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“Your soul isn’t black enough to take advantage of the weak and helpless, Lord Lamb.”
Tony did not wish to pursue the subject further, it was too disturbing.
That afternoon at the warehouses was one of the most pleasurable Tony had ever experienced. If only she could have chosen clothes for herself, she would have been in paradise. She was careful not to let Savage see her looks of longing as she viewed and selected her purchases. Her eyes sparkled at the delicately exquisite materials of the gowns and undergarments spread before her in such colorful array. Silks, gauzes, muslins, satins, laces, pongees, poult-de-soies, tulles, and taffetas in every imaginable hue and design took her fancy and she ordered one of each. When Savage told her to order two dozen of each, Tony shook her head and explained to him that women liked to be exclusive in the way they dressed. It was all a simple matter of supply and demand. A unique design would fetch ten times the price of one copied in every size and color.
Before the afternoon was over, Adam Savage admitted Tony had a helluva lot more patience than himself as he paced about waiting for him to buy millinery, parasols, slippers, hosiery, and gloves. When young Lamb moved on to a wholesale shop piled high with wigs, Savage protested that it was too hot in India and Ceylon for wigs and that ladies simply powdered their own locks.
“Oh, these aren’t for the Indies, they are for London. You should know silly slaves to fashion like Georgiana and the Countess of Oxford will scratch each other’s eyes out for these ridiculous French coiffeurs.” She purposely named two of the women with whom he’d had liaisons.
Savage taught Tony how to barter, haggle, and bid down the price. Then he guaranteed they would be put aboard within the hour by refusing to part with the gold until the goods were in the hold.
Tony’s purchases filled one entire hold before dusk fell and she asked Savage where they would next make port. He told her that it was never pleasant crossing the Bay of Biscay from France to Spain and it made for a more pleasant voyage to sail along the coast to Bordeaux, where he would buy some fine wines and champagne for his own use at Edenwood.
In her cabin Tony removed her dress coat and hung it in the wardrobe. It seemed oppressively warm belowdecks tonight, so she donned a pair of white cotton pants John Bull had provided and wondered idly who aboard would do her wash. Then she laughed at herself. She’d have to wash her own shirts and undergarments and think herself lucky she didn’t have to do everyone’s laundry.
She took her water jug up on deck to fill it from a cask. She saw Adam Savage leave the ship. Again he was dressed in the rough garb of a seaman. His size made him look totally menacing. Without a snowy shirt, stock, and coat of superfine he looked like a cutthroat. Whatever he was up to was obviously dangerous, illegal, and probably criminal. Savage had a sinister side and she admitted to herself that he was just as capable of committing a crime as he was of breaking the law, if he saw advantage and opportunity. She chided herself that she, too, was involved in something quite illegal, impersonating her brother, but she knew it wasn’t the same.
She was making excuses for Savage because she was infatuated with him. Tony cursed herself for a fool. He would deceive any woman who was witless enough to love him.
A frown creased her brow. Hadn’t he said France wasn’t safe at the moment? Why was he so fearless, so damned reckless? He loved risk for its own sake! She knew all too well that risk was seductive, luring you on to abandon all caution. It was addictive, and both of them were tainted with the damned disease.
The only way to hold her fear for him at bay was to keep busy. After she did her washing, she took a lantern into the hold to look at some of the garments she had purchased. She opened one box after another, admiring the exquisite fashions. Tony’s glance fell upon a gown that was particularly spectacular. It was designed in two pieces, the skirt separate from the tiny bodice. It was made of gold tissue so delicate, she sighed as her fingers caressed it. The skirt was yards and yards of froth; the bodice, embroidered with tiny golden crowns, was also cut in the shape of a crown, whose points were cleverly designed to conceal and reveal the breasts.
Tony couldn’t resist it. She took the gown to her cabin and tried it on. Suddenly she was transformed from a slim youth to a curvaceous woman. She took the leather thong from her hair and noticed for the first time just how much it had grown since Roz had sheared it. Tony posed in the mirrored door of the wardrobe, then began to twirl about the cabin.
She closed her eyes and imagined herself being whirled about a ballroom by Adam Savage. What fun it would be to flirt and tease if he had no idea who she was. All her daydreams and fantasies centered about one man, even though she knew they were impossible. She couldn’t get enough of looking at herself. It had been so long since she had worn a dress, she had forgotten how delicious and special it was to feel feminine.
She hated being a man. She wanted to be a woman, a real woman. She longed for it with all her heart. With reluctant hands she removed the tissue gown and hung it in the wardrobe. There was no way she would part with it. The moment her fingers touched the exquisite material she had decided it was hers.
As Tony swung in her hammock, pictures filled her mind, then spilled over into her dreams. There was her mother receiving guests, looking absolutely ravishing, more beautiful than she had ever seen her. Everyone lavished compliments upon Eve, then looked at Antonia and shook their heads in pity. She went to her mirror and saw the shorn-off hair, the male attire that camouflaged her femininity. But, like Cinderella, Roz found her a mask and a gold tissue gown and Tony was transformed into a princess with a golden crown.
When she awoke the ship was moving. She had no idea when Savage had returned to weigh anchor. Idly she wondered when the man slept. Like a leopard he seemed to be a nocturnal creature, out hunting all night, yet his boundless energy allowed him to sail the clipper, and spend hours buying cargo. There was something not quite human about a man who needed no sleep.
When she glimpsed herself in the mirror, last night flooded back to her. The gown had transformed her into another person. The kernel of an idea took root at that instant. At first it was just a glimmer, but gradually it took form and shape. They were going to the Carnival of Venice. What better place for Adam to meet Antonia for the first time? What better place for two strangers to indulge in a liaison?
Doubts assailed her. How would she ever be able to pull it off? Then hope would arise again. Somehow, some way, she must arrange an accidental meeting. The Carnival of Venice was only celebrated for one purpose, sheer pleasure. It was a make-believe world of magic where your wildest fantasies could become reality.
Chapter 25
At Bordeaux, Savage bought fine French wines and cases of the very fashionable champagne for his cellars at Edenwood. Tony asked him if she could make a decent profit by buying champagne and selling it in England. Adam told her it was a good idea, since it was the height of snobbery to drink imported wine rather than the good old domestic variety. Civil unrest would bring a temporary halt to the production of French wine if it got any worse, and that, of course, would make the price soar.
Crossing from Bordeaux to Portugal proved most unsettling to Tony. She stayed in her cabin, fighting mal de mer for two days until they arrived at the beautifully sunny port of Lisbon. Tony found it hard to believe it was still winter in England. They took on two hundred crates of rich, dark Madeira, the only wine that kept well in the heat of the tropics.
Tony learned exactly how intense heat could be as they sailed to Cádiz, Spain, where they bought fine Spanish and Morrocan leather boots and Savage purchased a pair of black tooled saddles. TheFlying Dragonskimmed through the Straits of Gibraltar, stopped briefly to stock the galley with dates, figs, and sweet, juicy oranges, then sailed on to Cartegena to purchase knives and swords made from the finest Toledo steel.
Tony could hardly believe that only a week had gone by. In that week she had visited the port cities of France, Portugal, and Spain and experienced their people, cultures, language, food, and climate, all so very diverse.
Tony made herself useful by helping McSwine prepare the food, but whenever she went up on deck she kept to herself and avoided the rough, dirty-mouthed sailors. She had no desire to be the butt of their cruel humor. She also gave Savage a wide berth. She feared that he might order her up the rigging or issue some other order to complete a task that was too arduous for a female’s strength.
Though she kept out of his way, she was still very much aware of him. When he issued an order it was followed immediately. Command came naturally to him, and it was clear to see there was a healthy dose of fear mixed in with the crew’s respect. Although she knew the sailors drank grog, she never saw one of them drunk, nor did she see anyone shirk his duty. Savage was a hard taskmaster, demanding a clean ship above all else, and they scrubbed until the decking was bleached white and smelling of nothing more sinister than sea and salt.
Savage’s mahogany skin tanned darker with each sunny day. As a consequence his blue eyes seemed as pale as ice and he could freeze a crew member with a contemptuous glance from across the ship.
On Sardinia they went sightseeing. The buildings were a blinding white with red tiled roofs in the Mediterranean style. The hills stretching back from the azure sea abounded with brilliant, exotic wildflowers. They sat smoking companionably, overlooking a breathtaking bay. Tony could feel the hot sun on her shoulders beneath the stiff cambric shirt. It heated her blood and made her think sensuous thoughts.
Whenever she glanced at Adam Savage her mouth went dry with longing for his touch. Yet she knew if he touched her she would scream. What she really would like to do was touch him. She wanted to feel the texture of his swarthy skin, trace a finger along the slant of his jaw where the shadow of his beard made his face even darker. Her fingers itched to undo the buttons of his lawn shirt and peel it from his rippling shoulders. She ached to run her hands over the hard slabs of muscle on his impossibly wide chest. She burned to press her lips to his mouth and kiss him. She blushed at her boldness, for secretly she longed to lick him and taste the salt upon his tempting flesh.
The next time she stole a glance at him he was leering with appreciation at a couple of peasant girls with dark, slumberous eyes. They were barefoot and carried baskets of oysters. He beckoned them over. They came apprehensively at first, afraid of the powerful man with the sinister, scarred face, but he teased and winked and with sign language managed to buy some oysters. Soon they were laughing, flirting, and splashing water at the men in a most playful and inviting manner.
