brown leather jerkin, he was taller than the average man. Dark brown leather boots encased his long, lean legs. Although the gray streaks in his shoulder-length, dark hair bespoke of the hard life he had lived, he was still a handsome man.
The old man looked up, studying Jack through rheumy, blue eyes. “I would’na want the Lady Elizabeth to have to face a ship of that size,” he said, his face paler than death. Then he turned and stared back the way they had come, as though wishing they were sailing hundreds of miles in that direction instead of so close to the enemy.
The sea had finally calmed, and the captain breathed a sigh of relief knowing he would reach the familiar island chain within a few days’ time. Running from the British navy was one thing, but doing it in stormy seas was quite another, and he was dead tired of it. Since leaving port, rain had poured down upon them, and the ferocious winds had nearly torn the sails to shreds. There had been times when he’d feared he would lose his ship, that the Lady Elizabeth would flounder in the rough seas, but the sky was clear at last, and it looked like they’d gotten away from their pursuers.
Looking down at the poor old fellow next to him, Jack smiled wearily. “Don’t worry, Jim, I believe they’ve given up. Besides, the Lady can take whatever the Royal navy can dish out, if it comes to that,” he bragged, lying through his teeth. His ship was no match for a navy gunship, and he knew it, but why worry his old friend? Besides, hadn’t his father always taught him that pessimism paved the way to ruin? “Now go below and see if you can get our guest to eat something.”
“I swear I believe she would prefer to starve to death, than eat anything I bring ’er,” Jim said, shaking his shaggy head. “I will try to get ’er to take something, Captain, but I doubt she will. She will’na even talk to me. Tis ye she wants to see, and ye know it, Jack,” he dared to say. Then he shuffled over to the ladder and descended, while the captain considered the old salt’s impertinent observation.
She wanted to see him, all right, and he wanted to see her…always had, always would. It was the words she wanted to say to him that had him worried. No doubt she was still angry about how she’d come to be aboard his ship. In truth he couldn’t blame her for that, but he’d had no choice. There was no way he would allow her to marry that pasty-faced dandy. The very idea that Katherine’s stepfather had promised her to that poor excuse for a man made Jack’s blood boil. How could he have done that to her? Viscount Richelieu might be young and wealthy, but he still wasn’t good enough for Katherine. No man was good enough for her, and that was the problem in a nutshell.
In his heart Lady Katherine Conlon had been his since the first time he’d laid eyes on her, when she was naught but a babe in arms. He could still recall the day her mother and father had brought her home to the plantation on Ceylon where he had lived. Jack O’Bannon had been a boy of nine years of age, the son of the plantation manager, while her father, John Conlon, had been the landowner, having inherited the sprawling coffee plantation from his uncle, the then Earl of Sussex. Jack had been an unruly lad, always getting into mischief of one sort or another, but from the first time he’d set eyes on little Katherine he had curbed his appetite for misadventure. He’d been enthralled by the baby girl’s sweet face, her golden halo of hair, her sapphire eyes, and her sunny disposition, and he vowed to do nothing to put her in harm’s way. Indeed he had fallen in love with her back then, although he hadn’t known it.
When she was finally old enough to go out and play, he had begged to watch over her. He took the golden-locked four-year-old in the wagon to the estate’s cinnamon orchard, where he had taught her to play games like hide-and-go-seek, and to climb the tall, thin trees with their
The old man looked up, studying Jack through rheumy, blue eyes. “I would’na want the Lady Elizabeth to have to face a ship of that size,” he said, his face paler than death. Then he turned and stared back the way they had come, as though wishing they were sailing hundreds of miles in that direction instead of so close to the enemy.
The sea had finally calmed, and the captain breathed a sigh of relief knowing he would reach the familiar island chain within a few days’ time. Running from the British navy was one thing, but doing it in stormy seas was quite another, and he was dead tired of it. Since leaving port, rain had poured down upon them, and the ferocious winds had nearly torn the sails to shreds. There had been times when he’d feared he would lose his ship, that the Lady Elizabeth would flounder in the rough seas, but the sky was clear at last, and it looked like they’d gotten away from their pursuers.
Looking down at the poor old fellow next to him, Jack smiled wearily. “Don’t worry, Jim, I believe they’ve given up. Besides, the Lady can take whatever the Royal navy can dish out, if it comes to that,” he bragged, lying through his teeth. His ship was no match for a navy gunship, and he knew it, but why worry his old friend? Besides, hadn’t his father always taught him that pessimism paved the way to ruin? “Now go below and see if you can get our guest to eat something.”
“I swear I believe she would prefer to starve to death, than eat anything I bring ’er,” Jim said, shaking his shaggy head. “I will try to get ’er to take something, Captain, but I doubt she will. She will’na even talk to me. Tis ye she wants to see, and ye know it, Jack,” he dared to say. Then he shuffled over to the ladder and descended, while the captain considered the old salt’s impertinent observation.
She wanted to see him, all right, and he wanted to see her…always had, always would. It was the words she wanted to say to him that had him worried. No doubt she was still angry about how she’d come to be aboard his ship. In truth he couldn’t blame her for that, but he’d had no choice. There was no way he would allow her to marry that pasty-faced dandy. The very idea that Katherine’s stepfather had promised her to that poor excuse for a man made Jack’s blood boil. How could he have done that to her? Viscount Richelieu might be young and wealthy, but he still wasn’t good enough for Katherine. No man was good enough for her, and that was the problem in a nutshell.
In his heart Lady Katherine Conlon had been his since the first time he’d laid eyes on her, when she was naught but a babe in arms. He could still recall the day her mother and father had brought her home to the plantation on Ceylon where he had lived. Jack O’Bannon had been a boy of nine years of age, the son of the plantation manager, while her father, John Conlon, had been the landowner, having inherited the sprawling coffee plantation from his uncle, the then Earl of Sussex. Jack had been an unruly lad, always getting into mischief of one sort or another, but from the first time he’d set eyes on little Katherine he had curbed his appetite for misadventure. He’d been enthralled by the baby girl’s sweet face, her golden halo of hair, her sapphire eyes, and her sunny disposition, and he vowed to do nothing to put her in harm’s way. Indeed he had fallen in love with her back then, although he hadn’t known it.
When she was finally old enough to go out and play, he had begged to watch over her. He took the golden-locked four-year-old in the wagon to the estate’s cinnamon orchard, where he had taught her to play games like hide-and-go-seek, and to climb the tall, thin trees with their
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