Passion's Tide Page 8

  Not that she could complain, however. The bed was plush and warm, the pillows thick with down and soft against her cheek. A clean, masculine scent that she recognized as Logan’s surrounded her, and as she drifted into sleep, her book forgotten next to her, she realized it didn’t bother her.

  Logan came into the room some time later to see Amber curled up in the center of his bed, her hair spread out on the pillow and her hand curled under her chin.

  He marveled at seeing her sleeping so peacefully, as if he thought perhaps she would wake up at any second with teeth bared and claws extended. He chuckled and rubbed his sore cheek. After storming out following their disastrous kiss, he had spent a few hours on the deck, regaining his composure. The cold air felt good against his stinging face, but only intensified his embarrassment. The longer he stayed outside, the worse he felt.

  The girl was an enigma, that much was certain. He had known her for less than a day, and already she had proven herself to be passionate and quick to anger. Yet there was a sadness in her eyes, and her fear upon learning they were not sailing to England proved that there was more to her than her tempestuous façade. And he had no idea what to make of her intense moment of crushing panic, or what could have provoked such an episode. There was something she wasn’t telling him.

  By why should she tell him anything, when he was the man who had captured her and was holding her prisoner against her will? She had no reason to trust him. He glanced over again at her sleeping form as he set up a hammock in the far corner of the room, hoisted himself into it, and let the swaying of the ship rock him to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning dawned with the promise of another beautiful day. With a yawn, Logan climbed from his hammock and sent a glance at Amber, who was still sound asleep despite the sunlight creeping through the windows.

  Quietly, so as not to wake her, he packed away his hammock and pulled on a clean pair of breeches. He grabbed a shirt from the dresser and brought it to his nose, recoiling in disgust and tossing it aside. It took him several minutes to find a clean shirt, but once he was dressed he gathered up all the dirty clothes into a pile, scooped them into his arms and walked out onto the deck, closing the door behind him.

  “Good morning, Captain!” a cheerful voice rang through the haze. Logan turned and peered up at the quarterdeck where Ben, the boatswain, stood at the helm with a merry smile.

  “How’s she faring this morning, Ben?” Logan inquired as he walked up the steps, dirty clothes still in hand.

  “It’s a beautiful morning, Captain, and she’s sailing just as beautifully. We should be out of these cold waters and reaching Tortuga in two and a half weeks. Two, if the weather stays good.”

  “Perfect.”

  Ben shifted from one foot to the other and smiled. “Word is you locked that comely girl in your cabin. If her temper is any indication I’m sure she’s—”

  “I’m not bedding her,” Logan interrupted.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed…” he trailed off. There was an awkward silence as Ben studied his compass with great intensity, then peered into the fading fog to avoid eye contact. At length he glanced at the pile of clothes in Logan’s arms. “Are we doing laundry today?”

  “This is the last clean shirt I could find,” he explained. “And since I’m likely the cleanest person on the ship, no offense,” he added with a smile.

  “None taken.”

  “I figured everyone could do with a fresh change of clothes.”

  “And if I remember correctly, we did just acquire a crate of lye from the Colonial Princess.”

  “That’s right, we did, didn’t we? Perfect. I’ll ask Abe to heat up some water after lunch,” he said as he shifted the bundle of clothes to his other hip, “so if you have anything to be washed, bring it to the kitchen before noon.”

  “Will do, Captain.” With a goodbye, Logan jogged down the stairs, waved a greeting to the men who were unfurling the topsail, then went below deck.

  Abe looked up from the stove as Logan entered the galley. “Morning Cap’n! Pretty day, isn’t it?” He noticed the clothes. “Are we doing the wash today?”

  “I had hoped to. Would you mind helping after lunch?”

  “You don’t have to ask me, Cap’n, it’s part of my job. Of course I’ll do my duty to the ship. Now, would you like some tea this morning, or can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

  Logan snapped to attention. “We have coffee?”

  “Aye, I found a barrel in the cargo hold. We must have picked it up from a ship and forgotten about it.”

  “Well, how will you filter the grounds?”

  “With this,” Abe held up a dark stained stocking. He saw Logan’s expression and chuckled. “It didn’t start out this color, don’t worry. I tested it out earlier to see if it worked.”

  “And did it?” Logan’s mouth was already salivating at the thought of a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Aye, it worked all right,” he said with a grin, “And you can hardly taste the feet!”

  Logan laughed as Abe went to work scooping the ground beans into the stocking.

  “How is your leg treating you today?” Logan asked, watching his progress.

  “Hardly botherin’ me at all,” Abe declared with pride, suspending the stocking above a pot and setting the hot water to drip through it. Then he raised his right leg, which ended abruptly below the knee, and pulled up his breeches to show off the wound. Logan was pleased to note that it looked healthy and clean. “The doctor said he would stop by this afternoon to see how I’m faring.”

  “I’m glad. And you’re getting around just fine?”

  “Noah made me this crutch yesterday,” he waved it in the air with a smile. “Real nice, too. My brother had one that was too tall, gave him trouble. Told me it was rubbing him all uncomfortable like. But this one fits just right.”

  “The men do seem to be taking a liking to Noah.”

  “Aye, he seems to be a jolly enough fellow, if a little shy. Do you want something to eat? I wasn’t sure what to make for breakfast, so I made some honey cake, if you want some.” He held out a plate piled high with the squares of sweet cake. Logan took one and bit off a corner, his eyes widening as the flavor rolled over his tongue like molasses. Abe smiled. “Good?”

  “Considering that Peter used to serve dry biscuits for breakfast, often with mealworms still inside, I would say this is a much needed improvement.” He finished the rest of the cake and reached for another. “Where did you get the recipe?”

  “My mum used to make them, I guess I just picked it up from her. We had extra honey and spices in the hold, I hope it’s all right that I took some.”

  Logan laughed. “You can take anything you want, as long as you keep surprising me.” He finished off the cake and grinned. “I suppose you’ve also taken into account that cooks make more than the rest of the crew? Add to that the five hundred dollars you’ll get for your leg, and you’ll be a rich man, my friend.”

  Abe’s brown eyes twinkled. “Aye, I’ve taken both into account, and I’m rightly pleased.”

  “Pleased about what?” Eli said from the doorway. Logan noticed that his friend was dressed more appropriately than the previous day, in well-worn wool breeches and a tight fitting black linen shirt. He was rolling up his sleeves as he walked into the galley. “What is Abe pleased about?” he repeated.

  “His monetary success,” Logan answered. “Nice outfit.”

  Eli shot him a glare. “Don’t think I did it because you were poking fun of me last night. Everything else smelled.”

  “Lucky for you all my clothes are dirty as well,” Logan said, nodding at the pile in the corner. “We’re going to wash everything after lunch.”

  “Wonderful.” He grabbed a honey cake and shoved it into his mouth. “Dear god, did you make these, Abe?” he mumbled, spewing crumbs as he spoke.

  “Aye.”

  “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten, and I�
��m not exaggerating.”

  Abe smiled in response. “I love being in the galley, much more than being out on deck. I was never comfortable climbing up and down the rigging.”

  Logan clapped him on the back. “We’re glad to have you here.”

  Eli drank half of his coffee in one gulp, and then grabbed another cake. “How did last night go?”

  “What do you mean, how did last night go?” Logan replied, refusing to stand down to Eli’s stare.

  “You know very well what I mean. After the trial you went into your cabin with a young, beautiful, and spirited woman. As far as I know she assumes you are holding her prisoner, along with the rest of the crew, I might add. I want you to tell me how the rest of the night went.”

  Logan shrugged his shoulders. “It went fine. Nothing happened,” he easily lied.

  “Where did she sleep?”

  “In my bed.” Eli choked on his coffee. “Relax, I was in a hammock on the other side of the room.”

  “I still think this is a bad idea, Logan. She may be impassioned, but I have a strong feeling that she’s an innocent.”

  “And?”

  “And I know you. Ten minutes alone with any woman and her reputation is soiled, if not her virtue.”

  Logan narrowed his eyes. “You think that I would take advantage of her?”

  The tall quartermaster bit back a laugh. “I think that you have to stop women from throwing themselves upon you as soon as you flash them that dashing smile, with a seductive look in those brooding eyes.”

  Logan lifted an eyebrow. “Dashing smile? Brooding eyes?”

  “I got a little caught up in the imagery, my apologies. The fact remains, however, that you have a way of making a woman feel like a woman, like she’s important to you.”

  Logan was taken aback. “How do you know all this?”

  Eli gave him a sheepish smile. “A few of your broken-hearted mistresses have come to me for comforting.” Abe laughed from his position at the stove as he stirred the contents of a large pot.

  “Is that so? Well, I hope you were able to comfort them properly,” Logan said with a chuckle.

  “For the record, they came to me. I did not seek them out.”

  Logan rolled his eyes. “Listen, whatever you do with my discarded mistresses is your own business.”

  They were momentarily interrupted as Abe hobbled over and extended a ladle filled with a thick, red stew. After both men had tasted it and voiced their approval, the topic returned to Amber.

  “Did you talk to her at all last night?” Eli prodded.

  “A little, though I find it hard to converse with a woman who wishes I was dead.”

  “Valid point. Did you ask her why she was on the Queen Charlotte?”

  “I did,” Logan said as he stood up so that Abe could get to the barrel he had been sitting on, then went to lean against the wall with his arms crossed. “She pretended to ignore me and wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  “I wonder why she was so anxious to get to England,” Eli mused aloud as he sipped his coffee.

  “Maybe she’s goin’ to see her husband,” offered Abe.

  Logan shook his head. “She’s not married.”

  “How can you be sure? She’s looks to be the right age.”

  “No ring,” Logan said. “And I can also just tell.”

  “He’s practically made it a life skill to be able to tell if a woman is married or not. Hazards of the trade I guess,” Eli explained to Abe. A look from Logan quickly shut him up.

  “Well how old do you think she is, Elijah?” asked Abe as he added another pungent spice to the stew.

  “I reckon about mid-twenties or so.”

  “She sure doesn’t act like it,” Logan muttered.

  “I’m twenty-three,” came Amber’s cool voice behind them, causing the men to swing their heads in her direction. She met Logan’s gaze as she walked towards the center table. “And I act in the only rational way one can while dealing with you.”

  Abe jumped forward with the pot of coffee and a mug. “Good morning, Miss Amber.” She took it from him with a grateful nod. While she poured some for herself, Logan took the opportunity to survey her appearance.

  A faint blush was visible on her cheeks from the brisk walk outside, and her curls were twisted on top of her head, a feat that must have been difficult to accomplish without a lady’s maid to assist her. As evidence of this, a few strands fell from the pins as she tilted her head back to drain the last drops of coffee from her cup. Her dress was dusty pink, and cut stylishly low as was the current fashion, though it was still far less tight and revealing than her previous gown. Logan continued his silent scrutiny, from the small pearl bobs in her ears, to the lace at her wrists, down to the soles of her slippers peeking out from the hem of her dress. When he was finished, he was disappointed that he could find no fault; she was beautiful.

  He looked up to see that Eli had left, and Amber was staring at him. “Are you quite finished?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Please don’t play games with me, Captain.” The last word came out as a sneer. “If you’re done gawking at me, I’d like to discuss how we are going to get through these next couple of weeks. I’ve come up with a solution.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Have you now?”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” he asked as his eyebrow rose another degree. She scowled.

  “Obviously I don’t like you, and you don’t like me—”

  “I never said that,” Logan cut in. “Abe, did I ever say that I disliked Miss Amber?”

  Abe stopped pouring her another cup of coffee, looked back and forth between the two, and then nervously cleared his throat. “Well, no, you didn’t say anything of the sort.” Logan turned to Amber with a triumphant shrug. “You aren’t being very nice to her, though.”

  Logan’s cockiness faded as she raised her eyebrow back at him. “Like I said: you don’t like me, and I don’t like you. The only way we are going to survive being on a ship together is if we avoid each other.”

  “It’s a large ship, but don’t you think we will run into each other on occasion? Especially during meals, and at night when you sleep in my bed?”

  “I’ve figured that out too,” she replied, refusing to respond to his baited comment about the bed, knowing he said it to irk her. “We speak to each other as little as possible, and keep the conversation polite and impersonal.”

  “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if I tell you it isn’t going to work?”

  Abe shook his head with a silent groan as he peeled potatoes. Amber crossed her arms. “Why on earth wouldn’t it?”

  Logan pulled himself from his leaning stance against the wall and approached her, stopping to grab an apple from a barrel. “I’d think it would be quite obvious to you, by now.” She narrowed her gaze as he took a bite. “I’m a pirate. I can’t be civil.” Juices from the ripe apple ran down his chin as he chomped. “So I guess you have to come up with a new plan.”

  Amber stood. “I guess I do.” As she walked past him she knocked his mug off the table, spilling hot coffee all over the front of his breeches. Logan leapt away with a bellow as she disappeared around the corner.

  Abe approached with a damp cloth and tried to dab at the mess, but Logan snatched the rag from him and rubbed angrily.

  “I have never met a more irritating woman in my entire life,” he seethed as he pressed the cloth to his burned thighs.

  Abe bit back a smile. “I hate to say this, but I think you deserved that one.”

  Chapter Eight

  The rest of the day passed without much action. Amber made good on her half of the deal by avoiding Logan as much as possible. He too decided to adhere to the plan, his change of heart perhaps stemming from the incident at breakfast. But all too soon, it seemed, the sun sank below the horizon and the smell of dinner cooking tempted the crew to rush throug
h their nightly duties so that they could eat sooner.

  After procrastinating as much as possible, Logan surrendered the helm to Jean and did a quick survey of the ship that led him to the door to his quarters, where Amber had been most of the day. He sighed and entered the room.

  At the sound of his entry she spared a single glance in his direction, then returned her attention to the worn copy of Othello she held in her hands. By the looks of it, she had almost finished it.

  “Hungry?” he asked as he walked over to the clothes that hung drying on the rafters. She licked her finger and turned the page. “Are you still ignoring me?” She stayed silent. “Othello kills himself at the end.” He could see the muscles in her jaw working as she held back her angry response. Shaking his head, he pulled off his shirt and replaced it with a clean, though damp, one. The door opened again, sending in a gust of cool air as Eli entered. Amber looked up and smiled.

  “Good evening Elijah,” she said as she marked her page and put the book down beside her.

  “Hello Miss Amber. I hope you had a relaxing day?”

  “I did, thank you very much for asking. And you?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it relaxing, but it was a pleasant enough afternoon. Are you hungry?”

  “Famished.”

  “That’s good, because Abe made some incredible stew for tonight’s dinner—”

  “Enough!” Logan interrupted, looking annoyed. “I can’t take much more of you two magpies, or I’m going to lose my mind!”

  The meal progressed in strained silence, Noah occasionally sending fearful glances in his Captain’s direction, afraid to say anything that might provoke his ire. Amber was less affected by Logan’s dismal countenance, but could see how it would repel unwanted conversation. Once the meal had finished and the place settings were cleared, Logan grabbed a jacket from a peg near the door and, without saying a word, stormed out.