“Well, should you need pointers, I’m glad to assist.” Brand scanned the wharf, but other than fishermen and merchants heading out to begin their day, there was no sign of the clergyman. “I think you’re in the clear.”
“Good.” Her relief was palpable. She clasped her hands in front of her and gazed about the deck. “So, this is your boat.”
“Ship, really.” He waved a hand to encompass the whole of the vessel. “Welcome aboard the Charlotte.”
“It’s a nice name.”
“Aye, given to honor a woman I used to know.”
“Oh? A lost love?”
“No, rather a lady particularly skilled in carnal delights.” Would that shock her right off his ship? What a nodcock he was to say it.
“I see. Well, you are a rogue, so that’s to be expected.” With a slight frown, she moved along the deck, touching a gloved hand to the sail, running a fingertip along the polished railing, investigating a coil of rope. “It’s both large and small at the same time.”
He hated that frown. Had he incurred her ire already? “Indeed.” Brand worked at releasing the moorings that kept the ship docked in its berth. “This is a sloop. Five and thirty feet in length. It features a single mast, which means there’s one headsail in front of the mast, and one mainsail aft.” While he spoke, he unfurled the sail and let it catch the wind. Slowly, the sloop eased away from the wharf. “Larger ships in this class were the preferred vessels of pirates due to their speed and ability to navigate in a mere eight feet of water. I imagine they still use them—if there are still any around.”
“Now that sounds exciting.” She tilted her head. Gone was the brief censure from before. “Is it difficult, this sailing?”
“Not once you have the gist.” The urge to preen under her watchful eye assailed him, but he squelched it. She either approved of him or she didn’t. “Give me a moment to navigate into the river and then you’ll have my full attention.” That’s what the woman needed. Someone to pay her high compliments, devote copious amounts of time to her, kiss her soundly, and make her feel as if she mattered. She’d fallen between the cracks in life and occupied a gray space. No one deserved that, and in that revelation, he empathized with her, for that had happened to him as well. “Find a spot on the deck and make yourself comfortable. The bench on the starboard bow is especially nice for sightseeing.” When she frowned, he chuckled. “The bow is the front of a ship. Starboard means the right side. Port means the left. If you mean to talk, you’ll have to holler so I can hear.”
“How fascinating.” Elizabeth quickly moved down the deck, found the bench, and perched there, her attention fully on the water. “Do you sail this ship by yourself? It’s big enough to fit a crew.” Her lifted voice sounded no less lyrical, and he suspected it was the first time she’d ever talked in such a decibel.
“Most times I do unless I’m running cargo and supplies up the coast. My friend John Butler accompanies me on those trips. He used to be my first mate in the Navy.” It was a trick to navigate the Charlotte through the narrow part of the River Orwell until he came to the wider open space of the waterway.
“I can’t imagine what that freedom must feel like.”
“It’s quite like flying.” If it were up to him, he’d gladly show her, but in order to win the wager, he’d initiate her into a different sort of soaring. Twenty minutes of navigating saw him into the meat of the River Orwell. “Are you feeling well?” Sometimes, folks didn’t take to the water and experienced bouts of seasickness.
Elizabeth waved a hand, and he assumed she was fine. In fact, she’d left the bench and stood at the railing to better peer into the river.
He couldn’t help a grin. She’d taken to sailing like a duck to water. That in itself was telling, for the handful of women he’d invited onto the sloop couldn’t handle even the gentle roiling motion of the ship in its dock. Casting up one’s accounts didn’t usher in bed sport. In silence, he continued to guide the sloop through the barely stirring waves of the river. As the sun continued to rise, it sparkled on the surface and highlighted the greens and blues in the depths. The gentle breeze rippled his guest’s skirting. For a tiny second, he was given a glimpse of the half boots she wore, and his grin faded. The woman needed someone to shower her with all the good things in life merely because she deserved them.
God, what would she look like transformed in the trappings of a lady?
That line of thought brought out a scowl. He had no business thinking of her in any other way than a means to five hundred pounds. Once he’d seduced her, he’d move on with his life, just as he did with any woman he took to bed. Never would he give her another thought. So why the devil did he feel the need to wax poetic about her hair, which she wore in a tight ugly knot? Ever since he’d first met her, he’d wanted to see those tresses hanging loose. Now, it bordered upon obsession, for he suspected her beauty would come to the forefront if she didn’t insist on rigging herself out in drabness.
By the time the sloop cut through his favorite part of the river, a certain restlessness crept over Brand’s skin. No other crafts were about, for most fishermen would go further toward the river’s mouth where it opened into the North Sea if they were after deep water fish. The others would keep closer to the shallows and troll the waters with nets. Merchant vessels like his would choose the middle of the river for travel.
Quickly, he dropped anchor. From this vantage point, the marvel that was Ipswich couldn’t be ignored. Hills nestled the harbor and surrounding area. At present, they were clothed in purple shadows while the rising sun glinted on the river. As the town came awake, so did the gulls and terns. In an hour, the harbor would crowd with boats. Calls and conversation would fill the air as people went about their workaday lives. He took in a deep breath and grinned. Yes, this was where he belonged.
For the moment.
Slowly, he prowled toward Elizabeth’s location and then joined her at the railing. “This is one of my favorite spots. If my time isn’t spoken for, I’ll often drop anchor and fish by hook for a few hours or read for another few.” He couldn’t help a chuckle. “If I’m being honest, I’ll fall asleep and won’t waken until the sun shifts for its afternoon position.”
She turned to look at him, questions in her blue eyes. “It’s quite calming out here.”
“Aye.” Daring much, he took her arm and drew her toward the bench that had been secured to the decking. “A man can do much reflection on the water.” When he encouraged her to sit beside him, she immediately stiffened. “Easy. I mean no harm.” He’d need to go slowly with her. Damnation. So why go through with this wager? Yes, five hundred pounds was a veritable fortune, but Elizabeth represented the challenge of forbidden fruit in a way. Additionally, he was a randy bastard who wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to bed any woman who was willing. Beyond that, she intrigued the hell out of him. For all her repression, he wanted to set her free to find her own path.
Everyone should have that chance.
“This is new to me,” Elizabeth admitted in a soft voice. “I still don’t understand why you sought me out.”
“You had the look.” Gently, slowly, he drew the fingers of one hand down her right arm while he laid his other along the back of the bench.
“What look?” She trembled and they transferred to him. Never had he known such an anxious woman in his company. How many meetings would it take for her to feel comfortable around him?
“The look that implores someone to set you free.” He drew his fingers back up and then dared to tug at the ribbons beneath her chin. When she eyed him askance, he removed the headgear and placed it on the other side of him on the bench.