Chapter 18
Darcy dunked his mop in the bucket, one eye on his chosen chore and the other on the captain’s quarters where Elizabeth stayed as a forced guest.
By the time he finished swabbing the quarterdeck, he considered that enough salt had landed on the surface to justify cleaning it again.
All the while, he watched the door.
Beckett was at the helm and kindly kept his thoughts to himself.
Boone softly chuckled but spoke not a word.
When Alex took over, however, she pointed to a knot in the plank.
“Ye missed a spot, Darcy.” But she did not send him away, so he scrubbed the clean spot and began polishing the copper and brass, coiling and re-coiling ropes.
All this time, his senses fixed on the cabin.
Jaffa nodded at him occasionally, as though to reassure him that Elizabeth was safe. That no harm would come to her so long as he was on guard. And Jaffa, Darcy knew, was always on guard. He had yet to see the man sleep, and somehow he was always alert. Always at his best.
Darcy did not feel his best at that moment. He was sweaty and unshaven and had not enjoyed a proper bath in days. The canvas hose that pumped frigid ocean water over them every morning hardly counted. It left Darcy sticky and itchy.
He stretched his back, rubbing his hand over his face. Five days of stubble prickled his fingers. Alex did not trust him with a razor, and, truth be told, he did not trust his own hand with the constant movement of the ship.
Rapid steps made him turn in time to see a flurry of black hair and ruffles. Alex snatched the polish rag out of his hand. “I didn’t have yer lady brought here to watch ye avoid her.” She pointed at her cabin. “Go! Woo her!”
As if he could when he was the reason for her capture. “It is not so simple.”
Alex plunked her fists on her hips. “Why not? Yer a man; she’s a woman. An idiot can see ye like each other. There are many dark corners on the Fancy. Why don’t ye find one? Whisper in her ear; sneak a kiss; do something!”
Darcy stood erect, towering over her. “I am a gentleman. I could never treat a lady as you describe, much less Elizabeth.”
Alex looked befuddled. “No honeyed words?”
He nodded his head.
“Not even a little peck?”
He nodded again, more sternly.
“How’re ye supposed to woo her if ye don’t talk or kiss?” she asked, flailing her arms in the air.
“We may dance at social occasions. It is understood that a gentleman who wishes to express his particular regard may call the following day during calling hours.” A far cry from kissing and whispering in dark corners …
though the image that provoked in Darcy’s mind was not unpleasant—not in the least.
Alex smiled. “Nick and I used to talk for hours. Lord, I miss that.”
Darcy imagined the luxury of conversing at length with Elizabeth. They would have little difficulty filling the hours. But that simply was not how it was done. “Calls last fifteen minutes. To stay longer than half an hour is impolite.”
Alex gasped. “That’s a pittance! I suppose ye get right to business if yer time together’s so short.”
“It is difficult to discuss much of importance when others are present. One cannot ignore the lady’s family if they are in attendance.”
Her eyes bulged. “Ye mean ye’re not alone?”
“Never. To be alone would be to compromise the lady’s reputation.”
“How do ye know if ye’re a good fit if ye hardly get to talk to each other or spend any time together?”
If she were not the reason he and Elizabeth were floating on the Atlantic, causing their loved ones no end of concern, Darcy might have laughed at Alex’s bewilderment.
He tried to imagine her in the gaudy parlor at Rosings.
Aunt Catherine would chew Alex up one side and down the other with her tongue, and Alex would silence the lady with her dagger.
He imagined the pirate’s shiv flying through the air, getting caught in his aunt’s old-fashioned pompadour.
Alex jabbed him. “I’m waitin’, Darcy.”
He had forgotten the question.
She rolled her eyes, tapping her toes impatiently. “How do ye know if ye’re a fit?”
“By watching and observing.”
She made a face. “Sounds borin’. I prefer to act.”
“You would do well to contemplate the consequences of your actions before you carry them out.”
“I’m not patient enough for that.”
“A fact of which I am well aware.”
She tilted her chin to the side, regarding him. “Tell me about yer courtship.”
Darcy heaved a sigh. She was like a barnacle. She would stick to him until he told her enough to satisfy her curiosity, but that was a story she would not pry from his lips. “A gentleman never tells.”
“Blast ye and yer gentlemanly manners! If ye won’t tell me, then show me. Go and tell her ye love her.” Alex pushed Darcy down the deck until they stood in front of her cabin. Knock-knock-knock. She rapped the door with her knuckles before Darcy could stop her.
He glared at her, wondering if there was anyone more infuriating on the whole earth than Alexandra Lafitte.
She nodded at him encouragingly, watching and grinning like the interfering pest she was before she spun away and disappeared.
He could not look at her without feeling his blood boil. Turning away at the same time the door opened, Darcy stood like an oaf, too breathless, too shocked to utter an intelligent word. Or even an unintelligent one.
Elizabeth wore trousers. They hugged her curves all the way down to the bare skin where the fabric fell short of her half-boots. Darcy swallowed hard. She was shapelier than he had dreamed.
He forced his gaze upward, away from her exposed ankles. She wore a simple linen shirt with one ruffle down the front, tucked in at her waist. Such a small waist, he bet his spread fingers could span her circumference.
Darcy knew he had been looking too long, and he felt his face blossom with heat. But he simply was incapable of looking away.
Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her, shuffling her feet. “There are too many ladders on the ship to continue in skirts,” she explained.
He had to say something. Clearing his throat, he choked out, “Very sensible. Practical.” More than that, he could not say, but it seemed to be enough. Encouraged, he opened his mouth to offer further reassurance.
She met his eyes then, and whatever he had been about to utter blew away with the wind. His senses were so full of her, he had no room to spare for himself. Thoughtlessly, without regard for the consequences, he held out his arm. “Would you care to take a turn about the deck?”