The Brazen Bride

to have to accept that, in this, I know best, and, judged on all the criteria that matter, the Esperance is the best ship to take you and your letter to Plymouth.”

Eyes narrowed, his face like stone, Logan sat and watched her; she could all but see him searching for a way to counter her arguments. Tying off her braids, she walked to the small mirror set in the armoire door and wound the plaits coronet-style about her head, then set about pinning them.

In the mirror, she glanced at Logan, studied his face. She’d known he’d be difficult over her being there, captaining the ship, which was why she’d avoided telling him, had been careful to let no hint fall prematurely. Yet she’d told him the truth; the Esperance with her at the helm was his best chance of reaching Plymouth safely-there was not one soul on Guernsey who wouldn’t tell him the same.

Of course, she’d yet to divulge the most pertinent peculiarity of the Esperance , the one that sealed the argument beyond doubt, but some niggling need wanted him to accept her word, her judgment-to understand and acknowledge that in this arena she not only knew best but was also commander enough to make the right decision with regard to his mission and his safety. Her decision to take him on the Esperance was based on what was right, what should be, not on a personal whim.

Her hair secure, she reached into the armoire and retrieved her captain’s hat with its jaunty cockade, then returned to the bed to pull a kerchief from her bag and knot it about her throat.

Then she reached into her bag and drew out her sheathed cutlass.

Instantly sensed Logan’s tension jump.

“Yes, I can use it.” Pushing back her coat, she slung the leather belt about her hips. Buckling it, she looked up and met Logan’s eyes. “How do you think I could read your wound so accurately? I was right, wasn’t I?”

The question distracted him, diverted his attention as he thought back, then, with obvious reluctance, lips tightening, he nodded. “Yes.”

A tap on the door had them both glancing that way. “Come!” she called.

The door opened and her cabin boy, Jimmy, poked his head around it. “All right here, Capt’n?”

“Yes.” She could never keep back her smile, not with Jimmy. “How’s things above?”

“All hands have reported for duty. Mr. Griffiths has everyone scurrying. Truth is, we’d’a been ready to sail tonight if the tides were right, but they aren’t, so we’ll just have to wait ’til tomorra, but we’re all keen as ever to get out. Wasn’t expecting any adventure this late in the year-like a Christmas present, it is.”

“I dare say.” Jimmy had been throwing curious glances at Logan. Linnet waved at him. “This is Major Monteith, and he, or more correctly his mission, is the reason we’re doing this dash to Plymouth, so it’s he you should thank.”

Jimmy grinned at Logan, bobbed his head. “Major. You won’t hear any grumbles from the crew. It’s a pleasure to be of service.”

Logan, not quite succeeding in keeping his lips straight, inclined his head. “Pleased to be of service in return.”

“Jimmy-the major will use the cabin next door, and we’ll dine here this evening. Usual time. And now…” Collecting Logan with her gaze, Linnet picked up her hat and started for the door. “I’m going to do a round of the decks.”

Logan followed her up, trailed her as she circled the decks. Listened as sailor after sailor hailed her as “Capt’n,” the light in their eyes, the expressions on their faces, testifying to their eagerness and the respect and confidence they had in her as their leader. He’d seen successful generals who’d inspired less devotion.

And the more he listened to her question each man about his family, about his home or whichever of the island’s small communities he hailed from, the more he saw of her eagle eye and her attention to detail, the more he heard of her quick, decisive orders, the more he understood that, even if she’d in some ways inherited the rank from her father, the respect that came with it in such abundance was something she herself had gained.

Yet just how that had come about-how she had risen to fill such a position in such a way-mystified him.

He got no real chance to pursue the issue when, with night shrouding the now quiet ship, they repaired to her cabin to sit around her table and dine; Jimmy was constantly in and out, often standing to attention behind Linnet’s chair and chatting nineteen to the dozen, mostly filling Linnet in on the latest gossip among the crew.

Logan quickly realized that Jimmy saw no need to censor the subjects on which he reported on the grounds Linnet was female.

The more Logan thought of it, the more he suspected that her crew saw her as… not male, definitely not that, but as a different category of female, one demonstrably capable of leading them.

Her comparisons between herself and Queen Elizabeth seemed even more apt.

After dinner, he followed her up on deck, again trailing behind her as in the weak moonlight she checked this rope, that furled sail. Finding themselves at last alone, he murmured, “I thought sailors were superstitious about having women on board.”

She laughed. Reaching the prow, she swung around, hitched a hip on a coil of rope, and looked up at him. Studied him through the shadows, then faintly smiled. “Most of the crew, certainly those years older than I, have sailed with me since I was a child. The Esperance usually does relatively short trips, so my father often brought me along.” She glanced around, affection in her face. “I ran wild on this ship as a toddler, as a young girl. And from when my mother died-I was eleven at the time-I sailed on every voyage.” She met his eyes. “I was even on board when we assisted with the evacuation at Corunna.”

Logan shifted to lean against the side, studying her in return. “So you were a seaman’s brat, and when your father died, you inherited his captaincy?”

“More or less. The rank is, of course, honorary, but you won’t find anyone in Guernsey quibbling.” Her lips twisted wryly. “Just as no one, not any harbor master here or in England, or even in France, or any other maritime authority, would question my right to take the helm even though, as a female, I can’t hold a master’s ticket.” She tipped her head back along the ship. “There’s two others aboard with master’s tickets who could captain the ship, but they’re content to leave that to me. Experience tells, and on the sea there’s much less tolerance of mistakes.”

How far had she ranged? Had she seen any naval actions? How much time did she spend aboard in any year? Did the Esperance ever put to sea without her? Logan asked his questions and she answered, directly, honestly.

The confirmation that she had seen real action, that yes, she’d wielded her cutlass and killed when necessary, was both reassurance and horror combined, although the information that she’d carried her sword for more than a decade provided some relief.

By the time his curiosity was satisfied, he had a much better understanding of who she was, and how she had come to be Captain L. Trevission, owner and captain of the Esperance .

As those mounting the nightwatch came up on deck, Linnet rose, quirked a brow at Logan. “Are you feeling more resigned to letting me take you to Plymouth?”

He looked at her for a moment, as if only then realizing that easing his mind had been her intention, then he looked across the deck to where most of the other larger ships dipped and swayed in the weak moonlight. “I suppose I am.” He looked back at her. “If you’re the fastest, the surest… then I suspect I should stop arguing and thank you.”

Lips curving, she inclined her head regally. “Indeed.” Glancing pointedly at the men on watch, she looked at him, smiled. “You can thank me below.”

She led the way, feeling deliciously brazen. He pushed away from the side and followed without a word. Down the companionway stairs, along the narrow corridor and into her cabin.

He shut the door, turned, and she was on him, stretching up, winding her arms about his neck and pushing him back against the wooden panel. She pressed her lips to his, felt his hands fasten about her waist. She kissed him boldly, determined to keep the reins, to remain in control, to have him offer his thanks under her direction.

This was their last night together. Her last night with him, almost certainly forever. She would do her duty and