Page 13 of A Siren for the Duke

She opened her mouth to protest, her eyes following her gaze to the hairpin on the floor by Lionel’s foot. His gaze followed hers, and he picked it up before she was able to lunge at him and take it.

“I shall be taking this, too. Do not worry, Lady Jemima. Morocco is not so far away.”

Before she had a chance to scream at him again, he slammed the door behind him and locked it. She shouted through the door, but he only sighed and pocketed his cabin key.

This would be the longest journey he’d ever taken to Morocco.

* * *

He stood resolute at the helm of his ship, his muscular frame silhouetted against the backdrop of dark clouds. The storm had passed, but the dark skies still lingered. The possibility that the storm might renew was something he was definitely considering. But it was not the fury of the storm that burdened his mind; it was the unrest among his crew over the presence of the woman aboard his ship.

Facing his men, their faces etched with weariness and unease, Lionel raised his voice above the wind.

"Men, hear me!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the tempest. "I am aware of your concerns regarding the stowaway you all saw during the storm."

A grizzled sailor stepped forward, his voice laden with concern.

"Captain, ‘tis bad luck to have a woman aboard a naval vessel. We are tempting the wrath of Davy Jones himself."

The sailors exchanged anxious glances, their weathered expressions marked by deep-seated superstition. Mutterings spread through the ranks as fear and uncertainty gnawed at their resolve.

"I understand your trepidation," Lionel continued, his voice firm but reassuring. "We are a crew bound by tradition and the belief in maritime omens. But I assure you, this woman will not bring ill fortune upon us."

Lionel met the sailor's gaze, his eyes filled with understanding.

"I am well aware of the superstitions surrounding women at sea," he acknowledged. "But rest assured, we will keep her confined in a cabin, under lock and key. She shall pose no threat to our voyage."

A murmur of reluctant acceptance rippled through the crew, their fear somewhat appeased by the captain's words. Still, the unease lingered, woven into the fabric of their collective consciousness. It was a shame this happened so early in the journey. Now the entire trip across the Atlantic would be fraught with tension.

"I implore you, my men, to trust in our camaraderie and the strength of our ship," Lionel declared, his voice resonating with authority. "We have faced countless perils together and emerged triumphant. This is no different. Our destiny lies in our hands, not in the presence of a solitary woman."

The sailors exchanged uncertain glances, their hardened expressions revealing the conflict within their hearts. Lionel felt sympathy for them; he really did. In all the times he’d been aboard the ship, nothing like this had ever happened.

"Be assured," Captain Hunt reiterated, his voice steady and unwavering. "I will personally ensure that she remains secure, away from our path as we navigate to Morocco, where we will deposit her.”

A sense of reluctant acceptance settled over the crew, their faith in their captain beginning to outweigh their lingering superstitions. Lionel also internally breathed a sigh of relief. He’d regained the crew’s trust and would not be remembered as a liar. When everyone returned to their duties, Ellis approached him with a quizzical look.

"Quite the speech, Captain," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Where are we going to keep her?”

“My cabin. The crew would not dare go in there.”

“Who is she? Do you know her?” Ellis asked, pressing the matter.

“It’s a long story, and I’m in no mood to tell it…,” Lionel answered wearily.

Ellis gasped, and his eyes widened.

"What if she's the missing woman who escaped her arranged marriage?"

Lionel glanced at Ellis, a spark of curiosity igniting within him. He had not even asked Jemima why she was here.

"You are far too interested in the gossip of the ton," he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his weathered lips. "But truth often disguises itself as fiction. Who knows what mysteries lie beneath her presence?"

Ellis chuckled, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

"Indeed, my friend. The sea is a mistress of secrets. Perhaps fate has woven its threads to bring her to our ship in the midst of this storm."

"I do not believe in fate, Ellis. We all make our own choices. In any case, we must tread carefully. If indeed she has escaped, we may have a target on our backs. I should hate for this to become a national or international incident.”