Sea Mistress Read online

  “Go to bed, Seth,” she said gently. “You look awful.”

  He seemed startled by her concern. “Ah, thank you— I think.” He made his excuses to the two older gentlemen in the room and then returned to Bess.

  “Good night, Bess.” Both his gaze and his voice were soft.

  Her pulse quickened. She’d never encountered this side of him. It was both pleasant and disturbing to her.

  When she retired to her room a short time later, Bess couldn’t get Seth Garret’s recent behavior out of her mind. He was no longer so arrogant. He seemed human.

  “Mary,” she said to her maid, “I want you to see that the young gentlemen guest in the second wing gets a glass of brandy. Make sure you hear movement inside his room before you disturb him. If he’s awake and asks, tell him that Edward sent it up . . . to help him rest.”

  The servant nodded. “In the blue room, Miss?”

  “Yes.” Bess lifted her hairbrush and fingered the silver handle. “And please do it now. You can come back when you’re done to help me with my hair.”

  With a nod and a curtsy, Mary went to do Bess’s bidding.

  It seemed like forever that her maid was gone. Bess paced the room in agitation, wondering if she’d done the right thing in sending the brandy. As her qualms increased, she sat down at her vanity to work at her hair. She needed something— anything—to keep her mind off Seth Garret.

  What if Seth didn’t believe that Edward had sent it? Worse yet, what if he did and then mentioned it to her uncle the next day?

  I’ll have to speak privately with Uncle Edward to ensure that he doesn’t tell.

  Finally the servant girl returned from the second wing. Bess let her into the bedchamber, and saw Mary glance at her with surprise.

  “You took so long,” Bess said, explaining why she’d gone ahead and brushed her own hair. “But it matters not, for I’ve managed very well myself.”

  Mary nodded. “Sorry, Miss, but it took me a while to find the brandy.”

  “I see.” Bess hesitated. “Then Mr. Garret was awake, I take it?”

  A flicker of understanding crossed the maid’s face. “Yes, indeed, Miss,” she said. “Seemed grateful for the brandy,” Mary continued. “Looked as if he needed it.”

  Nodding, Bess hid her satisfaction “I thought as much,” she murmured.

  “Excuse me, Miss?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Garret does appreciate Uncle Edward’s thoughtfulness,” Bess said. “It must be hard to sleep in a strange house.”

  The excuse seemed lame, even to Bess’s ears, for Seth Garret was a sailor, who must surely be used to sleeping in strange places. For a moment, she wondered why Seth couldn’t sleep.

  Bess thanked Mary for her services and then dismissed the girl for the night.

  The next morning when Bess got up Seth Garret - was gone. As on the first full day after their arrival, the captain and his first officer disappeared from the house at an early hour to carry on their work at the dock. They arrived home shortly before the evening meal.

  Descending the stairs to the main floor, Bess told herself that she wasn’t glad that the day had gone by quickly, that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again. But she was unable to convince herself.

  Will Seth mention the thoughtfulness of the brandy? she wondered as she neared the parlor where they gathered before dinner. And then she recalled her little deception. Seth thought Edward had sent the spirits. Seth Garret would never know that she’d been concerned for him, that the brandy had come from her, and she had spoken to Uncle Edward to protect that lie.

  When she stepped into the parlor, Bess felt Seth’s presence immediately. He was standing by the hearth, drinking a glass of sherry. Her heart started thundering within her breast. She felt the skin tingling on her neck and spine when he turned and met her gaze.

  “Mr. Garret—Seth,” she corrected herself. She saw his astonishment, and was glad she’d greeted him first. Graciously.

  Before he could respond, however, she turned her attention to the other two in the room. “Uncle Edward. Uncle Joeson. You’re both looking handsome this evening. Did you dress especially for me?”

  She could feel the heat of Seth Garret’s gaze as she asked Uncle Joeson how his day had gone.

  When the time came to go into dinner, Seth came to her side and offered to escort her.

  Bess looked down at his extended arm. His clean, masculine scent reached out to tantalize her nose. He smelled of soap and sherry, and of the sea. “What?” she said. “Weapons put away? Is this a truce?”

  He smiled. The flash of his white teeth effectively took her breath away. “Only until our chess game, Miss Metcalfe.”

  She grinned back, feeling suddenly lighthearted. “Good enough, Mr. Garret. A truce only until our game.”

  Seth Garret looked especially attractive this night. His coal-black hair shone under the lamplight. His cerulean eyes sparkled with good humor. He seemed relaxed and at ease.

  After a pleasant dinner, as they had the night before, Bess and the three gentlemen retired to spend the remainder of the evening in the parlor. This time Bess was more aware of Seth’s physical condition. Because I’m curious to know if the brandy helped him, she thought.

  Seth looked more rested than he had the previous night. Because of her? Because of the brandy?

  It seemed as if he’d read her thoughts, because it was only seconds later that he said, “It was kind of your uncle to send brandy to my room.” He paused, his gaze roaming her face. “Does he usually do that?”

  . Bess felt her face heat. “Uncle Edward is a very thoughtful man,” she said, feeling somewhat flustered by the topic of conversation. “Perhaps he was concerned that you’d sleep badly in a strange room.”

  She placed a knight on the playing board. Seth reached out and caught her fingers. She gasped. It was the first time they’d touched. The contact was electrifying.

  “Thank you for the kindness,” he said softly.

  “Excuse me?” She pretended to misunderstand.

  “It was you who sent up the brandy, not Edward.”

  “He told you!”

  He smiled. “No, you just did.”

  “A common courtesy is all, Mr. Garret,” she said, attempting to dispel the air of intimacy that had suddenly settled in around them.

  “Then why hide the fact, Bess,” he said, raising his right eyebrow.

  Why indeed? Bess thought, feeling as if she’d been found out in some criminal scheme.

  He released her hand then, and she let out a shaky breath. She could still feel the tingling warmth of his fingers.

  That night, Bess lost at chess. She was flustered by Seth’s presence, by their exchange about the brandy.

  “Checkmate,” Seth said, watching her closely.

  She blushed. “Lucky night for you, Mr. Metcalfe.”

  “Is it?” He continued to stare at her, his expression intense. There was an undercurrent of tension in the air, which made Bess feel suddenly too warm.

  She began to put away the chess men.

  He caught her hand. “Bess.” They locked gazes, and Seth looked as if he were going to say something important. Then something changed in his expression. “Another game?”

  She looked away. “No, not tonight. I’m rather tired.”

  “Can’t stand to lose?”

  “No! That’s not it at all!” Her dark eyes flashed fire as she met his gaze.

  “Then why are you in such a hurry to leave.”

  “I said I’m tired!”

  “You slept to 9 a.m. How can you be tired?”

  Bess was taken aback. “How do you know what time I got up?” Had he been questioning the servants?

  Seth smiled. “I guessed.”

  “Oh.” Ironically, she was disappointed that it hadn’t been because he’d asked. Why? Because I want him to be interested? She was mortified by the thought. Of course not! Why would I want him to be interested in me?

  He didn’
t stop her again from putting away the chess game. And afterward when she’d said good-night to all three men, Seth didn’t appear bothered that she was leaving him.

  Bess was agitated when she got to her room. Her evening with Seth Garret had disturbed her. Knowing she’d never be able to relax without help, she called for her maid and requested a bath. While Mary went to arrange for a tub, Bess wrenched the hair pins from her hair and then proceeded to brush the blonde strands vigorously.

  A half-hour later, Bess had dismissed her maid to enjoy her bath in privacy. As she eased herself into the tub, she felt the hot, scented water caress her, much as a lover would fondle flesh, and her thoughts returned to Seth Garret.

  She remembered his touch, warm and firm, when he’d caught her hand. Her heartbeat quickened. She shifted in the tub and felt her breasts swell as the water stroked them. Her nipples hardened as she recalled Seth’s searing gaze.

  She’d never before experienced such a physical reaction to a man. What was it about Seth Garret that was so different?

  By the time she was done with her bath, she was flushed not only from the hot water but, from the wanton direction of her thoughts. She kept wondering what it would be like to kiss Seth Garret . . . to touch him, stroke his bare chest.

  She was rough as she rubbed herself dry with a towel. She wanted to scrub away the tingling sensation caused by her musings. She didn’t like the feeling; it frightened her.

  Bess donned her nightgown and slipped into bed. She closed her eyes and willed away the ache in her abdomen . . . the hardness of her nipples, but all she could think about was Seth Garret. She imagined him kissing her mouth, her breasts. She could almost feel his strong hands fondling her.

  Her body responded to her mental images. She felt the liquid warmth invade her most private area, and she writhed against the bedclothes, trying to banish the throbbing ache between her legs.

  The next morning she was more aware of her body, of her breasts and stomach and thighs. Blushing, she dressed quickly, and when she was done, she went downstairs, glad that she wouldn’t have to face Seth just yet, that she had all day to gather her composure and put what had happened last night in her room into some kind of logical perspective.

  I feel calmer already, she thought as she headed toward the dining room. By the time he returns for supper, I’ll be able to forgive myself. To forget what had happened. I’ll no longer think such sinful things about him.

  Bess entered the dining room. Edward Metcalfe wasn’t there; neither was Uncle Joeson.

  But Seth Garret was waiting for her. Alone . . .

  Three

  The sound of ship’s bells stirred Bess from sleep. She opened her eyes, and the reality of the present came crashing in on her.

  Her heart was pounding. Thank God she’d awakened when she had, because what happened that day had been just the beginning of her loving relationship with Seth, and the heartbreak that followed soon afterward.

  She sat up carefully, for she was on the lower bunk and her head was close to one above it. She willed the memories away, concentrating on her surroundings instead.

  She could hear Reeves snoring above her, asleep on the upper bunk. Bess felt the gentle swaying motion of the Sea Mistress and, with a start, realized that the ship had left the dock.

  How far were they out to sea? When had she fallen asleep? How long had she been dreaming?

  The movement of the vessel was soothing. She lay back against the bunk and closed her eyes. She would think of the future, of justice, of the moment she would finally see Seth pay for his betrayal.

  But inadvertently, she thought again of the past, of the pain she’d suffered at the man’s hand. Silent tears seeped out from beneath her long feathered lashes, for two weeks with Seth Garret had stolen her ability to love. For a lifetime.

  Three days later, the ship rolled on the choppy sea. Bess lay on her bunk in the small musty cabin, groaning, her stomach cramped with nausea, her brow damp with perspiration. She was alone, and had been for the past two nights as Reeves had moved into the fo’c’sle. Her illness had begun upon awakening after only a few hours’ sleep that first night. Plagued by the past, she thought, and now this!

  Her fabrication had become a truth. She was seasick and miserable. Would she be ill for the entire voyage?

  Bess sat up, fumbling for the chamber pot that Reeves had unearthed from the ship’s cargo hold. After violently heaving her stomach’s contents, she hunched over, cursing Seth Garret. If it weren’t for her need to hide from the captain, she would venture topside for fresh air and a sight more cheerful than the four wooden walls of this dreary cabin.

  Three days into the voyage, and for two of them she had been ill. She’d gone from bad to worse, and there was no sign that she’d get any relief.

  Bess knew that below deck was the worst place for her to be, but she had no choice. Her presence on deck would draw interest. She had no intention of meeting Seth until she felt strong enough to confront him squarely. Perhaps she’d recover when the ship reached calmer waters. Until then, she could only endure.

  A gentle knock sounded on her cabin door, and Bess stood, clutching her stomach. “Who’s there?” she asked in her deepest voice, her face pressed against the wood. She had to continue her charade of being Robert Marlton, the E. Metcalfe Co. representative.

  “Reeves.”

  Bess swallowed against the bile in her throat. “Come in.” She stepped back, swaying, and Reeves rushed forward to steady her.

  “You’re no better,” he said with concern.

  She shook her head, unable to speak as she stifled the urge to vomit.

  “Perhaps you should give up this ridiculous plan of yours and come up on deck—”

  “No!” she burst out, nearly gagging. She sat down on her bunk and doubled over, groaning when a violent spasm seized her stomach.

  “You’re right, of course.” Reeves searched the room for a pitcher of water; there was none. “Miss Metcalfe—” He stopped when she glared at him, white-faced. “Marlton,” he amended. “Can I get you anything? Some food?”

  Bess moaned at the mention of food. As if realizing his mistake, Reeves shook his head, and Bess gave him a weak smile. “Do you think it’s safe if I come up after dark?”

  “I don’t know.” Reeves frowned. “Perhaps during the second night-watch when the mate is topside.” He paled when Bess gasped, clutched her abdomen, and excused herself before she became sick.

  “The stench in here alone is enough to make you ill,” he murmured, grimacing. Reeves reached for the chamber pot when Bess was done, and then he left to empty the offending vessel.

  To Bess’s amazement, her stomach quieted after Reeves’s departure. She napped for a time; and when she woke up, she could tell that night had fallen, for it seemed darker in the cabin. All was silent but for the soft murmurs of off-duty seamen, the light tread of footsteps above, and the creak and groan of the Sea Mistress’s hull.

  A tap sounded on her door. “Marlton?”

  Recognizing Reeve’s respectful tone, Bess climbed from her bunk and opened the latch. She nodded for him to enter, then closed the door and faced him. “Well?”

  “The captain is in his cabin. The chief mate, Kelley, is on deck with the night watch. Geoff Conrad, the second mate, is below.” Reeves appeared doubtful. “Conrad worries me. He has the next watch, and I don’t trust him.” He reached for her cap, which lay on the table near her bunk. “Here—put this on.”

  Bess complied, tugging the dark cap over her pinned-up golden braids. “How much time before the next watch?”

  “About three hours.” He frowned, clearly unhappy with Bess’s desire to go topside.

  “Don’t worry,” she said upon seeing her friend’s expression. “This disguise worked before.”

  “When you weren’t under close scrutiny.”

  Bess silently agreed. “There.” She stood back for Reeves’s observation. She wore a baggy shirt and short trousers like those wo
rn by the crew.

  “I don’t know.” Reeves shook his head. “It’s too risky. The captain can still turn this tub around.”

  Bess grinned. “Don’t let Garret hear you calling her a tub,” she said, referring to the ship. She sobered. “Can’t we at least try?” She needed to escape the cabin, if only for a short while. She was feeling better; a breath of fresh air would strengthen her.

  Reeves didn’t immediately answer, but handed her a cloth-covered bundle. “You’ll feel better after you’ve had something to eat.”

  “What is it?” she asked. She made a face as she unwrapped the cloth. There was a hunk of cold salt pork and two hard, unappetizing biscuits. “You want me to eat this?”

  He nodded. “The Mate says it’s the best cure.”

  “For what?” Bess replied with sarcasm. “For gluttony?” But as she spoke, she took a nibble of the hard tack biscuit. It was dry as it went down her throat. “Is there anything to drink?”

  “Water.” Reeves gestured toward the pitcher on the table. “I left it for you earlier.”

  Bess’s eyebrows rose as she learned that Reeves had entered while she slept, but she said nothing. She turned from his blushing face and poured herself a small tumbler. The water was warm, but it was wet, and it revived her. She noted with surprise that the food had set well in her belly. She was feeling more like her usual self.

  Bess smiled at Reeves. “I’m ready.”

  “Are you sure you want to attempt this?” The man still looked uncertain. “Tomorrow you’ll be stronger.”

  “No, I want to go now. I have to get out of here, if only for a few minutes. Three days in this cabin is enough to drive one mad.”

  “As you wish.” He wasn’t happy. “Keep your head down, but watch your step. And follow me closely.” He opened the cabin door.

  Bess nodded. She tugged on the edges of her hat to ensure her hair was adequately covered. On impulse, she grabbed and slipped on her coat, hoping its dark folds would provide protection against vigilant eyes.