Authors: Danelle Harmon
“Still aboard
Kestrel
. They’ll be along in the morning, I’m sure.”
“They’d better be, or they’ll have me to answer to.”
Sir Graham poured rum for the gentlemen and frowned as he glanced over at Captain Lord. “You know, Delmore, we don’t stand on ceremony here, of all places. For heaven’s sake, no need to be dressed in full rig in this wretched heat. Why don’t you remove your coat, get comfortable like the rest of us?”
“I am quite comfortable, sir,” said the younger man, somewhat stiffly.
“Well, just because you’re my new flag captain, don’t think you need to impress me. I’m far more interested in your seamanship than your fashion sense. More rum, Connor?”
“Much obliged,” said Captain Merrick, pushing his glass down the table toward his host.
Rhiannon concentrated on taking deep breaths to try and calm her racing heart. His leg was just inches from her own. Oh, she could fall in love with this man. God help her, she could. He had chosen to sit next to her. He was looking at her the same way she had often seen Lord Morninghall looking at her sister. And he’d said he’d take her on a sail. . . .
Oh, she was having the
best
adventure, already!
“I’m glad to hear my cousins will be along soon enough, then,” Maeve was saying. “And you, Connor? What have you been up to? The last I saw of you, you’d just deposited Lord and Lady Morninghall on the decks of my husband’s flagship, taken
Kestrel
, and sailed off to the east to adventures unknown. Are you taking good care of my ship?”
“
Your
ship?” He grinned and reached for a mango from a bowl set in the middle of the table. “My ship, now.”
The ex-Pirate Queen’s gaze met and locked with her younger brother’s. “I’ve a mind to take her back.”
“When I’m done with her.”
“What are you doing with her?”
“What do you
think
I’m doing with her?”
“Probably privateering.”
“Probably.”
Maeve’s eyes narrowed. “You already lost one ship, Connor.
Dadaí
designed and built
Merrimack
just for you, and you managed to lose her in a battle you never should have been reckless and stupid enough to fight in the first place. Will it be
Kestrel
next?”
A sudden hush fell over the table.
“
Will it?
”
Quietly, Sir Graham reached out and laid a restraining hand on his wife’s wrist. “That’s enough, Maeve.”
“I know, you think that just because I’m once again in the family way that I’m not in control of my emotions.” She turned once more to her brother, who had gone very silent, his mouth tight, his entire posture one of stiffness and anger. “But Connor, you’re reckless, you take risks you shouldn’t, you seek one thrill after another with little thought for the consequences. Maybe I’m concerned about you. Maybe I don’t want to see you end up rotting in another prison hulk in some British port. Maybe I don’t want to see you
die
.”
“All of us have to die sometime.” His jaw hard, he looked down, took a paring knife to the mango, and did not meet his sister’s eyes though Rhiannon saw that his knuckles had gone white and his green eyes, so easily given to laughter, were now sullen and hard. “At least when my death comes, it’ll be in service to my country. There’s no shame in that.”
“It’s a stupid war, this one,” his sister retorted. “Madison’s war. You ought to stay out of it.”
“Too late for that.”
“
Kestrel
is old. She can’t stand up to the sort of punishment you’ll encounter if you find yourself in a fight with a Royal Navy frigate.”
“Old, yes, but fast. There’s not a ship afloat that can catch her.”
“Damn you, Connor—”
Ned, alarmed, had turned from the railing. “Uncle Connor’s not going to die, is he, Papa?”
“Uncle Connor’s not going to die,” Sir Graham put in, with a concerned glance between the two siblings.
“I don’t want Uncle Connor to die,” Ned began, his eyes going glassy with tears and his lower lip beginning to tremble. “He’s my favorite uncle.”
“Now see, you’ve upset the children!” Maeve cried unreasonably, and slamming down her napkin, rushed from the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.
Captain Lord and the admiral exchanged glances. Alannah picked up the toddlers, took Ned by the hand and quietly hurried after Maeve. And Connor Merrick remained staring down at his plate, cutting up the fruit into smaller and smaller pieces that, Rhiannon suspected, he no longer had any intention of eating.
She didn’t know he’d lost a ship.
But she did know that having his sister embarrass him like that in front of not only her and Alannah, but Captain Lord—with whom he appeared to have some sort of rivalry—had to sting.
She reached out and quietly touched his forearm in silent support. The muscles beneath his fine lawn shirt were coiled, hard and tense. He glanced over at her, gave a fleeting smile, and suddenly putting the knife down, began to rise.
“I shouldn’t have come.”
The admiral raised a staying hand. “Sit down, Connor. She gets like this every time she’s expecting. Pregnancy is hard on her.”
“Must be even harder on you,” Captain Merrick muttered. “Makes me glad I’m single and intend to stay that way.”
“I wouldn’t trade my marriage to your sister for all the tea in China. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Someday, should you take a wife, you’ll understand. And you’ll take the good with the bad, as anyone does in any successful union.”
Captain Merrick only tightened his mouth, but beneath the table Rhiannon noticed that he was dangling his sandal by one toe and making rapid and agitated circles with his foot.
“Besides,” Sir Graham continued, reaching for the rum bottle and topping up his glass, “she’s got the Sight, you know. It makes it all the more difficult for her, especially as it’s often correct.”
Captain Merrick finally leaned back in his chair, took a deep and visible breath, and let it out, the puff of air lifting a lock of damp, curling hair that had fallen over his forehead. “That damnable Irish gift that came down through our Da’s side. What, has she had some Vision of my impending demise?”
“If she has, she hasn’t shared it. But you know she loves you, and she loves that ship. That schooner is part of your childhoods.”
“I’ll give her back to her when the war’s over. Though rightfully, she belongs to our father.”
“Have a care, Connor. I’m fond of you, and you’re my brother-in-law, but I can’t and won’t protect you should you decide to start raiding shipping here in my waters.”
“Are they your waters, Sir Graham?” the American asked, with false innocence and unmistakable challenge.
This time, the admiral was the one to draw a deep, steadying breath. “I mean it, Connor. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, but I demand that you cease your privateering while here. That you . . . behave yourself.”
The American’s lips quirked in a smile. “Behave myself.”
Down the table, Captain Lord just eyed his cousin quietly, not saying a word. At that moment, servants began to bring out bowls and plates and the sudden tense moment was broken. From somewhere, Rhiannon caught the tantalizing smell of roasting meat. In response, her stomach gave a long growl and she hurriedly clapped a hand over it, mortified.
But the chestnut-haired god at her left elbow, though he had to have heard it, gallantly chose to ignore it.
“So, Miss Evans,” he said, spearing a chunk of mango with a small wooden skewer and popping it into his mouth, “What do you think of Barbados? Sure beats an English winter, does it not?”
“If Paradise exists on earth, then surely this is it,” Rhiannon replied happily. “I can’t wait to see more of it!”
“Perhaps I’ll take you on a little tour of the island tomorrow instead of a sail. There’s a newly-erected statue to Lord Nelson in town that I’d love to show you. It’s a great likeness, wouldn’t you say, Sir Graham?”
“Impeccable.”
“
You
met Lord Nelson?” asked Rhiannon, intrigued.
“Aye, eight years ago, when my sister and Sir Graham got married. The admiral was a great friend of theirs, and offered his home for the wedding. Seems like ages ago now, doesn’t it, Gray?”
“Aye. Time passes,” said the admiral, quietly.
“You are both fortunate to have known him,” said Captain Lord, finally adding to the conversation. “As was my brother, Colin, who was Sir Graham’s flag captain at the time.” He ran his thumb along the top of his glass. “Alas, I was born several years too late.”
Captain Merrick looked suddenly bored.
“How long have you been Sir Graham’s flag captain, Captain Lord?” Rhiannon asked, trying to include the other man in the conversation.
“Long enough, madam, to count myself fortunate to have been chosen for such an honor.”
Captain Merrick slid a sideways glance full of humor to Rhiannon, quietly mocking his cousin’s heavy seriousness, and immediately set about reclaiming Rhiannon’s attention.
“You know, Miss Evans, it’s a pity that you and I never made each other’s acquaintance when I was still in England.” He grinned and popped the fruit into his mouth, his eyes teasing, though she didn’t know whether the target of his pointed attention was herself or the irritation of his stuffy English cousin, whose expression had gone stony once more. “It would have made my time in Portsmouth that much more enjoyable.”
Rhiannon’s heartbeat kicked up.
“Yours, too,” he whispered recklessly, and for her ears alone.
As Rhiannon blushed furiously, she was dimly aware of Sir Graham asking about affairs back in England, and even more aware that Captain Merrick had moved his foot, now minus the sandal he’d kicked off, right up alongside hers beneath the table, and that he was letting his toes tickle her ankle.
She swallowed hard, and with her hand, began fanning her face. “I’m sorry, what was that, Sir Graham?”
The admiral was looking at her oddly, unaware that his brother-in-law was making a mess of her composure and that her body was responding to that foot against her ankle in ways that made her unable to think. She heard herself sputtering and answering some inane question, saw the Yankee privateer looking at her with high amusement, and realized that her mouth seemed to be running independent of her brain, which was still busy trying to calm her racing heartbeat, and she wasn’t altogether sure just what she said.
“Besides, what was there for me in England?” she continued, unable to stop her runaway mouth. “I’m not nobly-born, I’m never going to have a Season or be presented at Court, and surely, my sister and Lord Morninghall deserved to have their home to themselves without me being constantly underfoot, that is, if it’s even possible to be underfoot in a residence as large as the marquess’s ancestral home!”
She moved her foot away from Captain Merrick’s.
Eyes twinkling, he moved his back up against hers.
She shot him a look all her own.
Maeve returned looking pinched and still somewhat angry, Alannah, holding Ned’s hand, by her side. A servant brought out a plate mounded with raisin cakes and cheese and offered some to each guest. Rhiannon looked down, pretending an interest in a fold of her skirts while her mind went over and over what she’d just said, or what she
thought
she’d just said, dissecting it for anything foolish or stupid. She was
not
going to move her foot again. This was
her
space beneath the table and she wasn’t going to give it up by letting the roguish Captain Merrick tease her into relinquishing it.
Besides, it was rather wicked to let his bare toes be touching her ankles.
And if truth be told, she was rather liking it. Even if it was wicked. Even if she wasn’t supposed to be liking it. And even if his actions were making her unable to think of anything but
him
.
I’m having an adventure. And I’m
enjoying
it.
Captain Merrick was selecting another piece of fruit, the name of which Rhiannon would have been hard-pressed to identify, but instead of putting it on his own plate, he leaned over and gallantly put it on hers.
She looked at it dubiously. “And what is this?”
“Pawpaw, Miss Evans.”
“I . . . see.”
She had no idea how to eat it.
Captain Merrick was watching her.
She glanced in panic around the table; Sir Graham was conversing with his flag captain, Maeve was talking to Alannah, and Rhiannon was on her own, trapped here with a strange piece of fruit she had no idea how to go about eating.
Now what?
“Have you never tried pawpaw before, Miss Evans?”
She looked up into those amused green eyes and hoped the blush that was heating her blood wasn’t showing up on her face. What a ninny he must think her!
“I confess, Captain Merrick, that I have not.”
Smiling, he stood up and then, leaning down right next to and somewhat over her, so near that his clean, faintly exotic scent filled her nostrils, picked up the small paring knife next to her plate, his arm—decently clad in a loose white shirt now but oh, she knew, God help her, she
knew
what the muscles under that shirt looked like after seeing him earlier!—just inches from her cheek. Rhiannon looked down at his long, suntanned fingers, deftly cutting the fruit in half, and took a deep and trembling breath. How on earth was she going to get through this meal, let alone the rest of the evening, with such a distraction as Connor Merrick sitting right next to her?
Forget him. He probably has a lady friend. He probably has
lots
of lady friends—
“There,” he said, and looking down, Rhiannon saw that he’d cut up the fruit and arranged its seeds on her plate in the shape of a smile.
She felt her lips quivering in laughter. He had a sense of humor, and she liked that.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said, but not before he reached down, plucked the nose from the middle of his little design, and popped it into his mouth, watching her in high amusement the whole time.
“My pleasure, madam.”
She had no idea what to say to him, and knew that anything she attempted was going to come out sounding foolish. But she tried, anyhow.