Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
G race ran back down the stairs, closed the door behind her and set the latch. She leaned up against it while she caught her breath. Her heart was pounding with fear. What had she done to anger Carew so?
They had spent the afternoon so pleasantly, and now it was as though a different person inhabited his body completely.
Shivering, she went over to the window seat and curled into a ball, the flannel wrapped tight around her as she watched the rain fall against the glass.
As if she hadn’t been frightened enough, now her only ally seemed to be against her. She’d been brave and had not given in to tears again, but she was so very tempted, and her throat began to burn as she fought not to shed them.
Whenever she’d been upset before, one of her sisters had always been there to comfort her. That was clearly not an option, and she had no delusions that Carew would be willing to gather her in his arms and give her a kiss on the head, telling her everything would be well. The idea was laughable at best.
She gathered the sleeping Theo in her arms and held him against her chest. “You will have to do, my furry friend.” He was rather good at comforting her once, but after a ferocious bout of self-pity, she decided escaping into another story was her best option.
Walking over to the bookshelf, she perused the titles again and stopped when she saw the one named Persuasion . It was by a lady author, Jane Austen, who had only recently been named after her death. Grace had read some of her other works that she’d now been named authoress of, and had not been surprised that a lady had written them. Grace would have been hard put to accredit the clever wit about young ladies’ circumstances to a man. There had been entirely too much accuracy and understanding that she had yet to see in her brief experiences with the opposite sex. It was a shame the author had not been able to receive proper credit while she lived.
The beginning of the story did not capture her interest quite like Miss Austen’s Pride and Prejudice had, with the best opening sentence Grace had yet to read in a novel. However, she persisted, and once there was mention of a sea captain, it immediately piqued her curiosity.
“I believe I know how the story will end, but what diversions will occur along the way until then?” Grace often liked to predict what the author might do, but the only thing she felt certain of was there ought to be a happy ending for Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth. She was already inclined to dislike Sir Walter and Miss Elliot. They were most disagreeable, vain people—not to mention Lady Russell for her meddling—but it was the way of the world as they knew it, and Grace was fortunate she would be given the opportunity to choose. Yet there had already been two Seasons, and she had found no one to tempt her. That wasn’t entirely true. Carew had tempted her from afar, but he had never noticed her. There had been no one else, she amended.
There was a knock on the door, and she reluctantly put down her story to answer it. She padded across the floor and lifted up the latch and looked out. It was Paddy, holding a tray.
“Food for you, miss.” His brow furrowed as his gaze flicked downward, with an unmistakable curiosity in his eyes.
She held the door open for him to enter, then he set the tray on the table.
“I’ve brought your meal.”
“Thank you, Paddy,” Grace said warmly.
She couldn’t miss the way his eyes lingered, his expression a mixture of confusion and bemusement as he set the tray down on the small table.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” he said after a moment, straightening and scratching at his temple. “But I’ve never seen a lady wearing—” He gestured vaguely at her attire, his voice trailing off.
Grace glanced down at herself, suddenly aware of the loose-fitting breeches and oversized shirt that hung on her frame. She smiled, unable to help the laugh that escaped her lips. “Oh, these? I suppose it must look rather strange.”
Paddy’s eyes shifted nervously, but she didn’t press him. He scooped up Theo and began to leave.
Paddy tilted his head, his curiosity evidently outweighing his hesitation. “Aye, strange is one way to put it, but I don’t think I’d let the crew get a look at ye.”
Too late for that, she mused. Is that what had angered Carew so? “Is it still raining?”
“Cats and dogs, miss. Do you need me to take Theo out?”
“Indeed, if you have a few moments to spare. I’ve been forbidden to leave the cabin.”
Paddy’s eyes shifted nervously, but she didn’t press him. He scooped up Theo and began to leave the room, then stopped and turned around. “I almost forgot. Here’s the string and feather that you asked for. I still need to bring the stick.” He turned his pocket inside out and deposited the items on the table.
“What kind of knot will hold the string to this feather, Paddy?” Grace had sewn long enough that she was confident in her abilities, but thought the boy would enjoy being asked for his opinion.
As expected, he considered the two objects. “I’ve been learning my knots. All good sailors must know knots, you know. If you look at the ship closely, all of the sails and rigging have them,” he said with amusing authority. “May I try?” he asked.
“I would be much obliged,” she answered.
He handed the kitten to her, who immediately went for the bowl of food for himself. Paddy considered the two objects, then began to tie the string around the end of the feather. He must not have liked that one because he unravelled it and then started again. Grace did not interrupt him.
His tongue protruded as he performed his task, then he smiled hugely when he had finished. He held it up for inspection. “I used a reef knot.”
“Well done,” she commended, recognizing a simple square knot. “Once you find the stick, you may tie the other end of the string to it for me, and we will have a perfect toy for Theo.”
He scooped the kitten up. “I’ll bring him back in a bit, miss. I do not know why everyone is so afraid of you. You’re not bad at all.”
With that revelation, he left the room, leaving her dumbfounded. “Why are they afraid of me?”
She pondered the question at length, but would have no answers for several hours. Paddy had come and gone with Theo and after reading several chapters, Grace had taken a long nap.
When she woke, it was to a pair of deep blue eyes looking down at her softly. Blinking away the sleep, it took her a moment to remember that he had yelled at her but a few hours ago.
“Forgive me, lass. I did not mean to shout at you.”
“Is it because the men are afraid of me?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Paddy let it slip.”
“Aye. They are convinced the calm seas are because of bad luck.”
“Bad luck?” she repeated in disbelief.
“There’s an old belief that having a lady on board will anger the sea gods.”
“Sea gods?” she whispered and pulled herself up on her elbows.
“They wanted me to row you back to England and ’twas why I called them up to do hard labour. They will be too tired now to worry about any superstitions. Just pray the winds begin blowing again by morning.”
“At least they didn’t demand I walk the plank.”
“That a girl,” he said gently, chucking her under the chin.
“You could row me back to England, you know. It would solve at least one of your problems.”
“Have you any idea how long it takes to row twenty miles? Because we are at least that far from land.” He began to pace across the cabin.
“Oh.”
“And casting you away near World’s End, England, would not solve any problems for me or you.”
Grace supposed that was correct. At this point, she’d had plenty of time to think over what her journey alone and unchaperoned might be like days away from London. Facing rough men who thought she was a curse seemed like a better alternative. At least here she had Carew to protect her, and her family must know she was with him.
There was a knock on the door and Carew opened it to reveal Paddy again, trying to balance two trays one on top of the other. Carew took them from the boy, then placed them on the table.
They smelled delicious and Grace wondered if the food would taste as good.
She sat at the table as Paddy was dismissed, but noticed he took the kitten with him and smiled.
Earlier had been a stew with a distinctive ale flavour, but this was herring with roasted potatoes and leeks. She realized Carew was staring at her.
“Go on and eat, or my manners will escape me. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
Grace obeyed. “This is delicious! I never expected such fine cuisine on a ship.”
“We are fortunate that my cook is willing to come on short journeys. He’d never venture across the oceans. He grumbles nevertheless about having to limit his skills to such meagre tools. Secretly, I think he enjoys the challenge.”
“Please send him my compliments. It is the best herring I’ve ever tasted.”
“You should tell him yourself.”
“I will when I am allowed out of the cabin,” she retorted a bit sharply.
“Going to fling that hatchet at me every chance you get, eh?”
“Probably,” she agreed. She’d never spoken to anyone like that save her sisters. What was it about this journey that was making her so bold? “Tell me about your home,” she said, deciding a change of subject was in order. That afternoon’s exchange was best forgotten. He seemed amenable to the switch.
“My family home,” he corrected. “There’s no beauty anywhere quite like Ireland.”
Grace could hear the pride in his voice.
“Everything is greener than you can imagine. Our home sits atop a dramatic cliff, and when the skies are fair, you feel like you can see for eternity. The weather is very volatile there at times, but the views are worth it.”
“That is something to look forward to, I suppose.”
“Aye. You will like my sister, though she’s a bit headstrong.”
“Much like her brother?”
His lips quirked into a half-smile that she found ever so attractive. She’d fallen asleep every night of her first Season with that visage on her mind.
“No one is half so headstrong as me,” he agreed.
“And your mother?”
“She’s a dear. But she lives in daily fear of what will happen if Flynn has his way.”
“Is he truly so bad?”
“Worse.”
“Then please do not worry about me. Look to your family first.”
“I’ll not abandon you, Grace, but I must see to settling this.”
Grace wondered if he truly despised her for this mistake, but was simply tolerating her until they reached Ireland.
Ronan cursed his resolve to stay away from his cabin, but he could not seem to stay away. If he need not apologize, he might have been able to see it through. Yet here he was, cursing his own weakness as he dined with Grace and, worse still, as his mouth formed another invitation he knew he would soon regret.
“It appears the rain has stopped. Would you care to stroll about the deck? Most of the men are down below at their own meal.” He told himself it was a brotherly offer, something his sister might have enjoyed. That must be the reason for his stupidity, though it did little to settle his unease.
“If the rain has ceased, then I would love some fresh air.”
He held out a hand to help raise her to her feet, then handed her the oilcloth she had used from before to wrap her in warmth. “It will be cool on the deck, though no breeze.”
The smell of fresh rain mixed with brine was pleasant after being cooped up in the cabin. The deck was slick beneath their feet, the faint creaking of the ship the only sound to accompany the distant lap of water against the hull. Darkness enveloped them, save for the faint lantern glow. The damp night air sent a shiver through her, and he could feel her tremble even beneath the oilcloth. He led her to the bow, where the waters lay eerily still, disturbed only by the ship’s gentle sway.
“Look up, lass,” he commanded softly.
Her sharp intake of breath filled him with a quiet satisfaction that he was showing her something she’d never seen before. Her wonder mirrored his own every time he had the chance to marvel at the stars over an unbroken expanse of sea.
“Have you ever seen stars like this before?” He looked up and held his hands towards the sky.
She shook her head, her voice hushed with awe. “It is magical.”
“There’s nothing like the stars out on the water. They burn brightest when there’s no moon.”
He glanced towards the horizon, his thoughts briefly turning to the absence of moonlight. There being no moon worked against them moving more quickly, but he did not go into the tides and all of their idiosyncrasies. He was still hopeful the wind would at least be enough for them to start moving by morning.
“There are so many of them.” She pointed towards the long streak of brightness. “It looks like a long, shining cloud with an explosion behind it, frozen in time.”
“Greek mythology says that Zeus named it the Milky Way for the milk from his beloved Hera.”
“It seems so much more magnificent than that name. Milk is too common.”
“It was some thousands of years before. Perhaps there were not yet the words.”
“True. And I am not certain I could come up with anything better myself. I am not sure there are words adequate to describe it now.” Grace turned to look at him. “How are those tiny, twinkling stars suspended in the sky so far away, and we are still able to see them?” she asked, her voice tinged with childlike curiosity. Her innocent delight in one of his favourite things was intoxicating.
Ronan could not answer the question for which no one knew. “There are things even sailors and astronomers cannot explain,” he admitted. “But that there are so many, and so constant, makes them our most reliable guides. Stars are the map we follow when all else fails.”
She stared in silence for a long moment. “It’s humbling, is it not? To think of how small we are—mere specks in the universe.”
“Like a star,” he murmured, though his voice carried a weight that hinted at a deeper meaning.
“Thank you,” she said, so softly he barely caught it. “You could have left me in the cabin, but you did not. I do not know if I shall ever have the chance to see something like this again. I will treasure it.”
Her gratitude both warmed and shamed him. ’Twas such a simple thing, and yet it had meant so much to her. “I count myself fortunate to be able to experience these things that many never will. Not everyone is able to understand the majesty—the infinity of what they are seeing. If I ever need to be humbled, the sea and sky are reminders of how powerless we truly are,” he said after a moment. “The sea hasn’t shown her full temper yet. It’s hard to imagine her when she’s angry.”
“Perhaps I should try to speak with the sea goddess to pacify her,” Grace suggested.
Ronan arched a brow but said nothing, letting the remark pass. Yet her next words struck a chord.
“I admit to your men terrifying me. It is as though they think I am a witch and wish to throw me in the water to see if I sink or float. Is there anything I can do to convince them otherwise?”
“Lass, nothing short of you commanding the winds to begin and having a smooth sail all the way home will convince them. ’Tis best to keep you away from them.”
Her crestfallen expression caught him off guard. Clearly, she was unaccustomed to being disliked. It would be something for her to become accustomed to Irish ways and superstitions and sailors at that. He found himself softening his tone, despite the truth of his words. “The winds should shift soon. By morning, I believe we’ll be moving again with the next tide.”
“Are you only saying that for my benefit?”
“Mine as well.”
A silence fell between them, broken only by the gentle lap of the water against the ship. For once, he allowed himself to bask in the rare peace of the moment, the sky above and her quiet presence beside him.
“How did you begin sailing?” she asked after a time.
Ronan pondered how to answer that. “I grew up on the bay. Water is a way of life for everyone there. Mostly fisherman,” he replied, leaving out the darker ventures.
“But is not your passion horses?”
“Born of necessity,” he said simply. Breeding horses had saved his family, a trade respectable enough to gain entry to England’s elite. But it had required shipping, and so his life had become entwined with both land and sea. His men required talent for both horses and the sea, and he asked a lot of them. He asked a lot of himself.
The Irish peerage was not like the English. Yet running a business venture was not something one discussed amongst the ton . Horse breeding was one of those acceptable occupations gentlemen considered hobbies, and they were willing to pay obscene amounts of money for horseflesh.
Ronan leaned back slightly as he spoke. “After the potato famine, the estate needed more than rents to stay afloat. Breeding gave us something of quality to offer that couldn’t be ignored.”
His voice carried a note of pride as he continued. “We’ve sold to some of the finest stables in Ireland and England. The Earl of Denby is particularly fond of our hunters, and Lord Strathmore swears by the endurance of our carriage horses. They’re special because we breed them for more than appearance. Strength, temperament, and intelligence—those are what make a horse truly great.”
He met her gaze, his expression thoughtful. “Each horse that leaves Donnellan carries our name, our reputation; and it helps support more than just my family. The tenants, the workers—they all benefit from what we do.”
“I wish it were possible for a lady to do such things.”
“I do it because I must.” A faint smile curved his lips. ’Tis not what the ton expects of a gentleman, but it’s what keeps us standing.”
“That is admirable. Why pretend otherwise?”
He looked at her, surprised by her boldness. Yet he knew she referred as much to his reputation. “’Tis not pretending, lass. I’ve simply no care to correct assumptions.”
Her nod told him she perhaps did understand. Perhaps Grace was not so timid after all, but rather a woman who did not waste her breath on trivialities, rather didn’t feel the need to trouble herself to compete for attention with those around her.
“So if you cede rights to this Flynn fellow, does that put your horse breeding in jeopardy?”
“Amongst other things. But I will never cede anything to the scoundrel.”
A comfortable silence ensued as they both became lost in the wonder of the sky.
For a brief moment, Ronan pretended that there was nothing else in the world to worry about other than if the wind decided to blow. He could allow himself to enjoy the sounds of nature and peace around him. Perhaps even enjoy being in the presence of this woman. None of those things seemed meant to be for him—unless perhaps he could purge the earth of Donnagh Flynn. At the moment, the thought was fleeting and futile.