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Drake shook his head in disbelief. Had it been but two days that he had known her? In that brief time she had succeeded in infuriating him, disrupting his ship, challenging his authority, displacing him, sexually arousing him beyond any shred of control … and touching something inside him that he had never known existed.
Somehow Drake knew his life would never be the same.
Chapter 7
A STORM WAS BREWING.
Alex could feel it the moment she emerged on deck. The winds were high, though not yet harsh. The sky was. a moody gray, not quite threatening, but ominous nonetheless. And the waves were choppy, tossing La Belle Illusion none too gently to and fro. Alex’s instincts told her a violent storm would be upon them by dusk.
“Mornin’, Miss Alex!”
Alex turned toward the cheerful voice.
“Good morning!” She raised surprised brows toward Jeremy Cochran, who waved to her from his starboard watch. “I am surprised to see you up and about; I thought your neck was still causing you pain.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “Not any more, thanks t’ ye.” He pointed to his neck, where a piece of material resembling a cravat was tied. “I took yer advice and ‘ad our sailmaker cut me a strip o’ canvas. Now I’m protected from the wind, and me neck is much better!” His eyes twinkled. “I don’t suppose it’s as fine a cravat as you’re used to seein’, but it works!”
Alex beamed. “It’s every bit as elegant as the cravats worn by the haut ton,” she teased back. “And I, too, am the beneficiary of our sailmaker’s talent.” She pointed to a thin band of canvas around her waist. “It’s the stu
rdiest belt I’ve ever owned.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Alex.”
Alex turned to see stocky Ezra Jamison arrive beside her. “What is it, Ezra?”
“Cook be wantin’ t’ know what you added t’ that stew t’ get the Cap’n t’ change ‘is mind? We’re ’aving it fer lunch today an’—”
“Shhh, keep your voice down, Ezra,” Alex cautioned, looking around quickly. “We don’t want Captain Barrett to know it was I who made that change, now, do we?”
“No, ma’am.”
Alex smiled. “Tell Louis I’ll be right there to locate the spice he needs. Also, remind him to serve less of the meat’s juices to the Captain. The drier the stew, the less likely he will recognize it as the same meal that infuriated him weeks ago.”
“Yes, ma’am. Oh, an’ Miss Alex, will ye be joinin’ us for the last ’and o’ whist before lunch?”
“No, thank you, Ezra, not now.” She had spied Smitty at the helm, and he looked peaked. She could be needed. “Perhaps later on today?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Off he went.
Alex made her way to the quarterdeck. Irreverent, as always, she did not seek permission, but climbed gracefully up to stand beside Smitty.
He smiled. In the three weeks of their voyage he had become very fond of their unpredictable passenger. The entire crew had taken to her. And, despite his bellows to the contrary, so had their captain.
“Good morning, Smitty.”
“And a good morning to you, my lady,” he replied.
She had tried time and again to persuade him to call her Alex, as almost everyone who knew her did. Her governess had been the first to use the name, claiming that her young charge never stayed still long enough for anyone to utter her complete forename. However, even a fleet-footed four-year-old could not escape faster than it took to say Alex.
But no amount of persuasion had convinced Smitty to follow suit. The rest of the men were casual and friendly, but Smitty was always proper, ever formal. He had missed his calling, Alex decided. He would have made an excellent valet.
“A storm is brewing,” Alex commented, looking out to the restless sea.
“Yes, my lady, it is.”
“Why don’t you rest for a while, Smitty? That way you will be refreshed when you are needed later today.”
He gave her a warm smile. “I am fine, my lady.”
