Declan ignored her subtle compliment. Acknowledging it would only encourage her attachment to him. Instead, he pointed to a ship barely visible in the third berth. “I thought you might want to stow away aboard that vessel.”
She turned, and her quick intake of breath told him she had finally seen the reason for their journey.
“The
Merry Elizabeth
. Oh Declan, how?” Alex looked as if she were seeing a ghost.
“Captain Malachy sent me a note yesterday when he heard about your grandfather.”
“Paddy? Paddy’s now the captain?”
“Your grandfather put him in charge of the
Merry Elizabeth
shortly after you came to live with him. Padric Malachy has been a fine captain. He’s waiting for us.” He started to propel her toward the dock, but she held back.
“Did you tell him I was with you? It’s been so long.” She twisted the bracelet on her wrist. He reached over and put a hand on top of hers, his fingers stilling her movement.
“He couldn’t wait to see you.”
With a firm hand in the small of her back, he negotiated a path for them through the crowd, until they stood at the bottom of the gangplank. Paddy waited at the top. His legs were planted, as if even now he steadied himself against the roll and pitch of the ocean. When he saw them, he opened his arms.
Lifting her skirts way above what was proper, Alex dashed up the gangplank, her footing as sure as the twelve-year-old girl he’d known all those years ago. She flew into Paddy’s arms, burying her face against his chest.
Declan followed at a more sedate pace, giving them a moment together. When he reached the ship, he met Paddy’s gaze over the top of her head.
The captain’s grizzled face showed the years he’d spent in the sun. Lines etched the corners of his watery blue eyes. Delcan thought the wrinkles appeared deeper than the last time they’d met. Even his hair and closely cut beard were now totally iron gray instead of salt and pepper. He’d aged, but he still carried the spark of integrity and wisdom that had led Declan to suggest Paddy would make a fine captain.
Holding Alex as if she was his daughter, Paddy rocked her back and forth, murmuring endearments. He nodded to Declan. “Thank you for bringin’ her.”
Paddy held Alex an arms length away and studied her face. “Yer grandfather done right by you. Yer all grown up right proper like. Sure I was that I’d never be seein’ you again and now, here you are.”
“Where have you been all these years?” She captured his hand and clasped it in both of hers. “No one told me anything about you or
The
Merry Elizabeth
. How long are you staying? What about the crew?” When she took a moment to breathe, Paddy stopped her.
“Hold on now. In time, we’ll be answerin’ everything. Right now, I have someone I want you to meet.” Paddy motioned to one of the interested bystanders gathered in clusters around them. “Tommy, you might be rememberin’ Alex here, bein’ as her father were your first captain.”
A strapping young man with sandy colored hair and freckles stepped forward. He had a plain, open face, with a smile that was disproportionate to the rest of his features.
Alex went forward and grabbed his hand. “I remember you. You were our cabin boy.”
He pulled himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest. “I’m a bowsun now.”
“So you are.” Alex smiled at him, and the young man blushed to the roots of his hair.
“I thought you might be showin’ Alex around.” Paddy gave her a wink. “Or is it ‘Lady Lochsdale’ now?”
“It’s Alex, and I’d love to.” She turned back to Declan. “Do you mind?”
“Not in the least. Paddy and I have some catching up to do.” Declan fought the impulse to call Alex back. He couldn’t possibly be jealous of a green boy. Just the same, he’d make his meeting brief.
By the time he’d discussed the manifest for the next shipment to India and filled Paddy in on the situation with Luther, two hours had passed. When they came to the fore of the ship, they found Alex, her panniers gone and her skirt tied up between her legs. She and Tommy were engaged in a contest of skill.
Declan groaned and Paddy chuckled as they watched Alex wield her knife in expert fashion.
Her blade landed in the center of the barrel lid with a thunk, right next to her opponents. “As you can see,” Declan said, shaking his head, “she more than remembers the things you taught her.”
Home
. Alex glanced here and there around the captain’s cabin. The heady aroma of tar, damp wood, and stale smoke was achingly familiar. The large cot and heavy wooden table were still nailed in their accustomed places, ready to brave the pull of gravity when the ship climbed a wave.
Seated in her accustomed spot at the table, she could almost believe she’d never left, except that Paddy and Declan sat in her parent’s places, and she was no longer a child.
Her index finger traced the initials “AK” carved in the tabletop. She’d been confined to the cabin for two whole days when her mother discovered what she’d done. It had been worth it. At least a part of her remained.
Her father’s sea chest no longer graced the corner. It had been an ornately carved wonder with claw feet, but the current captain preferred a plain, strong crate, like the man himself.
Sitting back from the remnants of the mid-day meal, Paddy lit his pipe. “Are you sure you’d be wantin’ to marry this one here?” Using his pipe stem, he pointed at Declan. “Yer father would want me to be sure it was love you’d be feelin’ for him.”
“I love him. Yes.” She could hear the “but” implied by her response. She didn’t want to admit to Paddy that her betrothed didn’t love her. She glanced at Declan’s impassive face. Why didn’t he say something?
Paddy gazed at her for a long moment as he worried at his beard with callused fingers. “Good, I’d not be wantin’ to fight one of my prize pupils.”
She put her hands to her chest, mock indignation in her voice. “I thought I was your prize pupil.”
“That you were.” Paddy gave her a wink. “But your betrothed caught on quicker than any man I’ve known, him not bein’ born to the sea and all. Still, it’s glad I am you’ve not forgotten what I taught ya. Speakin’ of which.”
Paddy got up from the table and crossed the short distance to the chest, then threw back the lid. The smell of sandalwood tickled her nose. She smiled. After all these years, it must still be his favorite scent.
He drew out what appeared to be a knife sheath with thin leather straps attached. “I bought this several years ago. It reminded me of you.” He shook his head, and the lines around his eyes became deeper with his grin. “You were always complainin’ you couldn’t get to that blade of yer’s fast enough. I thought this might help.” Paddy returned to the table, shoved the plates aside, and laid the tangle of leather in front of them.
“It’s a knife sheath.” Declan picked the gift up, then turned it over in his hands. “How’s it worn?”
Paddy glanced at Alex as if he expected her to answer Declan’s question, but she’d never seen anything like it. She gave a slight shrug.
His bushy eyebrows raised, Paddy gave her a reproving look and shook his head. “I thought you’d be knowin’. It’s a
neck
sheath.”
“Really?” She’d never actually used one, but from what she’d heard, they gave the advantage of added speed when drawing your blade. She grabbed it from Declan and tried to untangle the straps.
Her clumsy fingers finally managed to free the loops. She stood and slipped the harness on, then buckled the supple leather under her breasts. She adjusted the straps until they felt secure across her shoulders, then reached down to retrieve her new knife from her boot. With a feeling of satisfaction, she tucked it into the sheath that lay between her shoulder blades. Her hair tended to get in the way, but with a little practice it shouldn’t hinder her.
“Course, she’d be wearin’ it under her clothes.” Paddy’s face lost its normal jocularity, and he gazed at her, concern clouding his eyes. “It’s not much, but I’d be feelin’ better if you wore it. Least wise until the weddin’.”
The threat of her cousin hung unspoken in the air. She didn’t want to think about Luther. It had been a perfect day up till then. “Thank you, Paddy. Don’t worry. I’ll wear it.” She gave him a hug. “But I’ll never learn to use it if I don’t practice. Let’s go try it.”
She headed out the door and up the ladder before Paddy or Declan could stop her. When she returned to the contest area on the foredeck, she was glad to see their target still hung on the mast. Several of the sailors from the morning acknowledged her as she paced off the distance from the barrel lid.
The man she’d beaten in the morning gave a little bow. His mustache, the predominate feature on his face, turned up on the ends. She suspected that passed for his smile. You’d never see his mouth under all that hair. She grinned in reply, then turned to face the target.
On her first few attempts, long strands of hair took flight with the knife. She normally threw underhanded, which would have been awkward from the neck sheath. With this new overhand style, she couldn’t get the correct rotation of the knife. Between the pain of yanking out her hair and the new throwing style, she didn’t hit the center once.
She shoved up her sleeves and tried to focus on the middle of the barrel lid. Declan rested his hand on her arm, just as she started to throw. The blade spun out of control, veered to the left, and landed in a sack of grain that hadn’t yet been stored below.
“Now see what you’ve done.” She shrugged off his hand, then retrieved her blade. She hadn’t thrown that wild since she was eight years old. Her embarrassment added to her frustration.
“Come along, my lethal tigress, it’s time to go.” Declan stood, arms folded, acting like he expected to be obeyed.
“I need to practice. I’ll return later.” There was no reason she couldn’t stay. She’d be safe with Paddy.
In three steps Declan covered the distance between them. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms as if she were a child.
“Declan, put me down. I can walk.” She squirmed, to no avail. The obstinate man simply tightened his hold.
“I’m well aware of that, but this way I’m sure you won’t stow away.” A glint of humor and desire swirled in the depths of his gaze. She became aware of the increased rise and fall of his chest. At that moment, only Declan’s ragged breathing and dark edged blue eyes existed.
The screech of a gull broke the spell, and he looked away, his gaze coming to rest on her feet. “Besides, you’re ruining your slippers.”
She looked down at her stained footwear. Tar from the decks had left a sticky residue all over the delicate satin. She didn’t care. The damage was done. He should set her down, but somehow she didn’t want him to.
Declan glanced over at Paddy. “When you find the rest of her things, would you send them along?”
“That I’ll do, my lord.”
As Declan moved forward, the air filled with cheers from the sailors on
The Merry Elizabeth
. Paddy grinned, and gave her a wink. She buried her heated face in Declan’s shoulder as he carried her down the gangplank. Why the hell had she allowed him to do this?
A little voice in her head answered.
Because you wanted him to.
Alex reached back under her hair and slid the knife out of its sheath in one smooth motion, adjusting the tension of her grip as the blade made an arc over her shoulder. She focused all her concentration on the wooden target about thirty paces away.
The weapon flew from her fingertips, hitting the center of the block with a thump that could be heard over the birds and rustling noises of the walled garden.
She’d hit the target seventeen out of the last twenty times. Not too bad, considering she’d only been practicing the last three hours. The activity had helped calm the nervous energy she’d felt all morning whenever she thought about the ball tonight.
“Excuse me, my lady.”
She turned to see Declan’s butler, Williams, at the entrance between two giant shrubs. Even from here she could see the thin line of his mouth and his disapproving stare. With a sigh, she waited for him to approach, wishing Edgar were here. No matter what she did, Oakleigh’s butler always remained unruffled. Williams stopped before her with a slight incline of his head.
“Yes?”
The butler handed her a calling card. “There’s a Lady Catrina Edwards to see you. I’ve put her in the drawing room.”
“Now?” She glanced at the card, then down at her old gown, the faded color not even close to its original bright blue. She wouldn’t have time to change, but it might have been worse; at home she would have been wearing her breeches.
“Are Lady Bradford or Lady Anna in residence?”
“No, my lady, they’ve gone to Madame Colette’s for a final fitting on their gowns for tonight.”
“And Lord Worthington?”
“He said he would be returning late this afternoon.”
Just her luck, she’d have to see Catrina alone. By now, Declan must have told her about the engagement. Unease curled itself through Alex’s body. She doubted Catrina would be gracious about losing him, but there didn’t seem to be any sense putting off the inevitable. “Tell her I’ll join her shortly.”
After he left, she retrieved her knife and practically ran up to her bedroom. As usual, Mary couldn’t be found, so she wouldn’t have been able to get into another gown anyway. She pinned up her hair to the best of her ability and pinched some color in her cheeks. It was still half an hour before she entered the drawing room.
I should have changed.
Catrina sat ensconced in one of the parlor chairs, looking like a queen at an audience. Her light lavender gown had beadwork on the bodice, with a cream colored damask underskirt. The double ruffle of lace at the edge of the three-quarter sleeves covered the majority of her arms. Too bad Alex couldn’t say the same about the neckline. The gown dipped down to reveal a substantial amount of bosom.
Catrina rose with polished ease, holding her hands out to Alex. “Lady Lochsdale, it’s so good to see you again.”
Alex moved forward and tentatively took Catrina’s hands. “It’s nice to see you as well.” She couldn’t help it that her response sounded less than sincere. This was not the greeting she’d been expecting. Perhaps Declan hadn’t told Catrina about the engagement after all.