Chance the Winds of Fortune (54 page)

“My, my, you are quite the accomplished young woman,” Dante murmured thoughtfully as he eyed her up and down. “I shall remember your kind offer, m'lady, and should I find myself in dire need of your services I shall not hesitate to call upon them. I should like to know, however,” he added with the devilish glint in his eye that Rhea was coming to know too well for her peace of mind, “if this means that you will be available to me at any hour, say noontime, perhaps, or even in the midnight hour? And what is to be the extent of these services you have so charmingly offered me?” He had spoken so softly that Rhea had a hard time catching his words, but his expression left little doubt in her mind about what he might be referring to.

It passed over Conny's head, however, like so much spindrift on the wind. “Mr. Marlowe's been teachin' me how to read, Lady Rhea. Been learnin' how to write me letters real good too. Someday I'll be havin' me own ship to sail and me own logbook to fill in from noon to noon,” Conny confided, his sea-blue eyes filling with the tall image of the captain of the
Sea Dragon
.

“I believe you shall, young Conny,” Dante commented. When he saw the cabin boy's delight, Dante relented toward the girl whom he was beginning to feel was his other young charge. He gestured to the railing. “Would you care to view the dolphins, Lady Rhea?” he asked with no visible sign of mockery.

“Yes, please… Thank you,” Rhea said hesitantly, not fully understanding the sudden change in his mood. Then, with a determined set to her chin that would have been recognized by her family, she promised herself that she would try to remain civil with this unpredictable man who held her freedom in his grasp. “Conny?” she inquired as the cabin boy started back toward the ladder leading to the quarterdeck.

“With your permission, Cap'n, may I go below? Mr. Kirby said to look lively or he'd have me peelin' potatoes until the sun came back o'er the foreyard,” Conny explained, gazing yearningly at that place beside Lady Rhea at the railing.

“Very well, Mr. Brady. You've had your orders, see that they're followed, for we certainly do not wish an irate cook or we shall never dine,” the captain remarked, thinking of his steward's grumpiness of late. “What is he so diligently preparing?” he asked a concerned Conny.

“Apple and orange puddin', Cap'n, sir!” Conny called back as he disappeared down the ladder.

“And no doubt he shall be licking the bowl clean,” Dante murmured with a grin as he met Rhea's smile. For once neither of them harbored any pretense as they shared this moment in a companionable silence.

“'Tis considered a good omen to have the dolphin lending escort to your ship. Some feel it is a sure sign of a safe voyage for your ship and crew,” Dante explained as they watched the frolicking dolphins swimming alongside the prow of the
Sea Dragon
, their comical cries and shrill whistles drifting up with the salt spray to blend with the creaking of the masts and thundering of the sails.

“And do you believe that is true, Captain Leighton?” Rhea asked, turning her gaze reluctantly from the shining gray shapes gliding just beneath the surface. But that had been a mistake, since he had leaned in closer to her in order to catch her words, and now their faces came close to touching, and Rhea found her eyes drawn almost irresistibly to the finely cut outline of his lips.

“Naturally I believe it is so. I might mock many things, Lady Rhea, but never the sea, nor her creatures. I would be a short-lived fool to do that. The sea is much like a woman, I suspect,” Dante continued, his eyes holding Rhea's. “She can be unforgiving. Make a mistake, only one, and it might very well be your last one,” he predicted. Then, so casually that Rhea was caught unaware, Dante had captured the long, golden rope of hair that so fascinated Conny and was wrapping it around his fist. “Are you unforgiving, Rhea?” he asked, his gaze looking deeply into hers, as if searching for something that had thus far eluded him.

Then he was grinning, for he could read her damning answer in the aloof profile she seemed determined to present to him despite the increasing tension on her hair. “I suppose it is too much to ask of you. You are so damned young.”

“Not too young to know right from wrong, Captain. I do not condemn you for your actions in Charles Town, however brutish they might have been,” Rhea declared, willing to let bygones be bygones if it might help gain her freedom. “You found me trespassing on board the
Sea Dragon
, and being a smuggler and well accustomed to double-dealings, you naturally assumed the worst of my motives. And I admit that the evidence did seem damning at the time, but I have explained about that wine bottle and the map. You seem to think that I have designs upon it and, more unlikely yet, upon your title. But I assure you, Captain Leighton, I have no interest in either one of your prized possessions,” Rhea told him, her expression so honest that only a blind man could have doubted her.

The captain of the
Sea Dragon
, however, listened in amusement, for this spirited discourse was most intriguing. Not only had m'lady fair forgiven him, but insulted him as well—and in the very same breath.

“Thank you, my dear, for setting my mind at rest. I have been having the devil of a time sleeping of late, thinking you about to crawl into my bunk. I s'pose I need not have worried after all about locking my door. Lud, but I was safe all the while.”

“Mock me, Captain, but it is the truth. I realize you have only my word on that, and since you are reluctant to believe anything I say, I fear I am wasting my breath. But my word is the word of a Dominick, and that is a name I will never disgrace. Nor will my father take kindly to having his daughter humiliated and held against her will,” Rhea informed him with a haughty look that masked well her inner trembling.

“That sounds like a warning, or perhaps even a threat?” Dante asked.

“A warning, Captain, for you may be dealing with me now, but sooner or later you shall have to answer to my father, and he is not a man many would care to anger. If, as you say, you do remember him, then you know I do not exaggerate. That is why, Captain Leighton, I am willing to make you a proposition,” Rhea said boldly, turning her back on caution in her fight for her freedom.

“Indeed?” Dante remarked with a fine show of interest. “I was certain this conversation would become promising sooner or later, and I am a very patient man. Now, just what kind of proposition are you about to offer me? You are hardly in a bargaining position, and I doubt you are about to offer me your loving embrace during the long nights, are you?” Dante asked, his breath coming warm against her cheek as he wrapped the rope of living gold around his hand more tightly, until his knuckles were resting lightly against her jaw.

“My freedom for your life, Captain. I think that a fair trade,” Rhea said softly, biting down on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She was so frightened she could feel her limbs quivering, for never had she come up against a man quite like the captain of the
Sea Dragon
. He seemed at times to be a law unto himself, and almost beyond reasoning with. But as long as there was a chance, she would take it.

“A fair trade?” Dante repeated, a doubtful note in his voice. “I fear we perceive our present situations rather differently, for I had no idea that my life was in danger. Thank you for warning me. Should I be expecting a knife between my shoulder blades, or a blow to my head some evening when I've turned my back rather than that loving embrace?”

“You need fear nothing but my words, Captain,” Rhea told him quietly. “I can be friend or foe, 'twill be up to you to decide. I am no fool, and were you a wealthy man you would hardly be resorting to smuggling. And this title of yours, which I shall presume is legitimate, apparently brings with it little more than a coat of arms. You, Captain, are in need of a fortune, and I, Captain, can provide it.”

“Can you indeed?” Dante replied. “If you will forgive me, my dear, one would hardly think so to look at you.”

Lady Rhea Claire Dominick, dressed in little better than rags, raised her chin proudly. “You are most perceptive, my lord, but hardly politic in reminding me of my straitened circumstances. You would do well, Captain Leighton, to take heed of something my mother is fond of saying, which is never to judge a person by his or her appearance,” Rhea warned him. And thinking of her mother and the possibility of seeing her again gave her the courage to continue.

“My apologies, m'lady,” Dante murmured, but his eyes were alight with mockery. “I should like to meet this wise mother of yours.”

“My father, the Duke of Camareigh, should he be hearing exemplary things about you from me, would be more than generous in his gratitude. His generosity, in addition to the reward I am certain has been offered for my safe return, could add up to quite a fortune for the right man. You can be that man, Captain, and collect that fortune if you give me my freedom. All I wish is to return home. Is that too much to ask of you?” Rhea asked him, her eyes meeting his steadily, almost pleadingly. But her pride was still riding high, and she would not grovel at his feet.

Her face was so close that Dante could see the silken sheen in the fine curve of her eyebrows. He had not been this close to her since they had lain together that first night, and now he noticed for the first time how the sun had planted its pale golden seeds across the bridge of her nose and the smooth expanse of cheek. Since she had been coming up on deck during the day, her skin had acquired a warm glow and her golden hair seemed burnished by sunlight. She was so breathtakingly lovely, so unlike anyone he had ever held in his arms. She was like a dream remembered, and one that was beginning to feel just as maddeningly elusive, for it was humiliatingly obvious that she found him loathsome and would resort to almost anything to escape him. And yet here she was just within his grasp, so why should he deny himself the satisfaction of possessing her?

“Maybe I shall not demand a fortune of your father, Lady Rhea Claire.” Dante spoke so low that his words were hardly more than a whisper on the wind. “Perhaps only you, Rhea, can provide the means to your freedom. What is it worth to you personally, my lady, to gain that freedom? Is there a price that would be too high?” he asked, his unrelenting grip on her hair holding her lips just inches from his and making it difficult for her to escape his penetrating gaze.

Rhea Claire thought of the honey-hued walls of Camareigh, and of the bluebells scattered across the rolling meadowlands in springtime. She could see Robin on Shoopiltee as they galloped along the edge of the serene lake upon which white and black swans drifted. Her mother and Aunt Mary were sitting beneath the spreading arms of the old chestnut, the twins tottering about on their short legs as they explored their newfound world. Francis and her cousins were playing croquet on the lawns, while in the distance she could see her father's familiar figure as he strode across his land.

“There is no price too high, if it means I shall see my family and Camareigh again,” Rhea said finally.

Dante continued to stare into her proud face. Her violet eyes were dark with suffering, but he knew she would shed no tear while he stood before her. Only in the privacy of her small cabin would she give in to the struggling emotions which must be tearing her apart. For one so young she had a strength of will which was amazing. She begged not for pity or mercy, but stood seemingly inviolable before him, asking nothing. It damned him in his own eyes, and as the ship pitched into the trough of a wave, throwing her against his chest, he could feel her aversion to him in the rigid stiffness of her unyielding body. This revulsion, which she refused to hide, angered him, and he wanted to strike back and hurt her.

“I shall remember your bravely spoken words,
my
lady,” Dante said against her ear, “when I ask for payment very soon. I look forward to the transaction, for you are a woman of your word, are you not, my dear? You have proudly proclaimed that a Dominick's word is never broken, so I foresee no difficulties involved,” Dante said softly, his warm lips touching her cheek just briefly, as in promise.

“Hrrrmph!”

Dante glanced away from Rhea's flushed face and encountered Kirby's woeful countenance. The little steward was standing at the head of the ladder, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

“Reckon I should've brought some more of that lemonade, Captain Leighton,” Kirby said with a disapproving sniff, his formal address of his captain leaving Dante in little doubt he'd been given a rap on the knuckles. “Figure ye could be usin' a bit o' coolin' off, Captain, sir,” he continued, stepping onto the poop deck and marching over to where Dante and Rhea were standing in an awkward silence.

He held out the cup, slopping some of the dark liquid onto the deck and just missing the captain's thigh. “Your coffee,
m'lord
,” the little steward said, with heavy emphasis on his title, as if to remind the captain of his past heritage and his gentlemen ancestors, who had, in Kirby's mind, never sullied the good name of Leighton.

Dante rather reluctantly allowed his hand to slip free of the golden braid of hair and graciously accepted the proffered coffee, or at least it would have seemed so from the view aloft. The little steward knew better, however, as he met his captain's eye.

“I'll escort ye below, if ye be ready, m'lady,” Kirby offered with a beaming smile as he held out his bended arm. “I was kinda hopin' ye might like to sample some of me special gingerbread. Put some in your cabin, m'lady.” It was a bribe, proudly offered, and with her small hand tucked inside his elbow, he led her to the ladder, watching carefully as she descended, although with all of the interested eyes watching her from below, there would have been little chance of her falling. With a last reproachful glance over his shoulder at his captain, Kirby's grizzled head disappeared below.