Passion's Tide Read online

  Passion’s Tide

  By Sarah West

  Text Copyright © 2012 Sarah West

  All rights reserved

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the family and friends who supported me and helped me through this five-year long process.

  Thanks to my mother, for bringing home all of those pirate picture books from your elementary school library; thanks to Kevin, for being the first to read through my final manuscript; thank you Carolyn for your incredible editing; thank you Leah for calling me after every chapter to tell me how proud you were of me; thanks Lizzie, for your honest comments; thank you theater girls, for getting intoxicated and reading my steamy scenes out loud and making me laugh; thanks to my friends who knowingly (and unknowingly) lent me the use of their names for my characters; thank you Alli, for your last minute Spanish corrections; and thanks to everyone else who helped me bring Logan and Amber to life.

  It started out as a joke, but turned into a passion.

  Table of Contents

  Title page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Table of contents

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Boston, Massachusetts 1714

  Amber Townsend nervously paced the length of the library, her tea untouched and sitting on the desk, having dropped to room temperature some time ago. Each turn sent her dress rustling about her heels, a well-worn path already driven into the carpet by her incessant ambulation.

  “I don’t understand why you are working yourself into a frenzy.”

  Amber spun and sent an icy glare at her uncle, Neil. “I don’t understand how you can be so unaffected by the news that your only sister is lying on her deathbed!”

  He shrugged and took another sip of his brandy, reclining easily in the plush armchair. Seething with anger, she stormed over, snatched the glass from his hands and tossed the contents into the fire. The flames roared to life as she returned the crystal to the mahogany bar, slamming it down next to the decanter. He frowned at her and pulled off his glasses with his grubby fingers, cleaning them on his shirt.

  “In my opinion, your mother was far too lenient in her child-rearing habits. She never should have allowed such passion and independence. Such character flaws might prevent you from ever finding a husband, especially as you are almost past a marriageable age.”

  “I’m only twenty-three.”

  He brushed away her comment and continued, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting it as he spoke. “A woman must learn to be quiet and demure, and above all else she should never lose her temper.” He sent her a pointed look, “In my opinion.”

  “Yes, well, nobody asked for your opinion,” she said with a sigh. “So I must ask you to keep it to yourself.” But as much as she disliked her uncle and made an effort to ignore him, his sentiment was shared by many. As a child she had been a whirlwind of mischief and a constant irritation to her tutors, and on more than one occasion had been the catalyst behind their resignations. Despite her impish nature, however, she was extremely bright, and as she grew older she became more interested in her studies, and began to channel her curiosity towards learning.

  As for finding a husband, her uncle was right in that she simply wasn’t having any luck. Over the years she had met several young men who claimed themselves enchanted by her vibrant red hair and vivacious personality. But after a few weeks of flirtations and empty promises her suitors would appear at a social event with a new, more respectable girl on their arms. The first time it happened she had been a naïve girl of sixteen, and had felt the snub as a crushing blow.

  Her mother had been there that night to brush the tears of shame from her cheeks and convince her that it was through no fault of her own she had been fooled. “Have you considered the possibility that Jonathan did harbor feelings for you?” she had asked her heartbroken daughter, trying in vain to console her. “But perhaps the Martins had already arranged for him to wed the Howard girl. It’s not uncommon for a young man to be torn between his emotions and duty to his family.”

  Amber let out a bitter laugh. “If he had cared for me I doubt I would have overheard him telling his friends that I was a “gullible little chit,” and that I was “hopeless.””

  Molly had pulled her daughter into a hug. “You are not hopeless, dear, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re just waiting for the right man.”

  Several years and a string of failed romances later, she was still waiting. With her mother’s poor health Amber had even less time to worry about marriage, as her responsibilities and worries grew with each day that Molly did not recover.

  Neil sat in his chair watching her as he smoked his cigar. “You know what would help you calm down? Some brandy. It’ll settle your nerves. And if you’re pouring yourself a glass, might as well get me one too.”

  Just then the library door swung open and Jane, the housekeeper, poked her head in.

  “The doctor says you may see her now,” she informed Amber with a grave expression. As Neil began to stand, she raised a hand to stop him. “Not you.” He sank back into his chair as Amber gathered her skirts and followed Jane through the corridor toward her mother’s apartments.

  She reached the bedroom doorway and stopped, as if by refusing to enter the room she could prevent the horrible scene from unfolding. Her mother was lying prostrate in an exquisite four-poster bed that they had brought from England. A settee was arranged in front of a fireplace, on either side of which were tall bookshelves displaying a section of her mother’s extensive library. A thick carpet protected their feet from the cold wooden floors in the winter, and thick draperies blocked most of the light from the room, which was now lit by a single lantern set on the table beside the bed.

  Doctor LeCourt leaned over the bed to wipe Molly’s forehead with a damp cloth, eliciting a soft whimper from between her dry, cracked lips. The clock on the mantle read a quarter after four in the morning, but as her mother’s condition worsened the doctor had taken to remaining at her side day and night. He had done all he could for Molly, but even his best efforts had proven futile.

  When Amber had sent for him three weeks ago informing him of her mother’s fever, he had paid them a visit and declared that with a bit of tea and rest she would soon be on her feet again. Amber sent a second messenger a week later after her mother had become delirious, slipping in and out of consciousness, sometimes waking with no knowledge of where she was. Other times she would appear alert and healthy, giving Amber hope that she was recovering. Just the other day, she had been sitting up in bed, listening to her brother reluctantly read to her. Her eyes were bright as she applauded him and encouraged him to continue.

  “Please go on, you know how I love to listen to you, Robert.” Neil had frozen, unable to meet her gaze or keep reading. Never having met Amber’s father and not wanting to be mistaken for him, he quickly removed himself from the house, most likely to visit the nearest tavern and drink himself into a stupor, as was his habit.

  Feeling that she shouldn’t wait any lo
nger, Amber sat down on the bed next to her mother, taking a cold hand into her own. Molly’s eyelids fluttered for a few seconds, then opened, her unfocused eyes scanning the room before settling on her daughter. Amber held her breath as she watched to see if her mother would recognize her, exhaling quickly as Molly gave her a weak smile.

  “Hello.” Her voice was soft and scratchy, and the exertion of speaking sent her into a fit of coughing. Amber helped her to sit upright and take a sip of water.

  Molly turned her head and located Doctor LeCourt sitting by the bed.

  “I am dying, aren’t I,” Molly said as a statement, rather than a question. He nodded. She turned back to Amber, and upon seeing the tears that had begun to fall in earnest, gave her hand a weak squeeze. “Now, I’ll have none of that. No more crying.” Amber swallowed heavily and forced her non-compliant mouth into a smile. “That’s better,” her mother said, satisfied. “Now Amber, when I’m gone, you must return to England and find your father’s sister, Elinor. She is married to Alfred James. Find them, and they will take you in without reservation. Through them you will enter London society. That is where you belong.” She coughed, her frail body shaking with the effort.

  “Please, don’t say any more,” Amber pleaded, not wanting to hasten her mother’s already fast-approaching death.

  Molly smiled and squeezed her daughter’s hand with her remaining strength. “Ah darling, I see now where I went wrong. I should have disciplined you, crushed your independence. But God forgive me, I couldn’t find the willpower to let you be anything other than yourself. I hope my mistakes don’t haunt you.”

  Amber’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Mother, what on earth are you talking…” she trailed off as Molly’s eyes slowly slid shut, her hand slipping from her daughter’s grasp and falling limp at her side. “Mother?” she whispered, tears rolling down her face. Doctor LeCourt leaned over and pressed his fingers to the side of her throat, then looked up at Amber and shook his head.

  Upon that silent confirmation that her mother was truly, and permanently, gone, Amber buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

  Doctor LeCourt watched her quietly, then began to prepare her mother’s body. As he lifted her arm to cross it on her chest, he noticed a piece of paper clutched in her fist. He loosened it from her grasp and unrolled it, staring at it for a moment.

  “Miss Amber?” She sniffed and lifted her head, turning towards the doctor. “I found this in your mother’s hand. I think it was meant for you.” She tucked it into her pocket without reading it as he gathered his supplies and stood.

  She used her sleeve to rub the tears from her face as she got to her feet. “Thank you Doctor, for doing all that you could.”

  He cupped her shaking hands with his own and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Do you know what you will do now?”

  “No, but I suppose I’ll figure it out.”

  He nodded. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Amber, for your loss.” His steps were quiet as he turned and left the room, leaving her alone with her mother.

  The whole scene was surreal. The first ray of sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains was promise of a beautiful morning, but the atmosphere in the room was gloomy and cold. Molly lay so peacefully in her nightgown that one would believe she was sleeping. The idea that her mother, her closest friend was gone…It was impossible for Amber to grasp. The emptiness in her heart was the only proof that the whole situation was real, and not some terrible nightmare.

  The sun was beginning to rise when Neil pushed open the door to the White Stallion Pub and Inn, pausing to absorb the comforting sights and sounds, inhaling the aroma of the room. In the far corner a group of men sat around a table, a heated card game in process. Other men watched, placing bets and calling the next game, while still others sat scattered throughout the room.

  Neil wove his way towards the back, seeking out his favorite table. Luckily for him it was empty this cold morning. He collapsed into the chair and waved down the barmaid, ordering a pint. As he drank, he thought not about his sister, but about how he would settle his latest debt.

  “Only ale today?” came a lighthearted voice behind him. Neil turned and watched through narrowed eyes as Nathan Andrews settled next to him at the empty table. “Last week you were buying everyone in the Marina Pub shots of whisky!”

  “Last week I was celebrating the financial success of a business venture I was involved with.”

  “What kind of business venture?” Nathan asked.

  “Let’s just say I was in the trade business, and leave it at that. Smith told me about an investment opportunity.”

  “Was this the smuggling deal he was bragging about?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Neil sent an anxious look around the tavern, relieved to see that nobody had turned to listen to their conversation. “I wasn’t smuggling, just…providing the monetary support for a worthy cause.”

  “So what happened?” asked Nathan.

  “I poured all of the money I owned into the project, even borrowed some, too. The first ship made port a fortnight ago and the cargo was sold almost immediately. I started seeing my money again, and we all felt confident that the next couple of ships would arrive without any complications. We thought we would be living like kings in a month’s time.”

  “Let me guess…the other ship never made it?”

  Neil glowered at the other man. “If it had, would I be in this seedy pub, drinking ale with the likes of you? No, the damn ship was boarded by pirates four nights ago. They emptied it of all the cargo and set it ablaze. The first mate barely escaped with his life, said he had to tread water until another ship picked him up. That’s how we found out about the whole sordid event.”

  “What are pirates doing this far north?”

  “Do I look like a damned pirate expert to you?” He downed the rest of his drink. “It is strange, however. It’s almost as if they knew where the ship would be.” He slammed his fist against the table, knocking over his empty mug. “Blasted pirates. I was this close to having more money than I would know what to do with, but it looks like I’ll be living in my sister’s house until I can think of a new way to pay off this debt.”

  Nathan gave an unattractive snort. “From what I’ve heard, Molly’s been a right saint, taking you in. Lord knows you haven’t been much of a brother, stealing things from right under her nose. It’s a shame she keeps catching you, though.”

  “I doubt I will run into any more problems with Molly. She died an hour ago,” he said, staring at his mug.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Nathan responded, his tone suggesting that he was not sorry at all. “But now you can sell the house and use the money to settle your debts.”

  “You’re forgetting about my charming niece, Amber. She’ll never agree to that.”

  A loud roar went up in the room as the card game ended, the victor sweeping his winnings off the table and into his hat. There was a bit of shuffling as men moved and switched chairs, then settled down to play another hand. The winner tossed the innkeeper a coin and strolled from the pub with an arrogant stride. Neil watched him with envy, painfully aware that his own pockets contained only lint.

  “You know, that Amber’s grown into quite the woman in the past couple of years,” Nathan said with slow determination. Neil turned to him in disbelief. “I remember the first time I saw her. She was a gawky kid, just in from playing outside. Covered in dirt, her hair a tangled mess, and she had even ripped a stocking. But now,” he added, taking a sip, “she’s grown into quite a pretty young thing, hasn’t she? Nice and curvy, soft in all the right places. Even that hair makes her look appealing.”

  “Don’t get any ideas. That girl has more spirit then even her mother. All that passionate Irish blood, it isn’t good for her. How is she supposed to find a husband if she’s always bossing him around?” He frowned. “Come to think of it, she’ll probably send me packing as soon as I return home. I’m going to need a new place to stay while I get back on my fe
et.” He looked at Nathan expectantly.

  Nathan laughed. “Sorry, there’s no room in my house for another drunk. My wife would kill me if I brought in a stray. Come on; let’s go join that card game. I’ll even lend you the money so you can play,” he tempted, rising from his chair and waving his wallet in Neil’s face. “Maybe today your luck will change.”

  It was dusk when Amber finally sat down to rest. After running around and making preparations for her mother’s burial she was exhausted, and grateful for the opportunity to stop and think.

  The library was empty, her uncle never having returned. She imagined he was visiting his favorite haunts in town, gambling away his sister’s money and drinking. So often did Neil come to Molly for money to pay off his gambling loans that he eventually moved right on into the house with them, living like a parasite on the family’s back.

  Amber poured herself a cup of tea and then settled into her favorite armchair by the fire, newly laid by one of the servants. Holding the teacup in both hands, she lifted it to her nose and inhaled the calming vapor. She took a sip. With a sigh she leaned back in the chair, her gaze falling on the portrait of her mother above the mantel.

  It had been painted upon their arrival in the colonies, when Amber was seven. To anyone else, the portrait depicted Molly Townsend as a beautiful, happy young woman, but Amber knew her mother, widowed by then, well enough to notice the sadness etched in her face, and the absence of the crinkles that appeared next to her eyes whenever she smiled.

  She still couldn’t believe her mother was dead. The illness had come on so suddenly, and in the chaos surrounding her fever and delirium, Amber hadn’t even given a thought to how she would live without her.

  Only a month before they had been planning a trip to the coast, where they were going to stay with friends and spend their days on their favorite section of beach. It was a small sandy stretch isolated from the town, offering them privacy and an unobstructed view of the ships rolling into the harbor. Molly was looking forward to relaxing and napping in the shade. Amber was eager to curl up with a good book and read it cover to cover in one sitting, only taking a break to eat a picnic lunch of cold meat, bread, and cheese. In the afternoon she would peel off her shoes and stockings and walk along the water’s edge, collecting seashells and interesting rocks, discarded snail shells, and bits of seaglass. Her room at home was already filled with baskets of beautiful collections, and she was anxious to add to them.