Sea Mistress

By Candace McCarthy

Reprinted Edition

She Would Have Her Revenge

Bess Metcalfe had been young when she first met ruggedly handsome seaman Seth Garret, but she had loved him with all the passion of a woman. And he had repaid her love by abandoning her! Little did he know that she now held his fate in her hands. For with her uncle's death, she was sole owner of the family merchant business, which counted Seth's ship among its assets. Bess planned to show Seth how it felt to be betrayed--if only her own searing attraction for the virile captain did not betray her first. . .

He Would Have Her Heart

It was five years since the call of duty had swept Seth from Bess's sensuous embrace. . .five years since the fickle vixen had written him off with a cruel letter. And here she was--aboard his ship--even more beautiful and bewitching than before. One taste of her sweet, sea-kissed lips was all it took to rekindle the flames of raging desire. And as she filled the long shipboard nights with a blazing passion that consumed his very soul, Seth knew he was lost. . .lost in the rapturous wonder of a love that bound him--now and forever--to his stormy, seductive. . .

Sea Mistress

100,000 Words

• Language: English
• Publisher: eClassics
• Release date: Nov 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781601831088

Candace McCarthy

Candace McCarthy loved to read romances from the first moment she picked one up over twenty-four years ago. She began to write one after reading a story that made her laugh. Her enjoyment prompted her to put pen to paper. She thought, "Wouldn't it be great if I could bring the same pleasure to other readers?" Sound corny? Maybe, but it's true. And she's been writing them ever since. Candace has 18 books to her credit—fifteen novels and three novellas. Among her titles are Irish Rogue, Irish Lace, Fireheart, and Wild Innocence, which are just a few of the titles published by Zebra Books. She has been listed among the Favorite Top Ten List for Affair de Coeur Magazine, and her book, White Bear's Woman, a Zebra Lovegram, won the National Readers' Choice Award for the Best Long Historical Romance of 1998. At home, she lives with her husband of twenty-seven years, and her dog Montana, a Siberian Husky mix. She has a grown son, who recently married. She enjoys arts and crafts, music, gardening, and her Teddy Bear collection. And she loves to hear from her readers.

Book preview

editors.

One

Delaware, 1850

Bess crouched in the shadow of a brick building, her body tensed, poised for flight. The cloud-covered moon cast an eerie glow over the Port of Wilmington. A mist rose up in soft swirls from the waters of the Christiana River, white wispy tendrils reaching into the night. Before her, the clipper ship, the Sea Mistress, bobbed gently within its moorings, a ghostly specter in the unearthly night. Listening, watchful, Bess searched the deck for signs of movement. She sighed with relief. So far all was going according to plan . . .

If Reeves played his part well, Bess would be able to smuggle herself on board the vessel and into a cabin below deck where she would remain until the ship was several days out to sea. Until the day she decided to reveal her identity, dared to venture topside and confront the lion—Captain Seth Garret—in his den, only she and Reeves would know that the representative sent by the E. Metcalfe Company was a woman. Only after they were days out to sea would Bess feel confident that her plan would succeed.

Where is Reeves? she wondered. Bess swallowed hard. No one—nothing—must interfere now! For five years she had planned for this moment. Seth Garret was going to pay for the pain he’d inflicted; he must be made to suffer as she had suffered at his hands.

Destroying a man’s dream was worse than taking his life, and by the time Bess was through with the dear captain, the man would have preferred a certain death. Bess’s smile was grim in the darkness. She would see him pay without touching a single hair on his handsome head.

Something brushed against her back, and Bess shrieked. A hand clamped over her mouth, and the shriek became a whimper as she fought her assailant, kicking and fighting like a wild cat.

Miss Metcalfe! a hushed male voice begged her to cease struggling. The man grunted with pain as one well-aimed kick hit home, striking him in the shin. Miss Metcalfe, it’s me—Reeves! he whispered with desperation.

When she realized who held her, Bess sagged with relief. Heart thumping and breathing hard, she glared at her faithful employee with reproach. Why did you sneak up on me like that!

Sorry, Miss. But I wasn’t sure it was you at first. The thin, wiry man blinked and gazed meaningfully at Bess’s clothing. This just might work!

Her expression softened. It will, she said with more confidence than she possessed. She couldn’t afford to panic! If she didn’t keep her wits about her, all of her years of planning would have been for naught. Her gaze sought Reeves’s face in the darkness. Did you have any trouble?

He shook his head, a hint of movement in the shadows. Nothing I couldn’t handle. He paused, straining to see her in the darkness. I can’t believe it’s really you! he breathed with awe.

Bess grinned, pleased. A quick glance down at herself and she understood Reeves’s earlier doubts. She looked like a stranger! Not even her own mother, were she alive, would recognize her blonde-haired daughter in the clothes Bess now wore.

But could she pass for a sailor? She wore a man’s dark overcoat with turned-up collar and baggy trousers that hid her soft curves. Her long flaxen hair had been pinned up painstakingly and was concealed by a dark cap.

Bess knew she hadn’t a prayer that Seth’s men would believe her to be a man. But in the misty darkness, she hoped to pass as a young lad preparing for his first voyage.

Her features hardened with determination. She would make it; things would be fine! Are the arrangements completed?

Reeves nodded. There are only two men on board—Jacob Hawke and Pete Rhoades. I found the first mate at the inn and he assured me that you’ve been allotted a cabin. I’ll sleep in the fo’c’sle with the crew. He paused, his brow furrowing. If we go now, we’ll be able to slip on board easily enough.

Reeves had accomplished his mission, but the knowledge only made him uneasy. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Bess; his services and loyalty had become hers upon her uncle’s death last year. Besides, he had loved the young woman since he’d first set eyes on her four years ago when Edward Metcalfe had saved him from destitution, picking him up drunk from the gutter one night. Upon learning that Reeves had lost everything in a risky business venture and believing there was potential in every man, Edward had sobered Reeves up and given him back his self-respect with the offer of a good position as his right-hand man.

Reeves had been wary of the generous offer at first, and he’d wondered what was it that Metcalfe wanted from him. But as time went on and nothing was asked of him but loyalty and a good day’s work, Reeves began to trust the older man, growing to love and respect Edward Metcalfe. Four years later, Metcalfe was dead, and Reeves owed Edward more than gratitude; he owed him his life. Reeves was prepared to stay with Edward’s niece Elisabeth for as long as she needed him.

Are you sure you want to do this? he queried. Wouldn’t it be better if you stay East and oversee operations here? He eyed the ship warily. It’s a long voyage to California. And I don’t trust this Garret or any of his men.

I’m going, she said flatly, and Reeves knew that it was pointless to argue with her. Everything will work out fine. After all, you’ll be with me, won’t you?

He nodded, his mouth forming a wry smile that he knew she couldn’t see in the dark. Sometimes, he was just a little overawed by her trust in his abilities.

John . . . She placed a hand gently on his arm and his heart thumped. This deal is too important to me to stay behind. I’ll gladly suffer the rough voyage around Cape Horn. Actually, I’m convinced it’ll be exciting.

To Bess’s amusement, Reeves answered her with a grunt. She felt a rush of affection for the man. She couldn’t have managed without him since her uncle’s death. In this last month, he’d become more than a trustworthy employee; he was her friend.

The captain will see that his men behave, she reassured him. You told me yourself that he is a highly respected seaman.

Seaman, yes—but he’s no knight in shining armor, Miss. The man didn’t get his reputation by being a gentleman.

Ah, I of all people know that Garret is no gentleman! Bess thought. But she merely assured Reeves that she would come to no harm, and that it was necessary for both of them to travel to California and expand the E. Metcalfe Company to the West coast. There were riches to be made near San Francisco. With a shipload of goods to be marketed, E. Metcalfe Mercantile would be a profitable establishment within days of opening its doors. Bess had heard that an egg sold in San Francisco for one dollar, and a pack of playing cards brought five!

Then, there was the matter of Captain Seth Garret. Bess was not going to sit home idly while the prospect of witnessing Garret’s comeuppance lured her to the West.

Did you bring my satchel? she asked Reeves, suddenly feeling the urge to get started.

He nodded and pointed to where her bag sat several yards away. Inside the bag was a change of clothes, including a striped shirt like those worn by the sailors.

We had best be quick if we’re to be successful, he told her. The captain and his men will be returning soon from the tavern.

The tavern! Bess exclaimed in a hushed voice. With the ship leaving on the morrow, Garret allows his men to indulge?

He can’t very well stop them, Miss. Rest assured Captain Garret takes no nonsense from his men. Each man will pull his own weight on the ship or be punished for it.

Bess recalled the youthful smiling face of the Seth Garret she’d known and wondered what form of punishment the captain used. She reminded herself that she’d never known the real Seth Garret. The man was a consummate actor. A fraud. The tender, almost shy man she’d spent time with five years before would never have done what he’d done.

There! Reeves’s harsh whisper startled Bess. There’s the watch now. He squinted to see better. Ah, it’s a young man, I’d say. Perhaps the new recruit—Hawke.

Bess scanned the deck of the Sea Mistress and saw the lone figure standing on the bow. I wonder where the other one is, she murmured.

No doubt below deck, sleeping off his rum.

Bess shot Reeves a look over her shoulder. That should make things easier then, shouldn’t it?

It should, but I doubt it will.

Let’s go. Bess waited while Reeves fetched her satchel and rejoined her. Are you ready?

The man murmured his assent, and together they moved toward the vessel.

At the ramp, Reeves stopped Bess with a hand on her arm. Jacob Hawke! he called before she could question him.

The sailor on the bow stiffened and spun toward the sound. Who goes there and why do you call my name?

Bess gasped as he raised his gun and took aim at them. She opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it abruptly when Reeves, as if anticipating her response, tightened his fingers about her arm in warning.

It’s Reeves and Marlton. From Metcalfe Co.

Reeves, eh? The sailor hesitated for only a second. Well, come aboard then, but mind your feet. I’ll not be flogged for any mishaps.

Bess sighed with relief as the sailor lowered the gun to his side and turned away. Do you know where we’re going? she whispered.

Reeves nodded as he released her arm. You’ve been given the officers’ cabin. Come on, he urged her, grabbing her arm once again as she stumbled on the wooden gangplank. Before our friend here decides to escort us below deck.

As Bess climbed down through the hatchway and into the lantern-lit passageway, her thoughts flew to the other sailor. John, what of Rhoades? she whispered.

He’ll be sleeping in the crew’s quarters at the other end of the ship.

The other end? She stopped and Reeves uttered a few choice words as he barreled into her back. In the fo’c’sle? Reeves nodded. Where you’ll be, she murmured. Bess tensed. How will you explain why you and I aren’t sharing a cabin? Won’t the captain become suspicious if he learns that the two men from E. Metcalfe Co. aren’t sharing quarters?

She sensed when he shook his head. Not to worry, Miss—ah, I mean, Marlton, he amended, using the name she’d chosen for her charade. Who would want to share a sick man’s cabin? A few hours out to sea and you’ll become seasick. I personally have a repugnance for the stench of vomit.

Bess chuckled. Not enough that would keep you from visiting, I hope.

I’m a man with sympathy, if not a strong stomach.

They came to the cabin door—although Bess had no idea how Reeves knew which cabin was to be hers. Reeves entered first. Her gaze watchful for any newcomers, Bess waited patiently for him to tell her it was safe to go inside.

She peered into the dark room, trying to find Reeves, then she heard the scrape of a match and saw a flicker of light as Reeves lit a wall lantern. The golden flame softly illuminated the man’s profile as he adjusted the wick of the lamp. There were two bunks built into the bulkhead, one over the other. He had set her satchel on the lower bunk. Reeves inspected the cabin thoroughly before he gestured for Bess to enter.

Will you be all right? he asked, studying her with concern.

She nodded as she eyed the small, spartan cabin. It would be comfortable enough during the journey, she decided. Although, she supposed, it would take her some time to get used to living on a ship. The Sea Mistress creaked and bobbed gently beneath her feet, a lulling movement like a rocking cradle.

But the first obstacle had been dealt with; she was safely on board Seth’s ship. She flashed Reeves a triumphant grin. I’ll be fine.

Then I’ll leave you to find a place to bunk down. He moved toward the door.

There are two bunks in this cabin, John Reeves, Bess said, and Reeves froze. Get you in one of them. I’d rather not spend my first night here alone.

John Reeves swallowed hard. But, Miss Metcalfe, I don’t think it’s seemly—

I’m your employer, and I’m telling you it’s all right. Her voice was stern, but her dark eyes twinkled.

John shrugged. He was in love with his employer, had been since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her four years before. He would never harm her or take advantage. Do you want the top or the bottom?

Bess pursed her lips. Bottom—do you mind?

The man’s smile was wry. Why should I mind, Miss? I’d thought my bed this night to be hard— and damp.

It must have been an hour later when Bess, still dressed in her mannish garments and awake in the lower bunk, heard voices from the main deck. The crew of the Sea Mistress was returning. At first light, the men would be up and at work. Bess closed her eyes. She could hear the soft snoring of Reeves in the upper bunk and the tread of footsteps as the crew retired.

Without warning, there was a thud and a heated exchange between several men. Startled, Bess bolted upright, gasping when she heard a loud splash next to the ship, and the sound of raucous laughter from above deck. Someone had fallen off the ship! Fallen, she wondered, her eyes widening. Or been tossed off? A sharp bark of command stilled the mirth, and all became silent.

Bess listened intently. Footsteps fell on the ladder steps and clicked on the passageway outside her door. A deep familiar voice filtered into her cabin, and Bess’s heart slammed painfully within her breast.

See that he’s put ashore, Seth Garret commanded. I won’t tolerate drunkards on my ship.

Bess couldn’t make out the other officer’s reply. The conversation became unintelligible as they entered the cabin across the passageway.

Assailed by bittersweet memories, Bess released a pent-up breath. The years fell away and she could see Seth’s teasing smile again, hear his tense and adoring voice as he solemnly declared his love for her.

A cabin door clicked shut. The images faded, as did Bess’s nostalgia. Reality hit her hard, like a bucket of cold water. Her expression hardened. Seth Garret had used and then abandoned her. He would pay for his sins!

She lay back on the bed, staring at the bunk above her. She could hear Reeves snoring. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. Her faithful protector had slept through the noise; he would probably sleep through a hurricane!

She shuddered, thinking of the inevitable confrontation between her and Seth, his anger when he learned that she—and not her cousin—was the major stockholder in the Sea Mistress. He’ll be furious when he finds out that he’ll have to deal with me to purchase the ship. I’ll be the only one standing in his way of owning the vessel, and I have no intention of selling out to him!

She grinned into the dark. And when he learned that she was his benefactor and not her cousin, that, in fact, George Metcalfe didn’t even exist . . .

Sorry, Captain Garret, you’re out of luck! You see, I’m Uncle Edward’s heir!

If it weren’t for her, Seth’s ship would still be damaged and rotting in some god-forsaken shipyard. Seth Garret owed her—his benefactor— much more than he’d ever dreamed.

Bess closed her eyes and immediately saw his face. Not the face of Captain Seth Garret, but the features of a young man . . . a sailor. She fought back tears as she recalled the past—the way he courted her . . . the love that had come quickly . . . and the fiery passion of two young and intense lovers. How wonderful it would have been if things had happened the way they’d planned . . .

She stared into the dark. She felt a lancing pain within her breast as the memories returned—the bittersweet memories . . . her initial hostility toward him . . . her fascination with someone who was so different from the rest of the young men she’d known. And the joy! When they’d finally realized how they’d felt for each other, she felt such joy and happiness it had almost been frightening.

And then Seth left her, and she’d suffered the agony of heartbreak.

Bess fought the memories, but she couldn’t hold them at bay . . .

Two

1845, Metcalfe Manor, Wilmington, Delaware

The first time she saw the young man was in the parlor of her uncle’s home. Seth Garret was a sailor, a quiet fellow with dark, wavy hair and bright blue eyes. He had come with Captain Johnson of the clipper ship, Sea Mistress, to meet with Bess’s uncle. Joel Johnson was the man in charge of transporting the E. Metcalfe Co. goods.

Bess bounded into the house after an outing with her friends. She had removed her bonnet, and her golden hair was slightly mussed. Her long tresses had been pinned up, but a silky curl bobbed at each side of her face, making her hair style seem less severe. She wore a fitted royal blue jacket with skirt of striped blue and black. Her dark eyes glistened with excitement as she burst into the room to greet Captain Johnson, a long-time family friend.

Uncle Joeson! she cried. It’s so good to see you.

The older man grinned. Lisabeth! How is my favorite da-nice?

She laughed with delight. Fine, uncle, just fine. Just as she had her own pet name for him, the captain had a special term for her, da-nice, which was an abbreviated form of daughter-niece. How long will you be in Wilmington?

That depends on your Uncle Edward, Uncle Joeson said. He transferred his attention to his first officer, who sat nearby.

Bess’s gaze slid to the young man on the sofa. Hello, she said, studying the stranger. She pretended to have just noticed him, but she had become aware of the handsome seaman immediately on entering the room. A friend of yours, Uncle Joeson? She glanced toward Joel Johnson for confirmation.

Uncle Joeson nodded. Elisabeth, this is Seth Garret, he said. My first officer. Seth, this is Edward’s ward—his niece, Elisabeth. Mary Metcalfe.

She met his regard boldly. How do you do?

Seth’s stare seemed to take her measure with an intensity that gave Bess gooseflesh and made her heart thump wildly. I’m honored to make your acquaintance, he said without standing.

Bess stiffened, insulted by his lack of manners. Didn’t the man know that it was proper for a gentleman to rise when introduced to a lady? She was used to having the local young men fawn over her; they were most eager to please her, often bringing her flowers and fancy treats in order to win favor with her.

Offended by such rude behavior, she turned away, abruptly dismissing Seth Garret as if he weren’t in the room. Uncle, she said, addressing Edward, Amelia has been given the most outrageous thing! A dog! An ugly one! In fact, it’s so ugly, I think it’s beautiful! You must see it. Is it all right if she brings it one day next week?

Only you would find beauty in an ugly creature, Bess, Edward said with an indulgent smile. As for this dog, go ahead and have her bring— him, is it? he asked. Bess nodded. Well, bring him over so we can get a look at him.

Edward Metcalfe couldn’t deny his niece anything, for he had loved her dearly from the first moment she’d been given into his care at the tender age of nine years. Elisabeth’s father was Edward’s brother, who, along with his wife Gwendolyn, had died in a tragic accident while on a pleasant Sunday afternoon ride in their carriage. During the outing, their horse had been frightened by a snake and had taken off hell-bent over the rough countryside. The Metcalfes had been unable to control the animal, and the vehicle had barreled off the road and down into a ravine. Gwendolyn had broken her neck when she was thrown from the carriage. Matthew, Bess’s father, had been killed seconds later when the carriage crashed into the bottom of the ravine.

Grief-stricken by the loss of his brother and sister-in-law, Edward had been awarded the care of his niece Bess. A bachelor of advanced years, Edward had been instantly charmed by the nine-year-old child, welcoming her not only into his household but into his affections as well. His job, at first, hadn’t been an easy one; little Bess had mourned her loss deeply. It was only after months of attention during which Edward kept her with him for hours on end, even taking the youngster with him down to the docks, that she began to recover. As she grew, so did her interest in her uncle’s business. Edward was more than willing to share not only his home, but his passion for the E. Metcalfe Mercantile Co.

You said ‘we’, uncle. Bess turned with delight to her Uncle Joeson. Are you staying awhile, Uncle Joeson?

The man nodded. A fellow with bronzed, weather-lined features, he had the most kind eyes, Bess thought. And a warm smile. She’d heard stories of cruelty on board the Sea Mistress, but Bess had never, for one moment, believed any of them. She knew her Uncle Joeson; he might be a strict man, but he was a fair one, too. He would never be harsh without good cause.

Her pleasure with Uncle Joeson’s visit dimmed as it occurred to her that the young, rude sailor might be staying also. Mr. Garret, will you be visiting relatives while you’re in Delaware? Her tone was clipped and cold.

Seth will be staying with us, Uncle Edward said with a frown. You will see that a nice room is prepared for him, won’t you, Elisabeth Mary?

His uncle’s use of her full name, along with his look of warning, told her that he was annoyed with her.

I have no family in Delaware, Miss Metcalfe, Seth said quietly, and she flushed with guilt.

Later, in her bedchamber, Bess found that she couldn’t put Seth out of her mind. Something about his expression haunted her, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He was attractive, but she was acquainted with a lot of good-looking men. And she never judged a person on the basis of his looks alone.

We have guests—did you see them? she asked her maid Mary later when the servant was helping her dress for the evening meal.

Yes, Miss. Mary encountered her mistress’s gaze in the vanity mirror. The captain is here, and a young man . . . a sailor, cook says. A right handsome one, too.

Bess looked away. I suppose some would think him handsome, she murmured, pretending indifference. But then sailors are all the same—crude, common, and extremely rude.

That’s not what Mrs. Cookson says, Mary said as she pinned up Bess’s hair. Says he offered to carry some flour into the kitchen for her, and anything else she might want brung in from the stores.

Bess was surprised. She didn’t really believe that all seamen were common louts, for Uncle Joeson was a sailor and he was a sweetheart.

Why would Mr. Garret help a servant?

There, Mary murmured as she finished fastening tiny lavender flowers onto Bess’s pinned-up curls. She smiled. You look lovely, Miss Metcalfe. Mr. Garret will think so, too.

Mr. Garret? Bess said. Why should I care what Mr. Garret thinks?

Why, indeed, she thought. Yet, she did for some unknown reason, although she’d never openly admit it to anyone.

The men were seated at the dining room table when Bess put in an appearance. Captain Johnson and her uncle rose upon seeing her. Seth Garret, she noted, was slower in following their lead.

Irritated, she greeted the other two men warmly and then addressed Seth as if she could barely tolerate his presence.

I trust you’ve found your room comfortable, she said, her dark eyes glacial.

Seth seemed amused, which annoyed her more. The room is adequate. Thank you.

Bess’s lips firmed. The man could at least show a little more appreciation, she thought. She had given him the manor’s nicest guest room, a well-lighted bedchamber with blue wallpaper, rich mahogany furniture and a magnificent view over the back flower gardens and lawn. Yet Seth Garret seemed to care little about his surroundings.

Captain Johnson pulled out Bess’s chair, and she thanked him and sat down, conscious of Seth Garret’s stare. Dinner conversation was gracious and lively between the two older gentlemen and Bess, who made it a point to entertain her two uncles. Seth Garret said little, answering only when directly spoken to, and then answering only in monosyllables.

As the evening lengthened, Bess’s irritation became anger. Edward Metcalfe was seated at the head of the table with Seth Garret in the place of honor at the other end. Bess and Joel Johnson were positioned on the sides opposite one another with Bess to her uncle’s left and the captain to Edward’s right.

When Edward and Joel began to reminisce about the days of their youth, Bess studied Seth, who was eating his dessert. His continued silence grated on her nerves.

So, tell me, Mr. Garret, why do you like the life of a sailor? she asked, hoping to provoke a reaction from him. Don’t you like people? Anger, she thought, was better than this polite indifference.

Seth set down his fork and fixed her with his blue gaze. I like people well enough, Miss Metcalfe. It’s the silly social games that people play that I find difficult to tolerate. With a great show of movement, he picked up the eating utensil again and resumed eating.

Bess’s face brightened with outrage. The man was deliberately trying to annoy her! She wouldn’t let him get off lightly! How old were you when you first went to sea? she demanded.

He stopped and stared at her with his fork inches away from his mouth. Old enough to make my own decisions and leave home, Miss Metcalfe. He opened his lips and ate his pie. Fascinated, Bess watched the movement of his jaw as he chewed and then the bob of his throat