“I hope you enjoyed your stay.” The shopkeeper’s tone made her flesh crawl.

  “Yes. Thank you.” Kenelm handed over the purse of gold.

  “Feel free to visit again.”

  Men stood before the building again, the dull-witted creatures that had been there when they arrived.

  “Thank you.” Kenelm and Jones lifted a handle of the wagon bed and began to pull. The route through the woods wasn’t very wide. It would take awhile to cut a path. And she didn’t feel they had that long.

  She sliced the foliage as fast as her arms would allow, but it wasn’t fast enough. It took hours for them to reach the beach. The crew lowered dinghies and began to send them toward them.

  They reached the shore and the supplies were loaded. As soon as the last box was aboard and they entered the dinghies, the foliage parted.

  “Now!”

  The shopkeeper, the enchanted men, and the women of heavy perfume raced toward them. Jones and Kenelm pushed the dinghies into the water and began to row as the group splashed into the water. Rose held to the side of the dinghy, her heart pounding in her chest as bullets sailed over their heads.

  “Row, men, row!”

  Black powder billowed from the sides of the ship as cannons shot through the gun ports and pounded the shoreline where the mob stood. They squealed and backed up. More cannons landed, pushing them farther away.

  Rose trembled. Arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her back against a manly chest.

  “Do not despair, we’ve made it.”

  She hoped to never have to flee another island of crazy people again, but being held in Kenelm’s arms was something she’d love to repeat, and repeat often.

  Chapter Seven: Lost

  The shoreline disappeared behind thick wisps of fog. It reminded Kenelm of the day he’d found the uncharted island holding Magnolia and Justin. He’d rescued them with hope that Magnolia’s feelings for him would grow into something permanent, but it wasn’t meant to be. As he’d suspected from their first meeting, Magnolia’s feelings lay with another—Justin to be exact.

  How times changed. Now he was searching for a route home, and the weather was causing him to lose direction. Of course, he was lost in other ways as well.

  Rose sat cross-legged on the main deck arrayed in Duplay’s clothing. He was the only gentleman on board close to her size, and still the breeches and blouse were baggy. She braided rope as if a professional sailor, and he fought a measure of pride. He would have accepted her as a crew member for any journey.

  She lifted her head and flashed him a smile. Yes, he was lost. His heart belonged to her, and it probably had for a long time. Now for certain no one would replace the hole once she departed and settled in with Evander. Kenelm would leave her with his friend and then disappear to another continent. To watch the woman he loved be with another would be too difficult.

  Rose stood and dusted her hands against her thighs. Hands placed behind her back, she sauntered toward him. Jones had suggested a head covering, so her hair didn’t fall into her eyes. He wasn’t sure if he approved. He loved her hair, but he also loved to study her face.

  “Hello.” Her voice was as if music to his tired soul. A concert he never wanted to end.

  “Hello.” He continued to look forward. Until they escaped the fog, he must remain vigilant.

  “The fog is thick.”

  “It is.”

  “Do you think it will end soon?”

  “I hope so.”

  Crew had been stationed around the upper deck watching the ship’s progress. He just hoped it was enough. If they struck an object and pierced the hull as before, then they would be trapped once more. No way would they be lucky enough to acquire a second ship on the same journey.

  She leaned her hip against the quarterdeck’s railing. “The men seem to be improving.”

  “Aye.” Their drug-induced state had seemed to fade over the last several days. Improvement had occurred as soon as they escaped the clutches of the women, but now they behaved more normally. It was one blessing he could count.

  She laid her hand on his upper arm but looked out at the ocean. Her touch was more intoxicating than any drug. It was one thing he wouldn’t mind enjoying for eternity.

  “Thank you for the gowns.”

  He’d had the shopkeeper place seven gowns in the supplies he’d procured. One for each day of the week, just as she’d requested. Bitterness entered his tone. “I notice you haven’t worn them yet.”

  She made tiny circles over the muscle of his arm. Yes, he could make a habit out of her touching him.

  “I have them ready when the time is appropriate. Do you mind terribly?”

  Not when she was touching him like that. He didn’t mind at all.

  He faced her, rubbing his knuckle over the soft skin of her cheek. “You look beautiful no matter what you wear.” And he meant that. Even in Duplay’s castoffs, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

  She swallowed and moved a strand of hair behind her ear. Red, that matched her namesake, bloomed across her cheeks.

  He’d promised himself that he would continue to withhold his feelings, but it wasn’t working. He didn’t want her to feel pressured into remaining with him when they made landfall. She should have the freedom to choose the man she loved. The freedom she’d failed to secure in the past.

  Men yelled, and Kenelm turned to the helm. The fog was clearing. The way was free of obstacles. The sky was blue, the wind nonexistent. They stopped moving and the sails fell flat. They were dead in the water.

  ****

  At this rate, they would never reach England, and Rose couldn’t be happier. Although the tense line of Kenelm’s shoulders did worry her. He and his crew did need to make it home even if she wasn’t keen on the idea.

  “What happens now?”

  Kenelm sighed and ran his hand over his hair. She loved the dark brown locks more and more every day. She wished she had the right to run her hand over them, but alas, she did not.

  “We have few options. One we can wait and see if the wind returns, two we can adjust the sails to try to catch what wind there might be, or three we can fashion a type of oar and try to row.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Crew members were already moving under the direction of Jones. The sails were being reefed. She hoped that helped to catch the minimal wind that barely stroked her skin.

  “You’re doing it.”

  Since she was just standing there, she didn’t understand what he meant, but she didn’t move either.

  She waited by his side, absorbing his tension. His mouth was in a straight line and his posture was stiff. If she could just take a bit of that away from him…

  “Why don’t we walk the deck?”

  “But—”

  She was prepared for the protest. “Stevens can handle the steering for now.” She looped their arms and guided him to the main deck. “I understand now why you left to be a ship’s captain.” At the time, it had hurt. She’d thought they had a connection, even if Evander was trying to step in on it. Then he was just gone.

  “You do?” The tension returned even more.

  She wasn’t sure why, so she continued with her own theories. “The ocean, it is beautiful. What could be more serene and peaceful than being out here?”

  “It wasn’t very serene or peaceful when you were a prisoner on Harrow’s ship. I should have done more to him for that.”

  He fisted his hand and she covered it with her own. “Making him suffer more wouldn’t have made things right for me. What happened, happened. It is done. But this,” she spread her free arm wide, “is amazing. So many places to go, to see. Untold adventures wait around every corner.”

  “Such as being held hostage by drug-wearing women?”

  “Precisely! Who would imagine in their wildest dreams such an incident? Not I. Besides Father wouldn’t be happy if I strolled along the street alone, much less swam ashore, wore men’s clothing, braided rope, or a million other things I’ve done in the last eight years.” She lowered her head. “I dare say that he may not let me return home once he discovers what I’ve been about.”

  He stopped and tilted her chin upward. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “So say you, but you don’t know my father.” The goal had been to relieve his tension now she’d only brought about her own. She should have known she wasn’t up to such a task. She didn’t even know what he liked.

  “What is your favorite dessert?”

  “What?” His brows knitted together.

  “Dessert? What do you like to eat? I’m horrible at cooking supper food, but I can create a dessert to die for.”

  “Well, I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “Well do, then tell me. Maybe I can convince Lefty to let me use his kitchen to create a masterpiece.”

  He laughed and scratched a spot between his brows. “I would like to see that as much as I would enjoy consuming your dessert.”

  She laughed. Wind ruffled her cap and she clasped her hands upon her head. The sails billowed. They were on the move. She could feel Kenelm relaxing already.

  Chapter Eight: Guidance

  “You must press the pudding into the mold and then boil it for five to six hours.”

  Rose mumbled unladylike words under her breath. Lefty had been invaluable in securing ingredients for the plum pudding and for helping with the needed cooking implements, but now he was getting in the way. She knew how to make the dessert, and his continued managing of every single detail was sure to drive her mad.

  She lifted her face and smiled sweetly even while following his directions.

  She’d decided to make plum pudding after her conversation with Kenelm. Yesterday’s journey at sea and been perfect. They had spotted the shoreline once more on the eastern side of the ship as expected. Now they continued to follow it north. Soon they would pass the continent of Africa and be on their way to Spain. She wasn’t sad about the layover. In fact, it gave her more time to decide what to do.

  “And you know you can’t serve this today. It will have to be tomorrow or the next.”

  She bit her tongue to keep from expressing her feelings of irritation. “Of course.”

  “If you’d don’t mind I could use your help with the midday meal.”

  She did mind, but how could she say no? She was already covered in flour and other spices. And there was little for her to do on the main deck.

  “These need to be peeled.”

  A stack of potatoes loomed before her. She took the knife offered and set about peeling.

  She hummed under her breath. At one time she’d loved to sing. Everywhere she went she would create a song about what was around her. But that hadn’t happened in awhile. She just hadn’t been happy enough, until now.

  The words fell from her lips in a whisper. When Lefty didn’t admonish her, she opened her mouth and belted out the hymn louder. She finished on a high note. The clapping startled her, and she sucked in a breath.

  Kenelm was there, squatting before her. A smile tilted his lips. “I didn’t know you had such talent.”

  Warmth rushed to her cheeks. “It is a well kept secret.”

  “Well no longer! The men need something to offer encouragement. Tonight after the meal I would love for you to perform.”

  She held her hand to her fluttering heart. “B-but, I-I don’t think I can. I don’t normally sing for people.”

  “You sang for Lefty, and he enjoyed it.” Kenelm shot him a glance.

  “Aye, I did Captain, very much so.” Red bloomed across the older cook’s cheeks.

  She swallowed. “I guess I could try. If it would lift the men’s spirits, that is.”

  “I’m sure it would.” He stood to his full height, almost scraping the top of his head on the ceiling. “Now, Lefty, I came down here because I smell something I haven’t eaten in quite some time.”

  “What might that be, sir?” Lefty leaned and winked in her direction.

  “If my senses aren’t deceiving me, I believe I smell plum pudding. Is that correct?”

  “Aye, it is. The young miss over there decided it might be a nice treat. But don’t get too excited, because it won’t be ready until tomorrow or the day after.”

  Kenelm licked his lips, and Rose stifled a laugh. “Then I shall look forward to it no matter when it is served.”

  That he’d noted her hard work and effort felt good, but knowing that he wanted her to perform in front of all the men was enough to make her ill. Why had she agreed to do that?

  Because she would do anything to please him. One day that was going to get her into serious trouble. Maybe today.

  ****

  Boards were arranged in a table type form on the main deck. His stomach ached from consumption. The cook, with Rose’s aid, had outdone himself. Broiled potatoes, seared meat—of unknown origin, and roasted turnips. And the bread, it had melted in his mouth.

  The meal had been divine, but now came the best part of the evening—the entertainment.

  Duplay was on the quarterdeck. He’d found a stringed instrument below deck and inundated them with bawdy drinking songs that had the men falling over with laughter and Rose blushing from hairline to chin.

  Next Jones’ rich baritone filled the air. It was how he’d met the sailor. He’d found him singing in an Irish pub beside the dock. Any man who could sing so well had to be tough.

  Others of the crew joined in. They stood, swayed, held their hats over their hearts, and added their voices. The ship sounded as if a church choir on a Sunday morning except for the words.

  The afternoon was passing swimmingly. His crew seemed to be of high spirits, which they would need to fulfill their mission and make it back to the continent in one piece. Of course, there was one more event that he was awaiting. The star that was close to his side. She’d been there all evening laughing, groaning, and patting his arm. He’d taken immense pleasure in her enjoyment Almost as much as watching the event himself.

  Jones stepped from the quarterdeck, and Duplay replaced him.

  “Now we have one more act remaining. I’ve been told it is the best of the evening. Put your hands together for Mrs. Kennaway, or Miss Walsh, or, well you understand.”

  The men whistled and yelled with enthusiasm. He wished he could have seen Rose’s face when she was given the title of Mrs. Kennaway, but he’d been unprepared. He would berate Duplay for not warning him.

  He joined in applauding with the men as Rose made her way to the quarterdeck. She wore the dusty rose gown that he’d purchased for her. The neckline was scooped, and she’d added a piece of white lace. Her hair was pinned atop her head and strands dangled delicately around her face. Her beauty threatened to rob him of breath.

  Duplay began to step down from the quarterdeck, but she grabbed his arm and leaned toward his ear. Kenelm felt a surge of jealousy, but beat it back.

  Duplay nodded and picked up the stringed instrument. He struck a note, and Rose began singing.

  As she sang the notes, she kept her eyes closed, and she often threw her head back as if caught in the moment. The men sitting at the table palmed their chins and didn’t move a muscle. They were as awed as he. She sang as if an angel had climbed inside her.

  When the song ended and she opened her eyes, the crowd jumped to their feet and roared in thunderous applause. She lifted her skirt and curtseyed.

  “Encore! Encore!” Jones voiced Kenelm’s wishes.

  The men joined in.

  “Very well, one more.” Rose’s voice was quiet, but once she began singing again, it rose to a crescendo that could have broken glass.

  Once the song ended, Duplay broke out in a lively reel. Men pushed the chairs back and dissembled the tables. The crew member closest to the quarterdeck took Rose’s hand and twirled her. The next one did the same until she was twirled into Kenelm’s arms. There the sharing stopped.

  “Your voice is like that of an angel,” he murmured.

  Crimson rose beneath her freckles. He would like to kiss each and everyone.

  “You are too kind, Captain.”

  “Nay, I am not kind enough.”

  She sucked on her lip. He would give anything to kiss her.

  “Do you think the men are thoroughly removed from their displeasure?”

  “I do believe so.”

  “I could dance with them if you think that would make it better.”

  He tightened his grip. “They can dance together if they wish to have a partner.”

  She giggled. “You are the captain.”

  “Aye, I am.”

  He twirled her around the deck several times before coming to a stop beside the railing. The silver moon highlighted her hair making golden highlights appear as if strands of gold. He released the pins and allowed it to flow over his fingers. He brought it to his face and inhaled. The scent of Rose washed over him.

  Her head lay against his chest and he placed his hand at the small of her back. The heat of her body overwhelmed him.

  The men’s displeasure had abated. They danced around the deck in unfettered happiness. It was the happiness of knowing they were set to return home.

  He massaged Rose’s back. If he returned home what would happen to Rose? To them? Would she leave him as she had once before? He should ask her about her feelings before it was too late. She wasn’t one to trifle with affections. If she had feelings for him then she would tell him and they wouldn’t change, but what of her past feelings?

  He needed guidance. Who could he ask that might know something about the intricacies of a woman’s mind?

  Chapter Nine: Spain

  “Duplay, I have followed your advice and left Rose to her own devices for the last three days, but she is no closer to running to me and professing her undying love. I believe you were mistaken.”

  He was sealed in his quarters pursuing charts, or so he’d told Rose and the crew. Duplay had come along because he was the sea artist and his accomplice in the mission to acquire Rose’s affections.

  “I told you that it might take time. You must make her miss your company before she will come crawling to you.”