Mistress Below Deck

Mistress Below Deck
Helen Dickson

Kidnap, deception…and forbidden desire Tobias Searle’s ship is no place for a lady – especially one as wilful and spirited as Miss Rowena Golding. Tobias is chasing pirates, she her kidnapped sister – and the price to board his ship is one night in his bed!Rowena despises Tobias’s arrogance, is immune to his lethal charm, and certainly doesn’t quiver at his touch…her stubbornness wouldn’t allow it! But she’s boarding that ship come what may. Masquerading as a cabin boy, she’s prepared for the dangers of the high seas…but is she prepared for the notorious Tobias Searle?

‘No helpless female would dareto board my ship alone, andwith nothing on her person forprotection.

‘You deserve a commendation for sheer guts, Rowena. I salute your courage and your boldness. You are undeniably brave—as well as beautiful. But your father is in debt to me up to his ears. Would you compound that debt by adding to it?’

‘There is something I could give in payment.’

‘Could you, indeed? You mean that you and I could have—a very delightful arrangement?’

His voice was like silk, and his eyes had become a warm and very appreciative blue, and Rowena knew immediately what price he was asking her to pay. She felt fury rise up inside her—not just with him, but with herself and at the excitement which stirred at the very idea…

Helen Dickson was born and still lives in South Yorkshire, with her husband, on a busy arable farm, where she combines writing with keeping a chaotic farmhouse. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure, owing much of her inspiration to the beauty of the surrounding countryside. She enjoys reading and music. History has always captivated her, and she likes travel and visiting ancient buildings.

Recent novels by the same author:

THE PIRATE’S DAUGHTER

BELHAVEN BRIDE

THE EARL AND THE PICKPOCKET

HIS REBEL BRIDE

THE DEFIANT DEBUTANTE

ROGUE’S WIDOW, GENTLEMAN’S WIFE

TRAITOR OR TEMPTRESS

A SCOUNDREL OF CONSEQUENCE

WICKED PLEASURES

(part of Christmas by Candlelight) FORBIDDEN LORD SCANDALOUS SECRET, DEFIANT BRIDE FROM GOVERNESS TO SOCIETY BRIDE

MISTRESS

BELOW DECK

Helen Dickson

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

MISTRESS BELOW DECK

Prologue

The open solitude of the land above Falmouth beckoned fifteen-year-old Rowena. She rode with reckless abandon away from the house as though the devil himself pursued her. Her scarlet skirts covered the horse’s flanks and her unbound dark brown hair streamed behind her like a ship’s sprightly pennant. Her cheeks were poppy red, the colour heightening the intensity of her eyes, their blue-green aglow with the excitement and exhilaration of the ride.

Did not her father call her a gypsy, a vagabond—all because she was too restless to be caged within the house? Her father was right. She did look like a gypsy and she was a gypsy at heart, for in her soul there was a wildness, a yearning to be free of all constraints, that made her feel like one.

When the attack came it seemed to come from nowhere. She had no time to defend herself as she was dragged from her terrified horse and thrown to the ground. Wrenching herself away from her assailant, she shrieked, but he stifled the sound, clapping his hands over her mouth. She immediately began fighting, blindly thrashing in an iron grip that pinned her to the ground. She pushed against his chest to break free, but his arms became bonds, forcing her arms to her sides, and his mouth grinding down on hers prevented her cries of rage.

Inwardly she raved. It was disgusting to be treated like this, absolutely disgusting. The depraved beast was intent on ravishment, without tenderness, without decency, as without mercy he began tearing at her clothes. Every twist of her body to escape his lust caused him to utter obscenities.

Horror at the abuse gave her frenzied strength. She fought against his brutal strength, her mind somehow refusing to accept what was happening. Tears of outrage streamed from her eyes and her soul screamed against this violation.

‘Such spirit, such defiance, my little pretty,’ the man said, laughing low in his throat. ‘Your protests are useless. It will be better for you if you do not fight me, darlin’.’

Rowena recognised her attacker—it was Jack Mason, captain of the Dolphin, her father’s ship. Earlier, when her father had introduced her to him, he had squeezed her hand and she had looked openly and without fear into his admiring eyes. His look was heavy lidded, beguiling, hungering, and had she not been a naïve fifteen-year-old, she would have been alarmed and wary, and would certainly not have been found riding alone in the open countryside.

Determined to be free from this nightmare, in one last desperate thrust she brought up her knee into his groin and shoved him away. With a yell of pain he doubled over on the ground, clutching his damaged manhood, and, taking her chance, Rowena wriggled away. On her hands and knees she looked down at him as he writhed in agony. He was seething, his eyes bulging with rage and filled with murder.

‘Think again if you intend to ravish me,’ she hissed, her eyes glaring her hatred. ‘Did you mean to frighten me?’

‘I would enjoy frightening you,’ he gasped. ‘Indeed, I would heartily like to hear you scream for mercy.’

Rowena shot to her feet. ‘Do you think to convince me of your brutal ways? Ha!’ she retorted, laughing bitterly. ‘You are as I shall always remember you—on your knees where you belong.’

Captain Jack Mason’s cold grey eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘I warn you, Rowena Golding, do not laugh at me.’

‘I do laugh at you,’ Rowena sneered and flung a further taunt full into his face. ‘Do you think I would give myself to the likes of you? You are only fit to mop the decks on my father’s ship. Aye, Jack Mason, unfit company for gentlefolk—and, more’s the pity, you are too ignorant to know why.’

Turning from him, she hauled herself on to her horse and galloped away. The man on the ground watched her go, cold murder curling round his heart. ‘Go, you little bitch,’ he ground out. ‘But you’ll be dealt with, I’ll see to that.’

Chapter One

May 1721

Lord Tennant’s masquerade balls were famous affairs, which were talked about from Land’s End to the Tamar. They were attended by the cream of Cornish society, all in a fantastic display of costumes—some quite outrageous—men in medieval, Turkish, Arab, more than one Henry VIII and Richard III, and much more that quirked the imagination. Some of the ladies had come as Good Queen Bess and two as the tragic Mary Stuart. There were Spanish mantillas, flounced skirts, elaborate wigs and fluttering ivory-and-lace fans.

In keeping with the spirit of the evening, Rowena had danced every dance with this partner and that. Despite being a great success and basking in the admiration that turned every head in her direction and brought an appreciative gleam to each male eye, in her hauteur she had no particular opinion for any of them.

As Queen Cleopatra, she was wearing a plain white linen gown and gold girdle about her slender hips; it revealed more of her shapely assets, which was considered by some to be quite shocking and indecent and would have sent her widower father into a fit of apoplexy had she presented herself for his inspection before they had left Mellin House for the ball.

Matthew Golding was a cripple and unable to attend, but such a grand occasion as this served as a marriage market for all unmarried girls. Facing financial ruin and desperate to find husbands for his two daughters, he had insisted on them attending under the chaperonage of his good friend and neighbour, Mrs Crossland, who had two daughters of her own.

As the evening wore on Rowena became bored and she found that the sparkle with which the evening had begun had evaporated. Her head beneath the heavy black fringed wig felt hot and was beginning to ache, and she was sure the kohl around her eyes beneath the mask was beginning to run in the heat.

‘I feel so hot I shall have to slip out for some air,’ she told Jane, her seventeen-year-old sister, who was dressed as a Grecian lady.

Jane was as different to Rowena in temperament and looks as it was possible to be. Pretty and small featured, Jane’s pale skin was flushed with a lovely rosy glow, her green eyes sparkling. Her whole body was surging enchantingly towards Edward Tennant, who was watching her from across the hall. Rowena intercepted the look that passed between them and her face became thoughtful. Edward was Lord Tennant’s youngest son, a handsome youth, and he had danced two dances with Jane. She looked away. Their father would be well pleased if a match could be made between them.

‘If you must. Is Edward not handsome, Rowena?’ Jane said breathlessly, her eyes shining in his direction.

Rowena’s look was keen and Jane turned eagerly to her, her radiance shining from her eyes, her expression that of all those who had found love and longed to speak of it.’