Chapter 14
Fourteen
He supposed given her slight intoxication, such a question should not have surprised him. “Why do you ask?”
“You are staring at my lips.”
“Yes, I suppose that is something I have contemplated in the past.”
“Then why do you not?”
“It is a complication.”
“A kiss is not a complication and I would rather have it out of the way.”
This time he pulled back. “Out of the way?” What the blazes did she mean by that?
“Well, I have wanted you to kiss me.”
“Since when?” he demanded.
“Yesterday,” she answered with no embarrassment whatsoever and he rather liked that she was direct.
“Yes, well, that was when I started considering the idea.”
“If we just kissed and got it over with, neither one of us would need to think about it again.”
He chuckled. “You assume that you will not like kissing me.”
“Or you might not like kissing me.”
He found that difficult to believe. “Well, if your theory is correct and we kiss and both hate it, then all will be well.”
“Yes, and we can stop thinking about it and worry about the French.”
“What if we both like kissing?” He asked, because he was certain that they would.
“We will not!”
“If you are so certain then why did you ask if I will call on you, unless you do not want me to.”
“Oh, but I do.” Tempest straightened her spine and turned to face him more fully.
“Why, if we do not like kissing?”
This seemed to perplex her, given she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips as if she were considering the matter.
“Then we should determine now before you visit for no reason.”
“I am not kissing you.”
“Why not when you want to?”
“Because you have had too much rum.”
“Why should that matter?”
“Because it happens to matter very, very much.” He turned her and she settled back, her head on his shoulder.
“I promise you that when we finally kiss that we will both like kissing each other very much, but it will not be now, and it will not be tomorrow. In fact, it will not be until we are both off this bloody island and when that happens, it will be a very thorough kiss that you will never forget.”
Those had been his last words before Tempest fell asleep on his shoulder, and he had taken her inside and put her to bed.
Nicoll gave him a plate of food, which he enjoyed while sitting on the terrasse. He then took what remained of the bottle of rum and retired to his hammock. However, when he had awakened, what she had told him still lingered.
Not the part about kissing but her guilt and being frivolous. He would have laughed but it was something she truly had taken to heart.
The ship had been sunk because somehow the French had learned that The Francis, captained by Goodard and owned by Tempest’s uncle, was not just a smuggling ship.
Had that been all it was, the French would have confiscated it instead of sinking it, and Tempest and her sisters just happened to be aboard it.
No doubt, the cutter would have still been in the vicinity because they were due to exchange letters with Rhys the day he had arrived back at the hut or the following day.
As for taking up seats in the ship’s boat that could have been occupied by the sailors, maybe that was true, but it still was not her fault. None of it was.
He also could not blame her for wanting to be frivolous, and wanting something that misses in London enjoyed every Season and summer without thought that others are not as privileged as them.
Tempest had never been allowed the opportunity to dream of balls and courtships and callers. She was too busy managing a household and looking out for her sisters. She became responsible before she should have been out of the school room and it shaped who she was.
And, if the men who had judged her so harshly only saw what he had those first two days, he understood, but it was also a lesson not to judge too quickly because there was much depth to Tempest, and he suspected passion and humor. She had just never been allowed to be free enough to enjoy herself.
* * *
Tempest woke to pounding in her head and a disquiet in her stomach.
“Rum!” she groaned to which one of her sisters giggled.
“Do not…” They knew she meant that they should not bother her. Would they respect her warning and remain quiet or see this as an opportunity to torment her?
“I have made coffee and kept it warm and set aside bread for you,” Nicoll offered. “Mr. McNaught said that tea would be better and had he known that you would overindulge and be in need of it to help your stomach, he would have brought some back in the supplies.”
Tempest groaned. “When was he here?”
“An hour ago.” Nicoll grinned.
“Why did you not wake me?”
“He said not to disturb you because you would be in pain.”
Oh, she wanted to pull the blanket over her head and go back to sleep until her head stopped pounding, her stomach settled, and she could erase the humiliation and knowledge that Rhys had been in the house, this one room house where nothing could be hidden, especially her, while she slept.
“How did I get in bed?” she asked after a moment because she did not recall retiring last night.
“You fell asleep on his shoulder and Mr. McNaught carried you inside and tucked you in bed.”
Tempest groaned again.
“Blasted rum,” she murmured to herself.
“What was that?” Nicoll asked a little too cheerfully.
“Nothing!” Tempest pushed the covers away and stood before she took a seat at the table. Nicoll poured coffee in a cup and slid it toward her. Tempest nearly spilled it when she reached forward and grasped the handle.
She’d forgotten what had led to the drinking—the stitches in her hand, that now throbbed because she had tried to use it.
Instead of using her right hand, she lifted the cup with her left and brought it to her lips.
In fact, she did everything with her left hand from eating to putting on her shoes and brushing her hair.
It was quite inconvenient, but at least her attempt to lift the cup had not torn at the stitches because no blood appeared on the bandage.
“Well, I suppose that I should go apologize to Mr. McNaught.”
“Why would you need to do so?” Nicoll asked.
“I am not certain but when a person has indulged in too much drink, they usually have reason to issue an apology.”
How much of the night before did she remember and how much had she forgotten, and which was worse?
Even though her stomach had settled after she ate the bread, her head still pounded, but she could not put off facing Rhys any longer and found him sitting on a log whistling while he sanded a piece of wood.
“Good morning, Tempest. I take it you slept well.”
She placed her fingers on her temples. “Please do not yell.”
“I did not.” He chuckled.
Perhaps he hadn’t and she was simply more sensitive.
“What are you doing?”
“Sanding wood.”
Yes, she already knew that. “Why?”
“So it fits in that hole better and that it is smooth.”
She looked over and tilted her head, which had been a mistake. She quickly closed her eyes again as she straightened her neck.
“That piece of wood is too small for the hole and did you not sand it yesterday? Have you sanded it so much that it no longer fits?”
“I need two pieces for the hole,” He lifted the other. “And I am now finished sanding.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Is there something you needed, Tempest.” His green eyes twinkled with delight.
Did he take pleasure in her discomfort?
“I wish to speak with you.”
“We are speaking,” he pointed out.
Oh, he was having too much fun at her expense, or so it seemed that way.
“Do I owe you an apology?”
“For what?”
“Oh, I do not know,” she admitted as she sank down on another fallen log across from him.
“Are you telling me that you do not remember our conversation last night?”
“I am not certain,” she admitted. “Did I do anything that I should…that could be viewed as improper.” She vaguely remembered telling him that he should kiss her and hoped that she’d been mistaken.
“You danced naked on the beach, if that is what you are wondering about.”
Her stomach nearly revolted even though it had been settled a moment ago.
“No. Tell me I did not do something so foolish.” How could she ever face him, or her sisters or anyone?
She would rather send them all away and she would remain in the hut for the rest of her life, alone, and a spinster having never been kissed.
Rhys groaned with concern. “You really do not remember doing that?”
Oh God! What must he think of her?
“No.” She whispered.
“Because you did not.” He grinned. “But the fact that you feared that you had and had forgotten explains why you became drunk so quickly.”
“I was not drunk!” Oh, she had been and she hated that it had happened in front of Rhys.
“I would not describe you as deep in your cups because you were able to carry on a conversation, even if you revealed more than you normally would completely sober. Because you are afraid you do not remember something is a sign that you are not used to strong drink. I am certain that you recall the whole of the evening and should have no concerns.”
Tempest placed a hand against her head. “I told you how it was all my fault because I was selfish and frivolous.”
“Yes, you did.”
Tempest groaned, yet it was the truth she had spoken.
“You are also wrong.”
“Please, Rhys, I do not have it in me to argue with you today.”
“Then be quiet and listen.”
She gasped at the audacity but held her tongue.
“I will tell you what I should have said last night but only partially explained.”
Tempest frowned because she recalled some of what he had said, but not the whole of it.
“I do not think you are horrible or selfish, and I do not believe that there is anything wrong with wanting a little frivolity in your life when there has been none. Your father would have never allowed you to go if he did not think so as well. And, your uncle knew the dangers of carrying passengers on his ship but offered to transport you and your sisters anyway. Had Captain Goodard objected, your uncle would have acquiesced to his decision. It was just by chance that the French decided to sink the cutter while you were on it. It was not by chance that your uncle’s ship was in the area because we were to exchange messages the night you had arrived, or the following night.
They may have waited off the Martinique coast for the exchange of information before you were delivered home, or they may have taken you to Dominica and returned, therefore, the cutter would have still been near Martinique whether you had been on board or not.
Further, there is no guarantee that the crew would have used the ship’s boat to escape because every man on deck would have done their best to save the ship or keep it from falling into enemy hands, depending on what it carried.
I have known captains to burn their ship while standing on the deck just to protect secrets. ”
Tempest drew back at his firm answer and wondered if she and her sisters being there had made a difference or not. It did ease some of her guilt, but not completely because they had used the ship’s boat to escape, which denied the crew the opportunity, even if they knew the risks of what they did.
Only one concern remained and she had to know if it had been real or imagined. Her face heated just thinking about how bold she had been. “Did I really tell you to kiss me?”
This time he laughed loudly, which did nothing to help her humiliation.
“Yes, you did even though you were determined not to like it.”
“I assume that I would remember if you had.”
Rhys leaned forward until their eyes were merely inches apart. “I assure you, Tempest, that had I kissed you, you would remember and when I do kiss you, you will never forget.”
He had said something similar the night before. “I recall unpleasant experiences as easily as pleasant ones.”
It was a challenge, and no man should be so confident in his abilities, and maybe she wanted to challenge him.
“One day you will learn the truth.”
She wanted to know now, but it was for the best. Now was not the time no matter how much she longed to be in his arms, be held and kissed.
An emptiness had lived in her, and grew only stronger when she realized that she had never met one person who she could love or marry even, and that was why attending her uncle’s house party had been so important.
She had also accepted her fate. That is, until she had met Rhys.
She wanted him to call on her. She wanted him to court her.
And she wanted to be rescued from this island.