Rebellious Cargo Read online

  “In turn she has also taught me much, sir.”

  She had always been very protective of Celine over the years and was not unaccustomed to views like Crosby’s. “Celine is a brave, kind, and truthful person. She has managed to accomplish all these attributes without my help, so who am I to question her beliefs? On the other hand, I know rather a lot of people who purport to be Christians who in fact show none of these qualities. However, I am certain we will both attend, as Celine is very tolerant of all faiths.”

  Crosby’s face turned plum coloured and an uncomfortable silence fell across the table.

  The captain instantly took charge of the situation. “We will all, I’m sure, benefit from your service, Mr. Crosby. Their faith is all the men have to cling to at times.” He then firmly turned the conversion to the gun exercises scheduled for the next day.

  Jane, who was now regretting her sharp tongue, stole a glance at the captain, who met it without changing his expression, but she noticed the silent warning that his eyes conveyed. Angry at herself, and positively furious with the chaplain for spoiling the mood of the evening, she turned back to her meal. Thankfully, Samuel Grant quickly engaged her in a discussion on the most profitable trading commodities of the area, a subject she was happy with and knowledgeable about. The evening continued with the good-natured conversation from which it had started, with the exception of Crosby, who sat throughout straight-backed, with an expression that made his pinched features resemble the look of a vulture.

  As the meal drew to an end, Jane was debating when to excuse herself and leave the men. She glanced at the captain and caught his eyes studying her. With disturbing accuracy, he seemed to read her thought.

  “Perhaps you would like to accompany me on deck for coffee, madam, unless you would prefer to join the rest for a cigar, of course.”

  The remark instantly made her breathing quicken. Was he gallantly removing her from an awkward situation, or was he going to take the opportunity to berate her for her spat with Crosby? Defiant in her belief that she had not said anything unwarranted, she nodded to the captain. “Thank you, coffee would be appreciated, as I gave up the cigars a few weeks ago.”

  The men laughed and rose in unison as she prepared to leave. All except Chaplain Crosby. Although he stood up with the others, he still held her with a look that made her skin crawl.

  ***

  Jane steadied her feet against the slight roll of the ship as the captain seated her in a quiet spot on the quarterdeck and signalled for the steward to serve the coffee. She looked over the inky sea, as a slight breeze refreshed her senses from the warmth and wine of the cabin. She knew his eyes were studying her without having to look.

  “I think, Mrs. Charlesworth, you were not brought up as strictly as I.” He paused until she met his gaze. “It was ingrained in my upbringing to respect the church and its chosen representatives.”

  His smooth tone was questioning rather than accusing. But she sensed he was annoyed with her altercation with Crosby.

  She searched for an intelligent answer but the thought of Crosby just made her stomach turn. “I respect the church, Captain, but I do not respect rudeness and intolerance in any man.”

  He appeared to consider her words for a moment. “No, these are not pleasant traits in any man.” He paused and with a quirk of his lips added, “Or woman.”

  Jane glared at him. “I am not the sort of person to allow my friends to be insulted by anyone. If I appeared rude, I am sorry and regret any embarrassment I caused.”

  “You are not at all sorry,” he replied, watching her through narrowed eyes.

  She squirmed under his scrutiny. Was he intentionally baiting her? “No, not sorry for upsetting Mr. Crosby; he deserved it. But I am sorry for causing any discomfort to the rest of the table.”

  “Unfortunately one man’s discomfort is often another’s entertainment – as it was tonight.” The captain’s voice was non-committal but she felt thoroughly chastised even so.

  “My intention was not to ridicule, but defend someone who was not there to speak for themselves,” she replied. Why did she need to justify her words; surely the chaplain’s behaviour was amiss.

  He relaxed back in his chair, watching her intently as he drank his coffee.

  “Let me offer some advice.” His voice was still conversational but it had shifted to a more serious tone. “You have been thrust amongst us – a situation we all have to adapt to. It is well known throughout this ship that your local knowledge saved our bacon this morning, so now you have won the crew’s respect. Take care though, you could lose it just as quickly.”

  Jane, taking his comments as a continuous, albeit gentle, reprimand, harnessed her wine-blurred senses together. “I expect respect, Captain, without having to kowtow to people—”

  “You do not like,” he finished for her. He leaned forward, forcing her to eye contact. “Sometimes, especially on a naval frigate, people we do not like surround us. As a captain, liking your crew is a bonus, but all that matters is they obey and respect your command.”

  Jane tried to keep her bitterness under control, but even to her ears her voice sounded harsh and unforgiving. “In my experience, one undisciplined man can create havoc, especially if the command is incompetent.”

  He frowned and she instantly regretted the force of her hostile words. She didn’t intend for the remarks to reflect on him personally. She braced herself for his anger but his reply was quietly delivered.

  “Chaplain Crosby can indeed be hard to tolerate, but you certainly demonstrated that you were more than capable of putting him in his place.”

  She gazed out to sea for a few moments searching for an appropriate reply, but he appeared done with the subject as he relaxed back in his chair and asked, “Do you not miss the comforts of your home?”

  Jane blinked in surprise at the change in direction of the conversation.

  “I have no close family back in England. Since my husband died, I have had a business to keep together. My home has been the Elinora for the last year – before I was so rudely snatched from it.”

  “Hah! Fair comment, I suppose. Although, as I recall, the rudeness was not one-sided.”

  “No, but I was provoked.”

  He gave a small grin as if to concede the point. There was a short silence before he posed his next question.

  “How did you lose your husband? Was he killed in the war?”

  “No, he was lost in a storm at sea. We had only been married for two months.”

  His eyebrows rose and he shook his head. “Two months! I hadn’t realised. It must have been a difficult time for you, especially coming so soon after the death of your father.”

  Difficult. The word didn’t begin to define her emotions through those awful months. She had certainly mourned the death of her husband, but it hadn’t come close to the grief that had consumed her when she lost her father. Her eyes moistened as the memories stirred within her heart.

  Aware that Captain Marston was watching her closely, she quickly composed her features. She needed to get away and avoid any further personal interrogation. She squared her shoulders and looked directly at him.

  “Do you mind if I retire now, Captain? I feel extremely tired.”

  He silently studied her for a few more moments before rising and offering his arm to escort her from the deck.

  ***

  Adam returned to his chair on deck, inhaling the faint smell of rosewater that still hung in the air. He sat pondering Jane Charlesworth’s strange mood. He was puzzled and regretful that he had caused her some distress. His intention wasn’t really to berate her. It had been a mistake to invite the chaplain to his table. But her anger was not all to do with Crosby – he realised that now.

  Confound her – the woman was an enigma, one he could definitely do without. He found himself comparing her to Angelique, the woman he had fancied himself in love with nine years ago. He had maimed his own brother fighting a duel for her honour. His family had
turned him out the very same day and he had never returned. It had only been about a month later he discovered the woman had manipulated him. Angelique had left a scar on his heart as vivid as the one a French swordsman had left on his cheek.

  He drained his cup thoughtfully. Someone had left a scar on Jane Charlesworth, that was for sure. Women were a puzzle – none of them knew the meaning of duty or honour, as far as he was concerned. All the same, her presence on board made him ache for the warmth and release of a feminine body. He pushed himself to his feet with a sigh and started a brisk inspection of his ship, emptying his mind of all thoughts about women.

  ***

  Jane lay tossing and turning, her mind troubled by Captain Marston’s words. He had stirred emotions, unspeakable memories of a similar night at sea when the air was warm and the sea looked like a timeless void.

  She should have been more alert that terrible evening, but she had let her guard down and left her cabin for a few moments to get some air. Her body trembled at the memory of being trussed up and delivered to her tormentor.

  At least this ship had a stronger man at the helm. But those steel eyes probed her tonight, scrambling her thoughts. The one thing she could not do was let him cloud her judgement. The timbers creaked as the wind heightened, and the ship rolled like an angry monster. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come. But lying alone in the dark, unbidden ghosts persecuted her.

  ***

  He smelled of sweat, urine, and tobacco.

  Her body tensed as she was set on her feet, and the sacking pulled up over her head. She could feel his breath on her face, between the bindings wrapped around her eyes and mouth. The touch of a hand on her breast made her recoil a step, but the hand pursued her until the damp wood of the cabin pressed against her back. She wanted to scream with outrage but no sound could pass her lips.

  Another hand delved up under her skirt, skimming her knee and thigh. The hand left her breast and bunched the material at her bodice, jerking her head forward. He clawed at the layers of cotton and silk, like a vulture stripping a carcass, until the callouses on his hands raked against her bare skin. No words were spoken, just the guttural sounds of an aroused man. He had stepped away from her now, but she shook with terror waiting for the inevitable.

  The blindfold soaked up her tears, as she tried to focus on the senses she had left. She listened for any sound that would give her hope. With a shudder of relief, she heard his footsteps retreating and the opening and shutting of the cabin door.

  She realised with sudden clarity there had been a second person in the room – a spectator. That person now remained. It was him!

  A new terror ripped through her. The blindfold could not hide his identity; she could now detect the musky smell of expensive cologne that she had learnt to despise. If only she could dislodge the blindfold so he could see the disgust and hate in her face, even if she was forced to submit to him.

  The silence added to her torture, she could not speak and he clearly was not going to. She sensed his growing pleasure in her fear. She jumped violently as he touched her for the first time, although she had been anticipating it.

  He held her chin; she felt a moment’s relief that the gag prevented him from kissing her lips. His hand retreated, and then there was the rustle of garments – he was undressing. As the movements stopped, she could feel his eyes raking over her body in the silence.

  She heard the timbers creak as he stepped towards her. Her body tensed as he caught her shoulders and pushed her down on to a blanket spread out on the wooden floor, a ridiculous gesture of consideration amongst the brutal terror he was generating.

  His hands travelled slowly down the length of her body. Gentleman’s hands – though despite their smoothness, they felt far more deadly than the ones before. They cupped her breasts leisurely, exploring the soft mounds. The hands travelled in perfect unison down to her thighs, roughly pulling them apart.

  All she could hear was the ragged breath of his excitement. Vomit rose in her throat as she wondered wildly if she would choke to death on her bindings before he had finished with her.

  His breath quickened as he positioned himself between her thighs. Sheer panic channelled all her strength into her limbs and forced her knees up together. The sudden movement threw him off-balance.

  She heard him swear and felt a small triumph, before his fist crashed into her cheek. Her head fell backwards stunned into a blackness pierced with shooting points of white light.

  Returning to her senses in moments, her body screamed with pain as he viciously violated her. She cried out in silent distress as he took his primal vengeance that lasted an eternity.

  ***

  Celine hurried to the adjoining cabin as her friend’s cry ripped through the soft warmth of the night. She put a comforting arm around Jane’s shoulder as she coaxed her from her demons.

  She was used to Jane’s nightmares, although they had been fewer in the last weeks, but it was to be expected that this ship brought them rushing back. What was unexpected, though, and terrifying, was the fact that the journey would dredge up memories of her own private hell – the one she had endured just before she had been rescued by Jane’s father all those years ago.

  Celine couldn’t believe, after all this time, that she would be faced with the one person in her life she truly could murder with her own bare hands. But she had to contain her feelings and definitely not involve Jane. She had enough of her own problems to deal with.

  Chapter Five

  Sunday morning was exceptionally warm and Jane shielded her eyes as she watched Celine sit across from her, busy attacking a stocking with needle and thread.

  Her gaze swept the decks as the men gathered below and she let out a heartfelt sigh.

  “All we have to look forward to this morning is that awful chaplain’s sermon. By the way, my foot is never going to fit in that again, so you might as well give up.”

  Celine bit her lower lip in concentration and attacked the garment with even more vigour.

  “Why don’t you just take advantage of a few days’ rest. You work much too hard.”

  Jane frowned. “No, I need to be useful. Perhaps I will ask the captain if there are some duties I can help out with.”

  Celine snorted. “Doing what? I think he has already made it plain that this ship only needs one captain.”

  Jane ignored the sarcasm. “I could help with the paperwork. I heard from Mr. Grant that the ship’s records are in disarray since the clerk was killed in that last attack. They are way beyond the ability of poor Browning, who has been forced to take over. He can only count to ten, poor man, and then his fingers run out.”

  Celine grinned as she tossed the stocking aside in defeat and started on a petticoat hem. “I suppose it cannot hurt and it will keep you out of trouble.”

  “I could also help with the midshipmen’s education,” Jane continued. “The chaplain is supposed to instruct them, but he is totally incompetent. He bores them to distraction and his knowledge of mathematics could be written on a pinhead.”

  Celine’s grin disappeared and she shot a worried look at Jane.

  “Stay away from Chaplain Crosby. I am sure the captain realises his shortcomings and he wouldn’t welcome your interference. Besides, those young gentlemen would not want to be taught by a woman. Remember the present you found in your cabin shortly after we arrived.”

  Jane wore a wry smile as she turned to watch the two midshipmen a few yards down the deck. George Anderson, a gangly fair-headed youth with teeth that were far too large for his mouth, was in furtive conversation with David Cross, a smaller, squatter specimen whose angelic expression was marred by a recent attack of acne. She had no doubt that the dead rat that had been deposited in her cabin had originated from them – and that she had been meant to scream or swoon at the furry body tucked up in her bed. But she had launched a successful counterattack and returned the gift to the midshipmen’s berth with a neat pink ribbon tied around its neck and a small n
ote explaining how it was usual to send a lady flowers or a tasteful piece of jewellery.

  Her attention was abruptly distracted from the youths by the captain’s presence on deck. Oh no! She groaned inwardly. He was coming her way with a distinct look of thunder in his eye. She must have upset him yet again. He gave Celine an imperious nod of dismissal as he drew up in front of them, and she dutifully took herself off.

  “I understand, Mrs. Charlesworth, you have been busy causing the smooth running of my ship to be impaired.” His words were quietly delivered, but the steely glint of those eyes gave her the impression he wanted to keelhaul her.

  She frowned; now what she had done? She started to go over in her head her activities of the last hours. The day hadn’t been that eventful, unless – but surely that wouldn’t have merited his attention. But she did leave the quarterdeck for a few minutes to sort the problem out.

  “Ah – are you referring to that awful man who I had cause to reprimand earlier, Captain?” Jane hated any sort of bullying and although she had resolved not to interfere with the ship’s business, she just could not ignore any form of injustice.

  The grey eyes were levelled at her, gluing her to the spot.

  “That awful man,” he bit out, “had been doing what he was paid to do – to keep the crew in order.”

  “But he was assaulting someone much older and smaller with a rope’s end, and the poor man had not engaged in any activity to provoke such an attack.”

  “Exactly. That particular poor man has an aversion to any sort of activity. This is a fighting ship not a pleasure cruiser. And you, madam, are a constant liability.”

  Jane’s hand itched to slap him. “A liability that you are being ordered to escort. And although the word civilly was not written down in your orders, I had hoped that courtesy would come naturally. It would help me considerably to tolerate this journey if there was perhaps some task I could do to help the running of the ship. I am used to life at sea – what I am not used to is being idle. I could assist in several areas.”