Wild Lord Taggart Page 3

“If he is not a landlubber,” Circe bandied back.

  “Aye, there is that. Will you be staying in England, Miss Hayhurst?”

  “No, Captain Adams, I feel my future is in Barbados, so it is there I will go. If you will not take me, I will find another ship.”

  “I’ll take you, Miss Hayhurst, but you must obey my every command.”

  “I will, Captain. Thank you.”

  “If you were my daughter, I would send you back to your mother.”

  “Oh, but you have never met my mother, Captain.” Circe smiled at Captain Adams, before turning around and waving goodbye to her homeland once more.

  * * *

  Circe retreated to her cabin and let the tears she had fought all day roll down her cheeks unchecked. She was determined to see this adventure through, but this was the first time she was without her parents.

  “This will be the most difficult part of the journey,” she told herself over and over. She opened her porthole window, sat on her bed, and watched the passing scenery. Gulls dipped and danced on the wind, following the ship. The snapping of the sails reminded her of the popping of bedsheets when one was making a bed.

  “Ho, there! Is this the Mary Anne?”

  Circe looked out her window again and saw a man being rowed towards the ship. His hands were cupped around his mouth in the shape of a cone in order to project his words. He stood in the small boat with his right foot propped on the bow and his left foot in the belly, balancing as two other men rowed towards the ship.

  “Aye,” one of the sailors called back. “What be it to you?”

  “I’d like to purchase passage to Barbados.”

  At that, Circe got to her knees on the bed and peered out the window so she could get a better look at the man. He was dressed well and his boots had a lovely shine to them. He was not clean shaven but neither did he have a full beard. His hair was wavy and longish, just brushing his shoulders, and the wind had it flying behind him like a flag. Both his hair and beard were dark with light colored highlights like he spent more time in the sun than he should. His voice was deep and rich and sent shivers of excitement down her spine.

  “Do you have money?”

  “Yes,” he answered back.

  “How much baggage?”

  “Three small bags.”

  “I’ll ask the Cap’n.”

  She continued to study him as he waited patiently for an answer. Soon Captain Adams reappeared with the sailor.

  “I understand you want to purchase passage.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Reese Taggart.”

  “I’ll have no trouble from you.”

  “That’s not my plan.”

  “It never is. You were late boarding. Why should I even consider taking you on?”

  “I was attending to business that took longer than expected.”

  Captain Adams seemed to ponder this for several moments. “I’ll expect you to help when necessary. Otherwise, you are to stay out of my men’s way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why are you going to Barbados?”

  “I won a plantation. I’m going to learn to be a gentleman farmer.”

  Captain Adams laughed at this.

  “What do you find so funny, Captain?”

  “There are two things men are born to, son, the sea and the land. You can teach men to be sailors and farmers, but unless they’re born to it, they won’t stay with it.”

  “I’ll prove you wrong.”

  “I almost hope you do, but I doubt you will. Also, I have another passenger aboard ship. I’ll not have you causing any trouble with her.”

  “Yes, sir. Wait, did you say her?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Are you certain? Because if you do anything untoward to her, you can expect yourself to be put to sea with enough water and food to last you two days, and then God be with your soul.”

  “I’ll treat her as if she were my cousin or sister-in-law, since I don’t have a sister.”

  “Very well. Bring him up, men.”

  “Aye, sir!” came from several of the men who had gathered around in anticipation.

  Circe watched as the man was brought on board the ship. She felt some irritation at the Captain’s protectiveness, but at the same time, it made her feel like her father wasn’t so far away. She caught one last glimpse of Reese Taggart before he crawled over the rail and disappeared from her sight.

  “So that is Wild Lord Taggart,” she said with some amusement. “Husband material you most definitely are not.” She sat back on the bed, reached for a book she had brought along, and opened it. This is most definitely going to be a long trip, she thought with a sigh. She began reading, as she pushed away the images of the handsome man boarding the ship like a pirate from bygone days.

  Chapter 2

  Somewhere in the Atlantic…

  Circe awoke for the first time in over a week without the incessant lifting and plunging of the ship that caused her stomach to follow suit. It was the most ill she had ever been in her life. At this point she would give almost anything to be back home in Shropshire with her parents. They lived a quiet life, and she had always found it enjoyable, but the need to escape had been too strong. This trip had been her idea not her parents’, so she had no one to blame but herself. I should have listened to them, she thought morosely.

  She opened the porthole window in her minuscule cabin and was greeted with fresh air and the sounds of the sea. The ocean gurgled as the ship cut a path through it, and the sails snapped as the wind caught in them. Circe looked around the small cabin that had served as her sickroom since they had been at sea and decided she had to get some fresh air. She quickly tidied her cabin, then slipped out of her night rail, and into a dress she could easily button herself.

  Once dressed, she scraped her blonde hair back into a bun and stuck pins in it everywhere in an attempt to keep it in place. She used the little hand mirror her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday to see if she looked decent. Deciding she would do, she tugged on her boots and laced them up, pulled on her gloves, and slipped on her bonnet, tying it snugly beneath her chin. She unlocked and opened her door, then made her way down the passageway and up the steep stairs that were more like a ladder than anything, to the deck above.

  When Circe’s head cleared the deck, the sea breeze greeted her. She took a deep breath then blew it out, cleansing her body of the last remnants of illness that clung to her. She made her way up the last remaining steps and found the nearest thing to grab in order to steady herself. Her legs were still wobbly, either from being ill or being on a ship she could not say, she just knew she needed assistance. She propelled herself from one object to another until she made her way to the ship’s railing.

  She merely nodded at the sailors who looked her way, doing her best to ignore them. Maybe she looked so bad they would not want anything to do with her. She knew word had spread among the crew that she was ill because no one approached her room. They left food outside her door and knocked when it was there. By the time she would get to the door, the hallway would be empty. She would be happy to tell them what she had was not contagious, merely her own bad luck, but no one would stay around long enough to hear her claim, which was fine by her.

  When she reached the ship’s railing, she kept hold of it with one hand and followed it all the way around the ship. She paused at different places to take in the sights, but there was nothing to see except water and sky. She came to the back of the ship and was fascinated at the wake the ship created. She stood there for several minutes before a man joined her.

  “You should go back to your cabin, Miss Hayhurst.”

  “Please, Captain Adams, let me stay up here for just a bit. I promise not to cause any trouble among the crew. I am in great need of fresh air.”

  “All right, but please go to the bow of the ship, so that I can keep an eye on you.”

&
nbsp; “Yes, Captain.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “At least I know longer wish to die, Captain,” Circe said and gave him a look of chagrin. “It seems your wife and I have something in common.”

  “Yes. Mary Anne was never so ill except when she was aboard a ship. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will.” She made her way slowly and wobbly to the bow of the ship, being very careful where she stepped. Once she made it to the bow, she looked at her gloves and sighed. They were covered in tar and pitch and were most definitely ruined. “Oh, well,” she sighed and gripped the rail once more. This was so much better than spending another miserable day within the confines of her small cabin, casting up her accounts and being thoroughly miserable. She closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and enjoyed the sun and wind caressing her face.

  * * *

  The weather had been miserable not long since leaving London. It seemed just as soon as they faced down one storm, another would hit, worse than the last. Reese had assisted the crew during many of the days at sea. There had been many times he had wondered if he’d made the right decision in leaving England, but it was too late now.

  Today the sun shone bright, and the ship’s sails were unfurled to capture the wind. It felt like the ship was skimming along the surface of the water rather than being raised high then plunging to the bottom of the ocean like it had during the storms. He looked out over the water. It sparkled like Neptune had sprinkled diamonds over the surface. The tension of the last few days of the trip melted away, and he felt like he might actually be able to enjoy himself.

  A woman stood, gripping the rail, at the bow of the ship. A bonnet covered her hair, but her face was raised upward. Her dress outlined her body and trailed behind her, flapping in the wind. His interest was immediately piqued. She was every inch the English lady, wearing gloves even here on the ship. Reese quietly approached her, careful not to disturb her. He enjoyed watching the breeze caress her. As he approached her, the smell of roses teased his nostrils. He leaned against the rail and took the opportunity to study the woman while her eyes remained closed.

  Her skin was pale, almost too pale. Her nose was pert and upturned just at the tip. Her brows and lashes were a little darker than the blonde wisps escaping her bonnet. Her lashes looked like smudges against her cheeks. Her lips were almost colorless, and her lower lip was a prisoner of her perfect, white teeth. Reese found himself wanting to pry her bottom lip free and gently kiss it. Her chin had a stubbornness to it, and her neck was perfect. It wasn’t so long that she looked like a goose, and it wasn’t so short that she looked like her head rested directly on her shoulders. She was taller than most women, what with the top of her head coming to his nose. She had curves that beckoned him to caress them. He would have continued his visual exploration of her body if she hadn’t chosen that moment to speak.

  “Do I pass?” a decidedly feminine voice asked. It was not high and squeaky, nor was it too deep. It sounded a little raspy from lack of use, almost as if she hadn’t spoken to anyone for a while. It fit her perfectly.

  “What?”

  “Do I pass inspection,” she repeated with more clarification, “or do you need to inspect my teeth as men do their horses?”

  “I’m not certain I understand,” Reese said, taken aback at the woman’s forthright manner.

  He watched as she lifted her left eyelid and turned her head ever so slightly. The look she gave him pleaded with him not to be obtuse with her. He thought he caught a glimpse of sapphire blue before she closed her eye once more. She really was quite a beauty.

  “I detest it when a man looks at a woman as if she has only one purpose.”

  “And what purpose would that be?” Reese asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “Do we truly have to have this conversation?” she sighed, the wind whipping her words away almost before he could hear them.

  “Now I’m curious,” Reese explained. “How exactly do you think I was looking at you?”

  “As if you could not wait to get me into your bed.”

  “Ah, there you’d be wrong.” Reese smirked when she opened both eyes and turned to stare at him in shock. Her eyes were definitely the color of sapphires with just the tiniest specks of aquamarine thrown in for interest.

  “Oh? Then what exactly were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking we might not make it to my bed,” he replied with that smirk still on his lips.

  “If we were in London and I were a proper woman of the ton, I’d have slapped you by now.”

  “Ah, but we are not in London, and I’m guessing you are not a proper member of the ton.”

  Instead of answering, she merely closed her eyes and turned her face to the wind once more letting her head fall back again.

  “Why have I not seen you until now?”

  “I have been ill.”

  Reese felt uncertain for a moment. Was she contagious? Should she be out here? Should she even be on the ship?

  “Do not panic. I assure you it was merely seasickness. It appears I am not a very good sailor. The storms did not help. Today is the first day I have felt even remotely like myself. All I have had to eat since boarding the ship is dry, crusty bread and sips of cool, steeped tea since they had to put out all the fires.”

  “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Some. The fresh air has helped tremendously. Thank you for asking.”

  “I’m Reese Taggart.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “I heard you tell Captain Adams your name when you boarded the ship.”

  “Ah.”

  “I also know you are Wild Lord Taggart.”

  “Oh?” He tried to sound casual about it.

  “There are few people in London, or England for that matter, that have not heard of Wild Lord Taggart. The man who stole his brother’s wife, and then she killed herself when she found herself carrying her husband’s child instead of her lover’s. Is that not how the story goes?” She opened both eyes and turned to cock her head at him questioningly.

  “Yes, but it is wrong.”

  “It often is. I am Circe Hayhurst.”

  He looked down at the offered hand and reached out to engulf it in his. Reese bent over and dropped a kiss on the back of her glove, wondering what her skin would feel like beneath it. He was so lost in his lustful thoughts that it took a moment for her name to penetrate his memory. “Circe Hayhurst?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you—”

  “The bastard daughter of Lord Phillip Hayhurst, Duke of Shropshire and Lady Elizabeth Merrywether, daughter of the Duke of Ashford.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she queried, one hand fisted on her hip and one safely on the rail.

  “Nothing. Your name is rather enchanting…and unique.”

  “How appropriate since she is believed to have been an enchantress or sorceress in Greek mythology.”

  “Some also thought her to be a sea nymph and the daughter of an Oceanid, which makes it quite ironic that you’ve suffered from seasickness on this trip.”

  “Quite,” she said as she arched a brow at him.

  “You know, I’ve heard rumors about you.”

  “I’m certain you have,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Everyone has.”

  “No, not about you, per se, but rather about your existence. You are the best kept secret in England.”

  “Not to those who know me.”

  “Hmm.”

  “If you are going to speculate about something, just come right out and say it, Lord Taggart. I do detest all this hem hawing about as if you have a great secret and it is up to me to guess what it is. I have neither the time nor energy to do any such thing.”

  “I was just wondering where you have been all these years?”

  “At my father’s country estate, except when he needed to travel to London, and then we were at his London house. Where else would
I be?”

  “Rumor has it your mother lives with him.”

  “Lord Taggart, most women live with the men that they love.”

  “But they aren’t married.”

  “And what, pray tell, were you and your sister-in-law going to do, my lord? How would you have ever been able to marry her? Perhaps you were planning on killing your brother and making his wife a widow.” She looked at him as his eyes narrowed at her.

  “I would never—”

  “I am merely making a point. You condemn my parents for living together without the bonds of matrimony, yet you would have had to do the same thing had your lover lived. You, too, would have brought bastard children into this world. Now, if you are finished questioning me in regard to my pedigree and my parents’ choices, I would really like to get back to enjoying the peace and solitude of the day.”

  “Of course, Miss Hayhurst,” he bowed deeply. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Yes, you did, but if you will go away, I will forgive you.”

  “Of course. Have a wonderful day, Miss Hayhurst.”

  “You, as well, Lord Taggart.”

  Reese turned away and walked towards the foremast. The closer he got, the smell of tar assailed him, erasing the scent of roses that had wafted off of Circe. Once he reached the foremast, he turned around and leaned against one of the cleats that had the sail’s rope wrapped tightly around it. I’ll stay just to make certain she’s all right and nobody tries to abuse her, he promised himself. At first he had been taken aback by her bluntness, but then he had appreciated it. It had been a long while since anyone had spoken to him in such a manner. It was refreshing, if a little aggravating.

  * * *

  Circe gripped the railing tighter than absolutely necessary. She hated it when people talked about her parents as if they were evil. Just because they did not live according to society’s rules. What she hated most was that when people talked about her parents, she found herself also condemning them for making her a social pariah.

  “Why could they have not just married like everyone else does?” she wondered aloud, hating the bitterness in her voice. “Because Mama is so determined to set a new standard for women and Papa, bless his heart, will do anything to make her happy and be with her.”