Surrender the Dawn (27 page)

She shoved Mr. Heaton back. Her chest heaved. “How dare you?” Then raising her hand, she slapped him across the cheek.

  CHAPTER 19  

P
ain lanced across Luke’s face. He rubbed his cheek and stared at Cassandra. The woman was indeed an enigma. One minute returning his kiss with surprising intensity and the next, striking his cheek. He would never have made such advances if he’d not seen desire in her eyes. Not to mention an ardor that made his heart soar with hope. Hope that a woman like Cassandra found anything worthy of admiration in a man like him. Then, the way her moist lips shimmered in the moonlight, her puffs of warm breath, inviting him, luring him for a taste. He’d been unable to resist her. And, ah, sweet reward. He hadn’t expected so passionate a response. Heat seared through his body while a pleasurable fog had invaded his mind.

What he
had
expected came later—a slap. A worthy punishment for so great a prize.

And now a mixture of horror and ecstasy battled in her eyes as she stood there, red faced with her infernal shoe tapping on the stairs.

He’d never seen a woman so lovely.

Luke rubbed his jaw again. “What, pray tell, was that for?”

“For trying to take liberties with me.”

“Trying?” Luke chuckled. “I believe I succeeded. And as for the liberties, they were freely given.”

“How dare you!” She lifted her hand again to strike him. He caught
it in midair. “Ah, ah, ah, only one slap allowed per kiss.” Caressing her hand, he lifted it to his mouth, but she snagged it from his grasp.

“Is everything a joke to you, sir?”

“Not everything.” He smiled.

She let out an exasperated sigh and took a step away from him. “This is a business arrangement, Mr. Heaton, and you are nothing but a business partner. I insist you conduct yourself as such in my presence.”

Luke could feel the heat coming from her flushed skin. Her chest rose and fell like the bow of a ship upon stormy seas.

“If you’re certain that is what you wish.” He dipped his head with an unavoidable grin.

“If I’m …” She flattened her lips and tore her gaze from him. “Of course I’m certain, you buffoon.”

The quiver of desire in her voice belied her statement. Luke offered no response. He simply gazed at her as the moonlight caressed her in sparkling waves. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone, and he never wanted to forget how beautiful she was, nor how deeply affected she seemed to be by his kiss.

“Good evening, Mr. Heaton.” She met his gaze then turned and opened the door. The voices of children and bark of a dog floated from inside. Halting, she spoke without turning. “Godspeed to you, sir. Have a safe journey.”

“Good evening, Miss Channing.”

Then, stepping into the foyer, she closed the door behind her.

“This is madness, Luke. I beg you to reconsider.” The squeak of Mrs. Barnes’s rocking chair increased in tempo.

“I promised John, and I won’t go back on my word.” Tired of the conversation, Luke set his mug of coffee down on the table and leaned forward with elbows on his knees. Mrs. Barnes’s fingers flew, her needles jumping up and down like handles on a bilge pump. He studied the web of black and white threads coming together in a deranged mass. “What is that you’re making again?” he asked, mainly to change the subject.

Ceasing her knitting, she glanced down at her creation. “A masterpiece,” she announced with assurance. But her brief smile faded into a frown, and she laid her knitting aside. “He’s far too young, Luke, and you know it.” Her pleading tone reached out to strangle Luke’s conviction.

Swimming eyes met his above the glimmer of her spectacles. He pulled his gaze and stared at the cold soot lining the fireplace. “He’s as old, if not older, than most boys who go to sea. Besides, with his new brace, he’s walking better.”

“But on a heaving ship? When you could be attacked? When you probably will attack other ships?” Mrs. Barnes grabbed her cup of tea. Her hands trembled, and the amber liquid sloshed over the sides. She set it down on the saucer with a clank and folded her shriveled hands in her lap.

Luke shot to his feet and took up a pace across the sitting room. He rubbed his jaw where Miss Channing had slapped him earlier that evening. Though the memory brought a smile to his lips, he couldn’t help but feel as though he were being slapped all over again by Mrs. Barnes’s lack of confidence in him. But what else did he expect? Save for his one success at sea last month, Luke had been a failure at everything else.

But he
had
outsailed a frigate. He had dodged cannon blasts. He had taken a prize. Never once had his crew been in any serious danger. Despite her age,
Destiny
was a swift and agile bird. And Luke a good captain. Surely he had proven that.

“I could not bear to lose him,” Mrs. Barnes said.

“And you think I could?”

“No, of course not. But your parents put him in your charge. I beg you to not make such a rash decision.”

Trailing a hand through his hair, Luke faced her. “I have thought long and hard about this, Mrs. Barnes. He is ten. Brace or not, we cannot coddle him forever. He must be allowed to face life with all its dangers and heartaches. How else is he to grow up and become a man? How else is he to learn a trade so he can take care of himself someday?”

She opened her mouth to object but Luke raised a hand. “He is going.”

A tremble crossed her shoulders. Chastising himself for being so harsh, Luke knelt before her and took her hands in his. “I’ll keep him on a long line tied to one of the masts, so there’ll be no chance of him falling overboard. When we overtake a prize, I’ll send him below. He’ll be fine.” He kissed her bony fingers.

“I promise you, I’ll bring him home safe.”

Luke planted his boots firmly on the quarterdeck as
Destiny
rose over yet
another swell then plunged down into the murky sea. Waves crashed over the bow, spraying the air with foamy salt and sending a waterfall over the deck. A giggle sounded, and Luke’s gaze shot to his brother on the main deck. He was talking with Mr. Ward, the gunner. Feet spread apart, John stumbled only slightly before he righted himself then held out his hands and dipped a bow at Mr. Ward’s hearty applause.

Despite his apparent sturdiness, Luke was still glad the boy was tied to the mast with a rope long enough to allow him access to the entire deck. Aside from his initial bout of seasickness, the lad had more than adapted to life aboard the ship during the long weeks at sea. With his positive outlook, cheerful disposition, and strong work ethic, the crew took an immediate liking to John. But it was the odd relationship that had developed between him and the ornery gunner that surprised Luke the most.

Biron crossed the quarterdeck and halted beside Luke. “Courses and mains raised, Cap’n, and the horizon is clear.”

Luke shielded his eyes from the setting sun as a hot gust of wind punched him. They’d been running under courses for days now. No need to unfurl the stays and topsails until they gave chase. Or, God forbid, were chased. Either way, they’d not spotted a ship in a week, which was why Luke had ordered
Destiny
on a south-by-southeast course to intercept West Indies trade routes.

Biron chuckled. “Ward’s taking a liking to the boy.”

“Odd. Yes.”

“I wonder if he’s the best influence on the lad?” Biron quirked a brow of reprimand at Luke.

“Knowing my brother, it’s him who’ll be influencing old Ward for the better. Perhaps, the old codger will even stop his swearing and drinking.”

“Perhaps you will join him.” Biron’s voice was etched with sarcasm.

Luke chose to ignore it as the ship crested another wave. Bracing his feet on the moist deck, he breathed in the fresh, salty air. He loved the sea. There was freedom here upon the waves. Freedom and power. For the first time in his life, he felt in control of his own destiny.

Gripping the quarter railing, Luke glanced up at the sails, their white bellies bloated with wind. Mr. Keene stood on the main top, directing the sailors adjusting canvas, lace flapping at his cuffs and collar. His humor was vastly improved from the last voyage. As were several of the sailors. No doubt due to the bottles of rum locked in a crate belowdecks,
and the money that still lined their pockets. Bottles Luke had brought aboard, despite Miss Channing’s insistence to the contrary, but only on the condition that Luke would dispense the alcohol at his discretion. Which so far had only been two ounces in a cup of lemon water twice a day to each sailor. This seemed to appease the men, but it made Luke’s vow to abstain while sailing all the more difficult. He licked his lips. His taut nerves and empty belly yearned for a sip. Just one sip.

Still he had kept to his word. Thus far.

Sam cleared his throat from behind them. “She still feels a bit sluggish, Cap’n.”

Luke shrugged off the ill feeling that accompanied Sam’s words. He’d already sent Mr. Sanders down twice to check on the hold, and both times the purser had reported nothing amiss. Perhaps it was just Sam’s inexperience with such a small ship. “Just keep her south-by-southeast, Sam.” Luke squinted at the sun sinking below the horizon as a breeze, bearing a reprieve from the day’s scorching heat, cooled the sweat on his neck.

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

John hobbled up on the quarterdeck with the agility of an experienced seaman.

“When can I take off this silly rope?” He made a face of disgust as the wind tousled his hair.

“When I say you can,” Luke replied.

“But I’m steady on my feet now. The sailors make fun of me with this leash on!”

Biron chuckled. “Don’t listen to them, boy. One day you’ll be their captain and we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

John’s face brightened. “You really think so, Mr. Abbot?”

“That I do.”

“You have the makings of a great sailor, John. A natural talent”—Luke raised a brow—“but you must still obey your captain.”

John saluted. “Aye, sir.”

“Sail ho!” The voice brayed from the tops, jerking Luke to attention.

John gripped the railing and scanned the horizon.

“Where away?” Luke shouted, lifting the scope to his eye.

“Two points off our starboard beam!” The shout ricocheted off the deck as Luke spun the glass in that direction. Excited chatter rose from the assembling crew.