Captive Hearts Read online

  “It seems you would have had a better chance at a good match during the season.”

  “A title, wealth, all the things that we are told our husband’s must have, did not mean to me what my father thought they should.”

  “What was it you were looking for?”

  You

  . The word poised on the tip of her tongue and she swallowed it back. “I did not know. I just resented being put up for auction like a prize mare with a good bloodline.”

  He remained silent for a moment, and she wondered if she had shocked him with her bluntness. When he threw back the covers and rose, she thought she had angered him.

  Lighting a small twig of wood at the fireplace he lit the oil lamp beside their bed. “Come here, Katherine.” He motioned to her.

  Studying his face she wiggled free of the covers and slid to the edge of the bed.

  Dressed in the disreputable cut off trousers he had taken to wearing to bed, he bowed to her and somehow made the gesture as courtly as it would have been had he been fully dressed. “Captain Matthew Hamilton, Lady Katherine, how do you do?”

  “I do very well, Captain Hamilton.” As she took in the muscular definition of his thighs, stomach, and chest, she bent her head to hide her smile.

  “It would thrill me if you would share that smile with me, Lady Katherine, and the thought that brought it to your lips.” “I was thinking that, should all suitors dress as you are right now, there would be less time spent on pretentious flirtation.”

  Matthew chuckled. But when his warm gaze swept down her body, clad in her night shift, her limbs grew weak and weighty and her cheeks hot. She pressed her hand to the front of the gown as her heart fluttered.

  “Is your dance card filled, Lady Katherine?” Her throat tightened with emotion at the question.

  “No.” “Will you share a dance with me?” He offered his hand.

  “We have no music,” she said as she placed her hand in his and allowed him to draw her to her feet.

  “I will count the beat.” He guided her to an open space, unobstructed by furniture. When he lifted his hands palm up she placed hers in them. He named a simple country dance. “Do you know it?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Though it is written for six, we should do very well. I will count and you come toward me then back, then toward me and back—” He went through each step, his hand brushing her shoulder, pressing her hip as he guided her in practice. Then they were dancing in earnest as he counted the beat and they stepped forward almost touching, then backed away. He was turning her, casting off and stepping down the section of carpet and meeting her again.

  To Katherine, their steps mirrored their relationship to date, for it had been fraught with tantalizing closeness and loneliness. They were poised between commitment and parting, trapped there by circumstances they couldn’t control.

  They stopped, a little out of breath. Katherine, her hands tucked behind her, tipped her head back to look up at him.

  Matthew cupped her cheek, his pale blue eyes intent.

  “Better?

  He had sensed her upset and done all this to make her feel better. With this last sweet action he captured her heart.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Where is she?” Matthew demanded. Concern lanced through him, kicking his heart into a gallop. He cautioned himself to remain calm.

  “I don’t know, Cap’in. Georgie and I ’ave been over ever’ inch of the Caroline. We ’aven’t been able to find ’er.” Henry’s gaze shifted to the water, his salt-worn features creased with worry. “Ye don’t suppose she fell overboard?”

  “You didn’t hear anything, and Georgie was on deck with her fishing off the bow. She couldn’t have fallen overboard.” Matthew’s gaze swept the deck looking for any nook or cranny they might have missed. After his experience the night before, he had brought Katherine on board with him to keep her safe. What could have happened? “Go below and search again. Maybe she’s in the galley with Webster. She likes to cook.”

  “Aye, Cap’in.”

  “Georgie.”

  The boy stepped forward. “Aye, Cap’in.”

  “What was Katherine doing when you last saw her?” Georgie’s freckles stood out on a face pale with fear.

  “She was sittin’ on the quarterdeck on a crate drawin’ the deck bellow, Cap’in.”

  He should never have insisted she accompany him today. But there had been something in her manner this morning. She had been withdrawn, more so than usual, upset, or…something. Could she have somehow rowed ashore?

  He climbed the steps to the quarterdeck and turned to search the lower deck from the higher perspective. If someone had sneaked aboard and taken her, Georgie would have heard something. If she had fallen overboard, there would be some sign of it. The sketches she had been working on would have been scattered upon the deck or in the water. He narrowed his gaze against the glare of the winter sun. A chill wind whipped across the deck and

  rippled the lashed sails above his head and he glanced up.

  He tracked something white as it fluttered and looped through the air then sailed outward to disappear over the aft rail of the ship. He tilted his head back to follow the line of mast and spars to the crow’s nest overhead. His breath caught and held, his jaw tightening against the stream of oaths that leaped to his tongue.

  “Georgie.”

  “Aye, Cap’in.”

  “Go below and tell Henry I’ve found her.” Georgie tipped his head back following Matthew’s train of sight then his mouth dropped open in astonishment. “How ye goin’ ta get her down, Cap’in?”

  “The same way she got up there. Go tell him.”

  “Aye, Cap’in.” The boy ran across the deck and disappeared below like a jackrabbit into its hole.

  Matthew approached the ladder and took several deep breaths to calm his temper. He mounted the ladder to the crow’s nest.

  Katherine moved the charcoal across the paper with quick sure strokes. At this distance, the people were tiny forms moving about the ships docked along the quay. The buildings, constructed one next to the other parallel to the docking area, created a monotone hued backdrop. The late afternoon sun reflected off the windows, setting to light the drab facades of the warehouses.

  In the crow’s nest, a stinging, cold breeze blew away the scent of tar and the pungent odor of the river. Her cheeks and nose burnt from the chill. Her fingers were numb. The heavy sweater she had found in a chest in Matthew’s cabin kept her torso and arms relatively warm despite its warn spots. It covered the upper part of her thighs nearly to her knees. She thought that a good thing since she had exchanged her gown for a pair of breeches she’d brought along in her bag. A knitted cap held her hair back and kept it from whipping about her face.

  She would have to go back down soon. Her toes were aching from the cold and would soon be numb as well.

  “Why are you up here, Katherine?” She jerked, caught unaware by Matthew’s sudden appearance from below. The crow’s nest had little room to spare once he stood beside her. His pale blue gaze flashed

  like heat lightning, the set of his jaw grim and angry. A nervous shiver of apprehension raced up her spine.

  “I thought it would offer me a more interesting view of the dock.”

  His gaze raked her from head to toe. “What the hell do you have on?”

  “A pair of my brother’s old breeches and a sweater I found in your cabin. I hope you do not mind me wearing it.” She pulled at the edge of the garment as his gaze settled upon her legs.

  His jaw worked for a moment. “I can see you’re dressed as a boy. But why?”

  “It seemed more practical since I was climbing around the decks of the ship. The wind kept blowing about my skirts, and it was neither comfortable nor modest.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Practical they may be, but if you were aiming for modesty you’ve failed. The breeches show the shape of your legs and the stockings show even more.

  Were I not
the only one here to see them, I’d be stripping them from you and putting your gown back on.” Taken aback by the possessiveness of the threat, she stared at him. “I suppose you would rather I had climbed up here in a gown.”

  “I’d rather you not climb up here at all. During a storm the wind alone can toss you out of the basket.”

  “It is not storming, Matthew, and I was careful.”

  “Careful would have been content to roam the deck below.” He pointed downward.

  “But look what I would have missed.” She waved an arm in the direction of the docks.

  He gave the view only a cursory look. “You’d have missed having your cheeks burnt by the wind and your nose red as a raspberry. You look half frozen. Bundle your things together. We’re going down.” Had she not been so cold, Katherine may have argued further just on principle. She rolled the charcoal sticks she held into a piece of paper and slipped them into her breeches pocket. Withdrawing a handkerchief, she wiped her stained hands as best she could. Tucking the cloth back into her pocket she kneeled to secure the small drawing board and the sketch she had rendered within

  the leather portfolio Johnny had fashioned for her. She buckled the strap along the flap, slipped her arms through the leather straps at the side, and settled it on her back.

  She paused to look one last time at the dock, the warehouses, and the city that stretched out behind them in the distance.

  “You do not know how fortunate you are to have been able to experience such freedom, Matthew.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She studied his features. Cold had slapped a ruddy tint into his cheeks. With his black brows drawn together in a frown and a shadow of beard darkening his jaw, he looked dangerously handsome.

  “No matter where you go, or what you do, no one will try to force you to adhere to rules that clip your wings before you are even able to spread them. Whether it is you, or my uncle, or some nosy someone who takes it into their head that I need protection from my own impulsiveness, I will always have someone hanging over my shoulder watching my every move. There will always be someone trying to force me to adhere to what they think is respectable behavior when all I really want to do is be free to be what and who I am.” His blue gaze raked her again. “Do you wish yourself a boy, Katherine?”

  Disappointment nipped her heart and made her feel suddenly tired. “No. I have never wanted to be anything but what I am.”

  ”Even men have to adhere to rules, Katherine. Even we have to acknowledge our limitations. Had I been free to do as I pleased I wouldn’t have spent nearly three months in a jail cell.”

  “It was because of that, I thought you would understand.”

  “Understand what? That you delight in doing outrageous things to cause trouble?” She flinched as pain lanced through her. His resentment of her had finally bubbled to the surface and though she had warned herself repeatedly to expect it, it still caught her unaware. Uncertain of her composure, she stepped to the opening at the center of the crow’s nest and

  grasping the rope sides of the ladder, she mounted the wooden rungs. Holding tight to each bar, she began descending to the deck below.

  Matthew breathed an oath and followed her. He had hurt her. He had seen the quick flair of pain in her eyes and the way her features stiffened into that damnable emotionless mask.

  But, by God, he had his limits too! When first he’d seen her in the crow’s nest he’d felt fear, gut clenching, breath stealing fear. Once he had climbed up to her, she’d seemed so unaffected, so at ease surveying the world below in the thigh hugging breeches and his sweater, he’d wanted to shake her and kiss her at the same time. Even the cold hadn’t affected his rampant desire to rip the breeches from her. He had had but two choices: rage at her or ravish her. He’d chosen the only option open to him. He looked down to check her progress and saw her reach the bottom of the ladder.

  Henry and Georgie stood at the railing looking over the side of the ship. Matthew swore again as Edward gained the deck.

  The man’s bearing stiffened the moment he spied Katherine and he stomped toward her. His movements angry, Edward grabbed Katherine by the shoulder and shook a paper in her face. “Did you do this?” The words carried to Matthew, though he couldn’t hear Katherine’s reply, and he hastened his efforts to reach the deck. The sharp sound of a slap landing against flesh and a soft cry had Matthew twisting to look over his shoulder. Katherine staggered and fell to one knee.

  Edward clenched the neck of the sweater in his fist and drew his hand back for another strike. Katherine threw up an arm to ward off the blow.

  A feral growl of rage tore from Matthew. Unmindful of the distance beneath him, he leaped to the deck landing in a half crouched position on the balls of his feet. A red haze clouded his vision as he sprinted toward Katherine and her uncle. Edward, his features still twisted with anger, looked up at Matthew’s approach. The momentum of his stride carrying him forward, he punched Edward in the face and felt the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his

  fist. Blood spurted, the powerful stroke driving the man backward, his arms flailing as he sought to regain his balance. He struck the bulkhead of the quarterdeck with a meaty thud, staggered, then fell to the deck. He lay writhing upon the bleached planks, holding his nose and squealing in pain.

  His bloodlust still burning hot, Matthew dragged the man to his feet by the collar of his coat and the back of his pants. Edward’s feet scrambled for purchase as Matthew half dragged, half marched him back to the railing then threw him forward toward the open balustrade. Edward caught a post, barely saving himself from pitching head first into the water. His movements clumsy, unbalanced, he swung around to face Matthew. The man’s nose appeared squashed to one side and was already swelling in the midst of a face smeared red with blood. He cowered back as Matthew crowded close, his fists clenched.

  “If you ever lay a hand on my wife again, I’ll kill you.

  Get off my ship.”

  “You do not know what she has done,” Edward managed, his voice a mewling whine that resonated strangely through his shattered nose.

  “I don’t give a damn what she’s done. You’ll never raise your hand to her again.” Tempted to heave him over the side, Matthew stepped back. “If he’s not off my ship in five seconds, throw him overboard, Henry.” The man stepped forward his expression gleeful.

  “Aye, Cap’in.”

  Matthew spun on his heel. His gaze swept the deck in search of Katherine.

  “You will be sorry you ever married her,” Edward said. Amazed at the man’s persistent desire to dance with danger, he turned to look over his shoulder. “If I do, it won’t be her I’ll hold responsible, Leighton. It will be you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Katherine watched Matthew’s long purposeful strides eat up the distance between them. His coat was ripped at the shoulder, and the dark blue waistcoat and lace trimmed white shirt he wore beneath were spotted with blood.

  “Are you all right, Katherine?”

  “Yes.”

  He caught her elbow and guided her down into the ship to his cabin. He moved immediately to the washbasin to cleanse his blood-streaked hands.

  The sickening coppery scent wafted upward. A memory of Johnny lying in a pool of dark rust, his skin white, cut across her thoughts like shards of glass. Struck by a wave of nausea and a hollow ringing in her ears, she sought the support of the window seat. She bent double to rest her head on her knees.

  Several moments passed before the awful woozy feeling subsided and the cramping queasiness diminished.

  Still shaky, she sat up and dragged the knit cap from her head freeing the heavy braid she’d secured within it. Her skin clammy with sweat, she brushed the rough sleeve of the sweater over her forehead.

  His expression grim, Matthew handed her a damp cloth. He peeled the straps of the pack she still wore from her arms and set it aside.

  The coolness of the cloth eased her burning cheek very little. The genuin
e concern she read in his expression as he watched her had her throat tightening with emotion.

  “I am sorry, Matthew.”

  “For what?”

  “For involving you in this. Had there been any other way I would not have.”

  “Perhaps you should explain to me what you’ve done,” he said, his tone quiet.

  She fished inside the pocket of her breeches and brought forth a piece of paper. She smoothed the wrinkles from it then handed it to him “It is only part of it. The rest tore away and blew out into the water.” He bent his head and silently perused the small section of paper. His features grew still as he began to read. Her hands fisted then she twisted the cloth she held as she watched him. Of all her regrets, losing his respect would be the hardest for her to bear.

  “When was this hawked upon the streets?”

  “Today. Fleet Street refused to print it. They said it would inflame the populace. Do you not find that amusing? Everyone I have met, save your family, seems to thrive on gossip, the worse the better. I paid to have it printed and sold.”

  “The day you slipped away, this was what you were doing.”

  “Yes. I could not tell you what I was about. You would not have allowed me to do it.” She paused to draw a deep breath. “I had to do this, Matthew. The longer the killers go without being caught, the less chance they will ever be punished.” She cleared her throat then continued.

  “Edward would not help me, nor would he allow me to speak about that night to anyone who would.”

  “My mother was a gentle, unassuming, beautiful woman. She never harmed another living thing in her life.

  My brother and father did not deserve to die trying to defend her. Nor did our driver.”

  “Why would Edward be so upset with you over this, Katherine?”

  “He believes that appearance is everything. He will not forgive you for breaking his nose.” Bitterness laced her tone. “It shall curtail his schedule of engagements, until he deems himself presentable again.” One black brow rose. “He shouldn’t have hit you.” The flat dangerous gleam that lit his eyes brought a hitch to her breathing. One broad shoulder lifted in a shrug.