“Go. I’ll be fine.”
Arianna clutched her bag as Andrew slipped from the room.
****
Was she awake or asleep? Should he have left or stayed with her? Was she still scared or back to her normal self?
Questions trailed one after another, tormenting Morgan as he stood on the quarterdeck and scanned the horizon. He used to be decisive, weighing the pros and cons of each and every situation and then following the correct course. He never second-guessed himself. And now… He never knew what to do or what was right when it concerned Arianna. She turned his thoughts into a churning sea and his mind into a leaky hull. No matter how often he pumped her from his memory, it refilled with blonde, blue-eyed images of her. He longed for her presence.
Did she miss him?
He slammed his hand against the railing, and the helmsman glanced his way. “I’ll man the helm. Take a break.” Morgan gripped the solid, sturdy wood. A firm object to cling on to. An object that would follow his commands…unlike Arianna. And it required concentration and an attentiveness that would draw him from dreaming of a certain woman.
He wondered how his sisters fared now his mother no longer watched over them. He hadn’t wanted to leave so soon after her death when they needed him most, but he had no choice when his brother foolishly allowed Shark to capture him. At least, his widowed aunt was there to look after them. He had asked her to move in while he sailed to Harry’s rescue, and she accepted. At sixteen, eighteen, and nineteen his sisters probably thought they needed no one to look after them, but they were beautiful women, and he feared some young buck would make a move while he was not there to protect them. He knew what men were like.
And Harry? Had the blackguards who kidnapped him also beat him? Was he in pain? At twenty-four he was courageous but wild and untamed. He believed himself invincible. A girlfriend’s betrayal was the first real emotional pain he had encountered other than the death of their mother.
Did Susan carry his baby? Did she fear he wouldn’t return before she bore his child?
Andrew appeared beside him, and the dam he had built against unwanted thoughts broke open and flooded him. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be caring for Arianna.”
Andrew patted Morgan on the shoulder. “She is fine. She is sleeping and didn’t want me there.”
Morgan struggled to gather his emotions under his control and don the stoic mask and closed face that got him where he was today. That made him a success and able to support his family and shoulder their problems.
“She doesn’t know what is good for her.”
Andrew smiled. “I think she does. She is an intelligent woman.”
Morgan detected a note in Andrew’s voice he didn’t like. Was it desire? Admiration? Delight? Lust? He gripped the ship’s wheel tighter as jealousy reared its head, and he fought it down. Isn’t that what he wanted? For Andrew to marry Arianna. He didn’t have to love her. It need not enter the equation. He didn’t love Susan and yet he’d soon wed her. Respect was enough. And Andrew seemed smitten. Or did he imagine it?
He glanced at Andrew and then up at the billowing sails before facing the setting sun again. “You think so.”
“She is headstrong and can be exasperating, but she is like a breath of fresh air. I witnessed a different side of her today.”
If only Andrew had spied all he had glimpsed.
“She is not like most women.”
He understood that only too well. “No, she isn’t.”
“And she likes chess. What are your plans for her once we arrive in Boston?”
He knew what he would like to do with her and long before they reached Boston, but his honor wouldn’t allow it. “I will find her a chaperone—maybe my aunt—and pay for her passage back to England and her family.”
“She plans to sign on a ship and work her way there.”
He spun toward Andrew. “She what?” He whirled back when he realized he had released the wheel.
“She plans to—”
“Never mind. I heard you the first time. She can forget that idea. She is returning as a paying passenger. I will take her there myself if I have to.”
“Morgan, you can’t.” Worry and confusion tinted Andrew’s voice.
Andrew was a friend, but he would not take orders from him. “And why can’t I?”
“Because you are marrying Susan.”
Again he had forgotten her. “Of course.”
Andrew studied him with a furrowed brow and a frown. “Morgan, you seem different lately. Not like your normal self. Ever since we found Arianna hiding on the ship, you seem to have lost control of your emotions, like your temper.”
He couldn’t let Andrew know how he felt. He couldn’t make sense of it himself. With his fingers, he brushed back the hair resting on his forehead. “I am worried about Harry. This waiting is driving me crazy.”
Andrew laid his hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Shark will attack, and when he does, we will rescue your brother. I am sure he is fine. Go get something to eat. I’ll take over here. All I did today was sit in a cabin entertaining a young woman.”
Jealousy again sprang to the front of Morgan’s mind ready to devour any man who touched her. “How did you do that?” Did he really want to know?
“We played chess.”
“Is that all you did?” He trusted Andrew—that was why he sent him—but he was a single male with no attachments. His stomach tightened into a tight ball and his teeth clenched as he awaited his answer.
“You know me better than that. The girl is injured. But maybe in the future…” He shrugged. “We’ll see what develops. I could escort her to England and make sure she arrives safely.”
Morgan struggled with a reply. “I don’t want to trouble you. She is my responsibility.”
“It would be no trouble at all.”
The smile in Andrew’s voice clawed into him. He didn’t want Andrew to take her back. He wanted to do it. He wished to be the one to turn her over to her father. And yet, he couldn’t.
A war raged within his head.
“When we arrive in Boston, I will decide what is to be done. I do know Arianna’s scheme is out of the question. I intend to tell her so.”
Chapter Ten
Arianna thought she would be fine alone. She was so tired she believed she’d fall asleep as soon as Andrew left, but when she closed her eyes, Briggs and what he did to her replayed in her head and her eyes sprang open. Every little noise caused her to jump.
She leaned over like an old lady and dug through her bag she had laid on the floor until she found her old stuffed cat. She hugged it to her breast. He could scare away dreams of rats. Could he do the same for nightmares that featured rats of a human variety?
The door creaked open, and fear leaped into her chest. She had to stop this. She wasn’t one of those prim and proper misses afraid of her shadow.
Morgan appeared and tiptoed to his desk. Relief and a joy she had no control over swept through her. “You’re back.”
He glanced at her in surprise. “And you are awake. Mr. Markham said you were sleeping.” He sat, opened a drawer, pulled out a stack of papers, and began to peruse them.
Apparently he wasn’t as glad to see her as she was to see him. “I’m tired, but I can’t fall asleep.”
“I told him he shouldn’t have left you alone.”
He still wouldn’t look at her. “It’s not Andrew’s fault.”
His head jerked up, his face tight. “You refer to him by his Christian name?”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry. He said I could call him Andrew in private.”
Morgan hesitated and then as if coming to a decision, he nodded. He turned away from her again and rearranged the documents.
Why was he ignoring her?
“I came to inform you that when we reach Boston, you are returning to England as a paying passenger. You are not working on another ship.”
She stared at his profile. Where was the kind, understanding man that had taken care of her yesterday? “Yes, I am.”
He spun to face her. The anger that surfaced whenever she defied him spread over his features along with something else that quickly disappeared. Fear? Not Morgan. “Do I have to constantly remind you I am the captain and make all the decisions?”
“Once we leave this ship, you no longer have any power over me.” She carefully wiggled into a comfortable position. “Can we discuss this later? I really am tired.” The anxiety stored within her had fled as soon as he entered the room, leaving her limp, relaxed, and weary, even if he did try to run her life.
His anger seemed to vanish, and concern took its place. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. We can discuss this when you are better. Get some rest.”
As if he was disinterested in her, Morgan dragged a journal in front of him, picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and began to write. She closed her eyes, but though she was physically exhausted, her mind was not. Thoughts of Morgan intruded. Her eyes popped open, and she peered at his rigid form. Why was he so stiff and unwelcoming? Where was the man who kissed her? “What are you writing?”
“An account of the day’s events.”
What had he done while she played chess and rested? He must be tired. He couldn’t have gotten much sleep last night. She remembered tender hands and soothing words calming her at various times after her ordeal. His eyes were closed when she awoke, but for how long, and he couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping in a chair. Maybe that was his problem and the reason for the way he acted.
“What happened today? I miss the outdoors. I hate being stuck in this stuffy cabin.”
He didn’t raise his head. “You are injured.”
“I know that and so does my body, but my mind has difficulty accepting it.” She lifted her hand and gently touched her face. “Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone to see the way I look.”
“Arianna, I told you before, you are beautiful. Go to sleep.” He continued to scribble.
Her heart sank at his impersonal tone. The first time he had spoken the words, she believed him, but now she knew he only muttered them to make her feel better. She clutched her stuffed cat tighter as she stared at his head bent over his journal. Morgan couldn’t even bear to look at her. Her eyes misted and blurred. How badly had Briggs disfigured her face? She wasn’t vain, but she didn’t want to repulse people either.
She sniffed back her tears. “Captain Danvers.” He stiffened slightly. “Do you have a mirror I might use?”
His dark brown eyes met hers and widened. “Are you crying?”
“No.” Wet trails marked her cheeks, and she brushed them away with the back of her hand as she gulped back a sob.
His face softened, and concern broke through his mask. “Yes, you are.” He stood and crossed the room. “Are you in pain?”
She turned to the wall. “N-no.”
“Then what is the matter?” He slid onto the edge of the mattress.
She didn’t answer. Arianna didn’t wish for anymore false compliments. She knew the truth.
He cupped one side of her face and eased it toward him.
“D-don’t. I don’t want you to look at me.”
Morgan’s brows lowered. “Why?” His gaze caressed her swollen features. “You are lovely.”
It was so easy to believe. He really was convincing, and she longed to hold on to his words. Why did he lie?
“No, I’m not.” She sniffed. “But there is nothing anyone can do about it.” Her body hummed. She loved the feel of his hand on her skin. It banished the aching discomfort. “Go back to your work.”
“I am the one who gives the orders.” He smiled. The pads of his fingers lightly stroked her cheeks.
She closed her lazy lids over contented eyes.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No, you are making my face feel better.” His hand roamed to her forehead, her brows, her nose, and her lips.
And then the wonderful feelings disappeared. She almost groaned in disappointment and longed to ask for more until his lips skimmed hers, brushing back and forth. She luxuriated in the sizzle that sparked between them.
When they became firmer and more demanding, she matched them, overrun by desire. His tongue dove inside and dueled and sparred with hers while his hand with a touch ever so light kneaded her breasts, shooting a spear of fire to the area between her legs.
And then it vanished, replaced by his harsh breathing and hers.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He tormented her more with his constant rejection. “Go. I know you don’t want to be here.”
“I won’t leave you by yourself. Even though you deny it, you are still nervous when left alone. I see the anxiety in your eyes, and you stiffen anytime someone comes to the door.”
He spoke the truth. She couldn’t refute it. But he didn’t have to be the one to stay. “Send Andrew down if he isn’t busy.”
She didn’t want him. She wanted Morgan, but she wouldn’t force him to remain when it was clear this cabin was the last place he wished to be.
His hands tightened into fists. “Do you prefer Andrew?”
She hesitated and then spoke the truth. “No, but at least I don’t repulse him with my face as I do you.”
His brows arched. “Your face doesn’t repulse me.”