Lost Honor Read online

  Her gaze wandered again, searching. The square table sitting in the middle of the room was empty. Locks secured the two chests sitting against the wall. The cabinet housing his books. She rushed to it, and yanking the novels out one by one, she flipped through the pages and then flung them on the table. Discovering nothing, she sank onto the ladder-back chair she’d occupied earlier. With her elbows resting on her knees, she clutched her head in her hands.

  Think. There had to be something.

  A key rattled in the lock. She jerked up her head. Was he returning? She jumped to her feet.

  In walked the boy she had pushed by earlier, carrying a wooden tray. “The cap’n said to bring you something to eat.” His eyes widened at the condition of the cabin, but he said nothing further as he crossed the floor and nudged aside a few books to lay the tray on the table.

  “Your name is Mark?”

  His eyes wary, he nodded.

  “Well, thank you, Mark.” She strolled toward him. “Do you think you can help me?”

  As she advanced, he retreated. “The cap’n said to only bring you food.”

  “As you can see, my clothes are filthy.” She held her hands out to the side.

  He gulped.

  “I would feel so much better if I could change them.”

  He bobbed his head again but remained mute.

  “When Jurgens dragged me from the hold, he left my bag with all my clothes in it. Do you think you could get it for me?”

  “The cap’n said to only bring you this food.” He hurried to the door.

  Desperation gripped her. “Mark.”

  He halted with his hand on the door handle.

  She hated to use feminine wiles—it had never worked on her brothers—but she’d employ whatever weapons would get her what she needed. She laid a hand on his arm and batted her lashes.

  He trembled slightly.

  The captain had reduced her to deceiving this boy, who looked to be about thirteen and unused to girls. Another mark against her captor. “I would so appreciate it, and I am sure the captain wouldn’t mind. You are only returning what is mine.”

  Indecision between wanting to please her and obeying his orders flitted through his eyes.

  “The captain didn’t say you couldn’t bring me my bag, did he?”

  Mark shook his head.

  “Then I am sure it is fine. It will only take a few minutes, and I would be so grateful.”

  His green eyes brightened. “I guess I wouldn’t be doing anything wrong.”

  “Captain Danvers would want me to be comfortable while I waited.”

  That was a lie. He only cared she obeyed his every command. As she recalled the way his large hands had touched her, heat rose in her face until she remembered he had slapped her on the rear. No one, not even her papa, had punished her in such a way. Had Mark witnessed the degrading spectacle? She banished the thought and her anger as she forced a pleading look to her eyes.

  “I’ll get your bag. I’ll be right back.” Mark slipped from the cabin.

  She waited for the grating sound of metal on metal. It never appeared. She eased open the door and snatched the key from the lock where he had left it. If she kept him flustered, maybe he would forget it when he left for good. She was positive his usual practice didn’t include unlocking the door when he came in the captain’s cabin.

  With a new change of clothes and employing a little stealth, she might be able to work among the crew before the captain discovered her. By that time, she hoped he would recognize her ability and worth and allow her to continue.

  The smell of fish from the meal Mark had brought drifted to her nose, and her stomach rumbled, dissatisfied with its empty condition.

  She didn’t have time.

  Hunger pleaded with her to reverse her decision.

  She could eat until Mark returned, and she did need to keep up her strength. She sat at the table and shoveled fish, beans, and potatoes into her mouth, occasionally shoving in hunks of weevil-free bread, a luxury at sea.

  Mark rushed into the room, and she jumped up. “I got your bag, miss.” He held it out to her.

  “Thank you.” She took it and kissed his cheek.

  His face burned a bright red, and his eyes lit with wonder and adoration. “You’re welcome, miss.”

  “I won’t forget your kindness.”

  Mark shuffled his feet and wiped his hands on his pants. He swallowed hard before asking, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No, I am fine now, Mark.” She smiled at him.

  “Then I better get back to my chores.” His voice croaked on the last word. Red in the face, he flew out the door.

  She held her breath, not moving.

  Silence.

  She expected him to return at any moment to try and lock the door.

  Nothing.

  She exhaled with a whoosh.

  Mark was a good, sweet boy. When Captain Danvers discovered her missing and working among the seamen, she would not allow him to blame Mark. She would own up to her perfidy.

  Opening her cloth bag, she pulled out a checkered shirt and dark blue duck trousers to replace the brown shirt and tan pants she wore. Arianna glanced warily at the door as she threw off her clothes and redressed with haste. She would like to forgo the wool cap that made her head sweat and itch, but her blonde hair was like a beacon and would immediately proclaim her a female.

  When she planned this adventure, she thought to cut the mass of curls but could not bring herself to do so, and her mother would be horrified if she had. Besides, why couldn’t she look like a female and still perform the work of a man?

  Shoving the cap on her head, she grabbed the key from where she had hidden it inside one of the books. She cracked open the door and peeked out. No one was near. She raced down the dim corridor and bounded up the ladder. At the top, she halted and lifted her head so only her eyes and above showed.

  Some younger boys braided rope yarns and picked oakum while other men blackened the yards and repaired the rigging. Her gaze darted to the quarterdeck where Captain Danvers stood straight and tall, hands clasped behind his back, the wind billowing his white shirt and tossing his coffee-colored hair. Imposing and intimidating, he believed he had the right to imprison her, but she refused to bow to his edicts. She would make sure she worked away from his line of sight.

  Where should she start? Swabbing the deck would be unobtrusive until the crew got used to her presence on board, and a mop and pail sat a few steps away. But first, she had one more thing she had to do.

  Arianna slipped from her place of concealment and edged along the starboard side. Lifting her arm over the railing, she opened her hand. Her spirits rose as the key to the door of the captain’s cabin sank into the deep, dark depths.

  ****

  His legs spread to compensate for the roll and pitch of the brig, Morgan stared out at the immense blue sea from the quarterdeck, wind and salt spray blowing in his face, waiting and praying for a sign of the pirate Shark to appear.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll show. Riding as low in the water as we are, Shark will assume we are rich pickings,” Andrew Markham, his first mate, said as he came up behind him.

  “He didn’t on the way to London.”

  “He will now. I am sure of it.”

  Morgan glanced at Andrew. He was intelligent, but he couldn’t predict the future. “I keep thinking about my fool brother. Is he hurt? Did they beat him? Why did he go with those pirates?” He slammed his fist on the railing.

  “I agree it wasn’t smart. That’s what love will do to you. I refuse to ever allow a woman to sway my emotions.”

  “I told him to stay away from her, that she would break his heart, but he wouldn’t listen. And then when she does, he insists he is going to England on our next ship out, even though he knew it was a risk with that pirate raiding our ships. I think he wanted to die.”

  Andrew laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Captain James said Harry went willi
ngly. He had a choice. Surely it will count for something in their eyes.”

  He turned to his friend. “I hope so.”

  Morgan’s blood surged, and his muscles tensed. He wanted to attack the pirates and rescue his brother. Now. When his father left them, Morgan had made a vow to protect and take care of his mother, three sisters, and brother. He had failed Harry. But all he could do was wait, even though it tortured him. Breathing deeply, he fought to release the anxiety rocketing through him.

  “What are you going to do with the stowaway?”

  His muscles bunched at the mention of the virago in his cabin. “I haven’t decided yet.” He paced the deck. “She shouldn’t be here. I don’t want her on board when Shark attacks, but I may have no choice.” His gaze shot to Andrew, who had turned to watch his repeated stride. “How did she sneak on the brig?”

  Andrew shrugged his broad shoulders. “Apparently no one saw her while they loaded the ship. With her clothing and that cap, she could be mistaken for a boy.”

  “If you look at her face, you can tell immediately.” And her body. Her modest breasts might hide beneath the oversized shirt but those trousers hugged a rear unlike any boy’s he had seen.

  Where was she from? What ship was she supposed to be on? Why was she stowing away? She had managed to evade his questions, so he still knew nothing about her. He didn’t even know her name.

  The length of his steps increased, as did the blood rushing through his veins. He wasn’t used to anyone telling him what to do. He was the captain of this ship and the head of his family. Men and women obeyed his orders, not the other way around. Yet, this girl demanded every time she opened her mouth.

  He would keep her locked in his cabin for a while. She’d learn he made the rules, and she needed to bow to his commands. His rage slowly faded. He’d get all the answers he needed from her soon.

  He shielded his eyes with his hand and focused on the maintop platform now occupied by one of his crew. The seaman remained silent, staring toward the horizon. Morgan prayed the lookout would soon call he spied a ship in the distance.

  Andrew clapped him on the shoulder. “Shark will appear.” He walked away to attend to his duties.

  Morgan would not rest until he brought Harry back into the circle of his family. He would hunt Shark to the ends of the earth if he had to.

  Chapter Two

  “Do you need help?”

  The wrinkled, weathered face of the old seaman peered up at Arianna. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years, laddie.”

  His words didn’t answer her question. As Arianna swabbed the deck, he had sat against a chest, repairing a sail, pain occasionally flashing across his face. His fingers with their enlarged knuckles had fumbled with the needle.

  She leaned the handle of the mop on the gleaming wood railing and heaved the dirty water from the pail into the calm ocean. “I’m finished here.” She dropped to her knees in front of him. “I don’t have any chores at the moment, and I like to keep busy. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at mending sails. Do you mind if I take over?”

  He turned to her, contemplated the matter, and then handed her the needle as a relieved sigh wheezed from him. “My eyes and hands aren’t what they used to be.”

  She eased to her rear on the side of him away from the view of the quarterdeck and pulled the canvas onto her lap. She had learned to sew sails on the many trips she had taken with her papa before she turned twelve. At that magic age, he proclaimed she was now a lady and sailing on a ship full of men and working among them was no longer proper. He demanded she pack away her beloved pants and shirts and only wear dresses. No matter how much she pleaded, he would not relent. Once or twice his armor cracked, and she thought he would rescind his ridiculous order, but then her mother would stroll into the room and the leeway she had made vanished.

  Her mother was behind his decision. She was sure of it. She desired a proper daughter to dress up, display, and find a husband for. Maybe if she had a sister, it would be different. Then her sister could be her mother’s doll. But all she had were five older brothers.

  And so, she often stood on the dock, her heart resentful and breaking, as her brothers sailed off to different parts of the world, their life, occupation, and worth within the palms of their hands. She would always have to rely on her parents or a husband for a home, clothes, food, and esteem. Her existence worth nothing in the eyes of the world, except to bear children. Any accomplishments ripped from her hands.

  “Yer good at this, laddie. You’ve never done it before?”

  “No,” she lied.

  “Are you new on board? I haven’t seen you before.” The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened as he squinted against the bright sun, struggling to bring her face into focus.

  She bent her head and watched him out of the corner of her eye as the needle sailed in and out of the cloth. “I was just hired on.”

  “The captain made a good choice. I used to be as swift as you, but no longer.” The seaman flexed his aching fingers, not able to fully straighten them. “The captain offered me a job in his shipping offices.”

  He owned a shipping company?

  “I tol’ him I would rather sail on his ships. This is the only life I know. He is a good man.”

  Captain Danvers a good man? She hadn’t seen any evidence of it.

  He scratched his gray beard. “I keep expectin’ him to tell me I can no longer sail, but he hasn’t, and I do my best. But I may soon take him up on his offer. He needs young men like you for this work.”

  She smiled. At least someone noticed and appreciated her abilities. Would his view differ once he discovered her true gender?

  A couple seamen laughing at each other’s ribald jokes passed by. They sent a cheerful greeting to the grizzled man beside her, but suspicion swam in their eyes as they glanced at her.

  “How long have you known Captain Danvers?”

  His old, brown eyes retreated to and witnessed the past. “Long time. Worked wit’ him under Captain Pritchard. Then he bought his own ship, and I hired on.” He smiled. “He was a privateer in the war with England in 1812. One of the best.”

  He fought against her country. Another point against him.

  She finished sewing a long tear and rested for a moment, the still needle secure between her fingers. “And later he started a shipping company?”

  “The finest.”

  He probably built it on the profits from the innocent ships he plundered. She began on a new section of canvas. “Does he always captain one of his merchant ships?”

  The man’s weathered face took on a wary cast, and he thought carefully before he answered. “No, he usually runs his offices in Boston.”

  “Then why is he sailing now?” And she had the misfortune to land on the Sea Dragon.

  He turned from her. “I can’t tell you that.”

  She jerked up her head. “Why not?”

  “I jus’ can’t. I am under strict orders. When the captain thinks you should know, laddie, he will tell you.”

  What was the big secret? Was he transporting illegal goods? She yearned to dig for more information, but she didn’t want him to get suspicious. He was old, not stupid. And so far, she had proven herself useful and eluded the captain. She didn’t want that to change.

  ****

  Morgan’s feet remained rooted to a spot just inside the threshold of his cabin. He took in the mess and noticed it empty of a certain captive who should have been so grateful to him for unlocking the door she’d tell him anything he wanted to know. “Damn the girl!”

  His precious books, neatly arranged by author, were thrown haphazardly on the table. Documents filed with neat precision and stored in his mahogany desk were scattered across its surface. Once folded clothes hung out of the drawers beneath his berth and strewn across the top, the small garments that had adorned the stowaway.

  What was she wearing?

  His blood boiled as he clenched his hands. Was she looking for somethi
ng in particular? His eyes narrowed. The pirate attacking his ships flitted across his mind. Was she working for him and searching for information?

  Where was she, and how had she escaped? She couldn’t have gone far. They were in the middle of the ocean. When he found her, he would smack her backside until she cried for mercy and promised to obey his every word. He stalked from his cabin.

  “Check the hold for the stowaway,” he commanded the first seaman who crossed his path.

  “Aye, Captain.” The man rushed to do his bidding.

  Morgan stormed to the quarterdeck and scanned every inch of the brig until he found a small figure hunched over their lap, talking with Grimes. He only spied a slender back, but none of his crew possessed one so fine.

  Andrew approached him. “Captain, Stacker needs—”

  “Not now. I have a certain matter I need to attend to.” He stared at his target, every muscle tense. As he started toward her, he achieved only two rigid steps before a firm hand clamped on his shoulder.

  “Morgan, you need to calm down before you speak with her.”

  Friends since childhood, Andrew could read his every mood, even when it wasn’t obvious, which wasn’t the situation now. The rage burning within him was ready to explode from his skin. The hairs on his arms stood on end. Morgan rounded on him. “Did you know she was topside?”

  Andrew held up his hands. “Not until this moment.”

  Morgan headed toward her again, but Andrew grabbed his arm. Morgan battled to rip it free. “Get your hands off me.”

  “Not until you listen. She is a woman and a small one at that, not one of your crew. You’ll injure her if you don’t leash your anger.”

  “Have I ever harmed a woman?”

  “No, but I have never seen you this upset.”

  Morgan shook Andrew off. Free to act, he hesitated. Andrew was right. He didn’t know how she did it, but she made him express feelings he usually kept bottled behind a calm facade. A look or word was usually sufficient to obtain what he needed. He breathed deeply. The soothing effects of the ocean air circulated to every part of him. Fury still consumed him, but he grasped it tighter within his control.