Page 13 of A Countess Captured for the Captain
“How long have we been at sea?” she asked, rolling over in bed and sitting up, a smile upon her face.
The two of them had grown comfortable together on the voyage, and Samantha had taken to admitting Nox into the cabin early each morning so that they might breakfast together. She was dressed only in one of Nox’s shirts, which served her as a nightgown, a blanket wrapped around her legs.
“It is three weeks since we left St Kitts behind us,” he said, peering out of the cabin window.
Nox had never seen such a city before, though he had heard tales of London many times before, a city, it was said, whose streets were paved with gold.
“I do not remember when I left London. But it has been many weeks,” she said, clambering out of bed and yawning.
“Then you will be eager to be at home, I am sure. I presume your father’s house is close to the docks?” Nox replied, glancing at Samantha, as she slipped behind a screen in the corner to dress.
He could just see her foot, the pale, soft skin of her leg, his feelings aroused by the sight, and he thought again of possessing her, even now, before they parted.
“My father has several houses, an estate in Kent, a townhouse in Mayfair, and Hampton Manor on a hill overlooking Saint Paul’s. It is there that we shall find him, for he is in town for the entire season, and he hates the house in Mayfair. So does Regina,” Samantha replied, emerging from behind the screen in a green dress.
It had been fortunate that one of the recent ships which Nox and his men had boarded had included dresses and other garments bound for the Countess of Grimshaw, whose husband owned a plantation on one of the northern islands of the Caribbean. Samantha had set about with alterations, so that she had a considerable choice of dresses to wear, and outfits to choose from.
“And the money?” Nox asked, though he did not particularly care anymore about exacting a ransom.
At first, he had seen Samantha as a commodity, and that was how he had persuaded his men to sail across the Atlantic – promising a handsome reward for her safe return. But as the weeks had gone by, it had been Samantha herself that had become for him a precious cargo, a treasure, rather than a ransom, and with the time coming to let her go, the thought was weighing ever more heavily upon his mind.
“You will get your money, and then you can sail away. I have arrived home and you shall have your reward,” she replied, just as the call came that they were about to dock at the quayside.
“Remember, Men, we are merchants. No one knows the name ofThe Rosa Mystica,and no one is to know our true purpose here,” Nox said, as he and Samantha made ready to disembark.
“Do not get too fine a taste for land, Nox,” Strap said, catching him by the arm as he left.
“I know where my loyalties lie,” Nox replied
With that, he hurried down the gangplank after Samantha, marveling at the sight of the surrounding port, with all its hustle and bustle.
* * *
To say that Samantha was pleased to be back on dry land would be no exaggeration. If she had learned one thing, then it was that the sea made her sick, and she was glad to leave the unending up and down of the ship behind her. But to say she was pleased to be about to face her father for the first time since the beginning of her deception would be a falsity – Samantha was dreading it.
She had pictured the conversation a hundred times during their voyage across the Atlantic. Regina would be still in the fullness of childbearing, smirking, as her father gave vent to his anger. She could hear his voice, the angry tones, the chastisement, and the inevitable assurance that she was still to marry the gentleman he had decided for her.
But Samantha could be as stubborn as her father, and she had no intention of giving in to his demands. Despite being glad to no longer be on boardThe Rosa Mystica,Samantha knew she would miss the company of Nox, who had been nothing but a friend – if somewhat roguish – during their voyage home. She would miss his conversation, the times they had sat on deck at night and watched the stars, the tales he had told of his daring deeds. Nevertheless, he had his life to live, and she had hers, as much as the thought of it pained her. Now, as they came in sight of Hampton Manor, she took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come.
“He will not be happy,” she said, as they paused outside the gates.
“Your father is a formidable man, by all accounts,” Nox replied.
“I will ensure that you are paid,” she said, and he shook his head and laughed.
“The money does not trouble me. Though if I returned without recompense, then the men would surely mutiny. I am only glad to have had this opportunity. I was growing tired of the Caribbean, of endless days spent chasing ships and fleeing retribution,” he said.
“You make it sound as though you would like to stay,” she said, and he looked at her, a weak smile coming over his face.
“This in no place for a man like me. I do not belong here. I belong… well, I do not know where I belong. Still, there is no time for such nonsense. Come, we must return you home. I am sure your father is eager to see you,” he said, offering her his arm.
Samantha was sure that her father was eager to see her, eager to scold her and remind her of the disgrace she had placed herself in. As they made their way up toward the house, she could see her father pacing up and down in Regina’s salon, which faced the gardens to the front of the house. Regina was sitting with her back to the window, but when Samantha’s father spotted them, he pointed in astonishment, and Regina turned, fixing Samantha with an astonished look.
“Now you will see what kind of man my father is,” Samantha whispered, as the door was opened by her father’s butler, Anderton.
“Lady Samantha,” he exclaimed, looking Nox up and down with a judgmental stare.
To the casual observer, Nox must have appeared an odd-looking character. He hardly fitted the image of a gentleman, with his unkempt hair, and the scar running down his cheek, his seafaring clothes, and his confident swagger. Samantha rather enjoyed the thought of the scandal they were causing, but when her father flew out of the salon in such a rage that he knocked over a vase on a pedestal by the door, she shrank back in fear, clutching at Nox’s arm.
