Chapter Nine
Among all her jumbled emotions, Bella recognized shame, though she felt too cold and numb to divine the cause. Someone had draped a coat and a blanket around her. Almost mechanically, she clutched them closer. The coat seemed to smell of Alban…
To collect my share… “What is he doing?” she wondered helplessly. She hadn’t meant to speak aloud. She hadn’t expected an answer from Alban’s men.
“Killing him, most like,” one of them said laconically from the nearest oar.
Bella blinked, staring at him. “Killing Mr. Tranter? Oh dear, I don’t think he should do that…”
“Seems to need killing to me,” another sailor contributed. “Besides, no way for anyone to stop the captain when he’s in that mood,”
“What mood?” Bella asked, twisting around from the seat she’d been given, to try and see Alban and Tranter.
“Captain don’t have moods,” growled the man who seemed to be supervising the others. Certainly, he was glaring at them while he moved to block Bella’s view. “He makes decisions.”
“’Course he does,” grinned the first sailor.
“Ignore them, Miss,” the sailor in charge advised. “We’ll get you safe and warm on board and the captain’ll look after you.”
“On board?” Bella repeated in dismay. “Oh no, please, you must take me ashore at once!”
“Captain said aboard,” was the apologetic yet curiously implacable answer. “It’ll take too long to get ashore and people will stare at you being as wet as you are. Expect the captain’ll take you back later.”
Bella gazed down at the sea. It didn’t look remotely inviting. In fact, she couldn’t face going in again.
Alban had never hurt her. She’d always trusted him. And these men, the ones Alban had said would shoot their own grandmothers for fourpence… Surreptitiously, she glanced around them. It was true they had a somewhat wild appearance. Scars and missing teeth were quite common among them. But they were respectful enough. Once she was changed and warm, she could think again, and decide what was best.
“I’m Cairney,” the sailor in charge said. “I’m the coxswain. Mr. Barnaby will look after you till the Captain comes.”
“Who is Mr. Barnaby?” she asked.
“First mate. You’ll like him. He’s not so rough as us lot. Or the captain, come to that. Here, have a drink, Miss.”
Bella took the flask he offered. “What is it?”
“Rum. You won’t like it, but it’s good for the shock.”
Bella shrugged and took a sip. Although it burned, she didn’t dislike it any more than brandy. “Thank you.” She gave it back to Mr. Cairney, who took a healthy swig before replacing the stopper.
“Here we are miss. Can you climb up yourself, or will I carry you? You don’t look as if you weigh more than a feather.”
“Oh, I do,” Bella said earnestly. “I can climb.”
“Well, I’m right behind you if your foot slips off the rung.”
She had to abandon the blanket to climb, but she managed to keep the coat by shoving her wet arms into its sleeves. She must have looked a pitiful figure as she stumbled aboard, shivering, miserable, and utterly confused.
Vaguely aware of Cairney murmuring to a better-dressed young man in a black coat, she supposed this must be Mr. Barnaby, and certainly he issued swift orders to Cairney and the men before he turned to her and bowed. “Madam. I’m Barnaby, first mate aboard The Albatross. Please follow me.”
Bella more than half-expected to be conducted into the dark bowels of the ship, but on shaking legs that would barely obey her, there wasn’t much she could do about leaving. Besides, these were Alban’s men and seemed perfectly civil.
She followed Mr. Barnaby across the deck and down a flight of steep steps. Fortunately, there was a rail for her to cling to. At the bottom of the steps, Barnaby opened a door and ushered her into a bright cabin that felt instantly warm, no doubt due to the sun streaming in the row of sloping windows along one side. A round wooden table and four matching chairs with plush red upholstery sat in the middle of the room. Under one window was an open bureau.
Like some brainless insect drawn to the light, Bella moved forward to shiver in the warmth of a sunbeam, while Mr. Barnaby crossed the room to another door, which he threw wide.
“You’ll find towels in here. I’ll bring you some clothes that will do for you until your own dry. I’ll leave them here in the main cabin. I’ll call as I leave again. No one else will disturb you or enter without permission. This is the captain’s cabin.”
Of course it was.
“Thank you,” she muttered in a slightly shaky whisper.
“May I bring the ship’s surgeon to you, Miss? He’s also an excellent physician.”
“No. No thank you,” she managed. “I’ll be fine once I warm up.”
There were no guarantees of that. Her family’s obsessive care for her health stemmed from a constant stream of debilitating childhood illnesses. And it was still true that while everyone else had a cold that made them snuffle their way through a day or two, when Bella caught it, as she inevitably did, she was forced to take to her bed with pains in her chest and a racking cough that could go on for weeks. Aunt Maria was always convinced she would die.
But I will not be ill this time. I will not…
As Mr. Barnaby left, she shut herself into the bedchamber and stripped off her clothes. Since she’d dressed herself this morning, her soggy gown was not properly fastened and came off quite easily. As she seized the large, fluffy towel from the rail by the wash bowl, she finally registered the large bed against the wall. She knew a longing to climb between the sheets and warm herself there, but somehow, she couldn’t do it. Not Alban’s bed. If only she hadn’t been so cold, she’d have blushed at the very thought.
So, she averted her eyes from it and wrapped one towel around her body, tucking it in under her arms. The other she used to rub furiously against the skin of her arms and shoulders.
She heard a knock at the outer door of the main cabin. Someone came in and she froze.
“I’ve brought you some gowns,” came Mr. Barnaby’s voice. “Choose what you wish. I’m leaving now.”
“Thank you!” Bella called, and this time she was glad to note her voice was stronger. Dropping the second towel around her shoulders, she went back into the main cabin to inspect the gowns. Some of them were silk and very finely embroidered. All of them seemed very bright and exotic for England.
Bella grimaced. “Mrs. Gallini’s,” she decided with disapproval and no evidence whatsoever. The singer had no reason, surely, to abandon her gowns on Alban’s ship. Bella picked up a scarlet gown, more suited for evening wear, although not, perhaps for the unmarried daughter of a duke. She’d never worn such a color before. Half-smiling, she moved to bask in the sun. She’d almost stopped shaking now and no longer felt too exhausted to stand. Dropping the red gown onto the ledge under the window, she began to walk briskly around the spacious room, eventually breaking into a run. She remembered from childhood that this was the best way to warm up.
Unfortunately, she was no longer a child, and when the door opened without warning, she skidded to an embarrassed halt. The flapping towel on her shoulders flew off and she had to grab at the other loosening under her arms. Worst of all, Captain Alban stood in the doorway, gazing at her in some surprise.
He, too, was soaking wet. She could see his skin through his shirt. And his breeches didn’t leave too much to the imagination either. She swallowed.
“What are you doing?” he asked mildly.
“Warming up. I didn’t know you were back.”
His gaze swept over her, lingering on her naked shoulders. “Don’t let me disturb you.” He waved one inviting hand. “Carry on.”
By this time, it seemed she could flush quite easily again. “I’m quite warm now, thank you.” Ducking down, she made a grab for the fallen towel, but he moved faster and less awkwardly and got there before her.
When she straightened abruptly, he was much too close and made no effort to give her the towel. Instead, he held it loosely by his side.
“Why so shy, Bella?” he asked huskily. “You’ve seen me naked after all.”
She had. All golden skin and hard muscle and… She swallowed and lifted one hand. It wasn’t the cold that made her tremble now. “Please.”
He lifted the towel, but didn’t give it to her. Instead, he stepped closer. Hastily she stumbled backward but he came after her, and this time, she held her ground with conscious bravery.
He passed the towel behind her and placed it around her shoulders. She couldn’t breathe for the pounding of her heart, and yet it wasn’t an unpleasant kind of breathlessness. Not remotely.
His hands slid to either end of the towel, and tugged, drawing her against his wet, hard body. And then one hand was under the towel on her naked shoulder, softly caressing.
“What are you doing?” she asked in panic.
“Seducing you,” he said at once. “Ruining you for the purpose of blackmailing you into marriage.”
“I would never marry a man who did such things.”
“You might if I tied your petticoat to the mast.”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t!”
His eyes seemed to laugh at her, at once hot and mocking. “Have to dry it somehow. Be honest, Bella. It wouldn’t be such an ordeal, would it?”
“What wouldn’t?” she asked, as bewildered by her reaction to his body against hers as by his words. His hand moved under the towel, smoothing the skin of her back, making her shiver.
He bent his head. “Seduction.”
“Not like this,” she blurted, as his hand roamed back over her shoulder to the pulse beating so violently at the base of her throat. The towel now hung off one shoulder.
“Like what?” he whispered, brushing his lips across hers.
She gasped. His fingers slid under the towel over her breasts. “In mistrust. And hurt and anger.”
“It makes no difference.” His warm breath stirred her lips. Beneath the towel, his hand slipped downward over her stomach. Heat surged through her. Every inch of her thrilled to his touch. “You still want me, as I want you. We both know I can have you here on the deck. Or I can take you to bed and do it there. Would you like to choose?”
“No,” she got out.
“Liar.” His mouth closed on hers in a blatantly sensual kiss, while his finger caressed her skin. There was no denying what it did to her, what she wanted from him. She didn’t even mind that the towel wrapped around her was coming apart. She only wanted more of this.
And yet it was too deliberate. His desire was real enough—the evidence pressed excitingly against her abdomen—but for the first time, she sensed no spontaneity in his embrace. It was calculated…to seduce? To punish? Both, perhaps. She’d hurt him.
“To collect your share?”
“Yes. To collect my share.”
Stupid, stupid. And unkind. He’d rescued her from Tranter and from almost certain drowning, and she’d repeated Tranter’s untrustworthy accusations.
“I didn’t mean it,” she blurted under his mouth.
He raised his head, staring down at her from hot, clouded eyes. His breath was erratic. It seemed to Bella that he forced his eyes to clear. And then, very slowly, he tucked her towel back around her and drew the second around both shoulders.
Without a word, he walked away from her and into the bedchamber. An instant later, he emerged with what looked like shirt and breeches over his arm.
“Never doubt an untrustworthy man,” he said wryly. “It maddens him and causes him to behave badly.
Bella stumbled with the roll of the ship, and made another discovery. “We’re sailing!”
“Of course we are. I have appointments to keep.” The door clicked shut behind him.
*
Bella wore the red gown because it was the first that came to hand. Of course, it was too big for her but, fortunately, the estimable Mr. Barnaby had also brought a selection of shawls. She tied one around her waist to hold the skirt off the floor, and cast another round her shoulders to hide the dress’s unfastened state. Then she hurried up on deck in search of Alban.
At once, she missed her spectacles, abandoned in Tranter’s boat along with her cloak and bonnet. She wished she’d just stood up and called for help instead. Wasn’t that the way ladies were meant to save themselves? Although of course, ladies shouldn’t really get themselves into situations from which they needed to be rescued in the first place.
“Where is Captain Alban?” she asked the first sailor who crossed her path.
“Forward, Miss,” the man said cheerfully, pointing across the deck, toward the front of the ship.
Bella stumbled in that direction, trying not to fall with the roll of the ship, or trip over coils of rope as she went.
He stood with his back to her, one hand on the rail. Beyond him she could see the figurehead of a bird, no doubt the albatross for which the ship was named.
She said, “I can’t stay away all day. My aunts will worry.”
He didn’t turn. “It seems to me, they worry anyway, whether you’re there or not. If you truly want independence, you must learn to care less for what they say and think.”
“And more for what you say and think?” she retorted.
“Well, no, that would be an alternative dependence, would it not? What do you want, Bella?” He turned at last, the spray sparkling on his hair and face.
“I want to go back,” she said firmly. And right up until the words were out, she thought they were true. Then they simply weren’t. She wanted to stay here, with Alban, to make things right with him again. To see him in his natural state among his men, to talk to him, know him. To feel his arms around her, kiss him, just be with him when no one could interrupt them. Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. It seemed impossible to take back the lie.
He turned back to the sea. “Unfortunately, I can’t spare the longboat. I need it for my less than respectable appointments.”
Hesitantly, she stepped forward until she stood beside him. Spray skimmed her face, cooling her burning cheeks. “Are you punishing me?” she asked with a sideways glance.
His lips twisted. “I had this idea that I was setting you free.” He met her gaze suddenly. “If I’m wrong, we’ll find a way to make it right when we return.”
For no reason, tears sprang into her eyes and she whirled away from him.
“Bella.” There was a stricken note in his voice. His hands caught her shoulders, gently turning her. “Bella, don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m a fool but I’m not a brute. Not to you. I will make it right.”
“I don’t want it to be right!” Her voice broke. “I want to be with you.”
With a sob, she buried her face in his chest and his arms came around her, holding her as tenderly as if she were the most precious porcelain. She felt his lips in her hair, softly kissing.
“I’d damned if I know why,” he said ruefully.
She clutched the lapels of his coat. “Because I love you.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. She wasn’t surprised, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, take back the words. His heart beat a strong, steady rhythm beneath her cheek. Then, he drew back, tipping up her face and frowning down at her.
“Why?” he asked.
She tried to blink away her tears which must already have stained her face and made her even plainer than usual. She sniffed. “I don’t think I have a reason,” she said frankly. “I know why I like you. I don’t know what makes it love. Because even when it crossed my mind that you might really have conspired with Mr. Tranter, I still loved you. And though I wish you hadn’t, I don’t even seem to mind if you killed Mr. Tranter.”
“I didn’t,” he said distractedly, searching her face. He shook his head. “You deserve a better man.”
“I don’t think one ever gets one’s just desserts in this life,” she said, and his breath caught on something very like a laugh. Smiling, she lifted her face to his and he kissed her, a soft, tender kiss that felt like a promise.
*
She ate a midday meal in the captain’s cabin, along with Alban and Mr. Barnaby, the ships surgeon Dr. Gowan, and a gruff older man called Nimmo who had a foreign-sounding accent.
The food was basic but warm and tasty, and she enjoyed a very good glass of wine with it. The lively conversation was surprisingly civilized and even learned. Whether self-taught or formally educated, these were well-read, knowledgeable men.
“Forgive me for asking,” Dr. Gowan said to her once. “But are you short-sighted?”
“Very,” she said ruefully. “And I’m afraid I’ve lost my spectacles. I don’t think there’s anywhere in Blackhaven I might purchase a replacement.”
“I have some that might suit you. I collect them wherever I go.”
“Thank you,” she said in surprised delight.
When the meal was over, Barnaby and Nimmo returned to their duties and Alban accompanied her to the doctor’s quarters. Here, Dr. Gowan opened a trunk full of eyeglasses of every kind, each wrapped in lengths of cloth. Rummaging, he brought out several lengths and spread them open on his desk.
“Have a look,” he invited. “I think these are the most suitable.”
Alban leaned his shoulder against the door and watched. By means of trying on several pairs and gazing around her, using the clarity of Alban’s face as a guide, she eventually found a gold-rimmed pair that seemed at least as good as the ones she’d lost.
“Thank you,” she said warmly. “I’m afraid I have no money here to pay for them, but I shall send it via Captain—”
“There is no need,” Dr. Gowan interrupted. “I can’t bear to see people struggle needlessly.”
“You’re very kind.”
At the door, Alban straightened. “With your permission, I’d like Dr. Gowan to examine you—to make sure there are no ill-effects from today’s adventure, among other things.”
“What other things?” Bella asked at once.
“Consumption,” Alban said baldly.
Bella’s eyes fell. She didn’t want to think of illness and death. Not today when she’d just discovered love and had every reason to live. “What is the point? There is no cure.”
“Have you been examined already for this disease?” Dr. Gowan asked.
“Yes, by Dr. Headley who said I am in the early stages of the disease, and by Dr. Dorrall who says it is not yet clear.”
Alban said, “Gowan has unusual methods and unusual cures. It can do no harm, surely. I’m going ashore for an hour or two.” And with that, he simply opened the door and left her.
Bella dragged her gaze from the closed door to Dr. Gowan. “Will you be in trouble with the captain if I say no?”
“No,” he said humorously, “but you might be. In fact, either way, it is you who would have the trouble. Would it not be better to know?”
“Are you infallible, Dr. Gowan?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what can you tell me that is more use than Dr. Headley’s opinion or Dr. Dorrall’s?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps nothing, perhaps everything. At worst, I have no axe to grind, no money to make out of your health. I get paid whether you’re ill or not.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you mean those doctors lied to get more fees?”
Dr. Gowan spread his hands. “I have no idea. I don’t know these gentlemen. But I do know it happens, particularly in fashionable society where the fees are substantial. Why don’t we begin with a few general questions? And then you may you decide whether or not a physical examination would be a good idea.”
She sank down onto the seat by the doctor’s desk. “What kind of questions?”