Chapter Seventeen #2
“Oh, you can lie to us as much as you want,” Drummond said with a shrug, and Phylis was mortified to see a ripple of nodding heads spreading throughout her crew, all standing and staring at her on the deck. “But you can’t lie to yeself, Captain. Not forever.”
Of course she could. She would tell herself she had absolutely no feelings for Michael Chance whatsoever, and she would keep telling herself that until the cows came home.
There was absolutely no need for her to face up to the fact that she was alone, and loved him, and hated him, and leaving him hurt, and he’d disappear off to some godforsaken place and she’d never hear from him again…
Phylis angrily dashed away a tear that threatened to fall. “I don’t love… He didn’t understand… It’s over, Drummond. Whatever it was, it’s over.”
She had expected the man to argue with her—to attempt to defend Michael Chance, though why, she did not know.
What she had not expected was a sigh of disappointment from the crew.
“You—You all liked him?”
“Oh, he’s a stringy piece of meat at the best of times,” said her first mate with a grin. “But you liked him.”
“I didn’t like him,” Phylis snapped, her patience taut and unyielding.
Drummond’s expression did not change. “No. You didn’t.”
Blast it all. I didn’t like him.
She loved him. She had given him her heart, all of herself, and somehow, she had thought that would completely change the world. Her world. Their world.
But there was no ‘their’ world. There was nothing for her to share with him because he did not want to understand her, understand her way of life.
Phylis’s gaze meandered across the port bow, the mast with its flapping sail, the scent of salt and tar that were her constant companions. Her crew, all of them loyal and most of them excellent men. The sea that beckoned her forward.
“Part of me,” she found herself saying quietly, “part of me…wanted him to come with me.”
Oh, blast, there were those tears again.
Phylis brushed them aside with the back of her hand. She could not, would not allow herself to show such pathetic weakness in front of her men. They were her crew; they had to respect her!
A heavy hand fell onto her shoulder and gripped it tightly. “I know, lass. I know.”
“But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t—He couldn’t make a life here,” Phylis said, sniffing hard and looking up into Drummond’s face as the words she had never before been able to articulate spilled from her lips.
“He has this incredible family, and he… He’s willing to leave them all behind.
If he can leave them behind, one day… One day, he’ll leave me. It was never going to work.”
Damn these tears. No matter how many she allowed to fall, they just kept coming!
Drummond was nodding sagely, and there was a sniff from one of her crew. “We all leave people behind, Captain. People who don’t understand our ways.”
“And it gets better, doesn’t it?” Phylis could not help her eagerness as she gazed up into the wizened face of the older man. “Over time, I mean, it… It hurts less, doesn’t it?”
Her first mate smiled softly, and for a moment, her spirits leapt. “No, lass.”
Phylis blinked. “‘N-No’?”
“No,” Drummond said gently. “No, it never hurts less. Oh, you can sail away from it. You can sail away from them and the hurt as much as you like, but it’s always there waiting for you.
The sea isn’t infinite, girl; it never has been.
It can’t swallow up all your sadness; it’s bitter.
It only grows yer bitterness if you try to escape to it. ”
This was not exactly the response Phylis had been hoping for.
“And it’ll leave you lonely,” her first mate continued, and there were nods now rippling once more amongst the crew. “The sea can never love ye back. No matter how much you adore it, no matter how much of y’life y’give it, the ocean never holds you on a cold night. Trust me on that.”
Phylis breathed a laugh through her tears. “You make it sound sad.”
A flicker, a shadow passed over the older man’s face. “Aye, I suppose it can be sad. But being our captain is a lonely business.”
‘Lonely’?
She had never felt lonely. No, Phylis had always been with family: her father and their crew—now her crew, with a few changes over the years. A little rough around the edges, perhaps. But hers.
“I’m not alone,” Phylis said decidedly. “I have you—all of you.”
It was most unfair of her first mate to chuckle at her words. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Captain, but that’s not quite what I meant.”
“Oh?”
Drummond gave her a look. “No.”
“Oh,” said Phylis, and then her cheeks burning, “Oh!”
Her first mate wiped a hand over his upper lip. “Ah, there you are.”
“But that’s—I mean, I can’t just up and leave!” Phylis reached out for the balustrade of the Dreamer, the ship a steady foundation beneath her feet. “I can’t just—I have contracts! I have work. We have obligations!”
“Yes, we do,” Drummond agreed with a slow nod.
“And we need that work to live, to buy Cook his food and cover the cost of supplies and rigging and tar, and to pay your salaries,” Phylis pointed out sternly, trying to remind herself that she was a ship’s captain, and she couldn’t just gad about the place falling in love with handsome gentlemen.
Her first mate inclined his head. “All that is true.”
“And so I can’t just—I mean, I can’t turn my life upside down for a man!” Phylis tried to give a laugh. It sounded more like a grimace would, if a grimace made a noise. “What sort of captain would I be if—if I just let love take over?!”
In that instant, she knew that she’d made a mistake.
Her entire crew cheered.
“She loves him!”
“She loves the beggar!”
“I knew it, the moment I saw him!”
“Oh, damn me sideways,” muttered Phylis wearily. “You all think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
Her words were not shouted, but they did not need to be. She had clearly earned their respect long ago, had Phylis Seaton, and those quiet words were enough to make her crew quieten and shuffle their feet.
She turned her gaze to Drummond. “This is all your fault.”
“Probably.” He grinned, but his smile faded as he fixed her with a stern look. “So, you can admit to yeself that you love him. What are you going to do about it?”
Phylis swallowed as the sea breeze tugged at her hair, urging her onward.
What am I going to do about it?
She had never fallen in love before. She had never known it was possible to feel this—this strong tug toward a person. Stronger than any tide, stronger than any whirlpool, these feelings wanted to drag her down and utterly change the course of her life.
And if she just allowed herself to be swept away by these currents, what then? What sort of life could Michael Chance have? What sort of life could he offer her?
“I’m going to be the Viscount Pernrith.”
Phylis’s stomach lurched. What sort of life would she have as the Viscountess Pernrith?
One of stability. Dependability. Routine, structure, the repetition of balls and card parties and staying on land, every day the same, never changing, no excitement.
An anchor, tied around her ankle, dragging her down for the rest of her life.
Phylis inhaled slowly and fixed her first mate with a severe look. “What am I going to do about it? Nothing.”
Drummond blinked. “But—But you love him?”
“Love isn’t everything,” Phylis said sternly, and she marched forward, holding her head high as she glared across at her crew. “Right. Tomorrow, say goodbye to your women and pack up the last of the contracts. We’re leaving on the high tide in two days.”