Stiff-spined, she stood before the fold-down writing desk that had doubled as her dressing table during the long voyage across the Atlantic. While her maid fussed with the laces of her corset, Sarah stared through the porthole at the low-hanging April moon.
The silvery orb, which had waned to a mere slice after the Linx sailed from Plymouth so many weeks ago, had since waxed full again. It now glowed fat and round above the indigo sea, signaling the imminent end of the long sea voyage ... and of Sarah's reprieve.
Soon the Linx would drop anchor in the West Indies. Short days after that, Sarah would wed Captain Sir James Lowell, a battle-hardened veteran of the French War and master of this frigate.
A widower, James had wanted to say their vows before they sailed from Plymouth, but Sarah had cited a desire to be married at her new home with his young daughter in attendance. She'd won that delay, but keeping him pacified during this damnable voyage had proved a good deal more difficult. She'd been forced to employ every coy, teasing skill she'd acquired during her five-year reign as The Notorious Lady S. to hold him off.
Sighing, she tugged on the curling auburn strand that fell across her bare shoulder.
The Notorious Lady S.
She was so very weary of that label! Not that she hadn't done everything in her power to earn it. As a girl, she'd been up for every dare and madcap scrape. As a young bride married to a doting, indulgent husband three times her age, she'd set London society on its ear. As a wealthy widow, she'd plunged into the desperate search for pleasure so characteristic of the generation that had come of age during a decade of war with Napoleon.
Looking back, Sarah could scarce believe only five years had passed since she'd wed Sir Cedric Stanton. Three since the dull but exceedingly rich Ceddie had died of an inflammation of the bowels. One since she, her father and brother had run through every penny of her widow's portion. How very long ago it all seemed now.
Yet the years ahead looked to be even longer.
And bleaker.
"There!" Maude gave the laces on the long corset a final tug. "Ye're all trussed up, right 'n tight. Will ye be wearin' the gold silk again to dinner?"
At the mention of the shimmering, topaz-colored gown, Sarah's stomach clenched. Early in the voyage James had declared a decided preference for that particular dress and requested she wear it repeatedly. Sarah had soon realized he cared little for the rich color or daring décolletage. Instead, he derived intense enjoyment from the lust that crept into his officers' faces when they feasted on the bare slopes of his intended's breasts.
The gown had opened her eyes to how cruel the captain could become when thwarted. A shudder rippled through her at the memory of that awful night she had declined to wear the topaz silk. The cabin boy serving in the captain's mess had smiled at her. Merely smiled. Yet James had declared him insolent, bent him across the table and whipped him viciously. The pleasure her husband-to-be had taken in the boy's cries still turned Sarah's stomach.
She had to force herself to remember this was the man who'd saved her father and brother from debtors' prison. The gallant sea captain who'd returned from war so rich with prize money he'd covered their staggering gambling debts and Sarah's own mountain of bills. James was handsome in his haughty way, charming when he wanted to be and drolly amused to have gained instant fame as the one who'd won the Notorious Lady S.
If the shaky peace negotiated only last year between Britain and France had not begun to unravel ...
If James hadn't been ordered to take his 32-gun frigate back to the West Indies in preparation for the imminent resumption of hostilities ...
If Sarah had spent more than a few hours in the man's company during their whirlwind courtship before accepting his suit ...
If, if, if ...
Angrily, she tossed her head. When had she become such a tiresome, wretched mope? She bored even herself.
"I'll wear the emerald silk," she declared defiantly to Maude. "And the Norwich shawl with the -"
She broke off, frowning as a dark shadow suddenly blocked out the moon. It came up swiftly, moving with deadly stealth, and swept past the windows. She caught a glimpse, only a glimpse, of what looked like a bowsprit silhouetted against the dark sea before a cannon belched fire and a monstrous roar shattered the April night.
Maude shrieked and threw herself down. Sarah cursed and did the same. Covering her maid's ample form with her own, she tried to gather her startled senses.
Where in God's name had this ghost ship sprung from? Why hadn't the watch spotted its lights and sounded the alarm? Was it manned by pirates? Or was it a French warship, signaling the end of the short-lived Peace of Amiens and outbreak of hostilities once again?
Her heart slamming against her corset stays, Sarah strained to sort through the burst of sounds coming through the louvers of her cabin door. Above the constant creak of a ship at sea and the noisy clatter of shot rolling in the wooden racks on the gun deck, she heard the thud of running feet. A confusion of shouts. A bellowed order to man battle stations! What felt like hours but was probably only moments dragged by before a deep voice bellowed across the open sea through a speaker's horn.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from April Moon by Merline Lovelace Susan King Miranda Jarrett Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
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