Elizabeth Meyette - [Love's 01] (8 page)

“I did not save your life, Captain Brentwood. I simply held a cup to your mouth and helped you drink,” she retorted.

“Oh, that the cup had been your warm, sweet lips, my lady. Surely that, however, would only increase my fever and make me rave with mad cravings of the heart. No, I suppose it is fortunate that the only thing you pressed to my lips was a cold, pewter cup.” He tried to look relieved, but let out a low chuckle.

Emily went scarlet. Could it be that he knew of her kiss? Oh, how horrible. She could not meet his eyes.

“Good day, Captain. I have a need of some fresh air,” Emily said, rising. She quickly walked to the door and on closing it, flew to her cabin in dismay.

Both Jonathon and Andrew recovered quickly, and life aboard the
Destiny
returned to normal, including enjoyable repasts in Jonathon’s quarters. It was after one of these that Mr. Gates suggested a game of cards. Emily declined, preferring an evening stroll on deck.

As she ascended the ladder, she heard the melancholy tunes of a sea chantey coming from the crew’s quarters. Reaching the deck she gasped in wonder catching sight of an enormous golden moon hanging just above the horizon. She was drawn to the railing where she stood, enchanted by the sight. It seemed that if she dove into the sea and swam but a short distance, she would be able to reach up and capture the golden orb. Strains of the sailor’s song drifted up to her, and she felt a strange mixture of sadness and joy. Her heart welled up within her, yet tears clouded her eyes. She wondered at this intense feeling of melancholy, and an unfamiliar ache throbbed inside that was not quite loneliness. Somehow she knew the loss of her parents was not the cause; in fact, were they beside her that moment, their presence would not comfort her. Her senses seemed to reach out for a fulfillment of which she had no knowledge. It was a terrible sweet pain, this joy-sorrow. She wanted to keep still for fear it would flee, yet she wanted to banish it with good sense and practicality. She was convinced she was moonstruck. Emily did not understand.

And he was beside her.

“Ah, the sea,” Jonathon took a deep breath and then exhaled. Looking down at her, Jonathon was stunned by what he saw in Emily’s eyes. The silent, aching appeal was there, albeit unknown to the girl. Jonathon understood.

He realized what a precarious position they were in. She was his ward, his responsibility. He could no more take her into his arms to ease the longing and comfort her than he could turn away and leave her here. But Jonathon was torn between two loves already. One the seductive, undulating call of the sea, a mistress that seeped into his being and lulled him with her vastness and freedom. She could rage at him with a violent tempest or mock him by withholding her breezes as an angry lover looms in silence over her faulted beloved. The other love: his land. Her perfume, the magnolia and lilac, and the sweet smell of freshly plowed fields. She beckoned no less seductively with her wild, wooded acres and gently rolling hills promising majestic mountains beyond, poised as a vain woman allowing him to drink in her beauty. And she could ruin him with floods or drought, destroying in days what took a lifetime to build. Two loves, both addictive, neither controllable.

And beside him, this girl. Beautiful, vulnerable, needing to be held, not realizing her need. Jonathon had avoided emotional entanglements so far; taking his pleasure with women who knew it was only that. Never commitment, never love. But this was not what Emily needed. She needed the love and commitment of a lifetime from a man who would be hers alone. Not the sea’s, not the land’s.

Jonathon recovered.

“So, Miss Wentworth, soon we will be home.”

“Your home, Captain. Mine has been left far behind,” she replied in a tight voice.

“When you see Virginia, Emily, you will claim her for your very own. Lazy summer days, gentle breezes that rest soft upon your cheek; rivers that slip through thick forests and burst out over rocks, past emerald green lawns that sweep down from red brick manor houses. Sleepy nights listening to the crickets sing. Em, you can ride for a day and never leave Brentwood land. We shall do that one day; you will not believe how beautiful it is. Wooded hills, and in the west, mountains so high the tops hide in the clouds. I shall show you all of it.”

“You sound like a besotted lover,” she snapped.

“Of course, when you arrive, Virginia will have a rival to her beauty. Why, the young men will be tripping over each other to win your favor.”

“And I am sure you will find each one of them unacceptable as a husband for me. No, you will wait until some doddering old fool with gout and a large purse comes along and marry me off to him so you can increase
my
fortune that
you
hold.” Emily looked up at him, her eyes blazing.

“So you think me a scheming opportunist,” Jonathon chuckled. “I told you about my land holdings, Em. I am really not that close to starvation that I must steal from innocent young women and doddering old fools.”

“Frankly, Captain Brentwood, I think you exaggerate. Perhaps if we ride in a small circle we can ride all day on your land. I shall believe it when I see it; until then I am convinced these are the rantings of a colonial fool. England, in case your memory is poor, is quite beautiful, too.” She glared at him. “Good evening, Captain.”

Jonathon looked into her eyes. One fire had been extinguished by another — anger. That was good; she would sleep much easier tonight. He watched her walk to the steps leading below. Soon she would see that he was right.

• • •

There was an undercurrent of energy and anticipation within each man. They had traveled this route enough to know instinctively that they would sight land soon, discounting the endless, unbroken horizon that surrounded them. It seemed to build daily until expectation was almost a tangible entity among them. Coiled ropes were undone and recoiled, polished mahogany was buffed again, secure riggings were rechecked, and throughout it all surreptitious glances took in the western horizon. They smelled land before they saw it.

And at dawn one morning the shout came, “Land ‘ho!”

The reined anticipation erupted into boundless energy. Men scrambled up rigging and across decks preparing the ship to enter port, Jonathon among them shouting orders, checking charts and compass. Andrew worked among them readying the
Destiny
for her home harbor while he crushed down his unbearable excitement. Excitement welled up and spilled over in all the men as hearty laughs joined lusty jokes about how the first evening ashore would be spent.

A strangely quiet figure stood at the rail staring at the distant shoreline. Somehow leaving London had seemed unreal. There was always the hope that they would, in fact, return. But the proof of their destination loomed ahead and had to be faced. Emily’s emotions churned — apprehension, curiosity, fear and excitement. Would Virginia live up to Jonathon’s descriptions? As afraid as she was of finding out, she was also strangely exhilarated.

Andrew came up beside her and squeezed her hand. “What do you suppose it will be like, Emily?”

“From what Captain Brentwood says, it is heaven on earth,” she answered dryly.

“Will you ever like him, Em?” Andrew asked looking at his sister curiously.

“I have told you, Andrew, he tries to take Father’s place; he fancies himself part of the family.” She knew these were lame excuses, but she honestly did not know herself why this colonial sea captain disturbed her so. She turned to look at her brother. “I do not like feeling as if we owe him something. I keep waiting for him to call in the debt,” she glanced away, “and I am not sure I am ready to pay his price.”

Andrew was bemused. “Em, he was Father’s friend. He agreed to this long ago.”

Emily looked back at him. “That may be so, Andrew, but he probably agreed thinking that Father would live to a hale and hearty old age. I doubt he ever expected to end up playing nursemaid to two reluctant offspring.”

“I am not reluctant, Em. I think Jonathon is a fine man, and a good captain. He does not treat
me
like a child. Why, he says I am as fine a sailor as any of his crew was at the end of their first voyage. When my schooling is done, I shall sail with him again.” Andrew’s eyes sparkled and Emily had to smile.

“I am glad to see you so happy, Drew.”

“But I want you to be happy, too, Em. Since Father’s death you seem so restless and preoccupied. Jonathon wants the best for us, just as Father did. He would have approved your marriage to Michael if he thought you would have been happy.”

Emily’s mouth opened in surprise. “Why do you say that?” she demanded.

“Because he told me so,” Andrew replied.

“So now Captain Brentwood thinks to read my mind!” she huffed indignantly. “Oh, that egotistical boor …” Her tirade was halted by the sight of the lush, green coastline growing on the horizon. “Oh, Drew, look!” she exclaimed. Suddenly her knees trembled and she lost her cool reserve. What would Virginia hold for her and Andrew? Would they be happy there? Doubt and fear possessed her, and she wanted the ship to turn back. She took a deep breath and composed herself. Sensing a presence beside her, she looked up into warm, brown eyes.

“Remember the favor I asked, Emily,” Jonathon said softly. His eyes were tender, and a worried look touched his brow.

“As I recall there were two that were mentioned. To which do you refer, sir?” she questioned imperiously.

“Which do you prefer, Miss Wentworth?” he countered.

She caught Andrew’s bewildered look and bit back a retort. “I will try to be open minded about Virginia, Captain,” she replied.

They turned to view the enlarging coastline. The emerald green trees were a startling contrast to the clear, blue sky. Emily reluctantly admitted to herself that it was a striking first impression. But, she thought firmly, I would need more convincing than a pretty coastline.

They sailed past Cape Henry and the
Destiny
glided regally toward the York River to drop anchor at Yorktown. The day was hot and clear, the sun lending brilliant color to the passing shore. But Emily was more impressed with the look in Jonathon’s eyes. He was home, and he seemed to drink in every detail that he saw. A grin had played about his mouth all day, even when he was caught up in the details of readying his ship for port. As they gracefully neared Yorktown, his happiness was barely checked, and coming up to Emily he stood before her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“We are home, Em.”

But the girl could not speak over the catch in her throat. One of the crew called for Jonathon, and he turned and left. Andrew came up to her and placed an arm around her waist.

“Chin up, Emily,” Andrew said tenderly. “We still have each other.”

Emily gave him a brave smile and blinked back the tears. They walked to the rail and watched the activity. Men rolled, carted or carried hogsheads of tobacco to be shipped to England. Sailors headed to nearby taverns to quench long overdue thirsts, or tipsily staggered back to ships to sleep off just such quenching. Street urchins ran about trying to earn a coin by performing various chores. Voices ran together in the churning, noisy bedlam.

“It could be a pier in London,” Emily thought, “or, for that matter, in any country. People are not so different though oceans separate them.”

“May I escort you ashore, Miss Wentworth?” Jonathon’s eyes sparkled as he offered her his arm.

“Thank you, Captain. Your Virginia is living up to your mad ranting, thus far. But you still have much to prove, ‘Mountains that touch the floor of heaven, vast acres of Brentwood land …’”

“So you were listening. I am honored,” he bowed.

Emily stopped, embarrassed. “There was precious little else to do on this long, lonely sea voyage, Captain.”

“Lonely, Em? With you aboard I was not lonely at all,” he grinned. She gave him a withering look.

They descended the gangplank with Andrew and found Mr. Gates. Emily and Andrew studied the busy wharf as the two men spoke. Soon Jonathon returned.

“Would you mind a carriage ride after our long journey? We could stay at the Raleigh Tavern in Williamsburg. I am anxious for news of home, and that is where it is to be found,” he said. “Mr. Gates will tend to the ship.”

Emily and Andrew agreed, and soon they were bouncing along the road in a carriage. Jonathon sat across from them and Emily often felt his eyes upon her. She continued to look at the passing scenery; elation welling within her at the beauty of the countryside as well as the attention Jonathon paid her.

• • •

The coach lamps were lit after sunset and candlelight flickered off faces glowing with anticipation, excitement, and curiosity. Finally they reached Williamsburg and the coach halted before the Raleigh Tavern.

Voices filled the common room as debates and discussions held the patrons’ attention. One man facing the doorway caught sight of the three arrivals as they entered. Excusing himself, the man rose quickly and approached them.

“Jonathon! I had thought the devil had taken you,” he exclaimed, his hazel eyes never leaving Emily. Rusty colored hair framed his handsome, jovial face. He was as tall as Jonathon and as broad in the shoulders.

“Randolph, he would not have me… nor you!” Jonathon answered in high spirits. “May I present my w — ?”

“Your wife!” Randolph exclaimed. Emily’s eyes grew large and Jonathon’s mouth dropped. Andrew just laughed. “Where did you find a woman who’d have you?”

“Not my wife. My ward!”

“Your ward?” he asked incredulously. “Then you are a fool, man!” Randolph boomed. Emily looked from one man to the other not sure whether she should be enraged or amused. Jonathon had a wicked twinkle in his eye.

“Perhaps you are right, Randy. Maybe I should reconsider this relationship and set it aright. Picture me around the hearth with my sweet Emily and our brood of children.”

Emily blushed furiously and shot him a warning glance.

“So Emily is your name. I thought this raving madman would never get on with the introductions. Emily who?”