Love a sailor, p.1
Love a Sailor, page 1
part #1 of The Captain Series
LOVE A SAILOR
Part 1 of
Love the Captain
AMANDA SANDTON
PUBLISHED BY:
Karibu Publishers
Copyright © 2014
AmandaSandton.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
1 – Oxford, England
The man waiting in ambush pulls back behind the holly bush at the side of the nursery school parking lot. He scratches his cheek on the prickles as he goes, and curses under his breath, his words vaporizing in the wintry air. Letting go of the bottle of chloroform in his pocket, he wipes a gloved hand across the wound, and it comes away bloody. He curses again and shifts from foot to foot to keep the circulation going in his freezing feet. He has been here in the cold for a while.
The mothers have come, collected their children and gone. But there is one woman still to arrive. Not a mother this time. This one will be here any minute to collect her little cousin. He has been following this young woman for months now, from when she finished university in July. Has all her routines down pat. Knows that since the beginning of January, her little cousin stays behind on Tuesdays for half an hour, after school lets out at half past three.
This is his chance to take back what belongs to him. He has spent years searching for her, and he is not going to let her get away from him this time.
Headlights appear at the bottom of the lane, shining through the murk. This has to be her. The timing is right. He can barely contain his excitement. Only a few more minutes and she will be his — forever.
The vehicle reaches the lot. A dark green Range Rover — right car. He cranes his head around the branches as it turns in, wanting to check that it’s his quarry driving, and not her aunt. The driver parks the car, switches off the ignition and steps out, clicking on the interior light. A surge of adrenalin pumps through the watcher’s veins, and his hand tightens on the bottle in his pocket. It’s her. It’s his Meredith, her jet black hair shining in the light pooling from the car. Soon he’ll be able to stroke those locks again, but steady now! Let her fetch the child. Don’t want the school notifying the police because she hasn’t arrived to collect the brat. Calm down now. He takes off his warm gloves and tucks them in his jacket, leaving on the surgicals. He’ll need all his dexterity to unscrew the bottle top and soak the pad, which he takes out of his other pocket. He’ll do it when she’s almost upon him.
The girl walks off towards the school, beeping the car lock on as she leaves. She opens the school doors, illuminating the path for a minute or two. The man takes a deep breath, and waits for them to close. Now is his chance to make a move, while she’s inside. He hurries over to the car, ducks down below roof level and waits. And waits. What could be taking them so long? His hands are even colder now. He flexes his fingers. The last thing he needs, after so much careful planning, is to fumble at the crucial moment. Ah, at last, the doors open again and out she comes, with the brat in tow.
He pours the liquid onto the pad, rests the pad on the fender to put the bottle back in his pocket. Only ten yards now. She beeps the car open. He picks up the pad and holds it ready.
The girl lets go of the child to open the door. It’s open. Now! He lurches round the car, grabs hold of her left arm, and wrenches it up behind her back in a half nelson as he slams her body against the car.
She screams out, “Run Sukey, run! Back to school!” and rams her right elbow into his belly, causing him to double up and drop his right arm, but he maintains his hold on her left.
Now that she’s released the pressure of his body on hers, she swings round inside his grip and tries to gouge him in the face with the car keys, but he recovers and wallops her back against the car with his greater weight. He brings up his right arm again, thinking the fight has left her, but she stamps down hard on his right foot.
He wrenches her arm up even higher in retaliation and she whimpers with pain. Almost there. Quick. All it needs is a slap of the pad against her face. He casts a hasty glance around for the brat but she’s no threat. She’s long gone.
A distant flashlight picks them up, and a thin but authoritative voice calls out, “Stop! What’s going on here?”
He halts, the pad inches away from the girl’s face. If she hadn’t been snatching her head from side to side, he would have made it by now.
The intruder is nearer now and, holding the beam full in the attacker’s face, shouts, “Let her go! I have my finger on fast dial for the police.”
He breaks away, pushing the girl off balance as he releases his grasp on her arm, and runs off across the lot in the dark. The girl totters and falls against the car, her breath coming in great heaves.
Her savior puts the flashlight and the cell phone on the roof, and takes hold of her, wrapping her up in her arms as she struggles to get her breath back. “Are you all right, Meredith?” she asks.
Meredith nods. “Where’s Sukey? He hasn’t got Sukey, has he?”
“She’s safe, crouching down over there by the gate. Seeing her there like that, as I came into the lot, warned me something was going on. I told her to stay there.”
Meredith detaches herself from the teacher. “I must get her. She’ll be scared out of her wits.” She gives herself a shake and strides off towards the gate.
The teacher picks up the flashlight and the cell phone, and follows to light the way. “I should call the police now. I know he’s got away, but you should report the attempt anyway.”
Meredith stops and places her hand on the teacher’s arm. “Please don’t call the police. The man is long gone now, and I’m so shaken up I just want to get Sukey and go home. I can’t cope with hours at the station while they take statements.”
“All right, if you’re sure—”
“I’m sure.”
When Sukey sees the light approaching, she races towards them as fast as her three-year old legs can carry her.
Meredith bends down to catch the sobbing child up into her arms. She hugs her as hard as she can. “There, there, darling. I’m safe and the nasty man has gone.”
“Merry, I was so frightened.”
“I know, darling, but we can go home now.”
Meredith turns to the teacher. “Light me back to my car and we’ll get in and lock the doors. We’ll wait for you to close up the school and come back for your car before we leave, just in case he’s still hanging around. It’s lucky you came and disturbed him. What did you want me for, by the way?”
“Oh, nothing much. Sukey left her hair slides behind. Here,” she said, taking them out of her pocket and giving them to Sukey. “I thought they might be special.”
Sukey accepts them with a shy smile and hides her face against Meredith’s chest.
They go their separate ways. The teacher is back within five minutes and as soon as she is locked in her car, Meredith drives home, anxious to put the incident behind her, but she can’t. She will have to tell her Aunt Clara all about it when she gets home.
*
Clara has phoned to say she is working late. Meredith gives Sukey her supper and puts her to bed with a bedtime story. Tonight a story is not enough. Sukey is still in shock and won’t let Meredith leave. Meredith lies alongside Sukey, waiting for her to fall asleep. She replays the afternoon’s events over and over again. How frighteningly easy it was for Kempton to waylay her. Here in Oxford, England, on the other side of the Atlantic from Vermont. How has he tracked her down? Will she ever be free of him? Will her nightmares start up again? Round and round go her thoughts while she waits for Clara to come home. Clara, who has been her rock.
At last she hears the key in the lock. She glances down at Sukey. The child is fast asleep, her fingers in her mouth and her arm cuddled round Bunnylugs.
Meredith runs down the stairs and throws herself at her aunt even before she has taken off her coat.
“Whoa, Merry! Give me a moment here.”
Meredith steps back, her chest heaving, and clasps her hands under her armpits, holding herself tightly. At last she can show her fear and anxiety. She can’t wait to share it with her aunt. “Clara, Kempton was here. He’s found us.”
“What?” gasps Clara. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Clara puts her arm round Meredith and shepherds her into the kitchen. “Sit. I’ll make you some tea while you tell me all about it.”
Meredith takes a chair and watches her aunt go about the reassuring domestic task of making a pot of tea.
“Where do you think you saw him?”
Meredith draws in her breath and lets it out with a sigh. “Clara, there’s no think about it. He was there, waiting for me at the nursery school.” She taps her fingers on the table. “Clara, he tried to abduct me.”
Clara spins round from the kitchen counter, clutching her hand to her throat and dropping the sugar bowl on the floor, but neither of them notices the mess.
“And Sukey? What about Sukey?” asks Clara, her voice tight and high.
“He wasn’t interested in her, just me”
“Well, he doesn’t know everything then, does he? That’s something to be grateful for. How did you get away?”
Meredith tells her aunt all that happened.
Clara brings the te
She drinks her tea and puts her cup down. She looks across at Meredith. “We aren’t safe here any more. Next time he might succeed, and we can’t risk telling the police about him. It might backfire on us. We have to get away at once. Then I can try and have something done about him.”
“But where can we go? And what about your job? And Sukey’s school?”
“One question at a time, Merry. It won’t hurt Sukey to miss a few months of nursery school; she’s only three. I can apply for leave. I have several months accumulated. This winter’s been dragging on, and you haven’t had a treat for doing so well in your exams. So, all combined — I’m going to book us on a long sea cruise. I shall do it in such a way that Kempton will not be able to find out. Even if he does, he won’t be able to reach us if we’re at sea. That will give us a breathing space while I work out what to do about him.”
“Do you really think we could? I have to admit I’m terrified of staying here like a sitting duck waiting for his next move. I got away with it this time because he didn’t expect me to fight back. He thought I would be his little victim and I wasn’t. Next time he will be prepared for that, and I might not be so lucky.”
“That’s settled then. Tomorrow I’ll make reservations on the first available long cruise.”
“Can we possibly afford to take Kate? I’d like to have someone of my own age along with us. Although I’m sitting here making plans with you, I still feel vulnerable.”
Clara reaches her hand across the table and takes Merry’s. “Off course we can, darling. You know money is no object, especially when your happiness is at stake. Sort it out with her tomorrow and let me know. All right?”
2 – The Bay of Biscay
Meredith
We’re a day out of Southampton, sailing south on MV Albion, flagship of the Maynard Cruise Line. Heavy seas have been pitching and rolling the ship since first gray light. The Bay of Biscay is showing off its winter spite, throwing everything it has at man’s puny attempts to tame the ocean. The state of the art stabilizers are no match for Neptune’s fury, and the public rooms on board are deserted. I’m sitting alone curled up in a comfortable armchair in the library, reading a romance about a hot and gorgeous hunk of a hero, when the door opens and a husky baritone calls out, “Well now, what have we here?”
I pull myself away from my story and look up. He’s standing there, just inside the door — my hero — resplendent in well-tailored navy suit, gold rings running up to his elbows and a sexy crooked smile on his face. Think romantic hero and you’ve got him. Six foot plus, jet black hair, cleft chin and smoke-ringed eyes of Celtic blue.
Dropping my feet to the floor, I return a wary smile. He moves towards me with the lithe strength and grace of a tiger, and pulls out a chair, saying, “Mind if I join you for a moment? You seem to be the only other person alive on this ship today.”
Dumbstruck that this powerful being should want to pass the time of day with me, I merely nod in a young and foolish way.
“It’s all right. I’m not going to reprimand you for putting your feet on the chair. I do that myself when no one’s looking. I’m the captain of this old tub, by the way — Captain Raphael Maynard — carrying out my daily inspection. And who might you be, young lady?”
I spring to my feet and hold out my hand, feeling like a naughty pupil caught out by the headmaster. “I’m Meredith Roxley, Sir.”
“Please don’t ‘Sir’ me, Meredith,” he says, standing up again to shake my hand. “Captain or Raphe will do.”
I look up as our palms touch, and know the instant his eyes meet mine that this man is going to be important in my life. How or why, I don’t yet know.
“Sit please, Meredith,” he says, but my legs are shaking so hard I have already fallen back into my seat.
“Is that what your school friends call you? Meredith?” he asks, as he sits down again and leans forward arms on the table, searching my face.
I try to answer. I don’t want to come across as a stupid raw kid. I’m eighteen for heaven’s sake. But my upper lip won’t keep still.
He chuckles at my distress. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve intimidated you with all this gold braid, haven’t I? Shall I order us some coffee, or perhaps you would prefer tea?”
I manage to squeak, “Tea please.”
He rises, walks to the door and presses the service bell.
By the time he returns I have succeeded in controlling my ridiculous reaction to him and my lip is behaving itself again.
“Better?” he asks, smiling down at me, and giving me a pat on the shoulder before he takes his seat again.
“You must think I’m silly—” I begin.
“No, not silly, just young.”
“I’m not that young. I’m eighteen. I left school last July. And my old school friends call me Merry.”
“Of course. I was only teasing, Merry. You wouldn’t be on a cruise liner in January if you were still at school, would you now?”
I smile my assent, but say nothing.
“Anyway, I’m not that ancient myself, you know. Just had my thirtieth birthday. How do you like my ship so far?”
“It’s beautiful but …” I cast my eyes down and dry up.
“But? Go on. You can say anything. I shan’t hold it against you.”
I look up to see if he’s patronizing my youth, but he isn’t. He slides his chair closer to the table and raises his eyebrows, waiting for my answer. I decide I can tell him the truth.
“Well, it is magnificent, but I find the décor a little too lush, somewhat overblown.” I sweep my arm round, pointing out the heavy velvet drapes with their golden tassels and the over-stuffed brocaded Louis XV armchairs. “And all the marble and the gold chandeliers in the atrium.”
He grins. “You mean it’s a bit fuddy-duddy and old fashioned?”
“Well, yes.”
He leans back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests and steepling his fingers while he looks across at me from under half-lowered eyelids. The silence hangs for a second or two. Have I been too frank?
He breaks into a chuckle. “I guess I have to agree with you, though our PR people would shoot me if they heard me say so. Most of our passengers expect a cross between the palace of Versailles and the London Ritz. They’re in the over-fifty age bracket, people with both money and leisure. They want the fantasy of opulence, and so that’s what we give them. You’ll see when they all come creeping out of their cabins after this rough spell.”
It doesn’t sound promising. Eleven weeks in the company of people old enough to be my grandparents. “Aren’t there any other young people on the boat?” I ask. “Besides me and my best friend, Kate?”
“You’re traveling with a friend?”
I nod. “From school. She’s seasick, too. Poor thing. I never get seasick but I do get terribly car sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your friend. Don’t despair about the old folk. I seem to remember that there are a few young people on board. We have a special evening for singles to meet each other at the start of every voyage. It’s usually on the second night out. Maybe everyone will be recovered by then and you’ll discover a Prince Charming.”
I straighten up in my chair and challenge. “Who says I’m looking for a Prince Charming?”
He laughs and leans across the table to pick up my discarded novel. He turns the cover towards me to illustrate his point. “Perhaps not Prince Charming — too much brocade and lace for you. Judging by this book, you’re looking for a more dangerous and sexy alpha male with toned abs like these — to make you do his bidding?”
I feel the curse of the fair-skinned overtake me. My cheeks grow hot as the blush deepens. No one likes to have their secret pleasures discovered. Yes, I have finished school with a flurry of distinctions, and have won a place at Oxford for the coming September, but I still love to read steamy romances about strong hot guys. After all, I’m safe as long as they’re imprisoned between the pages. Even so, I’m making a silent vow to use only my e-reader from now on and so preserve my reading privacy, when the door opens and the steward comes in with the tray.
