Mr Praxton. Besides, he was right. That she had set out to seek Mirabelle’s advice no longer mattered, for she was far beyond any help that lady could now offer. On a social standing, even Mr Praxton’s loathsome attentions paled in contrast to the circumstance into which she had now stumbled…well, thrown herself. She was under no illusion as to exactly what she had done to her reputation just by running away. And then there was the small matter of being pressed aboard a naval frigate…as a boy.
At least her papa’s evil plan had been foiled. No man, not even Mr Praxton, would wish to wed her now. Even so, she could not help but be glad at Nathaniel’s words: the Atlantic Ocean lies between you and Mr Praxton…He cannot reach you here. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Somehow, she doubted that she had heard the last of Walter Praxton.
The door opened to reveal Captain Hawke’s head. ‘Morris, organise that a large tub of warmed sea water be brought to my night cabin. And also a jug of warmed fresh water.’
‘Aye, Captain.’ As the captain’s head disappeared once more the young marine sent a look of bewilderment to his opposite sentry, shrugged his shoulders and scurried off to do as he was bid.
Neither did the captain’s steward or his valet blink an eyelid when he requested fresh bedding and clean clothes of a size to fit Master Robinson. But it did not take long for the news to spread far and wide aboard the Pallas. Indeed, in a matter of hours, both Lieutenants Anderson and Pensenby had heard the rumours.
‘I cannot credit that he’s treating the boy in such a way.’ The tip of Mr Pensenby’s long nose trembled at the very thought. ‘There is no doubt some unsavoury motive at play. Robertson openly flouted my command and what does he receive in return? A flogging? Reduced rations? Crow’s nest watch? Oh, no. Master Robertson is treated to a private warmed bath within the captain’s own cabin. There’s something very much amiss.’
John Anderson’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m sure that there must be some perfectly reasonable explanation for what has happened. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. No doubt the captain will inform us of anything that we should know.’
‘Mark my words, Mr Anderson, only trouble will come of this. Trouble and nothing else.’ His wide thin lips compressed. ‘We both know the direction the men’s thoughts will take.’
Lieutenant Anderson said nothing, but turned his attention once more to the log he was writing.
The water lapped warm and luxuriant against Georgiana’s naked skin. She sighed and relaxed back within the captain’s personal hip bath, bending her knees until her soapy head submerged beneath the surface. When the worst of the lather had been removed, she reached for the jug and poured its freshwater contents over her cropped hair. The ebony locks squeaked clean, and Georgiana marvelled at Nathaniel Hawke’s generosity. Freshwater was precious; she did not know how long it would be before they would have an opportunity to replenish the supply. And yet he had not expected her hair to suffer the coarse drying effects of seawater. As she stepped dripping from the tub and wrapped the cloth around her, she looked with curiosity at the small room around her, marked so clearly as belonging to Captain Hawke. Besides the furniture she’d already noticed, there were a case of books, a small table and chair, a heavy sea chest, a basin, shaving accoutrements, a mirror fixed upon the wall…and the cot. A shiver ran down her spine and she dried herself briskly, stepping into the clean clothes that Nathaniel had provided for her.
She folded the cloth and could not resist inspecting her reflection in the mirror. A pale face with short dark hair stared back at her. There was a purple bruise to the side of her right eye and a cut upon her lip. Now that the dirt was gone, she felt naked, exposed, as if anyone who looked at her would know who she really was, what she really was. She arranged the straggle of hair as best she could using only her fingers, then stepped away with deliberate care towards the flimsy connecting door, and paused. He believed that she loved Walter Praxton, that her father had forbidden her marriage to the man. As if anything could have been further from the truth! How could he even think that she would let that rogue so much as touch her? Her gorge rose at the memory of Walter Praxton’s roving hands, his greedy mouth. She swallowed it down, pushed the shame and disgust away, determined never to think of it again.
Nathaniel Hawke was a good man, a man that attracted her in a way she’d never felt before. She’d tried to tell him, wanted to shout the truth when he’d misunderstood. But she couldn’t, not if she wanted to stop him challenging Mr Praxton and her papa. She was nothing to Captain Hawke save a problem, a thorn in his side, turning up at the worst of times, like a bad penny. It was bad enough that he’d already risked drowning to save her. And now here she was, on his ship, in the middle of the sea, alone, and in the guise of a boy! Little wonder that he was angry. Best to remember her place, quell such inappropriate feelings for the man and get on with surviving the consequences of her own foolish actions. With this resolution in mind, she knocked softly upon the wooden panels and passed through from Captain Hawke’s night cabin to the one that he used during the day.
The man himself was sitting at his desk, a glass of brandy held loosely in his hand. Grey winter light from the large windows behind the desk contrasted against the stark outline of his broad shoulders. He appeared to be deep in thought, a distant gaze in his eyes. Georgiana’s resolution wavered at the sight of him. The errant curl still dangled temptingly on his forehead and her fingers itched to smooth it back to its rightful place. She suppressed the urge, blushed that she should have thought such a thing, and sat down in the chair across from Captain Hawke.
‘Thank you, sir, I feel so much better now that I’m clean. And I’ll no longer be a cause of offence to Lieutenant Pensenby.’ She smiled and felt suddenly shy.
Nathaniel could have groaned aloud. How could he have ever thought that the girl before him was anything other? The delicate bone structure, straight little nose and full pink lips. Her eyes twinkled blue washed with shades of grey, and her eyelashes were sooty and long. How could any man fail to see what was right in front of his very eyes? The dirt had camouflaged her well and now that it was gone he wondered if the rest of the crew would see what he did. And that wasn’t all the dirt had hidden. He frowned and, reaching forward, gently clasped his fingers to her chin.
‘How did you come by these marks?’ His voice was gruff, belying the careful touch of his fingers as he tilted her face to view the bruising near her eye. He couldn’t help but notice how white her skin was next to the brown of his hand. And soft…so very, very soft.
Her skin burned beneath his touch, and a strange lightheaded feeling came over her. For some inexplicable reason she found herself unable to reply, unable even to think of anything other than his strong warm fingers that touched like a feather to her face. The pulse leapt to a frenzy in her neck, so that she was sure that he would see it. But still she could not move, frozen by her own response to the man sitting before her.
Nathaniel looked down into Miss Raithwaite’s shimmering eyes and experienced an urge to pull that slender body into his arms and kiss her. And not in the least chaste or polite manner. The kissing that he had in mind was of an extremely thorough nature. He watched as her lips parted, almost as in invitation. His fingers caressed her chin, moving up to capture the smoothness of her cheek. His heart thumped loudly within his chest, he lowered his mouth towards hers and—’
A short sharp knock sounded at the door.
Brandy splashed on to the captain’s desk. Georgiana jumped so high that Nathaniel’s hand brushed against her breast. Even through the depth of her bindings she felt his warmth. She gasped. Blue eyes held brown in confused horror.
‘Quickly, slip into the night cabin and don’t make a sound,’ Nathaniel whispered in her ear. His large hand covered hers, gave one brief squeeze of reassurance and was gone.
