Brenda Joyce - A Lady at Last

And that worried him terribly.

La Sauvage had no sense of modesty, no sense of shame and no manners whatsoever. If her mother was well-bred, their reunion would be a disaster.

Yet he didn’t want her to discover that her mother was a whore or a pockmarked hag, either. The pirate’s daughter had had a difficult life, he didn’t need to know the details to be certain of that. She deserved some of life’s luxuries and that would require a fine family from her mother’s side.

In six weeks, she might be able to acquire some airs and a sense of propriety, just enough not to be so shocking. Anahid could teach her. But he wasn’t confident. He wasn’t even certain La Sauvage wished any instruction in decorum, and he had only agreed to transport her, not to transform her into a young lady. Besides, it wasn’t his affair.

Cliff gave up thinking of sleep. It was almost dawn and he had a voyage to make. His children’s baggage had been readied last night, and he had decided to bring their language tutor, as well. That decision had been made with Miss Carre in the back of his mind.

He almost felt as if he had acquired another child, but he had only to recall her in her nightgown to know he had not.

Cliff drained the cognac and dressed. The sky was stained fuchsia over indigo seas when he left his suite. He went directly to the children’s wing. Alexi’s door was open and he was already dressed and standing at the washbasin, brushing his teeth. He turned and grinned at his father, his mouth full of water.

Cliff’s heart softened. He tossed a cloth at him. “Is your sister ready, too?”

“I heard her complaining about the hour to Anahid. Papa, we have good winds today.”

Cliff winked. “I know. Do not rush. Miss Carre is undoubtedly still asleep.”

He left his son spitting out his rinse water and paused at his daughter’s door. “Ariella? Anahid?”

A moment passed and the Armenian opened the door. He felt her smile. “My lord?”

He glanced past her and saw that Ariella remained in her nightshirt, bleary eyed. She was clutching a book to her chest. He had to smile. “Good morning. Don’t worry, Anahid packed dozens of books for you. And if you manage to get through all of that, there is always my Bible.”

She yawned.

“We will be downstairs in ten minutes, my lord,” Anahid said quietly.

He left. Cliff hurried downstairs and strode into the great hall, an age-old excitement upon him now. He was happiest when making sail. All the demons he had been wrestling with in the course of the night were gone. Within two hours, he would have the wind at his back, the open sea ahead of him, and his children would be with him. Life could not be better, he thought.

Wall sconces had been lit by the servants and the hall was partially illuminated, some early-morning shadows playing across the marble floors. Cliff suddenly spied his houseguest sitting in a studded Spanish chair not far from the front doors. He had certainly not expected her to be up. She saw him, too, and leaped to her feet, her eyes wide.

His steps slowed as he approached her. He refused to recall his brooding of just an hour ago. “Good morning. It is barely dawn. Could you not sleep?” Although he had passed by her door once last night and had overheard her weeping, there was no sign on her face of having spent a terrible night. He had ordered her clothing laundered while she grieved, and she was wearing the loose shirt and breeches now, but she had added a thick gold cord as a belt. It looked suspiciously as if it had come from a drapery tieback.

“We set sail this morning,” she said, smiling. “Why would I want to stay abed?”

He felt his world still. Surely her excitement had to do with being reunited with her mother. Surely she did not feel the powerful lure of the sea as he did. “It is a six-week voyage. It will be some time before you can renew your relationship with your mother.”

“What are you talking about? I know how long the voyage is.” She began to fidget. “The winds are fresh. Do we set sail now?”

Was it possible that she was as excited as he was to be embarking?

“You are staring at me as if I am a loon!” she exclaimed. “It’s been so long!” She started to hop from foot to foot. “Is there any reason to delay? I saw your men hoisting sail from my window. De Warenne—I mean, Captain—I need to have a rolling deck under my feet and a good wind in my hair.”

And staring at her, impossibly surprised, he felt himself stiffen. Shaken, he quickly turned aside so she wouldn’t see how he had physically reacted to her excitement. He wasn’t sure he had ever been so aroused.

“De Warenne? I mean, Captain, we are ready to go, aren’t we?”

He didn’t answer. A six-week voyage loomed. His response was simply unacceptable. As ship’s captain, his duty was to protect her and see her safely to her destination, not to ravage her in a moment of madness.

Thank God, he had decided to bring his family with him on this voyage, he thought.

“Are you ill?” she demanded, tugging on his vest from behind.

He made sure he was completely composed before turning. Slowly, he faced her. “I am bringing my children on this voyage and they are on their way downstairs. As soon as they are ready, we will depart.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I started sailing with Papa from the time I was six,” she said. “Isn’t that about your daughter’s age?”

“Yes.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “You are behaving so oddly! Is something wrong?”

He folded his arms across his chest, keeping his eyes trained on her face. “When was the last time you were at sea? And I do not mean paddling your canoe.”

“There was a short cruise to Barbados—Papa had affairs there, legitimate ones. That was last spring.”

He would die, he thought, to be denied a real cruise for such an interminable length of time. “You seem to be in very good spirits today, Miss Carre.”

“You mean Amanda.” She sobered a bit. “I haven’t forgotten about Papa, if that is what you mean. I spent most of last night thinking about him. I don’t have any tears left.” Then she brightened. “The Fair Lady is my favorite ship. There’s just something haunting about her. Everyone knows she’s the fastest fifth rate on the high seas—but that’s because of you, of course. And you’ve never lost a battle! I can help with her guns. Your sailmaker is Portuguese, isn’t he? Papa said he’s one of the greatest in the world.”

Cliff’s heart thundered in his chest, preventing speech.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked with a grin, blushing. “I’ve dreamed of riding her decks and racing the wind. This is just like one of my dreams!” She laughed, tossing her hair, which she hadn’t bothered to tie back.

He had to turn away again, his breeches painfully constricting. She’d dreamed of his ship. Had she dreamed of him, too?

“I can’t wait,” she said.

He thought about giving in to insanity; he thought about turning, crushing her to his chest, opening her mouth with his teeth and kissing her. He thought about thrusting his tongue as far as he could.

He heard his children’s footsteps on the stairs and their happy, animated chatter. There was vast relief and bitter disappointment.

He inhaled, smiled in a more genuine manner, and turned away from her. “I see we are all here. To the cutter, then.”

AMANDA GRIPPED the railing and closed her eyes, her face turned up high to the sun and the wind. They’d left Kingston far behind and only a faint pale strip of white sand, framed by jungle-green mountains set against the turquoise water, indicated the island behind them. Ahead, the seas swelled gently. De Warenne was using almost all of his canvas, so the great frigate was rating fifteen knots, racing as fast as she could in such a kind breeze. Amanda opened her eyes and laughed in sheer joy.