Gladly, Nicole sat down. “Is he always so…so impetuous?”
“Who? Oh, you mean Clay.” Janie smiled fondly. “I don’t know if he’s impetuous as much as arrogant. He’s used to getting what he wants. I told him when he concocted this whole scheme that it would go wrong, but he just laughed at me. Now here we are in the middle of the ocean together. It’s going to be me laughin’ when Clay sees you.”
She turned Nicole’s head and tilted her face to the light. “On second thought, I don’t think any man’d laugh at you,” she said, taking her first good look at Nicole. The big eyes were striking, but Janie thought that what would intrigue a man most was her mouth. It wasn’t very wide, but the lips were full and deep pink. What was so unusual was that her upper lip was larger than her lower. It was an extraordinary combination, one that Janie guessed would fascinate men.
Blushing lightly, Nicole turned away. “But of course I won’t meet Mr. Armstrong. I need to return to England. I have a cousin who has asked me to be a partner with her in a dress shop. I have saved nearly all the money I need.”
“I hope we can go back for your sake. But I don’t like those men up there.” Janie nodded her head toward the ceiling. “I told Clay I didn’t like them, but he wouldn’t listen. He is the stubbornnest man ever created.”
Nicole glanced at the letter on the bed. “A man in love surely can be forgiven for some things.”
“Humph!” Janie snorted. “You can say that, but you’ve never had to
deal with him.”
Leaving the cabin and climbing the narrow stairs to the main deck, Nicole felt the soft sea air blow through her hair, and she smiled into the breeze. Pausing, she was aware of several men staring at her. The sailors watched her avidly, and she pulled her shawl close about her. She knew her thin linen dress must be clinging to her, and she suddenly had the feeling that she was standing nude before the men.
“What is it ye be wantin’, little lady?” one of the men asked, his eyes going up and down her body.
Concentrating on not letting her feet take a step backward, she answered, “I’d like to see the captain.”
“And I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
She ignored the laughter of the men around her as she followed the sailor to a door at the front of the ship, where he gave a curt knock. When the captain bellowed for them to come in, the sailor opened the door and half shoved Nicole inside, closing the door behind her.
After her eyes took a moment to adjust, she saw that the cabin was twice as big as the one she and Janie shared. There was a large window on one side, but the glass was so filthy that little sunlight came through. A dirty, rumpled bed was under the window, and in the middle of the room was a big, heavy table bolted to the floor, covered with rolled and flat maps and charts.
As a rat ran across the floor, she gasped. A low rumble of laughter made her look toward a dark corner to the man sitting there, his face dark with unshaved whiskers, his clothes rumpled, and one hand holding a bottle of rum.
“I was told you were a bleedin’ lady. You better get used to the rats on this ship, the two-legged as well as the four-legged kind.”
“Are you the captain?” she asked, stepping forward.
“I am. If you can call a mail packet a ship, then I’m her captain.”
“May I sit down? I’d like to talk to you.”
He pointed the rum bottle at a chair.
Nicole told her story quickly and succinctly. When she finished, the captain was silent. “When do you think we will be able to get back to England?”
“I ain’t goin’ back to England.”
“But how will I get back? You don’t understand. This is all a terrible mix-up. Mr. Armstrong—”
He cut her off. “All I know, girl, is Clayton Armstrong hired me to kidnap some lady and bring her to him in America.” He squinted his eyes at her. “Now that I look at you, you ain’t much like he described.”
“That’s because I’m not his fiancée.”
Waving his hand in dismissal, he took a deep drink of the rum. “What do I care who you are? He said you might give me some trouble about the marriage, but I was to do it anyway.”
Nicole stood up. “Marriage! You cannot think—!” she began but calmed herself. “Mr. Armstrong is in love with and wants to marry Bianca Maleson. I am Nicole Courtalain. I have never even met Mr. Armstrong.”
“That’s what you say. Why didn’t you tell my men right off who you were? How come you waited this long?”
“I thought they would release me when they found out who I was, but I wanted to be far enough away from Bianca so I knew she would be safe.”
“Is this Bianca the fat one the men said told ’em who you were?”