Wings Of The Morning Part 6

"Of course I will," Smokey said with a chuckle. "I'll be back so often that you'll be sick of the sight of me."

Jenny's hands came to Smokey's upper arms in a gesture that was almost fierce. "That's not going to happen, Smokey,"

she told her seriously. "I wish you could stay for the rest of the summer."

"Oh, Jenny, thank you." Smokey spoke with her heart in her eyes. "That means so much to me. I don't make friends easily, and I know there's a lot about me that I haven't shared, but--"

"None of that matters," Jenny cut in. "We'll be here, and you'll be welcome at any time."

The women hugged for a long moment before Smokey boarded the stage. Tate had offered to take her home that

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evening, but Smokey had wanted to leave that afternoon.

They all parted on the best of terms, but Smokey felt something like an ache around her heart as the stage pulled away.

She didn't say much once she was back at Wiila's, and neither Willa nor Da.r.s.ey pressed her. In fact, she was quiet for the next two days. Not until she was aboard her s.h.i.+p and out to sea did she face all the hurts she was experiencing. Her men left her alone while she had a long, hard cry in her cabin, and when she finally emerged she felt a little more like herself, the captain of the Aramis.

seven weeks later the london port was abuzz with activity, but Dallas took little notice from his place on theZeja&yr. He had an appointment with a friend, and for the moment all he cared about was getting his s.h.i.+p unloaded so he could be on his way.

Dallas stood on the deck as his men, all stripped to the waist, carried crates to the docks. For the most part the operation was going smoothly, but a sudden crowd of sailors sauntering their way through his men and toward another s.h.i.+p suddenly made Dallas feel as if he should be on the dock himself; fights could break out so swiftly.

He'd no more gained his footing on the quay than a small sailor walking past him with the others and wearing a knit hat caught his eye. The sailor didn't look at him, but Dallas studied the smaller man's profile as he pa.s.sed and pondered as to where he might know him.

He did a double take when he realized how closely the sailor resembled his sister's friend Dallas figured she must have a brother. A huge fellow was with the small man, and just steps down the quay he had stepped between them so that the smaller man was lost to view. Dallas shrugged at his own imagination. He saw so many people in his work that after a

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while they all looked the same. He put the entire incident from his mind in order to finish the task at hand Two hours later, clean and pressed, a carriage was dropping him at the door of White's Club. He was resplendent in all black, save for a snow-white s.h.i.+rt and cravat, for his luncheon engagement with Brandon Hawkesbury, Duke of Briscoe.

"Well, Hawk, I understand that congratulations are in order."

"Indeed," Brandon inclined his dark, handsome head, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "My son, Sterling, is three weeks old today, and Sunny is doing fine."

"Please give her my best and this," Dallas paused and brought a small box from his pocket. "It's for your son."

Brandon opened the box and laughed. A small gold loop, much like the one Dallas usually wore in his ear, winked at him from a bed of satin.

"I'm not sure his mother will appreciate the gesture, but I thank you."

Dallas grinned in reply, but Brandon's next words to him brought the conversation to a serious note.

"How is business?"

Dallas grimaced. "It could be better."

"You haven't been hit by Haamich Wynn, have you?"

"The pirate? No. In fact, I'm not sure I believe he exists."

"I felt the same way," Brandon admitted, "until a month ago when he hit one of my own s.h.i.+ps. No one was killed, but I lost valuable cargo. Rumor has it that he's a peer of the realm."

Dallas whistled low. "I'll keep my eyes open in the future."

"I'd appreciate that for your sake, as well as my own. Now, you haven't really answered my question."

Dallas sighed and sat quietly before admitting, "In truth, ga bit discouraged My long-range plan should have had me "^in Maine right now, building my first s.h.i.+p."

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Brandon took in his friend's grief and then spoke softly, "Dallas, if you'd only let me help you, I'd--"

Dallas forestalled him with a raised hand "Thank you, Hawk, but I want to keep trying on my own. If things don't turn around by the first of next year, March at the latest, I may be in touch."

Brandon agreed with a nod and then said, "You're a fine captain, Dallas. What exactly is going on?"

"Smoke," he stated simply. "He's into port like a thief in the night, moving like mist on the water. I never get word of goods before he does, and he's come and gone before I can get the Zephyr moving." Dallas stopped talking when an odd look pa.s.sed over Brandon's face.

"You haven't heard the latest rumor, have you, Dallas?"

"I guess not," he said quietly and waited "Smoke is a woman."

Dallas waited for his friend to thump him on the chest and laugh at his own joke--he did neither.

'You can't be serious," Dallas finally said "I'm very serious. She's been sailing for a few years now, but until quite recently she's kept her ident.i.ty very low key.

She sails theAramis, and the talk I've heard is that there's no finer or swifter craft on the Atlantic"

Dallas' heart began to thunder in his chest. Images of Jenny's small friend Smokey, the sailor he had seen just hours ago on the dock, and the s.h.i.+p they had been moving toward all rushed through his mind "Hawk, what does the Aramis look like?" Dallas' voice was just over a whisper.

"I haven't seen her, but I can tell you what I've heard She looks as new as the day she set sail. Clean lines. Ebony with a single gold stripe. No figurehead, but she flies a large American flag at the top of the mainmast, and another smaller one from the mizzenmast."

Dallas' eyes slid shut when Brandon was through. Upon Brandon's question, he shared the entire story, starting with

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his sister's friend and ending with the sailor and s.h.i.+p he'd seen at the dock.

"If the rumor mill can be trusted, she's an American and lives in Maine, so what you've said makes perfect sense. Look, Dallas," Brandon went on. "I can see that you're ready to hop your s.h.i.+p and follow the Aramis as quickly as you can.

'You haven't seen Sunny in ages or met Sterling," he added "Why not come out to Bracken for a few days? It wouldn't be your original intent, but if you go chasing after the Aramis, you're only going to antagonize her captain."

Dallas nodded slowly in agreement and then shook his head in disbelief. It was all too ridiculous for words. The woman he had met at Tate and Jenny's and then again at Buck's couldn't possibly be one of the finest sailors to grace Atlantic waters.

Brandon was right, he did need to stop and think about his next move. Especially since this was almost certainly a case of mistaken ident.i.ty. In just moments Dallas convinced himself that there was really no need to hurry.

"There's someone here to see you, Mr. Pemberton," Tate's secretary told him as he stepped into the private office of Pemberton s.h.i.+pping. Tate looked up from his desk to thank the man, but could see that he was distressed "What is it, Scott? Something James can't handle?"

"Well, sir, they want to see you, and I--"

"If someone is upset," Tate cut him off, "just send him in.

I'm sure we can work it out."

"It's the captain of the Aramis" Scott said Although he stilnooked upset, Tate's face cleared "Smoke," he said with relief. "I've never worked with him re, but his reputation is flawless. Whatever the trouble is, toork it out. Send him in."

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The secretary hesitated, but Tate ignored him and went back to his paperwork. A moment later the door opened and two people entered, closing the door behind them. Tate finished the entry in his ledger before looking up. He rose with a congenial smile on his face. When he spied Smokey standing just inside his office door, however, the smile became rather fixed, and his look turned to one of confusion. Beside her was a bear of a man. Both of them looked quite serious.

"I've been asking myself for weeks," she began softly, "if I was lying by not telling you what I do for a living. I'm afraid I never came to a solid conclusion one way or the other. I never dreamed that my s.h.i.+pment from London on this trip would be coming to one Tate Pemberton. I a.s.sure you, Tate, it was never my intention to be deceitful to you or Jenny."

Tate was so stunned he didn't know what to say, but not for the reason Smokey imagined She would have been shocked to learn that his surprise was due almost solely to her manner, and not to what she did for a living. The Smokey he knew was endearing, but she was also quite shy and rather clumsy. This Smokey, the owner and captain of the Aramis, was in complete control of herself and the situation.

"Sit down, Smokey," Tate said, finally recalling his manners.

Smokey took the chair in front of the desk while Da.r.s.ey sat in a chair under the window. Without further word, Smokey placed some papers on Tate's desk.

He reached for them and studied them carefully, taking a little longer than usual in an attempt to gather his wits.

"This is your price, the one written here at the bottom?"

"Yes."

"It's a bit steep," he said without hesitation.

"I believe it's more than fair," Smokey interjected with confident ease.

Tate's eyes came to hers then, and again he was struck by the change in her. Unsmiling, Smokey held his eyes without blinking. A slow smile began to spread across Tate's mouth.

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Smokey then smiled in return, and Tate finally had to laugh with relief.

"I'm just so surprised," he admitted. "I mean, you obviously know what you're doing and I--" He seemed to run out of words so Smokey rescued him.

"What you're trying to say is that when I'm in your home, I'm a woman with a speech impediment and two left feet, and now you find I really do know how to walk and talk." She shrugged ruefully, her grin still in place. "I'm sure Jenny would feel as I have if ever she were to board my s.h.i.+p."

"I'm sure you're right," he agreed, his smile even larger at the thought of his wife doing Smokey's job.

"Now, Mr. Pemberton," Smokey brought him back to earth in a no-nonsense way. "Are you interested in my cargo, or do I travel farther up the coast?"

"You mean at this price?"

"Indeed, I do." There was a note of steel in Smokey's voice that Tate didn't miss.

"Sold," he said softly and shook the hand Smokey offered to him.

"When are you coming for another visit?" Tate asked without relinquis.h.i.+ng his hold of her hand. His question so surprised Smokey that she didn't immediately answer.

"I wasn't sure I'd still be wanted," she finally admitted "Then you weren't listening very well when we said goodbye.

Now, when can we expect you?"

Smokey was so moved by the sincerity of his eyes and voice that she felt warmly overwhelmed.

"Two weeks?"

"Make it ten days."

Smokey's laugh filled the room. She reclaimed her hand and stood. After introducing Da.r.s.ey, who would handle the rest of the transaction, she made ready to leave.