Chapter 2
What were the odds that they would cross paths this way?
There was very little of the young man Jess had once known left in the man who faced her. Alistair Caulfield was no longer pretty. The planes of his face had sharpened, etching his features into a thoroughly masculine countenance. Darkly winged brows and thick lashes framed those infamous eyes of rich, deep blue. In the fading light of the setting sun and the flickering flames of the turpentine lamps, his coal-black hair gleamed with health and vitality. Previously his beauty had been striking, but now he was larger. More worldly and mature. Undeniably formidable.
Breathtakingly male.
“Lady Tarley,” he greeted her, straightening. “It is a great pleasure to see you again.”
His voice was lower and deeper in pitch than she remembered. It had a soft, rumbling quality. Almost a purr. He walked with equal feline grace, his step light and surefooted despite his powerful build. His gaze was focused and intense, assessing. Challenging. As before, it seemed he looked right into the very heart of her and dared her to deny that he could.
She sucked in a shaky breath and met him halfway, offering her hand. “Mr. Caulfield. It has been some time since we last met.”
“Years.”
His look was so intimate she couldn’t help thinking of that night in the Pennington woods. A rush of heat swept up her arm from where their skin connected.
He went on. “Please accept my condolences on your recent loss. Tarley was a good man. I admired him and liked him quite well.”
“Your thoughts are appreciated,” she managed in spite of a suddenly dry mouth. “I offer the same to you. I was deeply sorry to hear that your brother had passed.”
His jaw tightened and he released her, sliding his hand away so that his fingertips stroked over the center of her palm. “Two of them,” he replied grimly.
Jess caught her hand back and rubbed it discreetly against her thigh, to no avail. The tingle left by his touch was inerasable.
“Shall we?” the captain said, tilting his head toward the table.
Caulfield took a seat on the bench directly across from her. She was discomfited at first, but he seemed to forget her the moment the food was brought in. To ensure a steady flow of conversation, she took pains to direct the discussion to topics addressing the ship and seafaring, and the men easily followed. No doubt they were relieved not to have to focus on her life of limited scope, which was of little interest to men. What followed was a rather fantastic hour of food and conversation the likes of which she’d never been exposed to before. Gentlemen did not often discuss matters of business around her.
It quickly became clear that Alistair Caulfield was enjoying laudable financial success. He didn’t comment on it personally, but he participated in the discussion about the trade, making it clear he was very involved in the minutiae of his business endeavors. He was also expertly dressed. His coat was made with a gray-green velvet she thought quite lovely, and the stylishly short cut of the shoulders emphasized how fit he was.
“Do you make the trip to Jamaica often, Captain?” Jess asked.
“Not as often as some of Mr. Caulfield’s other ships do.” He set his elbows on the table and toyed with his beard. “London is where we berth most often. The others dock in Liverpool or Bristol.”
“How many ships are there?”
The captain looked at Caulfield. “ ’Ow many are there now? Five?”
“Six,” Caulfield said, looking directly at Jess.
She met his gaze with difficulty. She couldn’t explain why she felt as she did, but it was almost as if the intimacies she had witnessed that night in the woods had been between Caulfield and herself, not another woman. Something profound had transpired in the moment they’d first become aware of each other in the darkness. A connecting thread had been sewn between them, and she had no notion how to sever it. She knew things about the man she should not know, and there was no way for her to return to blissful ignorance.
“Congratulations on your success,” she murmured.
“I can say the same to you.” He set one forearm on the table. The cuff of his coat was of fashionable length, covering his hand near to the knuckle. Still, the sight of his fingers reminded her of another time . . . a night when those hands had clung to a gazebo post to leverage the thrust of his hips.
He drummed his fingertips onto the tablecloth-covered wood, breaking her reverie. “Oh?” she managed, after a fortifying swallow of wine.
“My ships also provide transport for Calypso goods.”
Jess was not surprised to learn that. “I should like to discuss that arrangement with you further, Mr. Caulfield.”
His brows arched, and the other men grew quiet.
“When you have time,” she qualified. “There is no urgency.”
“I have time now.”
She recognized the hawklike precision of his gaze and understood she’d engaged his mind for business. A moment of disquiet affected her, but she prayed she hid it. By necessity, she’d come to recognize the type of men it was best not to cross, and Alistair Caulfield was certainly one of them. He flashed a bright, charming smile with ease, but it did not reach his eyes.
“I appreciate your willingness to accommodate me,” she answered.
Jess watched as he stood. Rounding the table quickly but without haste, he assisted her with extracting herself from the bench.
She looked at the head of the table. “Thank you very much for a charming evening, Captain.”
“I ’ope you’ll join us every night.”
Although she deported herself without noticeable fault, she was achingly aware of Caulfield standing very close beside her. When they left the great cabin together, that awareness increased tenfold. The door shut behind them, and she felt the click of the brass latch vibrate across overly taut nerves. Tarley had gone to great lengths to make her feel secure and without stress, while Caulfield so easily skewed her prized equanimity. He had an indefinable quality that heightened her cognizance of everything that made her feminine and, therefore, vulnerable.
“Shall we take a stroll on the deck?” he asked in a subdued tone that swirled in the enclosed space around her. He stood almost too near, his head bent to accommodate the moderate height of the deckhead.
The scent clinging to him was delicious, filling her nostrils with sandalwood, musk, and the barest hint of verbena.
“I will need to fetch a shawl.” Her voice was huskier than she would have liked.
“Of course.”
He escorted her to her cabin in silence, which allowed other sounds to dominate—the surefooted confidence of his steps, the accelerated rate of her breathing, the steady whoosh of the water against the hull.
She entered her room in a breathless rush and shut the door with indecorous haste. Sucking in a gasping breath, she drew Beth’s widened eyes to her. The abigail dropped her darning on the table and stood.
“Lord, but yer flushed,” Beth said in the calm, authoritative voice that made everything—including a journey to Jamaica—seem both possible and well in hand. She moved to the pitcher and basin by the bed to fetch a damp cloth. “Yer not falling ill, are you?”
“No.” Jess accepted the compress and held it to her cheeks. “Perhaps I had more wine than I should have with supper. Can you fetch me a shawl?”
Beth dug into the trunk at the foot of the bed and withdrew a black silk shawl. Jess traded the cloth for the garment with a grateful smile.
But Beth’s frown did not diminish. “Maybe you should rest, milady.”
“Yes,” Jess agreed, damning herself for opening a discussion with Caulfield. She could have waited until daylight, at least. Or better yet, she should have left the questions to her steward, who could have subsequently provided her the answers with no discomfort necessary. “I shan’t be long, then you can retire to your quarters.”
“Don’t hurry yerself on my account. I’m too excited to sleep.”
Jess draped the shawl over her shoulders and exited back to the passageway.
Caulfield had been leaning casually against the far bulkhead, but he straightened when Jess stepped out. Cast in the brighter light spilling out of her cabin, his face revealed a stark appreciation of her appearance that caused her to flush all over again. The smoldering in his gaze was quickly masked and replaced with an easy smile, but she remembered the feel of that stare from long ago. It had a similarly paralyzing effect on her now.
He gestured toward the stairs, and the gentle prod gave her the impetus to move. She preceded him up to the deck, grateful for the cool ocean breeze and low-hanging, yellow moon that stripped the world of color. Everything was rendered in black and shades of gray, which helped to mitigate the overwhelming vibrancy that had always distinguished Alistair Caulfield.
“What are the chances,” she began, just to break the weighty silence, “that you and I would find ourselves traveling on the same ship at the same time?”
“Excellent, considering I arranged it,” he said smoothly. “I hope you’ve been comfortable so far.”
“How could anyone be uncomfortable? This is a magnificent ship.”
His mouth curved, and a flutter tickled her stomach. “It pleases me to hear you say so. Should you require anything, I’m at your service. Once we’ve reached our destination, I have assured Michael that I’ll make the necessary introductions and provide what information I can to assist you with the sale of Calypso.”
“Michael,” she breathed, startled to realize she had been entrusted to the care of Alistair Caulfield—a man who had always made her feel far from safe—by her very own overprotective brother-in-law. “I was unaware.”
“Forgive him. I told him I would discuss the matter with you. He’s overwhelmed at the moment, and I wanted to alleviate some of his burden.”
“Yes, of course. That was very considerate.” She started walking toward the forecastle to ease the tension gripping her. She didn’t know Caulfield well enough to say he’d changed, yet the man she spoke to did not fit the image of reckless, untamed youth she had carried in her mind all these years.
“My motivation is not entirely altruistic,” he qualified, falling into step beside her. His hands were clasped at the small of his back, emphasizing the strength of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest. He had always been more muscular than the Sinclairs. More so than even his own brothers.
She admired his build in ways she shouldn’t. “Oh?”
He glanced aside at her. “I’ve been out of the country for many years, with only brief visits as necessary to prevent my mother from sending a search party after me. It’s my hope that you will assist my acclimation to English society when I return, as I’ll do for you in Jamaica.”
“You’re returning to England for a longer stay?”
“Yes.” He looked forward again.
“I see.” Dear God, she sounded breathless once more. “Your family and friends will be delighted, I’m certain.”
Caulfield’s chest expanded on a deep breath.
Recalling that the family he’d left behind was halved now, she said hastily, “Your brothers . . .”
Jess’s head lowered. She regretted making him feel ill at ease, because she knew precisely how it felt to be continually reminded of what was forever lost to her.
He stopped beside the main mast. With a soft hand at her elbow, he urged her to halt as well.
She faced him. He took an unnecessary step closer. Near enough to dance. “I’m returning to England because the reason I stayed away no longer exists, and a reason to return has unexpectedly presented itself.”
Caulfield’s tone was intimate. Jess couldn’t help wondering if a woman was luring him back.
She nodded. “I will endeavor to be as useful to you as you’ll certainly be to me.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated, as if he considered saying something more. In the end, he held his tongue and gestured for her to continue walking. “You wished to discuss the transport of product from Calypso?”
“Whatever obligations Calypso has are now my obligations, and I should be aware of them. That was all I wished to say. I can bring up the matter with my steward. Please, pay me no mind.”
“I have the answers you seek. I want to be the one who provides them to you. Come to me with whatever you need.”
Glancing at him, she found him intently focused on her. “You must be a very busy man. I don’t wish to impose on your time unnecessarily.”
“You could never be an imposition. I would take great pleasure in seeing to whatever you may desire.”
“Very well,” she said quietly.
The warmth of Caulfield’s voice changed, taking on a slight edge. “Your tone suggests displeasure.”
As he’d done so long ago, he somehow managed to encourage Jess to speak more bluntly than she would have thought possible. “Though I’m grateful for your attentiveness, Mr. Caulfield, I am also weary of such consideration. I’m not a woman made of glass who is prone to shattering without care. I arranged this trip, in part, to distance myself from those who insist on treating me as if I am fragile.”
“I have no idea how to coddle a woman,” he said wryly. “If that was my aim, I would certainly fail miserably. In truth, having met your steward on several occasions, I suspect he might have difficulty being completely forthcoming with a female. I want you to possess all the facts. The only way to be certain you have confidence in my ability to see to your interests is to be the one who shows you the contracts and terms myself, and explains whatever might be confusing.”
His smile was filled with mischief. “I want to expose you. Not shield you.”
Her lips curved slightly. He was charming in his own wicked way.
“The hour grows late,” he said as they neared the companionway again. “Allow me to escort you back to your cabin?”
“Thank you.” She was startled to realize she enjoyed his company.
Once they reached her door, he sketched an abbreviated bow in the narrow space. “I bid you good night, Lady Tarley. Sweet dreams.”
He was gone before she could reply, leaving behind a rather marked emptiness in the space he’d occupied.