An Officer but No Gentleman(12)

“I should imagine all the men you dance with when my brother’s away.”

She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him.

Jaxon felt sick as he watched his twin and his fiancée and he wondered if this was the first time they’d kissed. Hot rage coursed through his veins and his hand tightened on the cane in his hand. The embrace lasted until Grayson backed her into the door. His knee pushed between her legs as he roughly palmed her breast through her clothing.

“Is this what you want, Millie?” he ground out menacingly. “Do you want me to take you to the barn and lift your skirts? Do you think because my brother is ugly and lame now that you can substitute me for him? The only reason I would ever, ever be with you, is so my brother wouldn’t marry you because I had you first.”

He pushed away from her. “I have held my tongue about you for the last time. Consider your engagement broken.”

“You can’t do that.” She was breathing hard.

“Lady, you’ve been making excuses all night trying to figure out a graceful way out of your engagement. If you truly loved him, none of this would have mattered to you. The people who love him are gathering around him. There is no room for the likes of you.”

“I think it’s time for you to leave now,” Imelia said holding the cloak at arm’s length.

Jaxon didn’t know when their sister returned to the hallway because he had been so intent on the tableau before him. They opened the door and practically pushed her out, leaving her to find her own way home.

“That’s a hell of a sacrifice you were willing to make on my behalf,” Jaxon said from the top of the stairs.

Grayson bounded up the stairs two at a time and helped his brother down each step.

“And I would have, too.”

Jax smiled. “Damn, I guess you really do love me. Hell of a sacrifice.”



Jaxon wished he could smile about the incident now. He couldn’t fathom how he could have ever thought he loved the woman. In writing letters to her, he had concocted a false image of who she was. He thought her beauty was reflected in her personality, but quite the opposite was true. Whoever had coined the phrase that beauty was only skin deep could have been talking about her.





4



Charlie took the punishment in stride. Under normal circumstances, Charlie spent her off time alone in her cabin, so the only difference really was that she took her meals there as well and she spent it in bed with a hot vinegar and brown paper poultice on her back. She passed the time thinking about the dashing figure of the captain of the Baltimore clipper. How she wished her father hadn’t been there. She might have taken out the spyglass and gotten a better look. But now she could only use her imagination to put a face to him.

She was relieved when her restriction was lifted three days later.

The crew had easily settled back into their routine and Charlie found herself wishing for a bit of light weather just to change things up a bit, but the sun blazed in the cloudless sky daily.

From the quarterdeck she watched the crew at their tasks and made an effort never to look at Morty when he was in a position to see her. Catching his eye made her uneasy. Inevitably, she assigned him tasks in the prow, the area in the front of the ship where she could barely see him through the sails. As the days wore on, she noted there had been no improvement of the sour mood he had been in of late. On the eighth day out, Hugh reminded her of her promise to talk to Morty about whether he was having a problem with a maiden. Mentally, she made every excuse under the moon to avoid him.



Charlie had barely sat down after her shift on deck when a strong knock bolted her out of her chair. She turned the key in the lock and opened the door to find Morty standing in the passageway.

“Hugh told me you wanted to see me.”

Charlie opened her mouth to say something, but found herself at a loss for words. Apparently McNamara had gotten impatient and sent Morty aft on his own.

Stepping back, Charlie allowed his entrance to the cabin. “Have a seat, Morty,” she said closing the door. Hugh may have sent him for one conversation, but Charlie had a feeling that was not what they would be discussing. While Morty sat down in the seat Charlie had just vacated, Charlie closed the porthole. She didn’t want their exchange drifting up to the deck. “Hugh and I are worried about you. You’ve changed and we want to help if we can,” she said sitting down on the bunk.

We, Charlie thought. Remember to stick with ‘we’ and ‘Hugh and I’. Under the circumstances, she didn’t want him to read too much into her concern.

Morty scowled at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”