Thirty-five

Dare returned to deck and was immediately consumed with responsibilities. His crew was in high glee that he had managed to rob a smuggler while convincing the man Dare was doing him a favor. Whatever might come next, at least Dare had won their immediate approval and perhaps a bit of their loyalty. Whether that appreciation would extend to accepting a young female passenger on board was not something he wished to test.

He gave the order to turn the ship back toward the setting sun. He scanned the horizon for anything that might be a speck of the Kestrel but saw nothing. Once again, he gave the order to press for speed and the Lady Kate groaned under the strain but held steady as she flew across the waves.

Working some mental calculations, Dare attempted to estimate when he would catch up to the Kestrel, if he could ever find her again. He did not have long to ponder as a fight broke out over some of the men trying to sneak into the wine and his presence was immediately required.

Dare calmed the crew and established discipline and order, but he could not shake the ever-present awareness that Emma was on board. He could not stop thinking of her. Emma in her chemise. A very thin chemise.

“One of those sea dogs has taken his hand to cooking,” said Everett, strolling up to him on the quarterdeck. “Supper is ready, in whatever form that might take.”

Supper. Emma would want to eat. Dare considered taking Everett into his confidence. He had no qualms about her safety in his presence. Yet that would compromise her reputation and put Everett in the awkward position of having to lie to conceal Dare’s secret. Everett was an honest young man, and Dare feared he might unconsciously give something away. It would be safer for everyone if Everett did not know.

“Thank you, Mr. Everett. I am fatigued from today’s excitement. I believe I shall take my supper alone in my cabin tonight.”

“Oh, yes, I understand.” The disappointment in Everett’s face was clear. “Some doings today.”

Dare rested a hand briefly on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you for your support. It means much to me.” Everett was the one man on the ship he could trust.

“I’ll sail with you, wherever you might go. You know that.”

“I do and I thank you.”

Dare retreated below, relaying the request for a hearty supper, claiming he had worked up an appetite, something that was not far from the truth, since he had not eaten since breakfast back at Greystone. He accepted his meal with appropriate resignation, telling the lad he would return the tray himself when he was through.

After the sailor left, he locked the main cabin door behind him and stared at the smaller, side door to his captain’s quarters where Emma was hidden. He had known of officers and crew who attempted to sneak a girl on board, keeping her hidden until, invariably, she was discovered by someone unwilling to turn a blind eye. Now he was the one with a girl in his cabin—no, a true lady. What was he going to do next?

Dare rested his hand on the latch. She was in there. Miss Emma St. James. He was not sure if this was the worst or the best thing that had ever happened to him. He had wanted her back from the second he’d let her go…but had not imagined anything like this.

He unlocked the door and slowly opened it, pausing at the picture presented to him. Emma had donned a white frock and straightened herself into order. Her hair was smoothed back, but still, little curls managed to escape and frame her face. She sat primly on the chair by his desk, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Had it not been for the cannon with which he shared his cabin, she could have been in any drawing room anywhere in Mayfair.

He bowed low with a grimace, for his wound still pained him, and she gave him a slight incline of her head. He held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her to the main cabin. His day cabin stretched the length of the ship and boasted a long oak table, polished smooth. Paned windows graced the length of the cabin, revealing a stretch of stars in the cloudless sky.

He silently pulled a chair for her and she sat before the table with the supper laid out for one. Supper consisted of some sort of stew, which he hoped she would find palatable. He sat beside her, motioning her to begin to eat.

It was a relief that the clandestine nature of her presence on board required their silence. It was so much easier for him without the expectation of conversation. Emma, however, was proving recalcitrant when it came to supper and refused to eat, motioning for him to go first.

Seeing that speech was required, Dare leaned forward and whispered in her ear, breathing in her scent and almost forgetting what he intended to say.

“I’ve already eaten. Please eat,” he lied.

She raised an eyebrow, questioning his veracity, and his stomach chose that moment to betray him with a loud growl. She frowned and shoved the spoon at him.

He relented, seeing that he was not going to win, and took a hearty spoonful of the stew, pleased that it was reasonably edible. He handed her the spoon, since of course only one had been provided, and she took a bite of the stew, smiling her appreciation.

He buttered some bread and handed it to her, pleased that she accepted it with a bite. They took turns eating from the soup bowl and sharing the bread. There was one glass of wine, most likely from his recent smuggling acquisition, which they shared.

The intimacy of eating in silence, sharing a meal from the same bowl and glass struck him powerfully. He was not accustomed to happiness, but breaking bread with Emma filled him with an easy contentment. When at last they had eaten their full, he was still hungry for more—more Emma.

He was treading on dangerous ground, for he knew she was trusting him to keep her safe. Still, when he looked into her large, blue eyes or glanced down at her generous décolletage, he could not keep his body from desiring more.

They had been alone in a room before, even overnight if one could count the time when he had been shot and she performed surgery. But this was different. He was recovered enough to act on his desires. There was no chaperone. He needed to speak to her but realized, to do so, he needed to be close. And to be close to her was dangerous. For him. For her.

He leaned toward her, her unique scent of lavender soap filled him with longing. “Miss St. James,” he whispered, and then realized he had nothing more to say. What could he say? He paused and the silence stretched on awkwardly. He pulled back only to be arrested by her wide eyes, staring at him intently. He floundered, unsure.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, her breath warm on his skin. “Thank you, Lord Darington, for saving my life.” She paused, then added, “Again. I cannot think of what would have befallen me if you had not interceded.”

Dare nodded and leaned in, breathing faster than he was accustomed to. “It was my pleasure.” He paused at the word, surprised it had emerged from his mouth. It was truer than perhaps he should admit.

“It has put you in an awkward position.” When she leaned forward to whisper to him, her bosom brushed across the back of his hand as it rested on the table, driving out all logical thought. “This crew…it is new to you?”

He blinked at her, struggling to focus on her words, not the gentle pressure of her breast on his hand. He murmured an explanation of the loss of his crew and the unorthodox way he found a new one, though all his focus was on her bosom.

“Oh, that is terrible!” Emma leaned back, which Dare did not appreciate in the least. She leaned forward again and it was all he could do not to turn his hand over, so he could cup her breast. “I am sure you can inspire those men to reformed behavior.”

Dare wished he could agree with her, but he was better acquainted with the sort of men who were now his crew.

“I am sure you will find Harcourt.” Emma smiled with confidence.

The ocean was a big place, and all he could do was continue the course Harcourt had laid and hope for the best. His chances of success were slim, but if Miss Emma St. James would accompany him on his search, he would spend the rest of his life a happy man.

* * *

Emma stared into the dark eyes of Captain Lord Darington knowing two things. First, she should not be with this stoic man alone in his cabin. And second, there was no place she would rather be.

It was getting late, the time when people considered going to bed. The ship had grown quiet, and it was clear the majority of the crew had retired for the night. There was only one bed in the side room. It was one thing to spend the night with an injured man who needed immediate medical attention. It was another to spend the night in a small cabin with a man who was fully functional…with only one bed.

“It is getting late.” His breath was soft on her cheek. “You must need sleep.”

Her pulse rose, and she glanced into his cabin, where the bed was clearly visible. Where were they going to sleep?

“I will sleep here in the ready room. You will take my cabin.” He stood from the table, straight and tall. He offered his hand and she took it, allowing him to help her rise.

“No, I insist you must get your rest. You are still recovering.” She stood on tiptoe to whisper back. It was impossible to be close enough to speak in a hushed tone without brushing up against him.

“It would be most improper.” He looked down at her, and she realized her chest was brushing against his arm. There was no way to avoid it, and if she was honest, she hardly even tried.

“I do believe we left propriety behind a while ago, probably at the point you shoved me into a chest. Or possibly when we checked into the hotel under an assumed name as a married couple.”

Dare sighed. “Definitely when I fired on an English ship within sight of the shore.”

“Oh goodness! Shall you get in trouble for that?” Emma said, gasping and causing Dare to put a finger to his lips to remind her to keep her tone low.

He leaned down to her again. “Only if it is reported. They cannot report what I took without admitting they were smuggling, so I hope we are in the clear.”

“You did it for me.”

“Of course.”

“But why?” Emma asked. She was pushing, but after all she had been through, she gave herself license.

Dare frowned at her. “You must think very little of me if you think I would see you in peril and not act to correct the situation.”

“Yes, of course. You would do the same for any lady.” Emma looked down. Of course he would protect any lady in distress. She knew that full well.

“I would,” agreed Dare. “But…”

Emma looked up. “But?”

“But none would cause me such pain to see in a similar situation.” Dare’s demeanor had not changed, but the admission, Emma knew, was not a common one.

“Thank you.”

“Emma,” he whispered to her, his cheek brushing against hers.

She stepped closer and placed a hand on his chest. His arm naturally wrapped around her. She leaned into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. This was where she belonged. She belonged to Lord Darington.

She looked up, and he brushed his lips against hers. Tremors of excitement coursed through her. She was not satisfied with just a taste. She ran her hands up his dark-blue naval coat, twining them behind his neck. She pressed closer and their lips met, slowly at first, then with growing pressure and need.

Suddenly, Dare broke off the kiss and stepped back, breathing hard. He shook his head and stepped to her side to speak. “Forgive me. I should not…will not take advantage.”

“You did not.”

“I did. Forgive me, I… You are too tempting… Must not.” He shook his head and took her by the elbow, walking her into his cabin. He grabbed a blanket, then backed away from her into his ready room as though she might explode. “Stay there,” he mouthed. “Sleep.”

He closed the cabin door and locked it, then slid the key under the door. She picked up the key with a smile. No matter what happened, at least she was with the man she loved.

Her smile faded as she remembered she was hidden on a ship with treacherous men going after an even worse man. She stared at the locked door. She hoped she and Dare would make it through alive.