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“I require…collateral against the silver. Collateral that must stay in London to ensure thatAlacritynot only clips to China, she returns to London.”
“Collateral?” Elijah asked in a thready voice.
Suddenly, Helen shared her brother’s worry. However reasonable Irons’s request—they were indeed asking to leave with what could be his life savings—they had nothing of value to offer as security, saveAlacrity.
Nicholas spoke softly, staring straight at Helen.“You.”
∞∞∞
Nicholas ignored Captain Miller—even after the man burst from his chair with an expletive—and held Helen’s gaze. He journeyed with her through her visible reactions to his final term. Disbelief, bewilderment, anger, resistance...then appeal.
My God, she’s lovely.
Only when her eyes dropped did he glance at the fiery brother, who stood with his fists clenched. As a brother, Nicholas could understand the man’s outrage and concern.
Meeting the captain’s furious gaze, he explained further. “As we’re speaking of matters of trade, I used the word ‘collateral,’ when what I offer is my protection and hospitality. That of my family as well. Helen would be treated as an honored guest and with the utmost respect while you’re under sail.”
“Honored guest?” Elijah bit out, his fingers plunging into his hair as he paced. “Our father was anhonored guestat Dartmoor! Our family knows English hospitality all too well, Mr. Irons!”
When Nicholas was a boy, one of his favorite toys was a wooden spinning top, painted red with white stripes, and he and his older brother vied feverishly for the longest spin. Adrian’s powerful spins often ended with the top careening into other objects, sometimes even his own hands, clattering as it fell. Patient and deft, Nicholas knew how to launch the top robustly but with control, and most of all, he knew to back up and leave the thing alone while it whirled and twisted until depleted.
Elijah was at full spin, and it was needless trouble to collide with him. No, it was better to step away and let him go around, releasing his energy until he wobbled and collapsed.
Nicholas focused on Helen, who scrutinized him anew. “You’ll know greater freedomandsafety here than at sea, living or dying by whim of nature or sailor.”
He felt no guilt; his words were brutal but honest, reminding them all of the peril that a sea voyage brought. Besides the inherent risks, if anything happened to the captain, Helen would be at the mercy of a lawless crew.
Miller already looked torn. Whatever his pride and distrust, he cared about his sister’s welfare. If the man had any sense, he would recognize the wisdom in the proposed arrangement.
Nicholas stood. “Permit me to retire so you might have privacy. I’ll return for your decision in ten minutes.”
Carrying a candlestick through the otherwise empty office to the darkened boardroom, he smiled at the memory of finding Helen Gray on her knees before the waterwheel model.
Damned if I’m not nervous right now, he realized. If the Miller siblings declined his terms, he would lose more than an opportunity to invest.
He wanted this strange widow, a woman who smiled as she spoke of the properties of wood. He longed to know which part of the miraculous ship was her true favorite.
Never had he met a woman like Helen; he was certain he never would again. She was the driving force behind his unusual decisions. He wasn’t keen on business dealings with a hothead like Elijah Miller. No amount of potential profit justified that—nor approaching his father. Not only had Nicholas reversed his decision not to accept his family’s funds, he’d needed his father’s connections in Spain to arrange for silver bullion, no small feat.
Nicholas understood a measure of Captain Miller’s pride; approaching his father had required him to suppress his own formidable ego, and again when he was asked why the tea venture was the right investment.
“None of that explains your eagerness, my son,” Vassilis Sideris had opined afterwards, rubbing his chin.
“There’s a woman,” Nicholas said simply.
No elaboration was needed, not to a Sideris man. Like the rising sun, his father’s grin had started small, then transformed not only his face but his entire being. Eyes glinting, his demeanor replete with paternal satisfaction, he pulled out fresh parchment and penned instructions to the Spaniards he’d traded with for over two decades.
That letter sat in Nicholas's desk drawer now, right on top of his marble rock. If the Americans acceded to his terms, he and that sealed missive would begin their journey to Bilbao tomorrow before first light.
All the trouble so far could have been for naught, he reminded himself—asking for his father’s aid, revealing his plans to Chadbourne, offering the voyage to Mr. Thomas. It wouldn’t surprise him if Elijah Miller told him to go to hell or Helen Gray refused to serve as a guarantee against the silver.
Trust in the Fates, he reassured himself when tension gripped his neck.
Leaning his head side to side for a stretch, he knew he would accept whatever decision Elijah and Helen made. If he was meant to know that delicious woman more, they would accept his proposal—just as Helen had walked into his office yesterday against all odds, and as she had tumbled against his body earlier today.
After only a few minutes, the siblings’s footsteps announced their passage through the otherwise silent office. Whatever their decision, they hadn’t needed a full ten minutes to reach it.
Helen stepped into the boardroom, wearing her cloak again. She held the candlestick through the curved handle; the warm light from the candle made her red hair glow and her dainty nose look sharper, and shadows defined her cheekbones.
Shrouded in the gloom behind her, Captain Miller stood with fists on his hips, his face impassive for once.
“We agree to your terms,” his enchantress announced.
