The Virgin Huntress (9 page)

He strode out to the foredeck, relishing the wind, the salt air, and the sense of freedom and well-being the sea always seemed to incite. Had he not been such an avid horseman, Hew thought he might have taken well to a life at sea. But here he was altogether against his will, a circumstance he was determined to rectify without further ado. Turning about, Hew made his way aft to seek out the pilot but realized upon reaching the quarterdeck that Vesta was nowhere to be seen. Pratt met him with a worried look.

“Where is she, Pratt?” Hew demanded. “Did she go back below deck?”

Pratt rolled his eyes. “I only wish.”

“What do you mean?”

The jockey pointed heavenward, and Hew’s heart lurched. There, one hundred feet above them in the crow’s nest, hugging the mainmast for dear life, was Vesta.

“She has the ship all in a pother,” Pratt said. “She just tied her skirts together and climbed the bleeding thing like a monkey, but now she won’t come back down. The first mate, Mister Campbell, tried to fetch her, and she refused to let go.”

“Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice...” murmured Hew. “No, Pratt, I’m not about to fall for the damsel in distress act again.”

“’Tis not fear that stops her,” said Mr. Campbell, “but an acute onset of
mal de mer
. It’s the height. The crow’s nest being farthest from the ship’s center, even the smallest movement is greatly magnified. Even the most weathered sea dog canna help but be affected by it. ‘Tis why the Royal Navy uses it as a form of discipline.”

“Is that so?” said Hew with a grin. “Then it seems a fitting penalty, does it not?”

“Ye canna mean to leave the lass up there?” the mate said with alarm.

“Not forever, certainly,” said Hew. “But a little while longer shan’t do her any harm, the damned reckless, little fool.”

“Wi’ all due respect, Cap’n Hew, ain’t ye a bit hard on her? Though a right high-spirited slip of a thing, she be no different than you once was yourself,” reminded Pratt. “Ye was once up to much tomfoolery.”

“The bloody difference is that I am a man! And I would have come back down without endangering others.”

Pratt scratched his grizzled chin. “Aye, there be no doubt the lass needs to be reined in, but she only wants for the right touch. Ye ken?”

“The only touch she wants for is a good lash to her backside!” Hew retorted.

“Stodgy blighter,” Pratt mumbled under his breath.

Hew glowered. “What the deuce did you say?”

“’Tis like his lordship says, ye grow old well before yer time, Cap’n Hew.”

“Because I exercise moderation and good sense? Hang you, Pratt!
One of us
has to take his responsibilities seriously, and it’s not likely to be my reprobate brother. He and I will come to a reckoning the moment I return too. He swore not to meddle in my life, yet it is
he
who seems intent on foisting this hoyden upon me.”

“’Tis more than that, ye know. Ye haven’t been yerself since ye returned from the war. Pr’haps the little hoyden is exactly what you need.”

“Devil take you, Pratt!” Hew shielded his eyes and looked back up. “I won’t have her. I wouldn’t curse my worst enemy with that girl!”

“Ye don’t intend to fetch her?”

“No, I do not. If she climbed up, she is certainly capable of climbing back down.”

Hew ignored Vesta for a good quarter hour until the sky began to darken and the wind to kick up.

***

Vesta wanted to crawl into a hole, somewhere very deep in the solid ground, curl up, and die. She had never felt so horrible in her entire life. At first unaffected and even exhilarated by the rolling motion of the ship, she only wanted a better view of the wide, blue ocean. The mast wasn’t even so difficult to navigate, once she tied her skirts out of the way. The rope ladder made the climb far easier than the great oak outside her bedroom window, but once she’d scaled the heights of the crow’s nest, the vertigo had set in...and the nausea. Heaven help her. Her stomach now lurched in rhythm with every rise and fall of the ship. The ruthless, relentless, remorseless waves caused Vesta to greatly regret the bit of bread and cheese she’d consumed less than an hour ago.

The first mate had tried to coax her down, but she just couldn’t trust him enough to let go, and she truly
wanted
to. She had already sworn to Mama that she would never board a ship again once she safely descended. She really needed to get down, but to do so, she also needed Hew. She cast a gaze down over her shoulder and found him shielding his eyes and looking up at her. He was too far away to see his expression, but he just stood there, and then the beast turned away for a leisurely stroll of the quarterdeck.

Vesta swore to herself she wouldn’t beg, but she’d begun to feel weak, and weakness always frightened her. Besides, it looked like a storm might be brewing. “Please, Hew,” she wailed. “I can’t do it by myself!” Her distress cry seemed to have the desired effect, for a moment later, he was shrugged out of coat and boots and scaling the ladder.

“What the devil are you doing up here?” he bellowed.

“I just wanted to see the ocean,” she replied.

“You are surrounded by the bloody ocean!”

“But it’s different up here. I really felt like a bird in its nest. Do you suppose that’s why they call it the crow’s nest? Personally, I would have chosen a nicer bird. Crows are rather pestilent, don’t you think?”

“I
don’t
think. Indeed, the only thing I desire to expend any effort on right now is getting you safely back below.”

The wind was roaring in their ears. Lightning flashed in the distance. A squall was unquestionably rolling in. Vesta could feel the solid mass of him blocking the wind behind her. His arms braced the mast on either side of her, his body caging hers. “You will need to let go, Vesta. You need to turn around and face me so I can carry you down.”

“But how?” she wailed.

“Put your arms around my neck and your legs about my waist, and I can climb relatively unimpeded. Just please hold tight.”

Vesta complied without further demur. She threw her arms about his neck, and he helped her to position her legs. Closing her eyes, she clung tight and close, aware of their danger and endeavoring not to obstruct his movement.

The rain had begun falling, hard and heavy, beating against them like liquid pellets, decreasing visibility and increasing the peril of their slow descent. It seemed an eternity until they reached the solid surface of the lurching deck. Soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, Vesta’s tiny frame racked with uncontrollable shivers. She heard Hew curse, and without retrieving his coat or boots, he carried Vesta below.

***

The descent from the crow’s nest with Vesta clinging to his body was a nightmare. The rain pelting his face had felt like tiny razor blades and formed blinding rivulets that obscured his already perilous descent. He couldn’t afford one false move from that height. Rescuing Vesta from the rigging was a reluctant endeavor at best, and now his muscles ached and his left leg burned like hell from the effort. He would have forcibly peeled her from his body the moment his feet hit the deck, but Vesta shivered uncontrollably, and she was nearly blue-tinged with wet and cold. With a groan of resignation, Hew carried her the remaining way back to the master stateroom.

He kicked the door closed behind them and braced himself against it for balance. The storm had now come upon them full force, catching the yacht helplessly in its clutches. Water streamed down both their bodies to puddle on the floor. Vesta’s arms were still twined tightly about his neck, and her chest pressed against his, but her legs had slipped. He hadn’t noticed until this moment that her petticoats had bunched up around her thighs, wrapping his hips in bare, white, and deceptively shapely, feminine flesh. Even more powerful was the sudden awareness that his hands supported a firm, round, and lush womanly bottom.

Heat flooded his groin at this unsettling conclusion. Hew shifted his weight from bad leg to good whilst trying to extricate himself from the obscenely intimate and arousing position.

“S-s-o...c-c-cold,” she chattered, hugging him tighter, pressing her breasts closer, and inadvertently grinding her pelvis into him as if she sought to steal his body heat, heat that seemed to be increasing by the second.

“Come now, Vesta,” he said. “We must get dry.” He released her buttocks and gripped her arms in an attempt to extricate himself. “You must let go of me and get out of those wet clothes at once. There are surely towels and blankets to dry and warm ourselves.”

“O-k-k-ay,” said Vesta, but she failed to release her grasp.

He pried open her fingers only to have his temperature flare another hundred degrees when she slid slowly down the front of his body to finally rest her bare feet on the floor. His left leg was throbbing damnably by now. “Please,” he said. “Can you look for linens? I must sit.”

“Wh-wh-at is it, Hew?” she asked, concern painting her face.

“It’s just this bloody leg.” He groaned. “It’s no longer accustomed to such rigor.” He limped toward the bed and sat.

“My p-poor Hew!” Vesta exclaimed. “You have injured yourself!”

“I injured myself!” He threw his head back with a mirthless laugh. “It was not by my choice, I assure you!”

“How horrid you must think me!” she cried. “But I didn’t mean any harm,” she insisted.

“That’s the trouble with you, Vesta. You might never intend mischief, but it inevitably follows wherever you go. Have you ever wondered why?”

She averted her gaze and shook her head as if she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Well, I will tell you anyway. It’s your damned impetuosity. You act before thinking of anyone besides yourself and give no heed whatsoever to the repercussions to others! It’s bloody well infuriating! You might have got us both killed, you know!” Hew bellowed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head drooping as much as her limp curls.

“Of course you are...for now. But given the first opportunity, you’ll be at it again. I can only hope that before I perish, you will find some other blighter upon whom to lavish your dubious affections. Damn ironic
that
would be after having survived four years of war.” Finding himself physically and emotionally spent, Hew gave a groan and collapsed back on the bed.

“You m-must get out of the wet clothes,” Vesta said. Fighting the constant lurching motion of the ship, she rifled cupboards for dry linens, producing several towels and extra blankets. She staggered back to him and began rubbing his hair dry. “I’m truly sorry.” Her eyes were wide and plaintive. “But I won’t, you know.”

“You won’t what?” He was too exhausted to resist her ministrations as she tugged his wet and clinging shirt from his breeches and struggled to pull it over his head.

“I won’t find another,” she answered. “This is not some silly girlhood crush, Hew... I truly love you. And if you would only give it a chance—”

He gripped her shoulders. “You cannot force love, Vesta! Why can’t you understand that?”

“Your shoulder! What happened to it?” She reached her hand out to trace the red and puckered flesh.

“A musket ball.” Hew shrugged.

“Does it still hurt?”

“It didn’t trouble me much of late until I climbed the infernal rigging.” As soon as he said it, her eyes flooded with tears. “Damn it, Vesta.” He groaned. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was ungallant.”

“But it’s true!” she said, sniffing back tears. “I have endangered you! Twice! No wonder you hate me!”

He heaved an irritated sigh. “I don’t hate you. I just find you wayward and spoiled.”

“Because I took you away? I wanted you to notice me, Hew. I just knew I could be the kind of lady you admired if I just gave it my best effort. I wore my new dress and fixed up my hair, but then I destroyed it all without a second thought. Now look at me!” she wailed. “Instead of what I wanted, you have only seen me at my very worst!”

At first, Hew almost wanted to laugh aloud for she truly was a sight. The elegant, gold gown was torn and covered with tar. Her hair was a matted, wet tangle, and her lips were blue with cold. A smile pulled at his mouth, but his suppressed chuckle was obviously the last straw for Vesta. She collapsed to her knees with a sob.

It was an unfair assault, one that struck him like a cavalry charge against an already weakened foe, for he knew it wasn’t a ploy. Although she might be a fine actress, she was far too spirited to resort to such mean tactics as counterfeit tears, and while Hew had no compunction against railing at her soundly when she defiantly stood her ground, the fact that he had caused her to cry threatened to bring
him
to his knees.

“Please, Vesta,” he pleaded. “Neither of us is at our best at the moment. I’ve been an ill-tempered ass. The pain in the shoulder is nothing. I’m accustomed to living with it.”

“B-but what of your leg?” she said.

“I’m only glad to still have the thing at all, defective as it might be. They wanted to take it from me, you know.”

“I d-didn’t kn-know.” She sniffed. “How did it happen?”