening, Captain,” said Amelia, floating into the cabin. She looked around. “Are we to dine alone this evening?”

He gulped. “Good evening, Amelia…ma’am,” he mumbled.

He had not thought of that. Dining alone - I am going to kill you, Jake. Captain Wimple and his officers may not have been invited, but that did not mean that his trusty first lieutenant, Jake, and Anna were not. Again, he was nervous to be alone with her. He suddenly did not know what to say. He never spoke much, but he was able to hold his own in a conversation – that skill had left him. Amelia’s next words roused him out of his uneasy contemplations.

“Would you be so kind as to offer me a drink, Captain?”

His vision focused. She looked beautiful. Amelia was dressed in the newest fashion, he decided. He thought so because he had never seen anything like her attire on the women that frequented the town of Richmond that was close to his home. Jonathan often thought of her as an angel even though her treatment of him more resembled the comportment of a herald from the devil. Tonight, she was that angel.

The dress was very light and loose. It was white in color and boasted shockingly bare arms. The garment rose sheer from her ankles to just below the bodice, where there was a strongly emphasized thin hem that wrapped around her slender physique. The tie-around was in pink, making her look almost virginal.

A long rectangular wrap in plain pink with a decorated border hung across her shoulders, keeping her warm against the sea breeze. She was breathtaking. Jonathan was lost for words. He did not know where to look. His eyes roved over her person from her ankles up her legs, drinking in her, to his mind, perfect figure.

What captivated him the most were her bare arms. The color of her skin was more pure than the snow that fell in the winter around his estate. Her hands were dainty, almost fragile. By the time he reached her upper chest, he was short of breath – more bare skin for him to feast his eyes upon. His gaze danced up her perfectly shaped neck until he stopped – piercing green shook him out of this heavenly perusal.

“You were about to offer me a drink,” she said with a mischievous glint in those seductive eyes of hers that alternated between flashes of amusement and curiosity.

Could it be possible that she is attempting to be pleasant this evening? “Yes, quite…” Jonathan stumbled to the drinks cabinet that was secured in all of the right places in case of choppy seas. “Will sherry be all right?” he croaked.

“I always thought you pirates drank rum.” Amelia sneered at him when he turned to look at her with his eyebrows raised. “But a sherry would be lovely – thank you.”

She’s toying with me, the vixen. What kind of a woman is this? Jonathan quickly poured the drinks and returned to where she stood in the center of the great cabin. She thanked him sweetly when he handed her the glass.

Jonathan raised his glass in salute and slowly brought it to his lips.

“What, no toast? I would have expected some form of tribute from the captain of a ship as fine as this,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes…um…” Jonathan cleared his throat. He realized that he was so out of his depth. He had no idea of women and what they wanted to hear. Where, in contrast, Amelia seemed to know exactly what she was doing.

She behaved so differently to what he was used to. There had been no insults or a hasty retreat from his cabin the moment she realized they were alone together. Amelia actually entertained the prospect of having to speak to him. Well, that was what Jonathan thought at least.

“To victory,” he said somewhat lamely. Jonathan had the niggling feeling that Amelia, despite her young age, had a depth of experience when it came to men. At that moment, he could not have known just how wrong he was.

“Whose? Yours or ours?” The expression on Amelia’s face turned from playful to cautious.

“Uh, let’s just say ‘to victory’ – whose is of minor import this night.” Jonathan waited for her to display some kind of reaction. He watched the expression on her face closely. He felt hope course through him when her piercing gaze softened a little and she finally smiled.

“All right. To victory,” she said at last, bringing her glass closer to his.

They clinked and drank. Silence followed. To Jonathan’s surprise, it was not uncomfortable. He watched Amelia slink around the cabin, inspecting everything as if she had never been there before.

“Family heirlooms?” she asked, indicating with her finger at one of the silver candelabras on the table.

“No, we captured them off the coast…” he stopped in midsentence. He swallowed, thinking of another way to explain its origins.

“More pirate booty…mm…you are quite successful in what you do, Captain. Tell me, how does a man come to be in your line of work?”

Jonathan felt the rage course over his body. She was speaking to him as if he was some kind of buccaneer and not a patriot in the service of his country.

“I always liked sailing. I often went when I was a boy.” He took a sip of his sherry. “And when the war between our two countries broke out, I jumped at the chance to join the cause.” He swept his hands around their surroundings. I planned and paid for this ship out of my own pocket. The Admiralty in my country couldn’t refuse offering me a commission as a…how shall I say…as a free agent in the service of my country.”

It was Amelia’s turn to be surprised. It astounded her that a man would spend so much of his personal fortune for the good of his country. “That is most noble of you…even if you act without the direct authority of your superiors,” she said, not being able to abstain from including the final words.

“I am glad you think so. Would you care to sit down?” When she nodded, Jonathan helped her into her seat and sat down as well. All the while, he had to control his anger at her second snide remark concerning his honor.

He waited for her to arrange the wrap around her midriff before speaking again. “When your country started the conflict between our two nations, I felt wronged, as did many of my countrymen.”

“When my country started it. It was an Americans’ frigate that attacked the sloop ‘Little Belt’’ thinking her another ship. Nine British seamen died that day,” said Amelia with conviction.

For a heartbeat, it surprised Jonathan that she would know such details. “If I am not mistaken, it was your country that started the continental blockade of Europe, which was illegal, if I might add. Furthermore, Royal Navy ships stopped American merchantmen in search of sailors, whom they would impress into service for the crown.”

“Poppycock. You Americans thought to take advantage of the war in Europe. You thought that because we were busy fighting Napoleon that you would have the perfect opportunity to attack British possessions in the Americas.” Amelia drained her sherry and slapped the glass on the table with a thwack. God, this man is infuriating.

“The British paid the Indian tribes to attack peaceful frontier farmers. They were butchered to the last man, woman, and child.”

Amelia swallowed. She did not know about this. “You cannot win,” she said at last in barely a whisper. She tried to banish the notion that her countrymen would resort to such barbarism.

“We will see about that.” Jonathan issued a terse command to the steward that he bring them some wine. If he was going to have to spend an evening with this impossible woman, he might as well do so in a slightly inebriated state.

“Yes, we will. Judging by your country’s incompetence, it won’t take much longer. Your forces outnumber us, and still, you are unable to make inroads into Canada. Your attempt to take Montreal was thwarted. What do you think is going to happen when the Marquess of Wellington has finished mopping up the French? He will come here and then you are done for.”

Jonathan watched her take a hearty gulp of the wine his steward had just poured for her. Despite his anger, he had to admit that she had a point. Presently, the British were fighting two wars. If they defeated the French and that was very likely they could concentrate their considerable military might on the Americas. It would be a massacre that most probably would end in an American defeat.

However, he was not about to give up. All of his earlier plans at being more courteous and less of an overt patriot went up in smoke as the argument continued. After another twenty minutes, they were still hurling insults at one another. He was coined a misogynistic cad without a hint of masculinity, and she was a frigid strumpet without a heart.

“Can’t we leave you two alone for one minute. This is ridiculous,” said Jake, stepping into the cabin. He no longer cared that he was on board ship. In this instance, he would be Jonathan’s friend and not his subordinate. “Anna and cook went to a lot of trouble in preparing the beef so that it would be as much of a roast beef as possible.”

Amelia and Jonathan looked at him as if they had been caught stealing from the storeroom. They did not look at each other once.

“What’s going on?” asked Anna, stepping into the cabin. She proudly led two of the cook’s helpers who carried the food. She looked at both Amelia and Jonathan, and immediately understood what was taking place. “Oh,” she said.

Jake waited for the cook’s staff to leave before speaking. “You are going to apologize to one another.” He glowered at them. His large size made him look intimidating. “I am waiting,” he added.

“I am the captain of this ship, Jake. You can’t talk to me like that. It’s insubordination – grounds for a court-martial,” said Jonathan somewhat too loudly. He regretted the words the moment they had passed his lips.

“Oh, do be quiet. Trust you to pull rank on your own friend.” Amelia got to her feet. “I have had quite enough of this man’s company. He is a bigot and a fool. I shall have nothing more to do with the likes of him – good night.” She left the cabin before anyone could say anything else.

Anna hastily prepared a plate of food and refilled her mistress’s glass with wine and followed her out of the cabin. When she was gone, Jake began to carve the beef and carefully arranged two plates laden with food. He told the steward to place two decanters of wine on the table, and he sat down.

“You wanna tell me what this is all about?” Jake asked, shoveling food onto his fork.

“Nope. I just want to eat and drink wine.” Jonathan attacked his plate with a vengeance. “By tomorrow, we will be rid of them, and we can go home for Christmas,” he said with his mouth half full.

“Them?” asked Jake.

“Yeah, them. I don’t think Anna will leave her mistress alone…do you? Anyway, what does it matter? I will arrange for them to be accommodated in Richmond while we await news of the ransom.”

“It matters to me. I love Anna,” said Jake who had stopped eating. He stared at his friend and superior with a hostile glare.

Jonathan took a large swig of wine, promptly refilling his glass. “Come on, Jake. You hardly know the girl.”

“You can be a heartless bastard sometimes, Jonathan.” Jake pushed his chair back. He gave the table a remorseful look. “Ah, the hell with it.” He carved some more meat and helped himself to some vegetables, grabbed one carafe of wine and his glass and left the cabin.

Jonathan was surprised. In all of the years he had known Jake, he had never done anything like that before. He leaned back in his chair in thought. Maybe, he does love Anna, he supposed, immediately knowing what he had to do. Jake was his only family. He had sacrificed so much for him, so it was about time he returned the favor no matter how unpleasant the prospect.