of a starting gate. Virginia was thrown back against the
outside wall of the cabin.
Gus appeared.
"Captain asks that you stay below, Miss Hughes," he said, refusing to
make eye contact with her.
"Then why
doesn't he lock the door?" she asked tartly.
"Please go
inside, Miss Hughes. Captain's orders," he insisted, crimson-cheeked once
again.
"Gus!" she
snapped, gripping his wrist. "I don't care what he's ordered, as he is not
my captain!"
Gus blinked and, for
one moment, regarded her with disbelief.
She felt a tiny surge
of triumph. "Please look at me when you address me. I am not a door or a
post."
He flushed and looked
away. "Captain's orders, miss."
"Damn your
murdering captain! Damn him to hell— which is where I have no doubt he will one
day end up, far sooner than later!" Virginia cried.
Gus dared to glance
at her again. "Wind's changed. Storm's coming. Please go inside or I am
ordered to take you in."
Virginia made a distinctly unladylike
sound, very much a snort, and she stormed into the cabin, slamming the door
shut behind her. She waited to hear a padlock being put in place, but she heard
nothing at all. But they were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean , and there was, quite simply, nowhere for
her to go.
She would escape
in Portsmouth .
Virginia sat down hard on one of the
dining room chairs, filled with sudden excitement. They were but a day away, if
she understood correctly. Surely she could keep the lecherous captain at bay
for an entire day—and surely, in the next twenty-four hours, she could come up
with a plan.
95
And Portsmouth was in Britain . Somehow she would find a way to get from Portsmouth to London , where she was certain her uncle was
expecting her.
Hope filled her. So
did relief.
Virginia finally faced the fact that she
had nothing to do other than plot and plan. She was freezing, though, and she
eyed her valise. She was afraid to change. She was afraid of being caught in a
state of undress by the captain. Rubbing her hands together, she decided to
focus on planning her escape.
Within minutes, her
mind slowed and dimmed and her eyes became heavy, refusing to stay open.
Finally, her head fell onto her arms and she was asleep.
"Sir. She's gone
below," Gus said.
Devlin allowed his
first mate to handle the ship's helm but he stood beside him, studying the
racing clouds, the graying light, acutely aware of the sudden drop in
temperature. A gale was blowing in and Ms every instinct, honed by eleven years
at sea, told him it would be a nasty one.
There was still time,
however, before he needed to reef in the topsails. Now he hoped to outrun the
storm, although doing so was pushing them off course.
And the girl was in
his cabin. A pair of huge violet eyes, angry and outraged, assailed his mind's
eye. They were set in a small, finely formed face. Dismissing the unwanted images,
he glanced at Gus, who was blushing. "Give you a hard time, did she?"
He could not help but find Gus's discomfort amusing.
Gus hesitated.
"She's very brave for such a small lady, sir."
He turned away with a
grunt. Brave? That was an understatement. Her huge violet eyes had been
disturbing him ever since he had had the misfortune to finally meet the Earl of
Eastleigh's American niece. He didn't know whether to be
truly amused by her
antics, or genuinely furious with her lack of respect and subordination. The
girl was as small as a child of thirteen, but he was a fine judge of character
and she had the courage of ten grown men. Not that he cared. She was a hostage
and a means to an end.
He had been expecting
a refined lady with equally refined airs, a fully grown and experienced woman
like Elizabeth, a woman he might consider bedding just to sweeten the pot. He
had not anticipated a pint-size hellion who would try to murder him with a
sniper shot and then had dared attack him again, this time with the butt of a
pistol.
It was not amusing.
Devlin
outside wall of the cabin.
Gus appeared.
"Captain asks that you stay below, Miss Hughes," he said, refusing to
make eye contact with her.
"Then why
doesn't he lock the door?" she asked tartly.
"Please go
inside, Miss Hughes. Captain's orders," he insisted, crimson-cheeked once
again.
"Gus!" she
snapped, gripping his wrist. "I don't care what he's ordered, as he is not
my captain!"
Gus blinked and, for
one moment, regarded her with disbelief.
She felt a tiny surge
of triumph. "Please look at me when you address me. I am not a door or a
post."
He flushed and looked
away. "Captain's orders, miss."
"Damn your
murdering captain! Damn him to hell— which is where I have no doubt he will one
day end up, far sooner than later!" Virginia cried.
Gus dared to glance
at her again. "Wind's changed. Storm's coming. Please go inside or I am
ordered to take you in."
Virginia made a distinctly unladylike
sound, very much a snort, and she stormed into the cabin, slamming the door
shut behind her. She waited to hear a padlock being put in place, but she heard
nothing at all. But they were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean , and there was, quite simply, nowhere for
her to go.
She would escape
in Portsmouth .
Virginia sat down hard on one of the
dining room chairs, filled with sudden excitement. They were but a day away, if
she understood correctly. Surely she could keep the lecherous captain at bay
for an entire day—and surely, in the next twenty-four hours, she could come up
with a plan.
95
And Portsmouth was in Britain . Somehow she would find a way to get from Portsmouth to London , where she was certain her uncle was
expecting her.
Hope filled her. So
did relief.
Virginia finally faced the fact that she
had nothing to do other than plot and plan. She was freezing, though, and she
eyed her valise. She was afraid to change. She was afraid of being caught in a
state of undress by the captain. Rubbing her hands together, she decided to
focus on planning her escape.
Within minutes, her
mind slowed and dimmed and her eyes became heavy, refusing to stay open.
Finally, her head fell onto her arms and she was asleep.
"Sir. She's gone
below," Gus said.
Devlin allowed his
first mate to handle the ship's helm but he stood beside him, studying the
racing clouds, the graying light, acutely aware of the sudden drop in
temperature. A gale was blowing in and Ms every instinct, honed by eleven years
at sea, told him it would be a nasty one.
There was still time,
however, before he needed to reef in the topsails. Now he hoped to outrun the
storm, although doing so was pushing them off course.
And the girl was in
his cabin. A pair of huge violet eyes, angry and outraged, assailed his mind's
eye. They were set in a small, finely formed face. Dismissing the unwanted images,
he glanced at Gus, who was blushing. "Give you a hard time, did she?"
He could not help but find Gus's discomfort amusing.
Gus hesitated.
"She's very brave for such a small lady, sir."
He turned away with a
grunt. Brave? That was an understatement. Her huge violet eyes had been
disturbing him ever since he had had the misfortune to finally meet the Earl of
Eastleigh's American niece. He didn't know whether to be
truly amused by her
antics, or genuinely furious with her lack of respect and subordination. The
girl was as small as a child of thirteen, but he was a fine judge of character
and she had the courage of ten grown men. Not that he cared. She was a hostage
and a means to an end.
He had been expecting
a refined lady with equally refined airs, a fully grown and experienced woman
like Elizabeth, a woman he might consider bedding just to sweeten the pot. He
had not anticipated a pint-size hellion who would try to murder him with a
sniper shot and then had dared attack him again, this time with the butt of a
pistol.
It was not amusing.
Devlin
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