Master of My Dreams (27 page)

“I see.”

Sir Geoffrey took a sip of his port. “The
fact that Gage’s spies have seen Foley in company with Adams,
Hancock, and Warren is not, of course, the Navy’s concern. But I’ll
tell you what is,” he said, pausing and looking hard at Christian.
“Foley has also been seen with the Irish Pirate.”

Christian raised a brow. Suddenly he
remembered Delight, cornering him in the brig and bragging that she
was going to seduce and win the notorious smuggler for herself, and
began to wonder if there was more here than had initially met the
eye . . .

“And just who is this so-called Irish
Pirate?” he asked.

“That’s the only name we know him by. What
difference does it make? He’s a rebel, and he must be stopped. Were
he a simple smuggler, I would not be so concerned with him, but the
Americans are secretly moving guns into the countryside, and they
are obviously coming from somewhere.”

“And you suspect that source is this Irish
Pirate?”

“One of the sources, certainly, and a major
one at that. Had the exchange not already been made, you
undoubtedly would have found the hold of your French corvette
packed with crates of muskets. So you see now why you must
apprehend the scoundrel. Gage won’t move against the rebel leaders,
but the Irish Pirate is
my
responsibility, and I am not
content to sit back and watch a bloody war unfold. This rogue is
procuring arms from Philadelphia and Baltimore, smuggling them into
ports north of Boston, and passing them to the rebels who are, in
turn, hiding them in the countryside with the intent of using them
against our forces. This, Captain Lord, is why the Irish Pirate
must
be stopped.”

The admiral stood up and began to pace.
“There is no time to waste. Your mission is to apprehend this
smuggler as quickly and efficiently as possible, using every
resource at your command. He and Jared Foley run in the same
circles, so it may be a matter of killing two birds with one stone.
You will call upon Miss O’Devir at the Foley home in Menotomy.”

Christian stiffened. “Sir?”

“Since the Foleys claim to be Loyalists, they
cannot protest a respected officer of the king’s Navy calling upon
their daughter’s friend, now, can they? And speaking of Miss
O’Devir—and by the way, that was most gallant of you to deliver her
to Captain Merrick, though I am not so old or blind that your
obvious
affections
for each other have escaped me—’twould be
most unseemly for her to remain upon a man-of-war with one hundred
and fifty tars. Especially,” he added, wagging a paternal finger,
“in light of how you and the girl share such
affections
.” He
chuckled. “Because she is kin to one of my finest officers, I will
do all that I can to preserve her reputation, as well as
yours—which I daresay your envious peers would take great delight
in tarnishing. To that end—and because she may be of use in
reporting the activities of the Irish Pirate to us—I have arranged
for her to lodge with the Foleys.”

“But—”

“The matter is settled, Christian.” The
admiral drained his glass, then put it down on the table with an
air of dismissal. “Captain Merrick is escorting both young women to
the Foley home as we speak.”

Christian looked away to hide his dismay.

“I know you don’t wish to be separated from
the girl, but it is necessary. I believe the Irish Pirate to be a
secret friend of Jared Foley, whose own activities are highly
suspect. Your courting of Miss O’Devir at the Foley household is
the perfect foil for this assignment, and will keep anyone from
suspecting your true purpose for being in the countryside, which
is, of course, to gather information so we can apprehend this
smuggler.
That
is between you and me, and no one else.”

Christian took a deep breath, unconsciously
pressing his fingers to his throbbing shoulder. “Does Captain
Merrick know of this plan? And why was he, a frigate captain
himself, not chosen to apprehend the Irish Pirate? Surely he is
more than capable.”

“Merrick is half Irish himself, Captain, and
as you know, the Irish are a clannish race. I would not send him
against one of his own. Though I have no doubt that he would do his
duty, I would not ask such a thing of him. In fact, I think it
would be in
everyone
’s best interest if I send him off to
join the frigate
Lively
in patrolling the coast.”

With that, the crotchety old admiral got to
his feet. Christian did the same, his heart heavy. Poor Deirdre. He
hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye to her, or to properly
thank her for coming to his rescue this afternoon. And no doubt she
was homesick, lonely, frightened, and miserable . . .

The admiral walked with him toward the door.
“Take heart, old boy,” he said, clasping his shoulder and missing
Christian’s wince of pain. “’Twill not be forever. In fact, you
might even begin calling on Miss O’Devir tomorrow. Now, that’s
something to look forward to, eh?”

“Indeed, sir.”

But at the door, the admiral gave him a
level, warning look. “Just . . . watch yourself, Captain, and keep
your nose clean in all of this. This assignment could be very
dangerous. There are those who would delight in shooting you down,
and I would not have the career of England’s future admiral
jeopardized.” He gave a tight smile. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir. Very clear.”

“Very well then. Now please, if you’ll excuse
me? It has been a
most
trying day.”

Chapter 23

Deirdre hated Massachusetts from the moment
she stepped off the wharf, staggered, and nearly fell at the
unfamiliarity of solid earth beneath her feet.

It didn’t take her long to discover that
Boston was cold and ugly, the buildings as bleak and forbidding as
the faces of the people who inhabited them. Red-coated soldiers
patrolled the streets. Most of the shops were closed, some showing
the effects of vandalism. Hungry, mean-looking dogs ran in packs
looking for a stray chicken or a heap of garbage, their teeth
flashing if one came too close. Drunken seamen were thick along the
waterfront; some, upon sighting Brendan, saluted respectfully. But
there was no such respect amongst the out-of-work townspeople who
lounged idly about, their expressions sullen and cold as they
watched him help the two girls into the carriage he had hired to
take them out to the Foley home.

The countryside west of Boston was just as
bleak as the port town, and no friendlier. Treacherous ruts carved
up roads that were muddy and half frozen. The trees were still
bare, their branches gray and skeletal against the cold sky. The
earth was carpeted with dead grass that was not green, as it should
be, but brown, and flattened to the ground like a head of dirty,
uncombed hair. Here and there, snow made a tired, dingy crust upon
a shaded slope, and fields divided by rambling walls of granite
boulders loomed on either side of the road.

With each mile that brought her farther and
farther from Christian, Deirdre’s heart sank. Blocking out
Delight’s chatter, and Brendan’s responsive laughter, she pressed
her nose against the window and blinked back tears of homesickness
and despair.

“Christian,” she whispered miserably, her
gaze fixed on the distant hills. “Oh, why couldn’t I just have
stayed with ye? Why does yer admiral have to be so concerned with
my reputation when he doesn’t even
know
me?”

The admiral. He had invited, nay, demanded
that Christian dine with him aboard the flagship, and as Deirdre
had solemnly watched her lover changing into his best uniform and
calling for his dress sword, she’d had no idea they were to be
separated. Her anticipation of stripping off that dashing uniform
upon his return had been hopelessly dashed when, shortly after
Christian had left, Brendan had arrived to take both her and
Delight out to the Foley home in Menotomy.

Deirdre had protested fiercely, but her
cousin had only apologized for having to follow orders that he
admittedly agreed with.

Finally, stormy-eyed and angry, Deirdre had
gathered up her few belongings, grabbed one of Christian’s shirts
so she’d have something of his to comfort her, and, joining Delight
and Brendan, departed the home she had known for the past
month.

“Tell Christian where I am!” she had said,
desperately taking Ian’s hand just before she’d left the ship.
‘Tell him the Old Fart’s sendin’ me away! Tell him to come rescue
me as soon as he can!”

“Aye, lassie. Now keep your chin up, and hold
tight. The Lord and Master’ll not abandon ye.”

No, surely he wouldn’t, she thought, staring
out at a hard blue sky that was strangely naked of cloud. It looked
nothing like the misty gray skies of home, reminding her again of
how far away her beloved Ireland was. But Ian was right. Christian
would
not
abandon her here. In her heart, she knew that as
soon as he could get away, he would come for her.

But as they traveled farther inland, she
couldn’t prevent the mounting despair and homesickness. The sky was
not the only feature of this bleak and barren land that was
strange. In fact, nothing was the way it
should
be. Back
home, the trees would just be starting to branch and bud. Back
home, daffodils would be poking up through lush grass that was so
brilliant and green it hurt your eyes to look at it. Back home, the
weather would be raw and moist, not frigid, dry—and bitterly
cold.

She glanced at her cousin for reassurance,
but he obviously didn’t notice the alarming differences between the
two lands, so caught up was he in responding to Delight’s subtle
remarks and not-so-subtle invitations.

Deirdre turned away to stare out the window
once more, her heart sinking with every mile.

“Here we are!” Delight cried as the carriage
drew up beside a squarish, two-story house painted a humble shade
of brown. “Now, Deirdre, you
must
remember not to call me
Delight, especially after all the pains I have taken to appear . .
. presentable!” Laughing, she indicated her modest blue dress, then
yanked her shawl over her shoulders to conceal the tempting swell
of her bodice, which had been purposely bared for the benefit of
Brendan’s appreciative eyes. “And you, Captain Merrick, simply
must
join us for supper! Mama will be most distressed if you
do not, and”—she trailed her fingernails down his sleeve and gazed
invitingly up into his eyes—“so will I.”

“Yes, Brendan, please stay,” Deirdre pleaded,
unwilling to be left with these people she didn’t know, distressed
about losing contact with her cousin, terrified about being
abandoned in this bleak and foreign land. She gripped his sleeve,
her eyes desperate. “’Tis only for supper—”

The door to the house opened and a woman
appeared on the threshold. Clad in brown-and-white calico, she had
a white apron around her ample waist and blond hair tucked severely
beneath a muslin cap.

“Dolores Ann!”

“Mama!”

Delight leapt out of the carriage, raced
across the lawn, and flung herself into the woman’s arms. There was
much hugging and weeping and cheek-pinching before Delight,
dragging her mother back across the muddy lawn, could make
introductions. Brendan had already stepped down from the carriage
and now stood on the lawn, holding his fancy, gold-laced hat. “Oh,
Mama, I have brought guests!” Delight bubbled happily. “My friend
is in the carriage—she’s from Ireland—and our gallant escort here
is her cousin, Captain Brendan Jay Merrick, who was kind enough to
accompany us from Boston to ensure that no harm befell us. He’s in
the king’s
Navy,
Mama!”

That last word—
Navy
—was oddly
stressed, almost as if in warning. Deirdre, still inside the
carriage, saw a fleeting look of alarm cross the woman’s face as
she looked at Brendan in his handsome uniform; then she allowed him
to take her hand and bow over it, a gesture that soon wiped the
uneasiness from her eyes and had her cheeks flushing pink, for
Brendan was uncommonly handsome and full of Irish charm. “How do
you do, madam,” he said, grinning warmly. And then, turning to hand
Deirdre down from the carriage, “My cousin, Deirdre O’Devir.”

Mrs. Foley’s eyes widened as she looked at
Deirdre, taking in the seaman’s jacket that covered her shoulders,
the trousers that hid her long legs. Then she saw the misery in her
eyes, and her demeanor changed. With a sudden smile, she reached
out and hugged Deirdre as fiercely as she had her own daughter.
“Oh, do come in, poor thing, you must be absolutely frozen! A cup
of chocolate will restore you in no time.”

“Thank ye, Mrs. Foley. I . . . I’m sorry to
be intrudin’ like this. I’d just as soon have stayed aboard the
ship . . .”

“My, you have the most
delightful
brogue!” She put her hands on Deirdre’s shoulders and stood back,
admiring her and pretending she didn’t notice the tears welling up
in Deirdre’s eyes. “Why, just listen to her talk, Dolores Ann! And,
good heavens, don’t speak such nonsense; you’re not intruding at
all. Any friend of Dolores’s is a friend of ours. Besides, we were
expecting you; the admiral in Boston sent word ahead that my
daughter had arrived and was bringing a friend. Come, come, my
dear, let’s get you out of those atrocious clothes and into
something a bit more ladylike. And you, Captain Merrick, do come in
and join us for supper!”

“Faith, that’s kind of you, madam, but I
really couldn’t—”

“I insist! Jared is at the shop right now,
but he’ll be home shortly. Meanwhile, you
must
come in and
tell us what our gallant Navy is doing to protect us from these
horrible rebels.”

“Yes, Captain Merrick, you simply
must
!’’ Delight echoed, eyeing him appreciatively,
suggestively, hungrily, from behind her mother’s back.

No man could resist such an invitation, not
even a king’s officer. And so it was that Brendan found himself
ushered into the Foleys’ house, a pale and wan Deirdre trailing in
his shadow.

###

It was hours later and Deirdre, seated
morosely beside Brendan and listening to the effusive Delight
babble on, was as miserable, lonely, and homesick as Christian had
feared she would be.

Outside, the night pressed against the
windows, and the fire in the hearth did little to dispel the sense
of loneliness that pervaded her very soul. Wind moaned under the
eaves, made the flames waver and jump in the grating. Home had
never seemed so far away.
Christian
had never seemed so far
away. It was almost as if both belonged to another time, another
place.

“Deirdre? Are you all right, lass?”

She glanced up at her cousin, whose mirthful
eyes were dark with worry. “Aye, Brendan. Just . . . just a wee bit
homesick, ’tis all.”

She looked down, her heart raw and
aching.

“Why, I’ll bet you’re just missing your
handsome Lord and Master,” Delight chirped, shooting Brendan a bold
glance from beneath her lashes. The look went unnoticed by her
mother, who had gone to the hearth to ladle more stew from the pot,
and her father, who had been subtly studying the naval officer all
during supper.

Brendan laughed, ever his cheerful self. “No,
she misses Ireland,” he said, noting the canvas bag in her lap.
“Don’t you, Deirdre?”

“Oh, let the poor girl alone, you two!” Mrs.
Foley scolded with mock sharpness. She plunked a steaming bowl of
beef stew down and reclaimed her seat. “She’s been across an ocean,
traveled all day, and is probably tired to the bone. No wonder
she’s feeling poorly!”

Poorly
was not the word for it,
Deirdre thought, picking up her spoon and trying to pretend she had
an appetite. And both of them were right—she missed Christian as
much as she missed Ireland.

She took a deep breath and took a spoonful of
the stew. It tasted as it should, but the yellow, coarse bread that
accompanied it was dry and tasteless. She stared down at it, hating
it as much as she did everything else in this awful place.

Beside her, Brendan reached down and squeezed
her hand. She looked up and saw a reassuring twinkle in his russet
eyes, a mirthful grin on his lips. Imitating her dejected look, he
gave her a black scowl, turning down the corners of his mouth and
lowering his eyebrows until she couldn’t help but smile. But her
response was short-lived, and as soon as he turned back to his
meal—and Delight—Deirdre was again staring down at her lap, her
eyes on her bag of Irish mementos.

Oh, Christian,
she thought.
If only
I was with ye right now, safely wrapped in yer strong arms and
snuggled against yer big, warm chest . . .

She poked at her stew, making herself take a
few bites so she wouldn’t appear rude. Outside, it was awfully
black, the darkness thick and alien and hostile. The wind shook a
loose pane against a casing, and a cold draft whispered across the
wide-boarded floor and curled around her ankles.

American stew. American darkness. American
wind.

American cold.

Her hand tightened around the bag in her lap,
and she took a deep, steadying breath.

I want to go home.

She was able to keep her composure throughout
the meal, knowing that the time would soon come when she could be
alone, free to feel the misery of her heart without having to put
on a brave face. Beside her, Brendan was already beginning to
fidget, and she knew that soon he would leave, abandoning her in
this foreign, unfriendly land with a family who ate strange food
and talked with a strange accent.

“You all right, Deirdre?” Delight asked
gently.

Deirdre nodded quickly, too quickly, and
tried to smile. Delight’s father glanced at her. No doubt he was
angry that he had another mouth to feed. He had barely said two
words to her all night, instead watching Brendan and her with a
look in his shrewd blue eyes that did nothing to make her feel
welcome.

Talk went on, with the elder Foleys idly
inquiring what the Navy was doing to quell smuggling, and Brendan
giving bland answers that disclosed nothing. And all too soon, the
steam stopped rising from the stew, the flames began to die in the
hearth, and Deirdre caught her cousin glancing repeatedly at the
shelf clock standing on a nearby table. Raw loneliness filled her,
and she felt a momentary stab of panic.

Don't go, Brendan,
she thought
desperately.
Oh, please, don’t go and leave me here all by
myself . . .

But the dreaded moment finally came. Brendan
gave a great sigh, complimented Mrs. Foley on the meal, accepted a
chunk of cornbread carefully wrapped in linen for the “trip back,”
and picked up his black, gold-laced hat.

Deirdre followed him outside. “Oh, Brendan, I
wish ye wouldn’t leave me here,” she said forlornly. “I can’t bear
it, truly, I can’t.”

“Faith, Deirdre, such carrying-on! ’Tis not
the end of the world, you know!”

“This place is awful. Everything’s different,
no one is friendly, and I just want to go home. In fact, the sooner
you and Christian can find Roddy—”

“Yes, Roddy.” Her cousin reached down and
gently grasped her upper arms, his eyes, for once, serious and dark
in the pale starlight as he gazed down at her. “I know you told me
on the ride out here that you came to Boston to find me, so that I
could help you find your brother, but faith, Deirdre, that’s not
going to be as easy as you may think. He could be anywhere.” He
sobered further. “Even dead.”