Surrender the Heart Page 4

  “Heave short the anchor!” A man bellowed from above, and the sound of a chain chimed through the ship.

  Marianne crept inside the room. “Poor kitty. Down here in the dark all alone.” Releasing the door, she felt her way around barrels and chests toward the last place she’d heard the meow. The ship lurched. The door slammed shut. A darkness blacker than she’d ever witnessed closed in on her.

  “Meow.”

  “I’m coming, little one. I’ll get you out of here.”

  A snap that reminded Marianne of the crack of a huge whip crackled the air. The ship jerked again. She took another step forward, feeling the edge of a wooden cask with her gloves. A splinter pierced the silk and into her skin. She winced.

  The ship pitched, and she gripped the crate to keep her balance. The sound of wood scraping against wood filled her ears. She inched her way forward. A creak and another scraping noise.

  Thump! Twack! The drums and chests came to life around her.

  She bumped against something tall beside her. It moved.

  “Meow.”

  “I am here, little one.” Marianne reached in the direction of the feline’s plea. Warm fur brushed against her glove.

  The ship jerked again.

  Thunk! Something heavy struck her from above. She crumpled to the floor. The last thing she remembered was the burning pain in her head and the cat licking her face.

  CHAPTER 4

  Ease off the topsails, Mr. Heaton,” Noah commanded from his position on the quarterdeck. He clasped his hands behind his back and glanced over his shoulder at his helmsman. “Three points to larboard, Mr. Pike.”

  “Three points to larboard, Captain,” Pike answered.

  From his position beside Noah, Mr. Heaton shouted orders that sent sailors leaping into the shrouds and scrambling up the ratlines to adjust canvas.

  Closing his eyes, Noah allowed the stiff breeze to blast over him and rake through his hair. He shook his head, hoping to rid himself of the memories of home and the agonizing look on Miss Denton’s face. He hadn’t meant to cause her shame. Confound it all, he should never have agreed to the match. But what else could he do when the Brenin merchant business had suffered so much this past year?

  A situation his father blamed entirely on Noah.

  Noah clamped his jaw tight. Would anything ever be enough to make up for what had happened eleven years ago? He had done his best: set records in making the fastest crossing to England, made arduous trips during hurricane season to the Caribbean, and worked tirelessly for months on end. And if not for the American embargo five years ago and the British laws prohibiting Americans from trading with France, he would have doubled their income and not been forced to sell one of their two ships to keep the business afloat.

  Then his father would not have insisted Noah accept the engagement to Miss Denton. And Noah would not have been forced to behave the cur yesterday. Now he could not rid himself of the vision of Miss Denton’s sorrowful brown eyes. Surely her pain sprouted from pride and not from any affection she harbored for him.

  Noah gazed across the sea that spread like a dark blue fan to the horizon. The rising sun flung golden jewels upon the waters and capped the waves in foamy white. He stretched back his shoulders. Upon the sea, he was captain of his ship, master of his destiny. Not like back at home where he was simply William Brenin’s incompetent son.

  “It is good to be back out to sea, eh, Luke?” Noah asked his first mate.

  “Indeed.” Luke nodded and gripped the railing. “You there, Mr. Simon, haul taut, hoist away topgallants and jib!” he yelled to one of the sailors below on the main deck then released a sigh. “But our liberty at port was rather short this time.”

  Noah cocked a brow. “Didn’t get your fill of drink and women?”

  “Is that possible?” Luke grinned as he scratched the stubble on his jaw.

  Noah chuckled.

  “We could have at least stayed at your engagement party a bit longer,” Luke added. “I barely had two sips of wine.”

  “You know we had no time to spare.”

  “Persistent girl. I admire her for that.” Luke shoved a strand of black hair behind his ear.

  “You refer to Miss Denton, of course.” The ship rose over a wave, and Noah braced his boots on the deck, annoyed that his friend had brought the woman back into his thoughts. “I daresay she’s acquired a bit of spunk in her womanhood.”

  “She’s definitely not a little girl anymore.” Luke’s eyes carried the salacious twinkle always present whenever he spoke about the fairer sex.

  Noah grunted. “I regret running out on her, but it could not be helped.”

  Luke tipped his hat down against the bright rays of the sun. “From the look on her face, I imagine you won’t have too much trouble persuading her to call off your engagement.”

  “Which is precisely why our need to set sail worked in my favor. Who could forgive such insolent behavior? Why, I imagine at this moment she’s already discussing with her mother and my parents the best way to annul the arrangement.”

  Pain drummed a steady beat in Marianne’s head. She willed it away and tried to slip back into the peaceful repose from which she came. But the agony would not abate. In fact, it worsened. A moan escaped her lips. She lifted her hand and dabbed her head. Her fingers touched something moist and sticky that stirred the pain anew.

  A deep purring tickled her ears. She opened her eyes to nothing but thick darkness. Confusion scrambled her thoughts. Where was she? Then the creak of wood and oscillating of the floor sent a shock through her. She jolted upright.

  Noah’s ship.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Something furry leapt into her lap, and she screamed. When she tried to push it off, the creature began purring again. Taking a deep breath, Marianne picked it up and drew it to her chest. “Oh, little one. What happened? How long have we been down here?”

  The cat’s only reply was further purring as it nestled in her arms. Marianne clung to it, fighting the ache in her head and the rising panic that she was out to sea. Fear scrambled through her like a wicked imp, pinching every nerve. Lord, I know I haven’t spoken to You in a while, but please don’t let me be out to sea. Please have mercy.

  No answer came save the creaking and groaning of the wooden planks and the faint rustle of water against the hull—all of which made her plea dissipate into the stagnant, moldy air. She struggled to rise, still holding the cat. With one hand she felt her way through the maze of barrels toward the thin strip of light marking the bottom of the doorway. Opening the wooden slab, she made her way down the same hallway she had traversed earlier. Her head grew light, and she gripped the wall to steady herself.

  Shouting and laughter sounded from above. She took the first ladder toward the clamor and the ever-brightening sunlight filtering downward. Squinting, she climbed the final stairs and emerged to a burst of wind and a spray of salty water. Above her, white sails snapped in the breeze. Sailors sat upon the yards, adjusting them with ropes. Other men stomped across the deck. Those who saw her stopped to stare. She gazed toward the horizon and trembled. All around the ship spanned an enormous gaping mouth full of salivating azure water.

  The sailors, whose normally boisterous voices could always be heard across the deck, grew unusually silent. Ignoring the unease that slithered down his spine, Noah lowered the spyglass and gazed amidships. His heart seized.

  A woman in a cream-colored gown with pink trim stood in the center of the deck. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Had his guilt over the ignoble way he had treated Miss Denton conjured up visions of the woman to taunt him?

  “Captain.” Luke’s voice jarred him, and he opened his eyes to a look of grand amusement on his first mate’s face. “I believe you have a guest.”

  Noah glanced toward the main deck again, praying his eyes had betrayed him. But no, there, in the middle, stood Miss Denton, frozen as if she were a statue.

  Anger simmered in his belly as he stormed toward t
he quarterdeck ladder and leapt down onto the deck. “Miss Denton, what on earth are you …?”

  She faced him, a white cat in her arms, terror screaming from her eyes. A red streak crept down her forehead, seeping from a dark, matted blotch in her hair. She said not a word but looked at him as if he were a ghost. She stumbled, and he dashed to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Miss Denton?”

  She looked up at him with wide brown eyes. “I am at sea.”

  “Yes. I find that fact as astounding as you.”

  “But I cannot be at sea.”

  Upon closer inspection, the spot of matted hair was a bloody wound. Noah scanned the deck and found his boatswain. “Matthew, call your wife to your quarters, if you please, and have her bring her medical satchel.”

  “Aye, sir.” Matthew disappeared down a hatch.

  Marianne lifted a hand to her head. The cat leapt from her embrace. “Forgive me, Mr. Brenin, but I do not feel very well.” She fell against him, and he swept her up into his arms.

  The sailors began to crowd around. “Who is she, Captain?” Mr. Weller, Noah’s gunner asked.

  “Put me down, this instant,” Miss Denton murmured.

  “How did she get on board?” another man asked.

  “I have no idea.” Noah glanced up at his first mate. A smirk played upon his lips. “Mr. Heaton, you have the helm.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Leaving his curious crew behind, Noah carefully navigated the ladder and headed down the companionway toward Matthew’s quarters. He entered the cabin and laid Miss Denton on the new coverlet that Agnes had just spread on the bed. Matthew stood near the bulkhead, kneading his hat in his hand.

  Miss Denton opened her eyes and moaned.

  “Oh my, poor dear.” Agnes darted to her side. “Who is she?”

  “My fiancée.” Noah took a step back. “She appears to have hit her head.”

  “Don’t you worry, sir, I’ll attend to ‘er right away.” Agnes’s cheeks reddened as she handed a pewter basin to her husband. “Fetch me some water, Mr. Hobbs.”

  The short, bald man donned his hat and eyed his captain.

  Noah nodded his agreement, and the boatswain scurried out the door faster than his stocky frame would seem to allow.

  “Noah.” Miss Denton tried to lift herself from the bed but fell back onto the coverlet. “I must return home at once.”

  “I’m afraid that will be impossible.”

  “I assure you, it is quite possible.” Miss Denton’s breathing grew ragged. “Help me up, please.” She latched onto Agnes’s arm and pulled herself to a sitting position.

  Noah huffed his annoyance. “You will lie back down this instant, Miss Denton, and allow Mrs. Hobbs to dress your wound. It is a long voyage and I’ll not have you growing ill on my ship.”

  “Voyage?” Her brow wrinkled as if she could not fathom the meaning of the word. Her chest heaved. “I cannot possibly—”

  “Inform me if she does not cooperate, Mrs. Hobbs,” Noah interrupted, “and I’ll have her strapped to the bed.” He used his stern captain’s voice in an effort to prevent any further defiance.

  Agnes swung a look of reprimand his way, and Miss Denton’s face pinched. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Noah clenched his jaw. “It would be my pleasure.” Then turning, he stomped from the room and closed the door.

  The rotund woman with the cheery face of an angel dabbed a wet cloth on Marianne’s head. Wincing, Marianne gasped at the sting.

  “My apologies, dear.” The woman smiled. “But ye’ve got quite a gash on your head and I need t’ clean it.”

  Marianne pushed the woman’s hand away and struggled to rise. The white cat, perched at the foot of the bed, opened her sleepy eyes at the interruption. “Oh, there you are, little one. This is all your fault, you know.”

  “Seafoam?” The woman chuckled and her chubby cheeks jiggled. “That cat always be gettin’ in some kind o’ trouble.”

  Lifting a hand, Marianne rubbed her forehead. “I thank you for your kindness, Mrs.…”

  “Hobbs, but ye can call me Agnes.” The woman dipped the cloth into a basin filled with water and wrung it out. “Whatever happened to ye, miss?”

  Sinking back onto the lumpy mattress, Marianne closed her eyes against the throbbing as Agnes rubbed the cloth over her wound. “I was searching for No—the captain. I suppose I got lost. I heard a cat meowing and went into a room to investigate. The rest is a bit of a blur.”

  “Seafoam.” Agnes wagged a finger at the cat. “See the trouble you cause.” Agnes’s laughter bubbled through the room, causing Marianne’s nerves to unwind. But only for an instant. For the rush of water against the hull reminded her of where she was.

  She gazed curiously at the cheery lady before her. Why would any woman sail the seas of her own volition? “I don’t mean to intrude, but whatever are you doing aboard this ship?”

  “Me husband is the ship’s boatswain. And not wantin’ t’ be without him, I signed on as cook.” She wrung out the bloody cloth in the basin and set it aside. “But I also do laundry and any doctorin’ that needs attendin’ to.” She opened a black satchel and pulled out a bundle of white cloth. “Me, a surgeon.” She chuckled. “The Lord has a sense o’ humor, I’d say.”

  The ship careened to the right, and Agnes gripped the bed frame. Marianne guessed her to be around her mother’s age, but any further resemblance stopped there. Where Marianne’s mother was petite, frail, and peaked, this woman’s pink skin, rotund figure, and sparkling green eyes radiated health.

  The snap of sails thundered above, followed by the shouts of the crew. Agnes unrolled the white strip of cloth, sliced a portion off with a knife, and gently wrapped it around Marianne’s head.

  “Being out at sea doesn’t frighten you?” Marianne asked as Agnes tied the bandage and sat back to examine her work.

  Her face scrunched. “Afraid? Nay. I love the sea. Was born on a ship in the Caribbean.” She stuffed her wiry red hair streaked with gray back underneath her mobcap and took Marianne’s hand in hers. “Now don’t be afraid. Cap’n Brenin be a good cap’n. But you best be stayin’ put for a while. You don’t want t’ find yourself strapped t’ the bed.” She grinned, revealing two missing teeth on her bottom row.

  “Surely he wasn’t serious.”

  Agnes’s brow lifted along with her shoulders. “One thing I know ‘bout the cap’n. He’s not a man given t’ jokin’.” She coiled the remaining bandage back into a ball and stuffed it in her satchel. “Truth be told, I don’t know what’s got into ‘im. He’s usually a perfect gentleman. I ain’t never seen him behave so unmannerly towards a lady.”

  “I have.” Marianne pushed aside the resurging memories of his cruelty as a child. “Perhaps he wears a mask of civility for the benefit of his friends.”

  “Naw. Mr. Hobbs and I have sailed wit’ him for five years. He be a good man, you’ll see. An’ he’ll make a fine husband.” Her cheeks reddened.

  Marianne had her doubts about that as well, but she thought better than to voice them. Obviously Noah had fooled this woman into believing he was something he was not.

  Agnes patted Marianne’s hand. “Now get some rest. I’ll check on you later.” Then standing, she ambled from the room.

  Rest? Marianne closed her eyes, trying to drown out the rustle of the sea against the hull and the sound of the wind thrumming in the sails. How could she rest when all that stood between her and a watery grave were a few planks of wood?

  Seafoam rose, stretched her legs, and sauntered to lie beside Marianne. Turning on her side, Marianne caressed the cat’s soft fur. “I thought cats were afraid of water.”

  Purring rose to Marianne’s ears as Seafoam nestled against her.

  “Well, if you can be brave, little one, then so can I.” Marianne winced at the throbbing in her head even as her eyelids grew heavy. The room began to spin, and she slowly drifted into a chaotic slumber filled with nightmares.

  Marianne and her m
other and sister were without a boat in the middle of the ocean, thrashing their arms through the foamy waves to keep afloat. A small vessel approached. Marianne’s father and Noah sat within it, rowing toward some unknown destination. Pleading desperately for help, Marianne called out to them as they passed. But neither man looked her way. She continued to scream and splash to get their attention. But both men kept their faces forward and their hands to the oars. Soon, they slipped away and faded into the horizon, leaving Marianne and her family to drown.