Blackwells: My Timeswept Heart Part 9

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ments. Cannons, rods, b.a.l.l.s, and powder take up valuable s.p.a.ce when a battle is being waged."

That brought her up short. She stared into his eyes, failing to decipher the joke hidden within. He honestly believed he'd do battle with a cutla.s.s and flintlock pistols and his twenty-four cannons! Impossible. There had to be a law against actually arming a vessel like this. There had to be.

Frightened? he wondered, for she was looking at him as if he'd magically lost his ears.

"Wha-what other changes did you make?" she asked, trying to forget he was nuts. A confrontation? Nah, never happen.

Unconsciously Dane gave the small hand tucked at his elbow a rea.s.suring pat. "My cabin for one. The ceiling on a ship is usually so low one must constantly stoop."

That statement answered itself, Tess decided, looking him up and down and enjoying every second of it. He had to be well over six feet, splendidly packed with enough tanned muscle to keep a girl occupied for days, eccentric or not.

Sweet Neptune save me from those blatant eyes, Dane thought, his body suddenly challenging his control. It was refreshing to discover a female who hid nothing of her emotions and, ah G.o.d, her desires. "I also had some other personal items added," he said, slighty strained.

"Duncan mentioned that it was unusual to have a bathroom, tub, and-"

"My bed," he finished in an intimate tone, a devilish smile playing on his lips, and Tess felt her knees instantly liquify. "Usually there's a bunk built into the

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wall, but I find little comfort in being squeezed into a drawer when I need rest."

She frowned thoughtfully up at him. "You've been sleeping out here, haven't you?" His expression remained impa.s.sive. "You have!" She twisted away. "Oh, now I really feel like an intruder." She'd been shoved out into the cold once too often as a child and didn't care to do it to anyone else.

He caught her shoulders and spun her back around, mint eyes demanding her full attention. "In this weather I usually sleep on deck, Lady Renfrew. To be honest, I wonder if you are not suffocating in that airless room."

"Cabin," she corrected.

He grinned crookedly, and those dimples made her insides jingle. "Do not fret over something so insignificant. And I shan't-"

His words stopped when her eyes suddenly went round as saucers. He heard her breath catch in her throat an instant before her head whipped to one side. As if some force willed it, she tore from his grasp and ran to the bow, lacy skirts hiked up to her calves. Her mind has snapped, he thought with horror, momentarily stunned. Then his heart slammed against the wall of his chest as she agilely climbed out on the bowsprit. Dane raced after her, unaware that all activity on the vessel had ceased.

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CHAPTER Seven.

Dane grabbed Tess around the waist and yanked her back onto the deck, then roughly spun her about to face him.

"G.o.d's teeth, woman!" His fingers dug into her shoulders. "What the ruddy h.e.l.l were you trying to do?" he shouted, his expression sharp and harsh.

Breathless, Tess blinked at the rage directed at her. "I-I -why on earth did you do that?" His eyes bored into hers, and she was touched, suddenly remembering that all he knew of her was that she'd jumped off the Na.s.sau Queen. "No one is trying to kill me now, Captain. I wasn't going to jump. I only wanted to see the dolphin."

Dane searched her upturned face, the openness clear on her delicate features. She was telling the truth. Or was she? With a demented mind one could never be certain. d.a.m.n! It was b.l.o.o.d.y unfair.

"Captain? You're hurting me." She spoke softly, laying a hand on his arm. Her touch burned through the fabric of his sleeve, jarring him, -his expression softening slightly while callused hands gently rubbed

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her shoulders.

"I fear you shall have bruises because of my - my - " He sighed, dropping his arms. Christ, his heart was still pounding like a thoroughbred's at full speed.

"Your what, Captain?" Her smile was impish. "Concern? Rage? What is it?"

That this slip of a woman could twist his carefully controlled emotions so profoundly tore at his vitals. His crew had witnessed this, he realized at the ominous silence. When had he become so lax, so easily maneuvered by her smiles and frankness? He'd always preferred quieter women, certainly ones with a bit more flesh to their bones. Blast it! He'd lost sight of his purpose the instant he'd dragged the woman aboard. Foes were going unvanquished while he chased after a female with half a brain in her skull.

Tess saw the change in him, like the dawning of a new idea.

"As captain of this ship, Lady Renfrew," his tone was brisk, cold, "I demand that in the future you refrain from being quite so exuberant in public."

She planted her hands on her hips. "Demand all you want, Blackwell. And see how far that gets you," she said, matching his sudden change of mood. "And I might suggest you do the same. You were the one making a spectacle of yourself."

"And what, pray tell, do you call exposing your- your-" he waved at her skirts, "person to my crew, running across the deck and-G.o.d save us-climbing onto the bowsprit like a G.o.d-rotten street urchin?"

It was the way he'd said "street urchin" with such disgust that Tess felt it like the burn of a slap. It was

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what she was. A survivor. And the look on his face was painfully familiar, like the people who saw her digging through garbage cans for sc.r.a.ps of food and discarded clothing or shoved her away because she stank for lack of washing; she would have, had she known even the essentials of decent hygiene. She was only four years old then. Tess was proud she'd survived long enough for the Sergeant Major to rescue her from that ugly world. And in Captain Blackwell's eccentric brain, he chose to believe she was someone worthy of his attention, calling her lady and ma-dame, because if he didn't, he'd feel uncomfortable around her. Like those faceless strangers. Whether it was just his attempt to make the game more real or not, she could never be certain. d.a.m.n him! Oh, he made her body and heart do all sorts of nice, warm things, but his snotty lord-of-the-manor att.i.tude just trashed it. Probably regretted ever pulling her out of the ocean, she thought, hurt beyond reason.

"Just because I'm dressed in this," she plucked at her skirt, "doesn't change who I am, Captain Black-well. I'm quite comfortable with that, but if you aren't, then put me ash.o.r.e, a.s.a.p."

He scowled. "A.S.A.P.?"

"As soon as possible."

"Be a.s.sured I will."

"Good!"

"Fine!"

"Pardon the intrusion, Captain."

Dane's head snapped to the side. "What now, Mr. Thorpe?"

Gaelan pointed. "There, sir."

They all turned to see the gray beast skimming the

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water on his flukes. Tess ran to the rail, waving at the dolphin's antics.

"h.e.l.lo, sweet baby," she called out. "I'm fine, see?" The dolphin leapt, plunged into the sea, then broke the surface in a smooth arch and dove again beneath the waves. Over and over he popped up and down, chittering wildly, moving closer. "Did you miss me?" Richmond squeaked, his entire body nodding in agreement. "I missed you, too. It was nice of you to stick around."

Dane stared, shocked that the la.s.s seemed to have command of the grampus, and it appeared they could actually communicate. Dear G.o.d! What kind of woman was this?

Then the air was suddenly punctured with sharp demands and fearful cries.

"G.o.d save us, she ken talk to the grampus! I tol' you she be a b.l.o.o.d.y witch!"

"Aye! A sorceress! Send her over, Capt'n. Be rid of her now!"

"We're doomed if she stays. Cursed, I tell you!"

"Aye. d.a.m.ned pretty clothes ain't changin' what she is!"

Tess turned slowly, struck numb with what she heard, then saw. Captain Blackwell stood a few feet from her, silent, hands braced on his hips, his expression more than leery. Not so for the rest of his crew, their faces depicting a bizarre mix of terror and anger, swords and vicious-looking knives, spikes, and hooks drawn and primed for attack. On her.

This was definitely not the Welcome Wagon.

No one moved. Her heart ricocheted in her chest. And in a split second, she remembered a visit to Fort

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Wayne where everyone in the wood structure spoke and acted as if they were living back hundreds of years. They'd labored at sh.o.r.es, making everything by hand, even cooking over an open hearth, and the people refused to be swayed into speaking of the twentieth century. Was this truly the same? Like those men who reenacted the battles of the Civil War? Were they all so engulfed in the fantasy they'd forgotten it was fake? Tess examined each face, the fingers flexing weapons, and could find no hint of reality in anyone. This is ludicrous, she thought wildly, her gaze locking with Blackwell's. She took a step, lifting a hand to the captain.

"Come on now. A witch? Be serious, Blackwell. Tell me you-" A movement beyond him caught her attention.

Tess froze, her arm outstretched, eyes rounding, unable to move as a huge hook winch dangling at the end of a taut rope came singing through the air toward her head.

Dane whirled about and without a moment's hesitation flung himself into the path of the razor-sharp sickle, grabbing Tess around the waist, shielding her as he dropped to the deck just as the bra.s.s hook imbedded itself in the bowsprit.

The breath knocked out of her at the impact, she gasped, sucking deeply to refill her lungs, wincing as stinging pain shot up her body from her knees. Pressing her forehead to the deck, she waited for everything to come back into focus.

"Are you injured?"

"No," she muttered to the wood. "How about you?"

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"Nay, nay, I am well," he said impatiently. "Are you certain you're unharmed?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Although breathing easily is an entirely different matter. Good gravy, you weigh a ton, Blackwell."

His lips quirked briefly as he eased himself off her and sat upright f Tess inhaled slowly before pushing herself off the deck, brushing the braid out of her face. She didn't do more than that when she heard him curse and was swept up into his arms. He straightened and headed for the pa.s.sageway.

"Put me down, Blackwell."

"You're bleeding."

She looked at the source of her pain. "Sc.r.a.ped elbows, big deal. I've hit the ground with more speed than that before," His brow arched, puzzled, but he didn't stop moving. "I can walk by myself."