When he’d ordered the Aphrodite converted to accommodate passengers, the builder had given him an option. Did he want four gentlemen’s cabins, similar to the ladies’? Or would he prefer to squeeze six smaller berths into the same space?
Gray’s answer? Six, of course. No question about it. Two extra beds meant two extra fares. He hadn’t dreamed he’d one day occupy one of these cramped berths.
Six feet of angry man, lashed into a five-foot bunk, in the midst of a howling gale-it wasn’t a recipe for a good night’s sleep. Gray craved the space and comfort of his former quarters aboard the Aphrodite-the captain’s cabin. But as his brother had so officiously pointed out, Gray wasn’t the captain of this ship anymore.
Throw his arse in the brig, had Joss threatened? Gray tossed indignantly, his chest straining against the ropes hat held him in the child-sized bed. The ship’s brig didn’t sound so bad right now. He’d put up with a few iron bars, the rancid bilgewater and rats, if it meant he could stretch his legs properly. Hell, this room was so damned small, he couldn’t even get his blasted boots off.
He kicked the wall of his berth, no doubt scuffing the shine on his new Hessians. He hated the cursed things anyway. They pinched his feet. Why the devil he’d thought it a brilliant notion to get all dandified for this voyage, Gray couldn’t remember. Just who was he trying to impress? Stubb?
Go back to your berth.”
The lightning had ceased, but her eyes sparked with a fire all their own. “But I-“
“You’re not safe here.” He wrenched open the door to the ladies’ cabin and waved her through it. “Go to bed, Miss Turner.”
Yes, go to bed, he thought, as she wordlessly swept through the door and he drew it shut behind her. Go to your bed, before I sweep you off to mine.
She found herself face-to-face with a goat.
With a rude bleat, the goat snatched a sheet of paper from her grasp and crumpled it between its jaws. Sophia watched in confounded outrage as the goat casually masticated and swallowed her precious parchment. When the animal extended its long, narrow tongue in every indication of lunching on her second sheet, Sophia startled into action. She grabbed her drawing board with both hands and smacked the impertinent animal on the nose.
“Easy there, sweetheart.” Mr. Grayson’s deep voice carried from somewhere above. “That’s my investment you’re bludgeoning.”
Sophia started at the goat. She paused a half-second to imagine Mr. Grayson’s handsome features a superimposed on that furry, blunt-nosed visage. Then she whacked it over the head again.
My, but that felt good.
Evidently, the goat did not agree. It grasped the corner of Sophia’s board with its teeth and pulled. Sophia tugged back with all her strength. She lost her footing on the stair and tumbled backward into the cabin. The goat fell with her. Or rather, the goat fell on top of her.
Drat.
Bleating indignantly, the goat scrambled to its feet, its forelegs and hindlegs on either side of Sophia’s midsection. Sophie struggled to raise herself up on her elbows. Her serge skirt had flipped up, exposing her stockings. The powerful stench of farm animal smothered her like a goat-hide blanket. Two pendulous teats dangled before her eyes, swaying gently with every motion of the ship.
“Well, well.” Mr. Grayson’s teasing tone carried down the staircase. The remaining sheet of paper fluttered to a rest near Sophia’s elbow. The goat ingested it with alacrity. “This is a very pretty picture. What a fetching dairymaid you make, Miss Turner.
Mr. Grayson was just…explaining the workings of the ship.” She attempted to tug her hand from Gray’s grasp, shooting him a pained look when he refused to relinquish his prize.
Gray said smoothly, “Actually, we were discussing debts. Miss Turner still owes me her fare, and I-“
“And I told you, you’ll have it today.” Beneath that abomination of a skirt wrapped about his leg, she planted her heel atop his booted toe and transferred all her weight onto it. Firmly. Once again, Gray regretted trading his old, sturdy boots for these foppish monstrosities. Her little pointed heel bit straight through the thin leather.
With a tight grimace, Gray released her hand. He’d been about to say, and I have her handkerchief to return. But just for that, he wouldn’t.
“Good afternoon, then.” A sweet smile graced her face as she stomped down on his foot again, harder. Then she turned and flounced away.
He made an amused face at Jonas. “I think she likes me.”
“In my cabin, Gray.”
Gray gritted his teeth and followed Joss down the hatch. Whether he liked being Gray’s half brother or not, Joss was damn lucky right now that he was. Gray wouldn’t have suffered that supercilious command for any bond weaker than blood.
“You gave me your word, Gray.”
“Did I? And what word was that?”
Joss tossed his hat on the wood-framed bed and stripped off his greatcoat with agitated movements. “You know damn well what I mean. You said you wouldn’t pursue Miss Turner. Now you’re kissing her hand and making a spectacle in front of the whole ship. Bailey’s already taking bets from the sailors as to how many days it’ll take you to bed her.”
“Really?” Gray rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope he’s giving even odds on three. Two, if you’ll send young Davy up the mast again. That got her quite excited.”
Joss glared at him. “Need I remind you that this was your idea? You wanted a respectable merchant vessel. I’m trying to command it as such, but that’ll be a bit difficult if you intend to stage a bawdy-house revue on deck every forenoon.”
Gray smiled as Joss slung himself into the captain’s chair. “Be careful, Joss. I do believe you nearly made a joke. People might get the idea you have a sense of humor.”
“I don’t see anything humorous about this. This isn’t a pleasure cruise around the Mediterranean.
When he wasn’t cutting the pitiful figure of a mourning widower, he was being a downright prick.
Tessa DareHad the girl had any common sense, she would have dropped the line at once. But she had no sense. She made no sense. She was a pale English rose of a governess, adrift in a watery wilderness, on her way to a grueling post on a godforsaken island, when any fool could have told her-a woman so lovely need never work for her keep.
Had the men around her any sense, they would have cut the rope immediately. But they were idiots, bloody shite-for-brains idiots, too entranced by the pretty girl in peril to reach for their knives.
Had Gray his own knife, he would have drawn it. But he wasn’t wearing his knife, because he wasn’t the captain on this ship, was he? Nor an officer, nor even part of the crew. He was just a stupid, overdressed passenger who hadn’t strapped on a goddamned knife that morning because it might ruin the lines of his goddamned brand-new coat.
If only he weren’t so infuriating and so solicitous, all at once. One or the other, she knew how to resist, but insolence and charm made a potent brew indeed. The way he’d soothed her concern with rough fingers, even as his words teased. The way he’d guided her with a light touch at the small of her back, kissed her fingers so tenderly…they could have been in an elegant ballroom, preparing to dance a quadrille.
By all evidence-his fine attire, cultured accent, proud bearing, the rare flash of politesse-Mr. Grayson was a man who could move in the highest echelons of English society, but delighted in doing just the reverse.
Perhaps I won’t tire of her,” Gray protested, just to be contrary. Because, apparently, that was how brothers behaved.
“Perhaps a dolphin will fly out of your arse. And here’s an argument even you can’t refuse. Grayson Shipping doesn’t need a reputation for delivering damaged goods. You want me to hand George Waltham an impregnated governess?”
“I wouldn’t get her with child. Give me that much credit, at least.”
“I give you credit for nothing. Let’s try this one last time, shall we? You made me this ship’s captain. If I’m the captain, what I say goes. And I say you don’t touch her. If you can’t abide by my orders, take command of the ship yourself and let me go home.”
“Go home and do what? Squander your fortune and talent on dirt farming?”
“Go home and take care of my own family. Go home and do what I damn well please, for once.”
Cursing, Gray leaned against the wall. He knew Joss would make good on that threat, too. It hadn’t been easy, coaxing his brother out of mourning. Gray had resorted to outright bullying just to convince him to take command of the Aphrodite, threatening to cut off his income unless he reported to London as agreed. But he needed Joss, if this shipping concern was to stay afloat. He’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much to see it fail.
And if Joss didn’t become a willing partner, it all would have been in vain.
“Stay away from the girl, Gray.”
Gray sighed. “We’re on the same ship. I can’t help but be near her. I’ll not promise to refrain from touching her, because the girl seems to lose her footing whenever I’m around. But I give you my word I’ll not kiss her again. Satisfied?”
Joss shook his head. “Give me your word you won’t bed her.”
“What a legend you’re making me! Insinuating I could bed her without even kissing her first.” Gray worried the edge of his thumbnail as he considered. “That might prove an amusing challenge, now that you suggest it.”
Joss shot him an incredulous look.
“With some other lady, on some other ship.” Gray raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’ll not bed her. You have my word. And don’t think that’s not a great sacrifice, because it is. I’d have her in two, three days at the most, I tell you.”
“Once again-not amusing.”
“For God’s sake, Joss, it’s a joke. What do you want, an apology? I’m sorry for kissing Miss Turner’s hand, all right?”
Joss shook his head and flipped open the logbook. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.” The odd thing of it was, Gray was telling the truth. He knew he was being an ass, but the joking was easier than honesty. For all his teasing, he hadn’t kissed her hand with the intent to seduce, or to judge if she tasted as sweet as he’d dreamed. He’d kissed her fingers for one reason only. Because they were trembling, and he’d wanted them to stop. It was wholly unlike him, that kiss. It was not a gesture he thought it wise to repeat. That girl did something strange to him.
As she hurried on deck, her mind was awhirl. All that time that Mr. Grayson had been touching her, teasing her…she’d been consorting with a pirate. If he had the slightest inkling that she carried hundreds of pounds beneath her stays, he’d surely stop at nothing to get it. And yet, she could not bid caution to overtake the gothic thrill. For Heaven’s sake, a pirate.
She could be in danger, she admonished herself.
She could be plundered.
The possibility really ought to have frightened her more than it did.
Perhaps she could not escape the man, but she had to tamp down this response he incited in her. There was only one thing for it. She would go to her cabin and sketch. Something simple, innocent. Rosebuds, apples, blocks of wood. Anything but him.
That”-Mr. Grayson slammed the door of the captain’s cabin-“was the most breathtaking display of stupidity I have ever witnessed in my life.”
Sophia cringed in her chair as he plunked a basin of water on the table. Liquid sloshed over the side, trickling toward the floor. With jerky motions, he removed a flask from his breast pocket, unscrewed the top, and added a splash of brandy. Then he threw back a healthy swallow, himself.
She’d never seen him so agitated. He took everything as a joke, laughed off confrontation, deflected insult with a roguish smile.
“You’re angry,” she said.
“Damn right, I’m angry. I’d like to string every one of those bloody idiots up to the yardarm and shout them deaf.”
“So why are you here, shouting at me?”
He yanked open a drawer and removed a box. When he flung it on the table and flipped the latch, the box proved to be a medicine kit, crowded with brown glass vials and plasters and rolls of gauze.
“Because…” With a sullen sigh, he dropped into the other chair. “Shouting the crew deaf is the captain’s privilege. And I’m not the captain. So I’m here instead, playing nursemaid. Give me your hands.
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