Chance the Winds of Fortune (53 page)

He did not often question his captain's actions, but he was suffering a great deal of uncertainty about them now, and he knew Houston Kirby was of a similiar mind. The captain was a hard man to figure at times, but Alastair had always trusted his judgment in the past. Many thought, and rightly so, that the captain of the
Sea Dragon
was a harsh man, who gave no quarter and asked for none. He spared no man, but that included himself—even more so than others. He was his own unrelenting taskmaster, driving himself harder than ever as he came closer to vanquishing the enemy he had fought against for so long.

Dante was obsessed and because of his obsession he would, if challenged, ruthlessly dispose of any opponent who threatened him in his quest for revenge. And now, in the mind of the captain of the
Sea Dragon
, Lady Rhea Claire Dominick posed a threat to the successful culmination of all that he had planned for so carefully.

Alastair could well understand the captain's fears that word of the
Sea Dragon
's destination would reach unfriendly ears. He was wrong, however, that the news would come from the lips of Lady Rhea Claire, but he'd not easily get the captain to believe that. Alastair sensed instinctively that Dante's hostile attitude went beyond an initial mistrust of her presence on board the
Sea Dragon
. There was something indefinable that seemed to pass between them whenever gray eye met violet.

Whatever that elusive emotion was, neither was willing to admit or succumb to it; always, after a brief staring match, in which they seemed to be testing each other's strengths and weaknesses, their eyes would drift apart and the barrier between them would be more insurmountable than ever.

Alastair's straightforward gaze rested in thoughtful consideration of his captain's aloof profile, then moved to linger on Lady Rhea Claire's young face. Her eyes were shadowed by memories that seemed to haunt her. It was a pity that both had suffered misfortunes which had left them suspicious and wary of each other's motives, Alastair reflected with deep regret. His own life, on the other hand, with the exception of that unfortunate confrontation with the press-gang, had been devoid of personal complications and disappointments, and he was still a fairly optimistic fellow. And perhaps that helped him to perceive people and things a bit more clearly than either the captain or Lady Rhea Claire could.

Alastair caught Cobbs's eye, then tapped his own pocket meaningfully. A moment later the lilting notes of a flute filled the air. “'Tis a sweet sound, a soothing sound,” Alastair murmured.

The king sits in Dunfermline town,

Drinking the blue-red wine.

“O where will I get guid sailor,

To sail this ship of mine?”

Rhea Claire listened to the beautiful baritone of the Scotsman MacDonald accompanying the music. She glanced up at the tall masts swaying over her head, the square white sails billowing as they filled with the trades. Sighing, she experienced a strange melancholy, for she was feeling both a sadness and a happiness of mind and spirit as she sailed into the West Indies on board the
Sea Dragon
.

“Make haste, make haste, my merry men all,

Our guid ship sails the morne.”

O say no, sir, my master dear,

For I fear a deadly storm.

A deadly storm, mused Rhea. How different this voyage was from that other one. She shuddered uncontrollably as she suddenly remembered the freezing cold that had penetrated to the bone marrow, and the black terror of that hold when she had thought to feel the ocean's might come roaring in on her with the foundering of the ship. She felt at times as if she had come out of the darkness into light. And even though she still did not have her freedom, and Camareigh might be on the far side of the world, she at least had a feeling that she was going to survive. A strange way to feel, considering she was being held captive by a smuggler and his crew.

Rhea felt something butting determinedly against her leg and glanced down to see her first friend on board the
Sea Dragon
. Jamaica seemed to sense her intent, for he jumped up into her lap before she had time to pat it invitingly. Rhea scratched his chin, eliciting a rumbling response of smug pleasure from the big tomcat.

I saw the new moon late yestreen

Wi' the auld moon in her arm;

And if we gang to sea, master,

I fear we'll come to harm.

Rhea Claire breathed deeply of the warm, salt-scented air of the quickly approaching Caribbean twilight. There was a subtle seductiveness in this balmy breeze that felt like silk against her skin, and she had to guard against being lulled into passivity. But that was hard to do when she was surrounded by people she was beginning to think of as friends.

How could she despise the funny little man who took such extra care in preparing his special broths and stews for her? And she certainly couldn't dislike a small boy named Conny Brady, who reminded her almost painfully of Robin as he tried to think up games to amuse her. And what of Alastair Marlowe? How could anyone think him other than a gentleman? He reminded her a little of Francis, and yet her brother, even at his much younger age, had assumed a certain sophistication of manner that Alastair would never succeed in acquiring. In fact, he reminded her more of her cousin Ewan. Yes, Ewan. Dear, sweet, practical Ewan, who always felt awkward when left to amuse her by himself. He was consumed by a sudden loss of words, he had once confided to her during one of those uncomfortable silences, and she suspected that Alastair suffered from a similar malady.

Half howre, half howre to Aberdour,

'Tis fifty fathoms deep;

And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,

With the Scots lords at his feet!

And then there was Alec MacDonald the Scotsman, who had fought beside her own great-grandfather at Culloden, and after surviving the slaughter on the battlefield had made a new life for himself in the colonies. How could she possibly feel threatened by a man who sang with such depth of feeling that his mates were left sitting in silence? When he had discovered that she was the great-granddaughter of Ruaiseart MacDanavel of Timeredaloch, his eyes, as blue as a Highland loch, had filled with tears. And even though she was the daughter of an English duke, she was, in the Scotsman's eyes, a daughter of the Highlands, and he had begun to treat her as though she were one of his kin.

Her deepest sadness came when she remembered Camareigh and found herself wondering what her family was doing at that exact moment. Was Robin out riding on Shoopiltee perhaps, or had her brother been up to mischief and confined to his rooms in punishment? Was Francis still taking fencing lessons from that temperamental dandy from France, or had he outmastered the master? Francis had become quite a swordsman, and Rhea was proud of her brother's skills, yet she hoped he would never have to prove them in a duel to the death with a bloodthirsty opponent. Perhaps Aunt Mary and Uncle Terence were at Camareigh and the family was planning a picnic on the lawns, or… No, Rhea laughed silently, for it was still winter in England, and there might even be snow on the ground. There would be no picnics at Camareigh until spring—and by spring she would be home again.

Alys. The young girl's frightened face drifted into her memory. Alys was never far from her thoughts and she wondered what had been the fate of her friend from the
London Lady
. When she reached Camareigh, Rhea vowed, she would tell her father about Alys, and he would see that she was found, and if she wished, brought back to Camareigh.

“I will not forget you, Alys. I promise you, I will not forget about you,” Rhea whispered, the memory of Alys's terrified screams as she was dragged from the ship still echoing in her ears.

“Lady Rhea Claire.” A harsh, imperative voice cut through her thoughts and startled her from her troubled reflections. As if sensing that he now had her attention, Dante's voice became softer, almost silky. “Lady Rhea Claire, if you please? I should like to have a word with you.”

Rhea instinctively met Alastair's sympathetic gaze, for the captain's words were a command, not a request. With a small shrug, Rhea stood up, still holding Jamaica firmly in her arms. With a look of genuine regret on her face, she said to the disappointed cabin boy, “You shall have to teach me that again. Although I suspect that I shan't be any more competent at it tomorrow, Conny.”

“You learned the other knot, Lady Rhea. You can learn this one too,” Conny told her confidently, certain she could do anything.

“Aye, lass, ye've nimble fingers,” MacDonald agreed, blowing a cloud of blue smoke over their heads. “We'll be makin' a sailor out of ye yet, and then yon popinjay just might be findin' himself out of a job,” MacDonald commented, eyeing Barnaby Clarke, who had assumed his position at the wheel, but seemed more interested in the activities around the companion ladder. “Of course, there is one thing to be thankful fer, and that's that we're not downwind of him.”

“Ye don't s'pose a sweet honeysuckle vine was entwinin' itself around the wheel during the wee hours, d'ye?” Fitzsimmons asked with a look of such concern on his handsome face that Conny swung around to take a peek, just in case the wheel had sprouted honeysuckle.

“Gentlemen? I believe you all have duties to perform if we are to reach Antigua safely,” the captain of the
Sea Dragon
reminded his crew, a slight look of annoyance on his face at being kept waiting for Rhea Claire to join him on the poop deck.

Holding Jamaica securely and steadying herself on the railing, Rhea slowly climbed the steps. Neither the ship's slight heeling, nor the captain's waiting figure at the top of the steps helped her move any faster. When she stumbled over the hem of her skirt for the second time, she felt hard hands that she remembered only too well grasping her around the upper arms and lifting her onto the firm planking of the deck.

“Thank you,” Rhea said stiffly, avoiding the gleam in the pale eyes, which had become all too familiar to her. “You wished to have a word with me, Captain Leighton?” Rhea inquired with an almost little-girl politeness of manner. At this, the uninvited vision of the way she must have been at ten years of age suddenly intruded into Dante's thoughts, which was something that did not sit well in a man's mind, for she did not seem much different from that girl now.

Dante's lips tightened at this uncomfortable reminder of her youthful innocence. But then, perhaps that was the intent of those wide violet eyes, so guileless and clear of guilt. “I feel I have been remiss in my duties as your host while you have been aboard my ship. I hope you will forgive me my abruptness of manner, but I have had many worries on my mind of late,” Dante explained, smiling in a way that had seldom failed to gain him favor in a woman's eyes.

But this time it failed, for there was no responding smile, nor any bashful fluttering of lashes over Lady Rhea Claire Dominick's eyes. There was only a look of wary disbelief at this surprising admission and apology from the captain of the
Sea Dragon
. Then, as their eyes met and held, that other expression entered her eyes, the one he had seen too often not to recognize. Only then did she glance away from him, a rosy blush staining her cheeks.

He knew, without her ever having said a word, why she was so distant with him, why she was different with him than with any other member of the crew. After all, no other man on board the
Sea Dragon
had lain with her. No other man's hands had caressed that pale flesh; no other man had buried his face in that sweet-scented golden hair. Dante sensed, by the manner in which her eyes sometimes rested on his lips, that she remembered well the feel of his manhood pressed against her body. And once he had caught her lightly touching her lips before her eyes had strayed to his, and he had known that she was remembering the taste of his mouth against hers.

“I have been well looked after, Captain,” Rhea replied coolly, while she rubbed her cheek against the top of Jamaica's head. By lavishing her attention on the pleased tomcat, she seemed to dismiss Dante's presence as unimportant.

“Yes, I am well aware of that fact, Lady Rhea Claire,” the captain agreed as he saw Conny approaching with a tray bearing a small silver mug, evidence of the fact that Kirby hadn't wasted any time after going below. “You seem to have a way with animals and children, not to mention foolish old men.”

“Mr. Kirby thought ye'd like a sip of his special lemonade, Lady Rhea. It tastes mighty good for somethin' that's supposed to keep sickness away,” Conny informed her, proudly presenting the tray and effectively halting anything she might have said in response to the captain's mocking words.

“Thank you, Conny,” Rhea responded with the smile that Dante had been trying without success to coax only moments before.

Jamaica sniffed curiously at the mug, but not caring for the contents, he jumped from Rhea's arms and disappeared down the ladder, his destination most likely the galley and the little steward, who might be finagled into contributing a tasty scrap from his dinner preparations.

“I was just about to call Lady Rhea Claire's attention to the dolphins swimming off the starboard bow,” said the captain of the
Sea Dragon
to the cabin boy, who was beaming his approval as Rhea drank the lemonade with obvious enjoyment.

“Dolphins? I've never seen any. I have only read about them in ancient Greek legend,” Rhea said, her interest captured.

“You can read?” Dante asked in surprise, his earlier doubts about that achievement still evident in his tone.

“Yes, Captain, I can. And I am quite accomplished at my letters, so should you require assistance in transcribing your logbook, I shall be more than happy to oblige,” Rhea offered generously, her smile full of understanding should he be less than skilled in the art.

Dante remained silent for a moment, and even Conny could feel the tension mounting between the two people he idolized more than any others in his wide acquaintance. But then, when he heard the captain's deep laugh, he sighed in relief as he accepted the empty mug from Lady Rhea.