Rebellious Cargo Page 10

  Jane’s mind snapped back to the table as Samuel Grant and Will Forbes rose to leave.

  She had the impression that a silent command had passed between the two men and their captain. Her skin heated as a new panic surged through her at the thought of being left alone with him. She could no longer deny the desire that rushed through her body every time those grey eyes caught hers: she just had to keep it under control for a few more hours.

  He was smiling thoughtfully at her, leaning back in his chair. “So we may part tomorrow and never see each other again. I will be reluctant to leave you in Malta. I have just gotten used to having immaculate records, not to mention having to find a replacement to teach the miscreants.”

  Is that all he would miss about her? “I think, Captain, you will sail away and leave me with a sigh of relief, knowing you can go back and hunt down a few more French prizes with the resumption of the war.”

  “But you are a prize, Mrs. Charlesworth, a valuable one.” His eyes softened. “You must be on your guard – but I am sure Cookson will take good care of you.”

  His hand rested on hers and even though her senses screamed at her to do so, she did not pull it away. The warm, solid flesh comforted her. No! Not comforted. It thrilled her.

  “I am used to looking after myself, Captain. My father didn’t raise me as a fragile flower to be blown off course in a storm.”

  “Your father would be proud of his daughter. You certainly inherited his skills.”

  She shrugged. “He had no heir, so I tried to be the son he never had, although he never once made me feel second best. I used to unravel little puzzles he’d set me when I had barely left the cradle. The puzzles became more complex as I grew up. Then just when I became proficient enough to help him – suddenly he forbade me to have anything else to do with codes and I was packed off to Bath to stay with my aunt, Lady Southbourne, with the intention of introducing me to polite society. My father’s sister married the younger son of a viscount, so I had to attend endless tedious functions – I hated it.”

  “You would,” he muttered.

  She frowned. And what did he mean by that. Did he think her some sort of hoyden not suited to polite society?

  Adam’s lips turned up at her expression. “I mean I have no doubt you would not conform to the shallow frivolities of society,” he added.

  There it was again, that smile that sent painful, glorious sparks shooting through her. She tried to inch her hand away, but it was held fast.

  Thinking it was safer to keep the conversation flowing than struggle to free herself, she continued.

  “Society and I had a few misunderstandings, and finally my aunt packed me back to my father, suggesting that some women preferred a life caring for their parents.”

  “Misunderstandings?” He smiled. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  She frowned, trying to recollect one of her many indiscretions whilst in her aunt’s care. “Well, for instance, at Countess Warrington’s music evening I was asked to perform a song of my choice.”

  “Ah! You cannot sing?”

  She looked indignant. “I can hold a note proficiently I will have you know.” Her lips quirked. “Only I don’t think the audience were ready for my sea shanty.”

  “Oh Lord!” He threw back his head and laughed. “I daren’t ask which one.”

  “And I shall not divulge it. Although I was rather surprised that they hadn’t wanted to hear the concluding verse of the tale.”

  He gave her a scolding grin. “Your father should have whipped you.”

  “I think he was often tempted, but the incident finally persuaded him to keep me in the family profession. I never left his side again until the week before he died, when I was suddenly packed off to my aunt’s. When I returned home this time, he had already been buried. I took over his work and continued to aid the Government in his place.” She stopped wondering again why he had the effect of making her babble so.

  “Then you married Charlesworth,” he prompted.

  “Yes.”

  His smile had faded and he leaned towards her. “Tell me something. Why did you marry a man you did not love?”

  She gasped and jerked her hand free.

  “That is an impertinent question.”

  “Yes, it is. I am sorry, forgive me.” His eyes fell from hers and he leaned forward and replenished their glasses.

  Oh, damn him! How he tied her up in emotional knots. But she needed to clarify things; she would not be cowed by his question.

  “When I lost my father, something died inside me. We were very close. I needed to be with someone who understood him, knew him as well as I did. Andrew and my father were friends. I trusted Andrew and I liked him. No, it may not have been a love match – but it was a good one.”

  Why was she telling him this?

  He sat, silently, watching her, judging her, or that was what it felt like. But then he relaxed back in his chair and didn’t reply.

  She, however, was not going to let him get away with his impertinence. He had probed into her personal life, now it was her turn. “What of you, Captain, do you have a family waiting patiently for your return?”

  A flicker of annoyance passed through his eyes despite his smile at her question.

  “My parents live a few miles east of Plymouth. I have not seen them for nine years, but the last letter from the estate steward informed me they are both well.”

  “Nine years!” she echoed. He was still smiling at her, but his eyes were now curtained with a grey veil.

  “You are not close then.” She winced at her own words – what a lame reply.

  “No, not since I shot my brother over a matter of the heart. Oh, I believe in the power of love, all right – it is equivalent to madness, in my opinion.”

  Jane swallowed, the evening was taking a very strange turn. “Was your brother…?” She faltered. He looked amused at her obvious embarrassment.

  “I did not kill him, just subjected a perfectly innocent man to a year of crippling pain. Actually he was far from perfect, but nevertheless did not deserve to be shot. He recovered, thankfully, although the last time I heard he still walked with a limp.”

  Jane could see beyond the careless way he delivered the words. It was a thin façade. The hurt and bitterness were not borne out in his tone, but she suspected it was there. The incident had obviously shattered his life. She wanted to ask about the woman who had caused it all, thinking he should have shot her instead.

  A stab of compassion surged through her; it was her turn to increase the pressure of her fingers around his.

  “So it is not to be recommended – this thing called love. Yet you seem concerned my marriage was not a love match.”

  “I think, my dear, Andrew Charlesworth was very remiss if he did not make you feel loved.”

  His head was so close now his breath caressed her cheek; she edged backwards in her chair and their hands fell apart.

  “I think I should go.”

  She stood and walked away, and she knew he would have let her go if she had not stopped halfway to the cabin door. She turned and held his smouldering grey eyes for a moment too long.

  Then he was there, his hands tilting her face up to his. The soft warmth of his lips explored hers gently, his arms encircling her, easing her farther into his embrace. Somewhere in her brain a voice shouted, No! But her body betrayed her as she sagged, giving up to the strange pleasurable pulsing low down inside her. His lips demanded more as he deepened the kiss. The spicy virility of him on her mouth invaded her senses, her mind giving itself up to the unknown feelings invading her body.

  His hands tightened and she was helpless…she could not move, she could not breathe.

  Her body crumpled and her cry echoed around the cabin, like a wounded animal.

  Chapter Eleven

  Just outside the harbour, the Serena was shrouded in mist as the sun rose the next morning. Adam was surprised when he was roused from sleep by the rhythmic swish of oars of a
small craft approaching.

  The tousled head of Ben Blackton appeared around his door.

  “Captain Harrow requesting permission to board, sir.”

  Adam gave his consent to the midshipman, sending him on his way. He jumped to his feet cursing under his breath as he reached for his clothes. He had not thought they would be so eager to collect his precious cargo – could they not wait for the ship to berth? He frowned at their damned impertinence as an invisible soft hand squeezed his insides. She would soon be gone.

  He shrugged into his uniform, his fingers unusually clumsy as he dealt with the fastening of his waistcoat. Images of the woman who had melted into his arms a few hours earlier returned to plague him. The soft lips that had yielded hungrily to his, the warm pliable body melting against him. Those small fragile fingers tangling around his neck inviting further exploration. Then, as sudden as it started, her passion died – or rather transformed into cold terror. She had struggled and he had released her at once – but he had not wanted to.

  Curse this thing! He yanked at his stock as it refused to submit to his ministrations.

  The woman was a complete puzzle, all ardour and heat, yet in a blink of an eye cold and rigid. Nevertheless the encounter had been enough for him to realise that under all her emotional armour lurked a fierce passion begging for escape.

  He pulled the mangled stock from his neck in disgust, tossed it aside, and selected a newly laundered one. What the hell was he thinking of? She would soon be gone from his charge. Good! Those chocolate eyes would no longer be able to distract him and he could get back to fighting the war.

  Damn this bloody stock! He finally forced the offending strip of cloth into submission and shrugged into his jacket before going to greet his unwelcome guests.

  Adam cast a lingering assessing glance over the visitors before turning to their leader.

  Captain Harrow was a burly man and quite ordinary, except for startling sky-blue eyes that transformed his features from mundane to something bordering predatory. He had arrived with a guard of marines who had stationed themselves on deck – locking stares of suspicion with the members of the ships watch.

  “Good morning, Captain Harrow. Are we expecting trouble?” Adam wasn’t sure why he was irritable with the man but he had wanted to berth in the harbour. He wanted to deliver Jane himself… He wanted… He didn’t know what he wanted. He was behaving like a fool and he had definitely been a fool last night.

  Captain Harrow seemed oblivious to his cool welcome. “I have come to collect Mrs. Jane Charlesworth, Captain. Perhaps you could inform her to prepare for departure.”

  In the privacy of the main cabin Adam eyed the two sealed documents on his desk before turning to address the man who had presented them to him.

  “Captain Harrow, my orders were to release Mrs. Charlesworth into the safe custody of Sir Robert Cookson, and that is what I intend to do.”

  Harrow adopted a patient air of supremacy as he took the seat offered him.

  “Admiral Cookson sends his compliments, but I am afraid he is indisposed and taken to his bed. The physician is confident of his recovery but I have been charged to deliver the release papers for Mrs. Charlesworth – and your new orders from the Admiralty. Perhaps you would like to peruse them. As for my own orders, Captain, they are to convey your passenger to a place of safety with the utmost haste. So, if you would be kind enough to deliver the lady, I will be on my way.”

  “Why the hurry, Captain? Could you not wait until we had berthed? It would have made the journey far more comfortable for Mrs. Charlesworth.”

  Harrow frowned and pointed to the documents. “I am just carrying out my orders, Captain Marston, as I am sure you will wish to carry out your own – once you have bothered to read them.”

  “Indeed, I will,” Adam replied. He knew Harrow by reputation only. The man was well thought of within the service, and Adam had no reason to doubt his word, but he certainly didn’t feel comfortable about relinquishing Jane to someone else’s care. He picked up the first packet, pulled open the wax seal and ran his eyes over it. It bore out what Harrow had said and had been signed by Cookson.

  His eyes widened at the second missive which informed him that he was to set sail as soon as he had taken on stores. No shore leave! The men would be disappointed. He examined the document closely but the meaning was clear; he had to complete his business and rendezvous back with the convoy stationed outside Toulon.

  He had already sent Samuel Grant to summon Mrs. Charlesworth, and he sank back into his chair wondering how she was going to react to their sudden parting of the ways. He had wanted to talk to her this morning, put things right between them. He needed to apologise. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving without some sort of understanding of the previous night’s events.

  Twenty minutes later, after Adam had been updated on the latest comings and goings of the fleet, Harrow shifted impatiently in his seat.

  “I must be on my way, Captain. I realise ladies need time to prepare but—”

  His words were interrupted as Samuel Grant entered looking like he had just been sentenced to face a firing squad. “Captain, I am afraid Mrs. Charlesworth cannot be located. I have had the whole ship searched – she is not on board.”

  Harrow’s brows met in the middle as he stared at the Lieutenant before snapping his eyes back to Adam. “Captain Marston, is this some sort of joke?”

  Adam remained calm. “She must be here, Mr. Grant. How the devil could she be anywhere else? I saw her last night; saw her return to her cabin. What about her servant?”

  “Celine is on board, sir. She awoke to find Mrs. Charlesworth gone. It seems she has disappeared in the night. The only explanation I can come up with is that she has fallen overboard.”

  Harrow jumped to his feet. “My marines will search the ship and question your men, Captain.”

  Adam’s voice turned deadly. “This is still my command, Captain Harrow. Your men will remain where they are. She must be on board and I will see she is found.”

  Adam’s mind flew over the possibilities and a wave of nausea flooded over him. The chaplain was the only person on his ship who had posed a threat to her. “I am going to check on Crosby to make sure he has not been out of his cabin.”

  “Crosby?” Harrow questioned. “Who is Crosby?”

  Adam beckoned to the man. “Come along with me. I will explain on the way.”

  ***

  As it transpired Crosby had not left his cabin and Adam could not find any reason to connect him to Jane’s disappearance. His movements had been monitored and attested to all evening.

  The Chaplain had seemed genuinely surprised at Jane’s disappearance but could not hide his smug triumph at the thought that she had fallen overboard, or worse. When he calmly quoted a biblical passage about sinners, Adam had found it difficult not to pound his fist into the malignant face of the preacher.

  Back in the main cabin, in the company of Captain Harrow and Samuel Grant, Adam silently listed the possibilities of Jane’s fate.

  She could have accidentally fallen overboard – unlikely, as she was as sure-footed on deck as the most seasoned sailor.

  She could have jumped. His heart constricted. Sure, he had certainly left her in some distress last night, but he could not contemplate her taking her life.

  There were only two other possibilities. She had been pushed overboard or she had been abducted. The latter two meant someone on board would have to have been involved. His blood ran cold at the thought and his voice was harsh as he snapped out his orders.

  “Mr. Forbes, I want the whole watch questioned again. Whichever way she left the ship, someone must have – or damn well should have – seen her do so.”

  He needed to find out some answers and he was going to personally interrogate the whole crew, one by one, if he needed to.

  Harrow had remained silent until Samuel Forbes left, but his eyes were hard with accusation as he turned back to Adam.

&nbs
p; “Do you have reason to suspect any of your company to be involved with Mrs. Charlesworth’s disappearance? Could someone have wanted her dead?”

  Adam resented the question but knew, in the circumstances, it was a fair one.

  “I have no real reason to doubt the loyalty of my crew but,” he paused uneasily, “we did experience an unexpected attack from a French convoy soon after she was taken aboard. It seemed more than a coincidence at the time, but then again the peace had just broken. But Crosby was my main concern – he has an unhealthy dislike for the two women aboard, and I strongly suspect his papers are forged. He is a poor excuse for a chaplain but I do not believe he has the makings of a spy. However, I do not intend to sail with him to Toulon. Perhaps you could assist me on this matter, Captain Harrow, by arranging a suitable passage back to England for him under escort.”

  Harrow nodded thoughtfully. “I agree, false papers certainly need to be investigated, despite the fact he cannot be linked to Mrs. Charlesworth’s disappearance. I will see to it, Captain. There are several vessels sailing for England in the next few days – he will be on one.”

  They were interrupted by the entrance of Will Forbes. One look at his second lieutenant’s face warned Adam his worst fears were about to be realised.

  “We fished this out, sir – it’s hers, I believe.” His voice wobbled as he handed over a damp mass of fabric.

  Adam’s fingers unraveled the ragged remnant of the gown he had last seen her dressed in. His hands trembled, it had only been a matter of hours since he had touched the same soft garment. Then it had felt warm and sensuous against her skin. He laid it gently down on his desk and stared at it for several moments as an unnatural silence filled the room.

  “Is that all you found?” Adam’s tone was controlled, although his insides felt like they had been blown away by a musket shot.

  “Yes, sir.” Will’s voice was an anguished whisper. “There is nothing else.”

  He didn’t have to elaborate. The jagged blood-stained tear on the delicate cloth told its own story – the sharks and predators of the sea appeared to have made short work of any further evidence. What a brutal end to someone with such spirit and beauty.