An Officer but No Gentleman(22)

“Sir,” a boy of twelve or thirteen said as she repacked the doctor’s bag. “Captain Bloodworthy asked for you to come to his cabin when you’re finished here. This way.”

Charlie stuffed the last of the clean bandages into the bag and picked up the books. “What’s your name?” Charlie asked as he led her from the forecastle aft.

“Vinnie, sir,”

“I’m Charlie, Charlie Sinclair.”

The door to the captain’s quarters was partially open, but the cabin boy knocked lightly anyway.

“Mr. Sinclair’s here, sir.”

She had only seen the captain of The Dragon’s Lair from a distance, but even from a distance he appeared impressive, his tall lean figure with his jet-black hair untethered, blowing in wind as he order the cannons to fire upon the French. He was as fine of form and resplendent as she remembered. Upon seeing him up close, she sensed his power, not just physical strength, but a certain confidence and aloofness that she knew men would follow blindly and she found herself very attracted to his confident bearing. He was tall, at least an inch or two above the six-foot mark, lean, but muscular.

Her gaze met his steely blue eyes. She could feel the speed of her breath increasing. He was strikingly good looking. The contrast between his light colored eyes and jet-black hair fascinated her. In all her worldly travels, she found most people with black hair almost always had brown or black eyes.

He had a wide masculine jaw, full lips and a scar that slashed from his forehead, across the bridge of his nose to the opposite cheek. It only made his good looks more rugged—some probably thought he looked dangerous, but the only danger she felt was the power his attractiveness would have over her if she couldn’t control her reaction to him. She had to mentally tell herself to stop staring. He believed her to be a man.



Captain Jaxon Bloodworthy glanced up as Vinnie walked in with the loblolly boy then dropped his eyes back to the chart on his desk. In the brief moment his eyes fell upon the junior officer, a spark inside his mind told him there was something incongruent about the young man. He raised his eyes again and took a longer look. Criminy, he looked like a girl dressed in a man’s uniform. Jaxon couldn’t quite say why he thought Mr. Sinclair looked like a girl. Neither his wide sea-legged gait nor his carriage bore any femininity and yet something niggled at his subconscious. Perhaps it was his youth. He was young, too young for the uniform—no sign of whiskers graced his jaw. This boy was still wet behind the ears.

Jaxon’s glance traveled down, looking for some sign to tell him for certain that the surgeon’s mate was, in fact, male. He could detect no signs of breasts, but under a shirtwaist and coat who could say for certain.

By the tailoring of his uniform, he was probably a rich man’s son who bought his way into his position. The crew of the Arcadia probably resented taking orders from this snot-nosed brat and that was why they sailed away without him as soon as they’d replaced their sails. Inwardly, Jax groaned, knowing Charlie Sinclair would be a thorn in his side. No doubt he had a sense of entitlement bigger than the ocean.

Jaxon realized the young man had not broken eye contact since he walked into the room. It had been such a long time since anyone other than family looked him in the eye; it made him a bit uncomfortable. He didn’t know if it was because he had medical training that a few scars didn’t bother him, but he suspected this boy hoped to prove by holding his gaze, he and Jaxon were equals.

Begrudgingly, Jaxon admitted they needed someone aboard with medical knowledge if they were to be privateers, so he would give this kid a chance to prove himself. His Baltimore clipper was fast enough to chase down the other ship and give Sinclair back if it wasn’t going to work out. As second mate of his ship, he would, no doubt, know the ship’s heading so it should be easy enough to calculate their course if necessary.

He narrowed his gaze at the young man waiting for him to avert his eyes. Having men look at his chest or chin felt normal since being scarred—who would want to look at the monster? But not this one. He continued holding Jaxon’s gaze. It was almost as if he didn’t see the scars at all. Jaxon knew exactly what to say to get him to back down.

“If you’re finished staring at my scars….”



She barely noticed his scars, but it was better he think that than to know the truth—the truth that she couldn’t take her eyes off the most handsome man she had ever met. She hoped he was not aware of the attraction crackling to life inside her like flint being struck by iron. If he thought her male, and they always did, because it just never occurred to anyone to doubt what was in front of them, this meeting could end quite poorly and even follow her back to her ship. Aye, it was definitely better he think she was staring at his scars rather than lost in the depths of his steely blue eyes, captivated by the shape of his mouth, enthralled by his strong jaw and the way the muscle worked at its hinge and drawn to his confidence.