Iain Buchanan, the elegant knight and owner of this ship, had been left below deck and Iain Buchanan, the sailor and menial worker, had presented himself for duty. A few of the sailors called out taunts, but Ramsey waved them off.
“To the sails!” he ordered, and more than a dozen men raced to the ropes and began climbing.
Including Iain.
“Come this way to the quarterdeck, my lady,” he offered his arm since the ship was bobbing about quite a bit now. “He cannot show off if you cannot see him.”
Clare was touched by that. Iain had already showed off in bringing her to a ship he owned, but this was a more personal way of trying to impress her. A more primitive way even.
The captain guided her up several steps to a deck in the back of the ship that was raised above the main deck. It was a better view of the ship and the sea and the land off in the distance. Clare gasped at the sight of men climbing up and up like the monkeys she’d seen climbing in a zoo.
And Iain was in the midst of them, yelling out insults as he sure-footedly took to the heights of the mast in a race to reach the top. From a distance he blended in with the other sailors and she lost sight of him for a moment.
“He’s there, my lady,” Ramsey said, lifting his hand to point to the set of sails nearest her. “Oh ho! And he’s losing.”
Shielding her eyes with her hand, she found him and saw the other smaller sailor passing him as though he was not moving.
“Blackwood is one of our best,” Ramsey said. “And Iain is out of practice from sitting behind a desk.”
When the other man reached the top, all the men shouted his name, even Iain who laughed at the insults called out to him, too. She expected that they would climb right back down but they did not.
“There is some work to be done up there, checking and tightening and so forth. It may take some time.” The captain walked to the stairs. “If you would excuse me, I do have to get to my own duties.”
“May I stay here?”
“Certainly, but keep hold on the railing just in case—” The sea chose to throw a large wave at the ship, large enough to make it tilt as it rose, and she grabbed hold before she toppled over. “That. Just in case of that.”
A sailor approached him, and he turned away. She leaned her head back and watched as the crew carried out their tasks. Good natured, though vulgar, chatter went on; the men worked quickly, moving across the beams and up and down on the masts. Clare held her breath every time she caught sight of Iain.
This was not the Iain she knew. Oh, Chalmers had said he’d worked on ships and he’d shared some of his knowledge of them, but she did not realize the extent of his experience. Now, she’d seen him as a businessman, at a society ball and as a common sailor. Nay, not common. She lost track of time and everything as she studied his every movement.
“My lady?” She blinked and turned to find a young man there.
“Aye?”
“The captain suggested you might be more comfortable in the cabin since the work will continue for some time.” Not certain which of the captains had made the suggestion, she thought it a good one regardless.
Clare followed him back to the cabin and found it warmed by the sun streaming in the windows. She stood enjoying the view for a while, but the motion of the ship was very relaxing. Deciding that reading might help pass the time, Clare selected a novel from the top shelf and sat on the bench along the windows.
The rocking, the lift and the fall of the waves, and the movement through the water lulled her to sleep before she knew it was happening.
Chapter Sixteen
Iain had notenjoyed himself this much in... in...
Well, never.
Between spending hours with Clare and seeing her experiencing the sea for the first time and then working like he had not in years, he was exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. Even now after washing and stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, he ached worse than he did after a fight.
But the moment he opened the door to the cabin and found her asleep, curled up on the seat in front of the windows, any sense of tiredness fled. In a matter of seconds, his body came alive with need and desire for her.
Iain crossed the cabin and stood within inches of her, just watching her face in the calmness of sleep. Her bodice rose and lowered as did the rosy skin of her breasts with each slow deep breath. Her hands were tucked under her cheek and she lay on her side. Her knees were drawn up, pulling some of the length of her gown with them and due to her movements, her ankles lay exposed to him.
Bloody hell! He owned a fucking brothel and could see women in every stage of dress and undress and a damned silken-clad ankle was arousing him.
Iain sat on the bed and shook his head. Never had he thought that a gentle, kind, intelligent, and somehow practical and generous daughter-of-an-earl would upend his life as she had. He’d somehow expected that a brash, big-breasted, blond-haired wench would have caught his eye and he’d have been quite happy ensconced in her bed, enjoying her talents. He’d been happy with Tess for years, though he had not visited her bed since the day he’d met Lady Clare Logan.
Noticing the small book on the table at the bedside, one he read on each voyage on the ship, Iain settled back against the headboard. From the looks of it, Clare was deeply asleep and would be for a while, so he shoved some pillows behind him and read while waiting for her to wake.
