The Captain's Lady Read online

  After she had added twelve new members to her crew and was still no closer to finding Travers, Alexis made the decision to return to Roadtown and give the members of her original crew an opportunity to leave. Ten of them did, returning to their jobs on other Quinton vessels. Hansom was among those who left, satisfied Alexis had found a crew who was fiercely dedicated to her and skilled in battle strategy.

  In his place Hansom recommended Kurt Jordan and Alexis agreed. Jordan, an experienced seaman with twenty-five years behind him proved himself a valuable addition. He worked tirelessly, poring over charts with Alexis, plotting new courses, and seeing that her orders were obeyed to the last detail. He amused her with stories of Charleston when she mentioned it had been a destination of hers at one time. At forty-five he was a rugged man, with hair bleached almost white by the sun and deep lines creasing his face around the mouth and eyes as if they had been etched there by repeatedly defying the biting spindrift.

  Jordan’s reassuring image faded from Alexis’s mind when she heard Peach slip the approved manifest under her door. She stepped out of her bath, wrapping a towel around her, and picked it up. She glanced at Jordan’s scribbled corrections and placed the paper on her desk, assured everything was in order for tomorrow.

  Going to London was a desperate gamble she hoped would give her the information she needed. During eighteen months of searching for Travers in dangerous ports, eluding French privateers as well as the British ones, it seemed as if he had disappeared completely. She and Jordan decided he must have been reassigned and she wanted to get word of this from the Admiralty in London as well as news from Frank Grendon about Quinton Shipping.

  She dried herself briskly and discarded the towel. In her bureau she found her nightshirt. Invariably her thoughts drifted to Cloud as they always did when she readied for bed and slipped on the one concrete reminder of him. She liked to think of him now as she lay her head against the cool coverlet. It was only during the day when his memory came unbidden to her—when one of the men said or did something that made Cloud’s image leap to her mind—that she forced the memory back. But night was different. She touched the collar of the shirt lightly, enjoying the feel of the soft material beneath her fingers. She rested her head in the curve of her elbow, breathing in the scent of him that seemed to cling to the material. She had repaired the worn elbows and replaced the buttons several times but never considered parting with it. After Lafitte had returned her to Roadtown, she never wore the shirt except at night, deriving comfort from it as if she slept with him.

  And there were nights she required his comfort, required the closeness and strength he had always been able to give to her. During the day, she missed his company, missed his conversation and guidance. At night she missed his love-making and the little intimacies of sharing a cabin and bunk with him. She fondly recalled the times Cloud had unwound her plaited hair and brushed it until it crackled and shone. She could almost feel his fingers gently tugging at the short hairs at the nape of her neck and the sensation was so real, and so powerful in its realness, that she shivered. She could clearly remember how his fingers would lazily shift their concentration from her hair to the contours of her shoulders and back; how they would be delicately massaging at first then become increasingly sensitive in their contact, exploring and sensuous.

  At that point she would turn to face him and boldly offer her mouth, breasts, and hands for his pleasure and hers. There were occasions when he sought what she offered greedily, unable to resist what he thought his alone. There were also those occasions when he was able to draw out their pleasure, teasing her with his sensitive mouth. His lips would alight on a particularly receptive area below her ear, her neck, or her elbow; and she would tense in anticipation of his next soft contact. His lips would circle her nipple lazily, and her breast would swell and harden in response as if reaching for the rough moist flicks of his tongue.

  Sometimes he would pull her onto his lap so that she straddled him and tease her still further with what she could feel straining against his trousers. She would squirm indelicately in this position, trying to make him break his rigid control, trying to make him understand as she narrowed the space between them that she was ready for him now. He would lower her to the floor or take her to their bed and the teasing would end as their naked bodies met. The union of their flesh was invariably exciting and heated, loving and satisfying. And later they would whisper phrases lovers universally share or sleep lightly, resting, until fresh desire woke them and urged them on to new pleasures.

  The memories made Alexis restless. She shifted her position slightly, kicking aside part of the blanket until one leg stretched free of the confining wool. Cloud had always laughed at the way she kicked the blankets around, but he never seemed to mind when she pressed closer to him for warmth.

  She wondered how he would be involved in the impending war. The Americans were at a loss to find any other alternative to the infringement of their rights. Did he know that after she found Travers she would come to him and fight beside him? Yes. He would know.

  The moment he had freed her she knew her second vow on the cliff had been broken. She told him once, in a whisper, when he was still unconscious. After she had Travers she would tell him again.

  She sighed and heard the sound he wanted to possess. After Travers. Everything is yours after Travers.

  Chapter 9

  On the other side of the ocean, thousands of miles from Alexis in distance, weeks from her in time, water lapped gently at the sides of the newly completed addition to the riverscape. The USS Concord seemed to wait restlessly in her temporary home as if she were eager to head for the open sea and attain the thirteen knots she was reputed to be capable of.

  In a tavern just north of where Concord was anchored, some of her crewmen formerly of the USS Hamilton were less than anxious to be breaking in their new ship on a mission that meant the capture of Alex Danty. They had come to the tavern in hopes of tipping a few ales to forget what Cloud had told them earlier. They had all warily eyed the orders in their captain’s pocket, but none of them dared refuse to assist. Each of them knew that no matter how hard their orders would be to carry out, their burden was enormously less than the one Captain Cloud carried.

  As an evening of relaxation and forgetting, this one was not a success. Already Mike Garrison and Harry Young had shared an interesting conversation with another seaman. They knew they would have to report it to Cloud. They both wished Matt Jones had not been quite so talkative in his cups. Then they wouldn’t have learned anything from the young man who sailed on the Quinton Line. Now they were duty bound to tell their captain that Quinton Shipping was being run by a Mr. Grendon, although Matt was careful to point out that Grendon didn’t own the line. It seemed the owner had made two trips to Roadtown in the past eighteen months and kept in contact by sending messages through other ships on the line. Worst of all it appeared that one of the points where messages were picked up was Washington. Harry and Mike shuddered to think that Alexis could be right under their noses and therefore close to being captured. They were only slightly relieved to hear Matt mention that the owner had taken on some cargo and headed for London. He wouldn’t have thought much of it, except some of his mates thought it was dangerous. Harry and Mike didn’t explain that they understood the danger, that Alexis’s desperation to find Travers was driving her.

  Shortly after Matt had wandered off, leaving Harry grinning sadly at his tankard and Mike clenching his jaw in frustration, they were joined by a brawny stranger who had listened interestedly to the information they’d gleaned from Matt.

  He boldly invited himself to their table and told them bluntly, “My name’s Scott Hansom, and if you have any questions about Quinton Shipping or the owner, then I’m the one to ask.”

  “Don’t want to know anything else,” Harry told him. “Take your information straight to Captain Cloud.”

  Mike kicked his drinking companion under the table and muttered, “Your tongue�
��s a little loose there, Harry.”

  Scott Hansom was glad his crewman wasn’t the only one who talked too much after a few drinks. “What was that name?” he asked Harry, his voice low to conceal his surprise.

  “Captain Tanner Cloud,” Mike answered for his friend. “Harry and I served on his ship, the Hamilton. We’ve been with him for three years.” Mike added the last, realizing if Hansom knew anything about Alexis then he would know they did too.

  “That so?” he responded lightly. He was wary of the two men and their motives. He knew Alexis was skirting danger from all directions these days. Her status as a merchant vessel made her prey to French and English privateers when she tried to run blockades. And now the Americans were interested in her. He chose to take their interest as a threat to her safety. “And why are you so curious about Quinton Shipping? We haven’t broken any laws.”

  “None that we’re aware,” Mike said. “Matt was just telling us about your mysterious owner. He’s never seen the man. It was interesting, that’s all.”

  “That’s a lie and you know it,” Hansom replied. “You were the ones asking all the questions. What are you after?”

  “Look,” Mike said, leaning forward across the table. “We know Alex Danty and you know we do. She must have told you it was our ship she got away from to return to Roadtown. We were trying to find out how she is and if there is anything you know about Travers.” It was true what he said, Mike thought later, but none of it went down well.

  “So you know Captain Danty,” Hansom answered smugly. “Then you know why no man who has ever sailed for her will tell you one damn thing.”

  Much later that evening Mike Garrison told his captain, “She’s got some good men. Hansom left right after that but Harry and I knew he’d be worried so we followed him, figuring he’d give something away. Sure enough he passed a message to the captain of another Quinton ship. Their destination is Roadtown. That means Hansom knows Alex is planning to return to the island.”

  “That is a fairly big leap of imagination. How can you be sure she will go there just because that’s where the message is headed?” Cloud eyed their slow grins and knew what was coming before Harry reached into his pocket and extracted the folded paper.

  “We managed to get it,” Harry said, handing it over. Cloud took the paper and unfolded it slowly. Not looking at his men but at the words on the paper he said, “And I don’t want to know how, although I suppose it explains the bruise on Mike’s face.”

  Mike’s hand quickly went to his cheek and he grinned. “He didn’t miss the note while I was there.” Cloud nodded as he read:

  April 3, 1812

  Miss Quinton,

  Men who say they are from the Hamilton have asked about you in Washington. I know the man you want is patrolling the waters around New Orleans. You will know the source of that information. With any luck at all you will have found this out in London. Be wary of the Americans. I do not like their sudden interest in your activities after almost two years of silence.

  Your servant,

  Scott Hansom

  “It explains a great deal,” Cloud sighed when he finished reading. “The least of which is how Quinton Shipping has been thriving in the Caribbean when no one else can get by Lafitte. Captain Danty has some powerful friends and as you said, Mike, some very good men.” He slipped the paper in beside his orders and tapped the pocket lightly. “Our course has been decided. If we are fortunate she may bypass Tortola completely in her anxiousness to get to Travers and never receive verbal confirmation of this message. We’ll have surprise working for us. Tomorrow we leave on the Concord and start scouting the same waters as Travers.”

  “When we find her, Captain,” Harry said, frowning, “you’ll explain how it is, won’t you? That we have a job to do, too.”

  “I’ll explain, Harry. And she’ll understand. But she is not going to cooperate.”

  Cloud returned to his home later that evening and reread Hansom’s letter to Alexis. The message had been hastily scrawled but Cloud could see genuine concern in the haste. Her men obviously were committed to her and he dreaded the possibility of having to fight them in order to get to her. He had slowly come to the conclusion that many of her men were now Americans. According to the stories that had surfaced it seemed a number of them had been willing to join her. Where would their loyalties lie once war was declared? With their country, which had been so slow to act on their impressment, or with the woman, who by taking matters into her own hands, had given them their liberty?

  Cloud dropped the message into the hearth and watched the flames lick at the paper until after a sudden burst of heat and light it crumbled into ashes. He knew the answer. They would never permit him to take her without a fight, and she was the only one who could prevent it. Alex, he thought, must there always be this battle, always something to stand in our way?

  In rebellion against the turn his thoughts were taking he allowed his mind to drift to a point in the future when everything was settled between them. He permitted himself to think about a time when he would not have to concern himself with keeping her, because she would stay with him willingly, even eagerly.

  He imagined he heard her laugh, more precious to him because it had been so infrequent while on board Hamilton. He imagined he felt its lightness against his skin while she uninhibitedly enjoyed the tender tickling forays his fingers made across her abdomen or down her spine. He liked to think that she would curl into him, rubbing against him to ease the tingling of her flesh, and discover anew the taut smoothness of his body as well as the rigid warmth of his erection. She would stop laughing once she felt him seeking entrance at her thighs, but she would smile, a lovely, womanly, knowing smile, and she would open to receive him, open to embrace him, and she would rock with him, loving him with her hands and mouth, holding him tightly with her slender arms and legs, holding him tightly inside her, seeking the same end he sought. And they would find it together, clinging and soaring, living and dying in the same moment. Above all, she would say that she loved him and when he told her the same he would no longer cause her pain.

  Alexis stood, her feet planted firmly apart, on the deck of the Diamond Maria. Her hands were clasped behind her back and her head was tilted toward the upper reaches of the mainmast, where some of the men were busily repairing the main topsail yard after damages incurred by a late spring storm. She dropped her head when she saw Jordan approaching.

  “Captain Danty, some of the men wanted to know if we are still going to stop in Roadtown.”

  “No, we’re not. We’ve been blown far enough off course without losing time on Tortola. We are on Travers’s stern now. I do not intend to lose him after coming this close.”

  He smiled. “That’s what we were hoping you would say. Do you anticipate any trouble with Lafitte in these waters?”

  Alexis laughed. “Hasn’t anyone ever informed you about Lafitte, Mr. Jordan?”

  He shook his head and listened with mild amusement to her story. “I suppose he is a fine man to have on your side, Captain.”

  “That’s what I don’t understand,” she replied. “When I left him there was certainly no agreement between us that he would leave my ships alone and yet from the reports I’ve received, especially the one in London, it seems he has made Quinton Shipping exempt from his activities. Even our cargo from Spain is safe. It pleases Mr. Grendon to no end but it makes me uneasy.”

  “Perhaps it simply amuses him.”

  She recalled that mocking smile. “Perhaps.” She dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand as she also recalled he had named her an exception. “What is the extent of the damage?”

  “Minimal. We’ll have her at ten knots in no time at all, providing the wind holds up. Within a week we’ll be close enough to New Orleans to begin taking a close look for Travers.”

  “It’s almost too good to be true. Wilkes certainly brought back good news from the Admiralty.” She turned to face the water, fascinated as it turned to whi
te foam when it hit the side of the ship. Smiling, she turned back to Jordan. “It won’t be long now,” she said with sudden fierceness, then more softly, “what are you and the others going to do once it’s over?”

  “I suspect once war has been declared most of us will join up,” Jordan answered.

  “I want you to tell the other Americans aboard that once the United States issues a declaration your ties to this ship are at an end. That goes for whether we have Travers by then or not.” Her tone was so serious Jordan was taken back.

  “We have already discussed it among ourselves, Captain Danty. Knowing how you think, we figured you would say that. None of us has any intention of going until we see this through.” In her face he saw reluctant agreement, and in his own he knew she saw there was no changing their minds.

  As Alexis walked away, Jordan watched her. If anyone had told him he would serve a woman captain he would have probably responded that he would rather serve the British. Now that he had tasted both he knew that the former was infinitely preferable to the latter. There was not one of them who could consider leaving her. Even if they did not achieve their end soon he knew everyone would still choose to stay.

  He had been pledged himself to follow her since she’d invited him aboard the Dark Lady. Though it had surprised him, discovering she was a woman, that had not made him waver in his pledge. She was proof that skills, knowledge, ability were everything. He supposed at one time or another there was not a man aboard who had not fancied himself in love with her. But the way she carried herself, the way she was always in command, the way she handled her responsibilities, told them all it was futile to pursue a personal relationship. Jordan was sure there was only one man in her life at the moment and that man was Travers.