Chapter 9
Therefore there will be none—until I return .
The words rang so loudly in Verity”s ears, she scarcely took in anything he”d said thereafter. It was only later, after he”d left the house followed by a burly footman shouldering a compact and battered sea trunk, that she pieced it all together.
Well, not all, she realized as she stood at the tall window at the head of the stairs glaring unseeingly at the bleakness of London in midwinter.
Fulminating on the perfidy of her husband.
She”d been too stunned the man who’d pinned her against that wall at Pennington intended to leave for sea for several months without even consummating their marriage.
Not because he didn”t desire her, because she knew he did. He”d not been able to temper the heat in his eyes, the white-knuckled clench of his hands, or the long, swollen, hard ridge he had no hope of concealing behind the falls of breeches.
He’d given her carte blanche to re-decorate the house, all bills to be sent to him and Mr. Shelford would deal with them. There”d been something about an account in her name at Stafford’s Bank into which an inordinate amount of money would be deposited every month for her personal use, no questions asked.
Oh, and her dowry had been put in a trust for her and their children. She remembered that bit.
There would be no children if he didn”t—
Storming along the hall to her rooms, she pushed the door open and immediately sounds reached her of someone moving about in Sinclair’s dressing room.
Had he come back?
Passing through her own dressing room which looked as if Clara would return at any moment to deal with the piles of clothing she’d unpacked, Verity wrenched the door open, ready to demand—what?
Well—more, anyway.
She”d had time to absorb and banish the shock and anger—
‘May I be helping you, madam?’
‘Oh—um—’ Verity”s silken slippers almost skidded on the polished wooden floor. ‘Er—Saju, isn’t it?’
‘Indeed, madam.’ The delicately built Indian gentleman in the strange robe and headwear looked up at her curiously.
‘I—I thought it was my husband returned and I—I thought of something else I should ask him.’
Verity’s brain was churning.
In truth, she”d already determined she would not be that pliant, submissive wife Sin was expecting her to be. What form her rebellion would take, she”d not had time to consider, but whatever she chose to do, information was crucial. Who would know more of the intimate details of her husband”s movements than his valet?
‘Do you not accompany my husband on his travels, Saju?’
The question was out of her mouth as soon as it entered her mind.
‘I do, madam. But ‘tis easier to starch and iron shirts and neck cloths here than on the ship, so I prepare all he has and take them aboard an hour before we set sail.’
The precise and correct accent from a man who looked as foreign as any could in an English gentleman”s dressing room, was unexpected.
‘And that”s on Tuesday, I think my husband said?’
‘It is, madam.’
Shock and anger were fast fading into the ethers as Verity”s mind raced like Stannesford Brook in full spate. Once she had a grasp on a situation she really didn”t have to think. Plans formed in her mind like pictures appearing at the turn of a page in a book.
The details were not there yet but the overall impression was setting her nerves alight with excitement—and determination.
‘Are you aware of what time the Eloise sails, Saju? I believe it usually has something to do with the tides.’
‘It does, madam,’ the valet said, shooting her a startled glance, as if he was surprised she”d know such a thing. It usually annoyed her when people judged her a featherhead because of her ethereal, otherworldly appearance, but it seemed she could continue to use that fact to her advantage.
No one would accord her the intelligence to do anything other than what her husband ordered. She had warned Sinclair, after all, that day he’d demanded she play the piano for him and she’d made the unwise declaration ‘if he was to be her husbandhe should also know she didn”t respond well to orders’.
Oh, she didn”t. Couldn”t. Wouldn”t.
‘When, Saju? Maybe I could surprise my husband by being at the dock to see him off. I’d remain in my carriage, of course.’
‘Well, madam, my orders are to be aboard no later than noon on Tuesday for the tide will be right about an hour or so after that.’
‘Oh, thank you, Saju. I shall so look forward to watching the Eloise slipping away down the river on her way to the channel.’
‘A rare sight indeed, madam’, the valet agreed, as if indulging a child.
No doubt it would be, but she had no intention of watching it from the dockside.
She would be on it.
Returning to her side of the suite’s connecting door, Verity rang for Clara.
‘Come in, Clara,’ Verity called as soon as her knock sounded on the door.
‘I’m sorry m’lady. Mrs Hayes asked me to show Lily what to do as she is taking my place as an upstairs maid,’ the young woman explained.
‘I’m not worried about where you were, Clara. Please take a seat. I need to talk to you.’
‘T—talk to me?’ The woman’s brown eyes widened with apprehension as she settled gingerly on the edge of a boudoir chair.
‘Not about you, Clara. About me,’ Verity hurried to reassure her. ‘I am likely not what anyone expected Mr. Sinclair to bring home as a wife.’
A startled expression replaced the apprehension and the maid spoke before she could censor her thoughts. So like Linnie.
‘Truly, m’lady? We weren’t expecting the master to bring home any wife. Much less one as young and—’
‘Immature?’ Verity asked sweetly.
Clara’s eyes widened further and a flush darkened her cheeks.
‘I’m sorry, m’lady, I didn’t mean—well, if we’d been expecting anyone it would have been someone who’d sweep in and start changing things and—’
‘Well,’ Verity said, with a little grin she couldn’t quite suppress. ‘My husband did give me carte blanche to redecorate the house and change anything I want—while he sails off on his beloved ship. But,’ she hurried on as Clara’s features edged into alarm, ‘I have other plans first.’
‘Plans, m’lady?’
Dropping onto the chaise, Verity crossed her ankles and let her fingers rest over the locket nestled beneath the neck of her gown. It calmed and centered her, allowing her to focus her inner knowing as she observed her maid’s aura.
Seeing an abundance of warm green and pink energy swirling softly about the woman confirmed what Verity had already felt about Clara. Like Linnie, she was kind, and she would be loyal.
It was enough.
‘I’ve never been to London and I’ve never been one to conform, and regardless I might appear as featherbrained as a cushion, I assure you I am no such thing. I am, however, in need of a lady’s maid who knows her way around, and who will be totally discreet and loyal. To me. Are you that person, Clara? Are you my Linnie here in London?’
It was apprehension looking out of those brown eyes now.
‘I—I’m not sure, m’lady. I—I’d not be happy helping you to b—betray Mr Sinclair, if that’s what you were wanting. He’s a good master—’
‘No, no, no, Clara,’ Verity hurriedly denied. ‘It’s nothing like that at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. If I give you my vow Ihave no designs to betray my husband in any way, will you give me your word to keep what I divulge to you? Between us?’
‘Of course I will, m’lady.’
‘It seemed to me,’ Verity began slowly, still gathering her thoughts even as she started speaking, ‘while the staff were surprised to have acquired a mistress they were—not unhappy?’
‘Oh, not at all, m’lady. We all like Mr. Sinclair. He never brings women here. We don’t even know if—well, sorry m’lady. He’s away at sea a lot but—well, it seems a lonely life—and he rarely smiles. A wife could change a lot of that. With all Linnie has shared about you over the years, I believe you could change that.’
Verity sat looking at her hands, then looked directly at her maid.
‘If I was allowed to be a wife.’
The words hung in the air between them for a second before understanding dawned in Clara’s warm brown eyes.
‘Oh, m’lady, I’m sorry. They—downstairs, said he didn’t sleep here last night. I didn’t believe them because—well—’
Verity nodded.
‘Newly-weds and all that,’ she said flatly, then with a heavy sigh she leaned back on the chaise and considered Clara. It would be unfair not to explain herself to the woman who would be closest to her in her new life.
‘I suppose Linnie has told you how I know and see things others don’t? I can see and read auras, the energy fields surrounding every person. For instance, your aura has a lot of green and swirls of pink in it which tells me you are a kind, caring person.’
Clara nodded solemnly.
‘I did know that about you, m’lady—and I’ve never seen a reason not to be kind,’ Clara whispered at last.
Verity held her gaze for a moment in which she felt a strengthening of the bond that already existed between them.
‘When I first saw Mr. Sinclair at Pennington Towers, his brother’s estate, it was in April and I was arranging the flowers for a friend’s wedding. I felt someone watching me and when I turned, there he stood by the door of the Great Hall. I was standing where the bride and groom would stand on the following day, and as I stared at the flowers in front of me, I had this vision of the two of us standing before the vicar making our vows, and I knew he was to be my husband. It didn’t exactly please me, for I wasn’t really ready for a husband and he—seemed so old. The next time I saw him was several months later at his nephew’s christening. I was playing with some of the children out on the lawns and he probably thought me barely out of the schoolroom myself. And I must admit, that is an impression I have cultivated. It was the last decent afternoon we were to have, for within a couple more days we were snowed in for almost two weeks—two weeks too long, if you get my meaning.’
‘But Mr. Sinclair is a very handsome man, m’lady. Don’t you think?’
‘Oh, he is,’ Verity readily agreed, ‘but he’s fifteen years older than me. He’s done, seen, experienced so much more than I have. But when I see things like that they invariably come to pass, even though I couldn’t imagine how. All I knew was, it was time to put aside my childish antics—for my family insisted on treating me as a child as I am the youngest, so I decided I would make that work for me. And it did until—it didn’t. I have always believed if I ever married it would be a union of love. Cynical Sinner Wolfenden, as his brother and friends call him, was not going to fall in love with a schoolroom chit. So I put aside my childish habits and began acting the mature twenty-year-old I am. All that got me was his lustful pursuit. Did–did Linnie tell you any of this in her letter?’
A slight flush lit Clara’s cheeks.
‘She did, m’lady,’ she admitted.
‘Good. The less I need to say. So now we’re wed perforce. And neither of us sure that was what we wanted. Well, that’s not true. I know it’s not what Sinclair wanted at all. And I—had begun to realize I was not immune to his attentions. But that’s not love, and nothing to be building a marriage on. Trouble is, I don’t believe my husband has any intention of even trying to build a marriage. In fact, he intends to dump me here with a sop of more pin money than I’ve ever seen in my life and carte blanche in redecorating this house to suit my own tastes. While he—sails off to ports afar leaving our marriage un—um—not even begun. Where before he couldn’t leave me alone, now he can’t leave soon enough.’
Verity leapt from her seat to stomp across the room and glare out into the bleak, grey chill of a wintry morning. Then she turned once again to face her bemused maid.
‘So you see, Clara, I have a dilemma and that dilemma is my husband who intends to sail away on the Princess Eloise for two, possibly three months. What if he never comes back? I will not be tossed aside like—like an old shoe. I have no intention of waiting here like an obedient little wife and playing house, or whatever it is he expects me to do while he—in short, Clara, I mean to be on Princess Eloise when she sails on Tuesday.’
‘Oh, m’lady. However will you manage that? I can’t imagine—’
‘That my husband will sweetly allow me to board when I turn up with my trunks? He won’t. I need to bribe someone. Someone who can get me aboard disguised as a—a cabin boy or something. Do you have any idea if Saju is bribable?’
‘Not Saju, m’lady. That man is so proper, honorable, and loyal to the master that he’d probably immediately inform him of your intentions.’
Hope deflated in Verity’s chest. She’d suddenly seen herself slipping aboard the Eloise with the swift, darting motions of a likely lad, darting between the grown-ups” legs, too quick and nondescript to be noticed.
‘But,’ Clara said, halting to press a knuckle uncertainly against her mouth.
‘What?’ Verity prompted, coming back to sit on the chaise and lean forward with her hands fisted on her knees.
‘You might well get around Mr. Johnson. I think he could be bribed. He desperately wants to be able to purchase a beach cottage for his mother in Weston-Super-Mare. Nor does he have any fear the master will fire him for he is too good at what he does.’
‘Mr. Johnson goes on the ship? Who cooks here?’
‘When it”s only the staff, Mrs Hayes and us maids handle it. Mr. Johnson prefers to be at sea and he goes where the master goes. There”s a story about how Mr Sinclair found him in a bar in Jamaica badly beaten up after a fight. Mr Sinclair took him back to his ship and tended him until he was well. And don”t be fooled by the way he looks. Mr Johnson is a big teddy bear. He”s always got some needy soul under his wing. He found young Hawkeye trying to scavenge a stale bun from the baker, and brought him home. He”s also a bit of a romantic. That”s the angle you need to take. In fact, tell him what you told me. How Mr. Sinclair was, and how you want a real marriage, and he”s running away to sea. I guarantee Mr Johnson will be halfway to helping you before you mention a bribe.’
Verity hunched her body, which wasn”t hard when a heavy valise weighed down each of her arms. The boots on her feet felt clumsy which made it easy to walk with a clumping gait as she followed Mr. Johnson up the gangplank onto the ship. The huge man carried her trunk easily on one shoulder and another big valise swung from his other hand.
‘Mr. Jay’ she’d have to remember he was known as aboard ship.
Hawkeye, with his own gunny sack on his shoulder in an exact copy of his hero, Mr. Jay, darted around them, much like a collie dog herding sheep.
It was amusing, but Verity didn”t dare lift her eyes from the unsteady gangplank or show in any way she was less than confident of her right to be exactly where she was.
Aboard the Princess Eloise.
‘Keep close,’ Mr. Jay had recommended in his deep rusty voice as they”d set out across the dock with their burdens.
Eyes fixed on the big man”s heels, she followed him forward along the deck, dodging around men with bare feet, loose, rolled trouser legs, and harsh voices. Anything else she didn”t dare raise her head to observe.
Was any one of them Sinner? Would he see her, recognize and apprehend her before she could reach the sanctuary Mr. Jay had promised she’d find in the ship’s galley?
They came to a hatch, down which Mr. Jay disappeared as if negotiating a wide flight of stairs instead of an almost vertical set of ladder steps.
‘Toss yer bags down, lad,’ he growled from below, and Verity immediately complied without allowing herself to think about it. Then, quickly turning, she climbed down backwards, more than a little grateful for the ill-fitting breeches and jacket she wore.
Finding herself in the galley, she paused to look about and take in her surroundings. One long table with benches on either side, and all bolted down. Acres of gleaming wood and polished brass, and beyond that a workbench, with an array of copper and cast iron pots and pans, barrels and bins and hams swinging from the hooks in the ceiling, and a huge black iron stove.
‘Don”t stand there gawpin’ lad,’ Mr. Jay growled. ‘Get yer arse in ‘ere and set them bags down.’
Verity only just caught her dropping jaw at the coarse terms in which the chef addressed her. He had warned her.
The man had disappeared into a tiny cabin behind the galley that nevertheless had four bunks and minimal space for aught else. Her trunk took up most of the floor space and Mr. Jay the rest. Verity halted in the doorway and the big man took the valises from her and swung them up onto a top bank as if they weren”t crammed to bursting with what felt like lead-stuffed pillows.
Mr. Jay was a big man so she supposed it would follow his clothing would not be light.
‘Now,’ he said, tugging at her cap to bring it lower on her face, ‘remember ter keep yer ‘ead down. We need ter be far enough out ter sea when ‘e discovers ye, ‘e won”t order us turned around ter set yer back on th’ dock. Yer might even ‘ave ter sleep on one o’ these ‘ere bunks. Bet yer”ve never slept anywhere ‘alf so fancy, aye lad?’
‘No, Mr. Jay,’ she muttered deferentially as he’d suggested she should. It was all a game and they must continue to play it until he deemed she was safe—from being returned at least.
Whether she”d be safe from her husband”s wrath when he found her would remain to be seen.
‘Right now, look lively, lad. ‘Ave yer ever peeled taties?’
Taties? Oh, potatoes.
‘Course,’ she said indignantly.
The kitchens at Stannesford had been one of her favorite hiding places and Cook had always taken pity on her and allowed her to help. She’d become a competent baker over the years, as the warm kitchen with its tummy-teasing aromas and the sense of purpose it had given her, had continued to be one of her sanctuaries.
But she couldn”t explain all that to Mr. Jay, or anyone lurking nearby would know she was likely no lad.
Muttered one-word answers were safest. In short order she was given a spot at the scrubbed wooden bench, and presented with a huge bucket full of potatoes, turnips, and carrots, and a lethal looking sharp peeling knife. She’d likely have blisters by the time she was done, but keeping her head down she set to work.
Mr. Jay began pulling open cupboards and bins and muttering under his breath while Hawkeye darted about pushing and pulling at sacks almost as big as he was.
‘Where”s me spices?’ Mr. Jay suddenly bellowed, almost lifting Verity off her stool.
‘’Ere ‘awkeye, leave that. Go find Peggy and get ‘im down ‘ere. ‘E always puts stuff in daft places. Cos ‘e don”t know ‘ow to use ‘em. ‘E thinks they should be ‘idden. The man ain”t a cook’s ar—arse.’
His glance lit on Verity then slid away. She”d already told him he had to act and speak like he always had or someone would get suspicious. She wasn’t ignorant. When men were in their own domain, coarse language was the norm.
‘Aye-aye, Mr. Jay,’ Hawkeye said, leaping for the ladder leading above and scrambling up it with the agility of a monkey.
Verity was halfway through the bucket of vegetables when she noticed an escalation in activity above. Orders were being shouted with greater volume and frequency, feet thunked along the deck and ropes and chains rattled to the accompaniment of groaning timbers.
Then she became aware of movement and a lifting and dipping motion beneath her and almost sliced the end of her finger. Her heart had crashed up into her throat, and her breathing was tight and shallow.
She wanted to leap up the ladder to the upper deck and watch as they floated out into the stream of the river and set sail towards the channel and then the open ocean. But she kept her head down and doggedly continued peeling vegetables as if nothing else mattered.
The adventure had begun and she”d passed the first hurdle.
An odd thumping sounded above and then a huge man with one wooden leg hopped nimbly down the ladder, using his massive arms as leverage. Peggy, turned out to be a giant with a peg leg.
Verity found Mr. Jay”s size and appearance intimidating enough but this man almost dwarfed Sinclair’s prized chef.
‘Peggy, where in ‘ell ‘ave yer been? We’re already underway an’ they”ll be yellin’ ‘cos their guts are rumblin’ afore we gets ter th’Channel and where the ‘ell did yer put m’spices?’
‘Didn”t think you”d need me. ‘Eard ya brung extra ‘elp aboard,’ the huge man grumbled. ‘An’ your spices are where I al’ays puts ‘em. Down under the bench.’
Verity kept her head down even though she felt the man”s gaze boring into her skull.
‘Don”t get yer frillies in a twist, Peggy. The lad’s only good fer menial tasks an’ sich. O’ course I need yer. ‘Awkeye’s been tryin’ ter shift sacks and barrels, but th’ puny little bugger ain’t got no muscles yet. An’ no one kneads th’ dough like yer does.’
The galley became a hum of activity, and though the two men took up a lot of space they worked amicably together with the occasional snide jab or caustic comment. Once the bucket of vegetables had been emptied, Mr. Jay set Verity to stirring the massive stew pot on the stove top.
‘At least yer c’n reach. Young ‘Awkeye ain”t growed enough yet.’ He leaned closer to speak by her ear. ‘I reckon yer only need to ‘ide out down ‘ere till dinnertime. I”ll let yer know when Mr. Sin be at table and then we”ll get yer settled in ‘is cabin. ‘E shares with the Cap’n, so there‘ll be ‘ell to pay when ‘e finds yer. But we discussed all that. Cap’n Nik ain”t gonna be too ‘appy either as ‘e”ll ‘ave to bunk with th’ crew.’
‘Why’s Cap bunkin’ with us?’ Peggy demanded, his voice gruff and eyes squinty with suspicion. Verity ducked her head as an odd little silence followed the question. She felt Mr. Jay’s scowl across her head in the direction of the big man.
Verity didn”t dare look up at either man but kept her eyes on the bubbling stew and concentrated on wielding the big wooden stirrer. She only had to make it through the afternoon until dinnertime, and other than a grunt which could mean anything, Peggy made no further comment.
The movement of the ship had changed, become more pronounced and the creaking of timber and rigging more pervasive. Verity had trouble with her balance and kept reaching for handholds to steady herself.
‘Lad’s as green as Tubby’s eye,’ Peggy muttered, while he went about lighting the lamps.
‘Yep. Green as. Peg, can yer manage ‘ere fer a bit while I see th’ lad up above? I”ll explain when I gets back.’
Ducking into the tiny cabin beyond the galley, he backed out with Verity’s trunk on his shoulder once more and shooed her ahead of him up the ladder. She did a quick sideways glance at Peggy, who was staring after them with a frown that made him look like a grumpy gorilla. If her heart hadn”t been hammering so painfully in her chest and her mouth weren”t so dry, she”d have allowed herself to send him a cheeky grin.
But grinning was far from possible at the moment. Her legs felt like rubber, and she was second-guessing every rash decision she’d made in the last few days. If they hadn”t already been well beyond land, she likely would have scuttled for the safety of St James”s Square and abject docility.
Since that was not possible, she could only plough forward with her desperate plan.
‘Wil—will there be water in the cabin, Mr Jay, so I can at least wash the dirt off my face?’
He looked down at her with his twisted grin.
‘I”ll send ‘awkeye up with a bucket o’ warm water fer yer.’
‘Thank you. And Mr. Jay? I meant it when I said I’d help in the galley. I spent years hiding out in the kitchens at Stannesford. Cook declared my scones better than her own, and I”m a dab hand at a pound cake. I don”t wish to be a useless ornament on this ship.’
‘Well, that’d be one way o’ bringin’ th’ men around.’
‘What do you mean?’ Verity asked as they climbed up to the captain’s cabin just below the quarterdeck.
‘There’s some as don”t ‘old with women aboard. Say it”s bad luck.’
‘Oh,’ Verity breathed, suddenly wondering if she”d really thought any of this through.
Too late now, the pragmatic side of her declared. You”re here. Deal with it.
She would. She must.
Mr. Jay shouldered through the heavy oak door into a spacious cabin with two wide bunks, one above the other on one side. In the center of the room stood a big square table with a map laid out and held down by a sextant, a couple of spy glasses and a big brass bollard-shaped paperweight.
The bunks were neatly made and the valise Verity had seen leaving the house on a footman”s shoulder earlier in the week, was on the floor beneath the lower one.
‘Where is Saju?’ Verity asked, suddenly realizing seducing her husband might not be as simple as she”d been thinking.
‘Raji, ‘is brother an’ ‘im, ‘ave a cabin below. They’ll be at dinner now. Raji’s the Cap’n’s valet.’
As the doubts crept in, Verity struggled to suppress the panic threatening to overtake her.
Mr Jay set her trunk down in the small space at the end of the bunks and stood looking down at her.
His habitually scowling features softened a little.
‘Chin up, m’lady. If nothin’ else, Mr. Sin be a gen’leman. ‘E won”t toss yer overboard—even if ‘e might badly want ter. An’ if he gets ter shoutin’ too bad, well, you jus’ come an’ ‘ide out wi’ me an’ Peg. We”ll put yer ter work so ye”ve no time ter worry. Now, I reckon yer”ve a few hours afore th’ Cap’n or Mr. Sin’ll be ‘eading in ‘ere. So best yer get settled. I”ll give Cap’n Nik an ‘eads-up. ‘E’ll likely move below wi’ th’ valets or down ter th’ quarters wi’ th’ crew. It”ll all work out. Yer”ll see.’
‘No matter how badly my husband shouts?’
Mr Jay gave her that rare crooked grin again.
‘Aye, ‘e ’as a rare temper does Mr Sin, but ‘e don”t ‘hold a grudge. It”s usually all over when the shoutin’s done. I”ll send ‘awkeye wi’ some water fer yer wash an’ a bowl o’ stew.’
With that promise, he ducked out and closed the door firmly.
The cabin only held two chairs, both oak captains’ chairs with worn leather swivel seats. Verity sank into one and stared at the map showing the ports they’d call at on the coast of Europe and the North Sea.
But not one line or word on the document covering most of the table made any sense to her. All she could see was her husband”s almost unbearably handsome face and imagine it transposed into a caricature of rage.
This might be one Verity-escapade she”d taken a step too far.
Hearty beef stew with light, fluffy dumplings as only Mr Jay could make. The man could create exotic delicacies to titillate the most jaded palates of the ton, but he also knew how to satisfy the healthier appetites of the working man.
Sin looked along the noisy table at all the satisfied faces. These men were due to go up and relieve the watch for dinner, and he”d go up and relieve Nik at the helm. There was nothing like being at sea with naught but the creaks and groans of ship and rigging, the crack of sails in a brisk breeze, the smell of pitch and occasional shouts from the crew all set against the constant song of the ocean.
For a few more months, if his bloody cock would settle down, he”d be able to forget the innocent femme fatale who’d hooked him, hauled him in and battened his hatches before he could remind himself of all the reasons he”d always avoided the sharp snapping jaws of parson”s mousetrap.
And in all of that, all his cock heard was innocent femme fatale. Which exactly described the dichotomy of the woman who was now his wife.
God damn, how could he blank the memory of those seafoam eyes from his mind, the innocent honeysuckle scent of her hair from his nose, the tempting dainty lushness of her curves beneath his hands?
He was a man obsessed.
He, Sinner Wolfenden, who’d never allowed himself to obsess over anything. Ever.
Rising abruptly, he stepped over the stool and looked for Mr. Jay to compliment him on the meal as he usually did. Peggy was busy in the gallery, and young Hawkeye was drying a stack of tin plates.
‘Great meal, thanks, Peg. Where’s Mr Jay?’
‘Dunno,’ Peg said in his laconic way, and Sin turned to climb up the ladder. Before he placed his boot on the first rung, Mr Jay”s big boots began descending from above.
Sin waited for him to come down.
‘Everything all shipshape, Mr Jay?’ Sin asked as soon as the man was squarely on the deck.
‘Aye aye, sir,’ the big man averred, a light wash of color touching his cheeks. ‘Jus’ been talkin’ to Cap’n Nik. ‘E”s waitin’ fer yer ter take over ‘cos ‘e”s lookin’ forward ter ‘is dinner.’
‘Of course,’ Sin replied and climbed the ladder.
Once above, he strode with sure steps along the constantly canting deck to the poop deck and wheelhouse at the stern. As he walked, he mulled over the odd phenomenon of his chef deserting his post mid-meal. Perhaps Nik would enlighten him.
But Nik brushed off all mention of his recent visitor and instead began enthusing about the small pod of dolphins that had swum and played about the ship until twilight.
‘And now I”m bloody hungry. I haven”t had one of Mr Jay”s stews in a while. I”m really looking forward to it.’
Scarcely lingering long enough to go over directions and sail settings, he vanished down the steps to the deck and disappeared.
With his hands resting loosely on the wheel, Sin was still mulling the strange behavior of his two closest companions aboard when he was snapped out of his reverie by someone coming out of the captain’s cabin below, and that could only be Nik. But in the gloom that had settled quickly and was only dispersed in puddles by the ship’s lanterns, he”d swear his friend had a valise or some such slung over his shoulder.
Since he couldn”t make sense of any of it, he couldn”t keep his mind from where it insisted on wandering whenever he let it slip the leash he struggled to hold fast.
He had a wife, and some unfamiliar part of him was fascinated by the picture of her in his house in St James’s Square, waiting for him to come home—and consummate the marriage.
He was damned impatient for that moment himself and could hardly believe he”d had the stamina to turn his back on her and sail away.
But he also knew he”d done the right thing for his own sanity, however strongly his cock disagreed with him. Was she in their suite? Disrobing for the night? His whole being ached for the sight of her petite curves naked, the feel of her breasts in his hands.
He”d bared those cushiony, creamy mounds the day he’d forced her to accept his proposal. They’d sat atop her bodice like one of Jay’s delectable creamy desserts—
Fuck. Now he was so goddamn hard he could barely stay upright. Perhaps he could relieve himself in his trousers while keeping one hand on the wheel—
A sudden gust of wind caught the mainsail, and the crack of sound brought him out of his Verity-induced haze.
He almost regretted leaving her behind, but he knew himself too well. If she”d fallen pregnant the first time he touched her, he”d never have had proof his ugly suspicions had no basis in fact. And that would have shredded all hope of building any sort of a relationship with her.
But what if he’d discovered her a virgin?
And what if he’d discovered otherwise?
Goddamn, he was a mess.
Nik came back when he finished his meal and offered to take over again, but Sin had convinced him he was perfectly happy where he was until Crabtree, the first mate, known as Crabby to everyone, came to take over for the long back end of the night.
He had several hours to mull over why Nik had been so insistent in trying to get him to leave his post when he was more than happy right where he was, the helm of his own ship—well, his and Nik’s—in his hands.
On the stroke of midnight, Crabby climbed into the wheelhouse and took Sin’s report, releasing him to go below for the sleep he should have been good and ready for.
His body was tired, but his cock and his head were still waging war. It was going to be a long night.
Worse, it was shaping up to be a bloody long voyage, and he was already starting to scheme how they could get enough cargo at their first port to enable them to return immediately to England.