fellow she only said, “I refuse to leave Aubrey alone, so your captain will have to come—”
“Ollie!” the man cut her off with a bellowing cry. “Ollie, you gots to wait in here wi’ the lad!”
“Kindly use a little restraint!” Eliza scolded, clapping her hands over her ears.
“Sorry, miss.” He backed away a step, just as cowed as Oliver had been when she used her coolest, most well-bred tones. Could it be that these sailors—common men all—were intimidated by a titled noblewoman? It seemed more than ludicrous—but then, so did everything else associated with this misbegotten voyage.
“Well, just see that it doesn’t happen again,” she ordered, mollified by his behavior. If he’d known how to properly bow and scrape, she realized, he would have done so. Oliver, too, crept into the room like a dog fearing to be scolded. It boosted her confidence enormously.
“Stay with Aubrey while I’m gone,” she instructed the younger sailor. “You already know how to exercise his foot, so do it. Once I’m finished with your captain we will wish to sit on deck for awhile.” She glanced at the other man. “Be sure to have two comfortable chairs ready. And Mick,” she added, enjoying the dismay on both their faces. “Don’t forget blankets.”
Then, not waiting for a reply, she gave Aubrey a reassuring smile and stalked majestically into the companionway.
Her triumph did not last long. She peered to the left and then to the right, only to be met by a deflating sight. Not twenty feet away, the door to the captain’s chamber stood open. Just beyond the door, behind his handsome desk, sat Cyprian Dare, his feet crossed upon the edge
of the desk as he stared straight at her. He gave her a faint smile, just the mocking curve of one side of his mouth. But it was enough to take all the wind out of her sails. The ship rocked smoothly along, creaking its unique rhythm as the muffled calls of the crew wafted down to them. But in the dark passageway, her world seemed to narrow down to that brief, smug smile.
She could order his crew around, but Cyprian Dare? Eliza feared she was no match for him at all. It occurred to her that she’d once felt the same way about Michael. Inadequate. Overwhelmed. But that seemed so inconsequential now. Only her self-esteem had been at stake then. Now her very existence hung in the balance. Hers and Aubrey’s.
She steeled herself as best she could, and bracing herself on the rough plank wall, made her way toward him. Not once in those long seconds did he take his eyes from her, and that finished off completely what little there was left of her composure.
“Close the door.”
Eliza stopped just inside the portal. “Why?” she managed, despite her fear.
One of his straight black brows raised in mild surprise. “Why? Because I told you to. I’m captain of this ship, Eliza. What I say goes, and no one questions me about why. We’ll get along much better once you accept that.” He paused. “Now, close the door. Please.” He smiled again.
Despite her unreasoning terror, Eliza nonetheless deemed it wiser to comply. She swung the door closed with trembling hands, then stood before it, close enough to flee should that prove necessary.
But Cyprian Dare did not look inclined toward grabbing her as he had at their previous meeting—previous two meetings, she amended. He’d grabbed and touched and kissed her that very first time. Now as he studied
her with his dark enigmatic eyes, she feared he might be remembering that same incident.
“Sit down.” He gestured to one of the chairs, then went back to studying her, one fingertip idly rubbing a small scar on his chin.
Eliza sat down, but warily. He was dressed almost like a gentleman today, with a crisp shirt of white lawn that looked every bit as fine a garment as her brother LeClere might choose. His boots too, were from the finest London shoeworks, for she saw the distinctive mark of Pickerings on the instep. Was he
“Ollie!” the man cut her off with a bellowing cry. “Ollie, you gots to wait in here wi’ the lad!”
“Kindly use a little restraint!” Eliza scolded, clapping her hands over her ears.
“Sorry, miss.” He backed away a step, just as cowed as Oliver had been when she used her coolest, most well-bred tones. Could it be that these sailors—common men all—were intimidated by a titled noblewoman? It seemed more than ludicrous—but then, so did everything else associated with this misbegotten voyage.
“Well, just see that it doesn’t happen again,” she ordered, mollified by his behavior. If he’d known how to properly bow and scrape, she realized, he would have done so. Oliver, too, crept into the room like a dog fearing to be scolded. It boosted her confidence enormously.
“Stay with Aubrey while I’m gone,” she instructed the younger sailor. “You already know how to exercise his foot, so do it. Once I’m finished with your captain we will wish to sit on deck for awhile.” She glanced at the other man. “Be sure to have two comfortable chairs ready. And Mick,” she added, enjoying the dismay on both their faces. “Don’t forget blankets.”
Then, not waiting for a reply, she gave Aubrey a reassuring smile and stalked majestically into the companionway.
Her triumph did not last long. She peered to the left and then to the right, only to be met by a deflating sight. Not twenty feet away, the door to the captain’s chamber stood open. Just beyond the door, behind his handsome desk, sat Cyprian Dare, his feet crossed upon the edge
of the desk as he stared straight at her. He gave her a faint smile, just the mocking curve of one side of his mouth. But it was enough to take all the wind out of her sails. The ship rocked smoothly along, creaking its unique rhythm as the muffled calls of the crew wafted down to them. But in the dark passageway, her world seemed to narrow down to that brief, smug smile.
She could order his crew around, but Cyprian Dare? Eliza feared she was no match for him at all. It occurred to her that she’d once felt the same way about Michael. Inadequate. Overwhelmed. But that seemed so inconsequential now. Only her self-esteem had been at stake then. Now her very existence hung in the balance. Hers and Aubrey’s.
She steeled herself as best she could, and bracing herself on the rough plank wall, made her way toward him. Not once in those long seconds did he take his eyes from her, and that finished off completely what little there was left of her composure.
“Close the door.”
Eliza stopped just inside the portal. “Why?” she managed, despite her fear.
One of his straight black brows raised in mild surprise. “Why? Because I told you to. I’m captain of this ship, Eliza. What I say goes, and no one questions me about why. We’ll get along much better once you accept that.” He paused. “Now, close the door. Please.” He smiled again.
Despite her unreasoning terror, Eliza nonetheless deemed it wiser to comply. She swung the door closed with trembling hands, then stood before it, close enough to flee should that prove necessary.
But Cyprian Dare did not look inclined toward grabbing her as he had at their previous meeting—previous two meetings, she amended. He’d grabbed and touched and kissed her that very first time. Now as he studied
her with his dark enigmatic eyes, she feared he might be remembering that same incident.
“Sit down.” He gestured to one of the chairs, then went back to studying her, one fingertip idly rubbing a small scar on his chin.
Eliza sat down, but warily. He was dressed almost like a gentleman today, with a crisp shirt of white lawn that looked every bit as fine a garment as her brother LeClere might choose. His boots too, were from the finest London shoeworks, for she saw the distinctive mark of Pickerings on the instep. Was he
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