Chapter 21 #2
Cliff about-faced with genuine surprise and an inkling of dismay. What was this? “Where is Miss Carre?” he asked, taking the envelope and noting that it was formally addressed to him in her scripted hand. Dread began.
“She went out shortly after noon,” the servant said.
Cliff tore open the envelope and unfolded a letter.
My dear Cliff,
By the time you receive this letter, I will be well out to sea and on my way home.
I hope you understand my need to go back to the islands and that you freely allow me to leave.
Cliff, I am so deeply in your debt. I do not have enough words to express my gratitude for all you have done.
I remain eternally devoted to you. I will miss our friendship and your children, indeed, I will miss your entire warm, loving, wonderful family.
But I must seek my own way in the world.
I pray you will soon come to understand.
When you return to Windsong, I would like to call on you, if you will allow it, as I dearly wish to remain dear friends. Until then, my best regards to you, your children and your family.
With Affection, Amanda
Cliff stared at the page, absolutely incapable of comprehending what was written there.
“Cliff? What is it?” the earl demanded.
He slowly reread every word. When he was done, one refrain echoed in his mind. She had left him. He looked up.
Edward had seized his shoulder. “Is it Amanda?”
She had left him. She had left him after he had made love to her all day and night, expressing with his body what he could not express with words. He was finally, deeply, eternally in love, and the woman he desired had rejected him.
She was writing about friendship and affection.
He carried an engagement ring in his coat pocket.
“Cliff? May I?”
Cliff shoved the letter at his father, reeling. How was this happening?
She wished to be friends?
He began to shake. This was the woman he loved. This woman was going to be his wife. And she was sailing without him across the Atlantic Ocean?
Images assailed him, bloody and murderous, of pirates and rogues attacking innocent merchant ships.
He strode for the door. He could not assimilate what she was thinking or what she wanted, and just then, he didn’t care.
What he did understand was that he, and he alone, would transport her to the West Indies. To do otherwise was to risk her life.
Didn’t she love him?
“Cliff,” the earl tried. “Do not take this literally.”
Cliff didn’t hear him. It was finally beginning to sink in. “Get me a coach, a hansom, a horse, instantly,” he snarled at the doorman.
On the front steps, he paced back and forth, now incredulous. Women fell all over themselves for his favors, but she had left him.
How could Amanda do this?
So much hurt stabbed through him that he halted in his tracks, incapable of another step. He had suffered sword wounds, pistol shots and knife wounds, but he had never felt this kind of hurt. It wasn’t physical, it was a thousand times worse.
Hadn’t she been in love with him a few weeks ago, before he left for Holland?
And finally, the anger began. Cliff cursed. Friendship? Was she insane? He did not want friendship, he wanted a wife…he wanted her love.
“Sir.” A groom came running up the drive, leading a horse.
He grabbed the reins and swung into the saddle.
He would stop her, if she hadn’t set sail yet.
As he galloped into the street, almost causing two carriages to collide, he began to realize it was unlikely that she had left.
He was at the wharves and shipping offices every day, attending to his own business affairs, and he was fairly certain that not a single ship was scheduled to depart that day for the islands, although two ships had left yesterday.
He spurred the gelding on. Coachmen cursed at him as they were forced to the curb.
However, he was not completely certain of the schedules, and he was aware that the tides would have been favorable for a departure that afternoon, beginning at 3:00 p.m. He cursed.
If she had left, he’d ready his ship and chase her down.
This was not ending her way; in fact, this was not ending at all.
He was a de Warenne. Amanda belonged to him, now and forever, and he would pursue her until he found her and won her over. If she had loved him once, he would make her love him again.
But when he got to the wharves, something was wrong.
Cliff was halfway to the shipping offices used by his company when he realized, in real disbelief, what that was.
He pulled his mount to a sliding halt, whipped it around and gaped in absolute shock at the empty berth where the Fair Lady should have been; where she had been at anchor yesterday and last night.
For one moment, he stared, pulse pounding, blood roaring in his veins, in his head.
And his world went still, the vast stillness before great battle. When he spoke, it was so softly, no passerby could hear. “Where the fuck is my ship.”
TEN DAYS LATER, Amanda sat at the Portuguese desk in Cliff’s cabin, engrossed in a stunning history of Alexander the Great.
She was determined not to wallow in grief—or worse, regret—and the only way to do that was to immerse herself in reading.
For once in her life, she avoided going on deck.
She couldn’t even look at Mac or another officer on the quarterdeck without seeing Cliff there, and remembering in perfect detail all the times they had shared at the helm, under the stars, racing the wind—some of the happiest moments of her life.
Once she went back to those days, she would be thrown back to the time shared at Harmon House, to the lovely family suppers with Cliff admiring her from across the dining table, to the afternoon when he had taught her to waltz, and the night of the Carrington ball, a night that remained bittersweet.
And she could so easily relive, again and again, their final day and night together, spent passionately and tenderly making love.
Once the grief began, it was consuming, a flood tide that was impossible to stop.
It was better not to think or sleep. Instead, she had read a dozen books in ten days.
Her eyes hurt and ached, as did her back from being hunched over.
She paused for a moment and Cliff’s smile came to mind, as did his beautiful face and his brilliant blue eyes, so soft with warmth and affection.
Amanda inhaled, jumped to her feet, pacing, trying to force the image aside and if that did not work, to outdistance it.
Instead, his smile vanished and his eyes turned dark with desire.
She was hot and cold at once. Once a thought of him began, she would want him desperately, and simultaneously, she would become sick with the burden of such a loss. And there would be damnable regret.
Worse, because she cared so much, she wondered time and again what he had thought and felt when he had realized she was gone, leaving only a letter behind.
She knew him well enough to know he would be furious that she had taken his ship, but she also thought he would be hurt, because no matter what else they might be, they had been good friends.
She had betrayed him by leaving and by taking the frigate, after all he had done for her, and she knew he would see it that way, in black and white, not gray.
She wondered if he would even consider her a friend now. She knew she would never be able to stop herself from calling on him at Windsong when he returned to Kingston, but her devastation would be complete if he turned her away.
Of course, it would be better that way. But she couldn’t imagine her life without Cliff in it somehow.
A knock sounded on the cabin door. Amanda went to answer it and found a young sailor there. “Miss Carre? Cap asks to speak with you.”
Amanda swallowed, envisioning Cliff at the helm in his linen shirt, a Moroccan vest and his starkly white breeches and high boots.
But when she nodded and stepped onto the main deck, Mac’s lean back faced her.
He had not questioned the orders she had forged, although he had admitted that it was unusual to receive written instructions when his captain was in port.
Amanda had quickly covered, explaining that Cliff was preoccupied with his children.
Mac had accepted that and they had set sail at a few minutes past three in the afternoon.
She slowly approached the quarterdeck. Mac gave the wheel over to Midshipman Clark and came down to stand beside her. He was grim. “Good day, Miss Carre.”
“Good afternoon.” She inhaled the fresh salted air, the scent of the sea but could not receive any pleasure from the tang and the brine. “What is wrong?”
“We are being hunted,” Mac said.
Amanda tensed. She knew all the slang seamen used. Mac could have said they were being chased or pursued, but each word had different nuances. “Who would be hunting us?” she asked, her heart thundering now.
“I don’t know. They were espied at sunrise, but by noon, it became clear this is a hunt. Whoever is hunting us, he is light and swift and closing in rapidly. I give him another hour, at best.”
It was Cliff, she thought, and there was a rush of excitement. Dread instantly followed. If it was Cliff, he probably despised her now. As she looked behind them, she could feel his power, his presence, even though the pursuing ship was but the size of her thumb. He was hunting his ship. Or was he?
If he was absolutely enraged, he might be hunting her, seeking retribution. Surely, that was not the case, because if so, their friendship was over.
“No pirate would ever take us on,” Mac shook his head, “unless he was insane—or commissioned to do so. Appears to be a schooner. I’ve taken a good look through the glasses myself, and I am counting fifteen guns.
We can’t outrun such a small, light ship, but we can fight.
We can easily destroy her. I’m calling action stations. ”
Amanda was shivering now, although she was warmly dressed. “I think I know who it is,” she whispered, staring at the horizon. She thought she could actually feel his seething fury, and her fear and dread escalated.
Mac started. “Pray tell!”
Amanda braced herself for Mac’s anger now. “I forged de Warenne’s orders. I have made a terrible mistake!” she added, realizing in horror it was true.
He simply looked at her. “What?”
She inhaled. “I forged the captain’s orders. He did not order you to transport me home. I gave those orders. I forged his signature.” She wet her lips as Mac stared in growing disbelief. “He didn’t know what I intended.”
“Jesus have mercy on us both!” Mac exclaimed. “He will keelhaul me—you are lucky you are a woman!”
She wet her parched lips again. She was genuinely afraid; so much was at stake. Had she destroyed their bond of affection?
“Sweet Mary!” Mac blanched with utter comprehension. “Of course he’s hunting us. You stole his ship!” Then crimson rushed to his face. “You stole his best ship!”
Amanda stared at the racing schooner, its two square sails visible. Mac was wrong. Within a half an hour, Cliff would be boarding and they would be face-to-face. She couldn’t breathe adequately. “I borrowed the ship.”
“That’s not what he will think,” Mac cried. He turned and started bellowing for the royals to come down.
Mac was right. He was looking at what she had done not just as a man, but as a captain.
Amanda realized she had crossed a line, one that might not be repairable.
Her fear intensified. Papa would kill anyone, man or woman, for doing what she had done.
Cliff would never lay a hand on her, but he would be as enraged as any commander.
Oh, God, had she finally destroyed the bond they shared?
Sails were furling in rapid succession. “You had better wait below somewhere,” Mac snapped. “Signal the schooner. Make certain it’s the captain, and we will give him permission to board.” He glared at her and strode back up to the quarterdeck.
Breathing hard, shaking like a leaf, Amanda rushed into the captain’s cabin, her pale skirts swirling.
She slammed the door and debated bolting it, but what was the point?
Cliff had come for his ship, and she had no intention of trying to avoid him or even escape his wrath.
As sweat began pouring down her body, she realized that what she wanted to do was not to defend herself or explain.
She just wanted to go into his arms and take everything back.
But she had come so far. She had to remain resolved. She couldn’t be his lover, and she couldn’t marry him to uphold his honor. Then she laughed, aware of being in some hysteria. He wasn’t going to think about honor now! He was going to think about punishment and taking his ship back.
She heard the canvas slapping the masts, waves lapping the hull. The frigate had slowed to a few knots. She trembled. She had to weather the impending storm and repair their relationship, somehow. Except, it was going to be a hurricane.
And hurricanes destroyed everything in their path.
I’ll never stop loving him, she thought, no matter what happens next.
Grappling hooks sounded; metal clawing wood.
Amanda bit her lip, hard, her underclothes drenched. She wiped perspiration from her face. She had to salvage their friendship, no matter how furious he was, no matter how long it took.
She heard a cutter butting against the hull, and the men throwing down a rope ladder.
Amanda ran to the porthole to shove it open. She needed more air, but it was already wide.
The cabin door blew in off its hinges.
She cried out as Cliff filled the doorway.
His face was a tight, hard mask of fury, under absolute control. His legs were braced, but the deck did not roll. Amanda breathed hard. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, but no words would come forth.
He pointed at her, his eyes glittering savagely. “I have two things to say to you, madam.”
She nodded, heart lurching. He hated her now.
“You are coming home with me. And we are getting married.”
And with a final stare, he stormed out.