“I rather like this furniture now that I’ve grown accustomed to it.”
“You’re deliberately missing the point. You were well pleased with the wench, generous with her to a fault, but less than a week at sea with her, you turned the ship around to dump her back where you’d found her. Such close confinement with her had driven you crazy. I’d say I was safe in assuming that after all these weeks of being cooped up with the brat, you couldn’t wait to get away from her now that we’ve docked.”
“So George is a much more charming companion.”
“Charming? That saucy-mouthed—”
“Watch it, Connie. This is my soon-to-be-mistress we are discussing.”
Conrad’s brows shot up. “You’re going to gothatfar in committing yourself? Whatever for?”
“Now that’s a stupid question,” James replied irritably. “What the devil do you think for? I’ve grown fond of the little Yank. She might not show her sweet self to you, but George has been decidedly agreeable to me ever since we did away with pretenses.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the man who swore off keeping mistresses? Something about their always getting marriage-minded, despite their protests to the contrary? You have faithfully stayed clear of commitments for a good number of years, Hawke, and I might add, without ever once lacking for female companionship when you wanted it. Damned less expensive, too.”
James waved that reasoning aside. “So I’m due for a change. Besides, George isn’t the least bit interested in marriage. I set her straight on the subject, and she hasn’t said another word about it.”
“Allwomen are interested in marriage. You’ve said so yourself.”
“Damnation, Connie, if you’re trying to talk me out of keeping her, you bloody well can’t. I’ve given it a good deal of thought this last week, and I’m simply not ready to see the last of her yet.”
“And what does she think about it?”
“She’ll be delighted, of course. The wench is quite fond of me as well.”
“Glad to hear it,” Connie replied dryly. “So what’s she doing over on yonder ship?”
James turned around so fast, he nearly tipped his chair over. It took him a few seconds to scan the deck of the American ship before he saw what Conrad had seen. Georgina, with the Scot standing behind her. She appeared to be talking to one of the ship’s officers, possibly even her captain. James had the feeling she was acquainted with the chap, especially when the man gripped her arms and began to shake her, then, in the next moment, pulled her close to embrace her. James shot to his feet, seeing that. His chair did tip over this time.
He was heading for the door, swearing under his breath, when Connie remarked, “If you intend to fetch her back—”
“I intend to break that chap’s face,thenI’ll collect George.”
James hadn’t stopped to reply, was already out the door, so Connie had to shout after him, “You’ll find it a bit difficult doing either, old man! The ship’s already cast off!”
“The devil she has!” was heard from out in the hall, and then as James appeared back in the doorway to stare out the windows at the slowly departing vessel, “Bloody hell!”
“Look on the bright side, Hawke,” Connie said without the least bit of sympathy. “You would only have had a few weeks more with her, until we returned to England. Even if you had considered taking her back with you, from what you’ve told me of her aversion to the motherland, she’d never have agreed—”
“Blister it, Connie, the wench has deserted me, and without a by-your-leave. Don’t talk to me about problems I might have faced, when this one’s knocked me on my arse.”
He ignored Conrad’s derisive short. He stared at the now-empty berth next to theMaiden Anneand still couldn’t believe Georgie was gone. Just that morning she’d awakened him with her sweet lips on his, her little hands holding his face, and what he thought of as her take-me smile, the one she bestowed on him only when they were abed, the one that never failed to stir primitive urges he’d never even known he possessed. Gone?
“No, by God,” he said aloud, then pinned Conrad with a resolute look that made the redhead groan. “How many of the crew have gone ashore?”
“For God’s sake, James, you can’t mean to—”
“I bloody well do mean to,” James cut in, the anger that was starting to rise reflected clearly in his tone. “Get them back while I find out what I can about that ship. I mean to be on her tail within the hour.”
Georgina defied her brother Drew’s order to get herself to his cabin as soon as his back was turned. He’d already promised her a walloping that would have her standing the whole voyage home. Whether that was just his anger talking, or he really meant to take his belt to her, she found she didn’t much care at the moment.
Oh, he was indeed mad, furiously so. She’d merely surprised Drew at first when he turned around and found her standing there grinning at him. And then he’d been alarmed, assuming only some grave catastrophe could have brought her to Jamaica looking for him. When she’d assured him no one had died, his relief turned to irritation. He’d shaken her then for scaring him, but just as quickly hugged her because he really was relieved not to be hearing bad news, and, of course, the fact that she was his only sister and well loved had a little to do with it. It was when she’d casually dropped the news that she’d just returned from England that the shouting began. And this was one of her more mellow brothers, the most even-tempered next to Thomas.
Unlike Warren, who had an explosive temper that no one cared to get on the wrong side of, or Boyd and Clinton, who were too serious by half sometimes, Drew was the devil-may-care rogue in the family who had women chasing after him by the hordes. So he out of all of them should have understood why she had thought it necessary to chase after Malcolm. Instead, he’d been so angry, she’d almost seen some color in his black eyes. If she got a walloping from him, she could just imagine what she’d get from Clinton or Warren, her oldest brothers, when they found out. But she didn’t much care at the moment.
She hadn’t realized when she’d become so excited upon seeing Drew’s ship and had rushed right over to her, that theTritonwas making ready to depart, had in fact cast off her lines while Drew was still ranting and raving. She stood at the rail now, the sparkling Caribbean waters separating her from theMaiden Annemore and more, frantically searching the deck of the other ship for a last sight of James.
When she did finally see him appear on deck, his golden hair whipping about in the breeze, those wide, wide shoulders that couldn’t be mistaken for any other man’s, she could barely breathe for the lump that rose in her throat. She prayed he would look her way. She was too far away already to shout and hope to have him hear her, but she could at least wave. But he didn’t look out to sea. She watched him leave his ship, move off briskly down the wharf, and then disappear into the crowd.
