"What in blazes is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, if ye wanted to stroll the deck with the lass, ye should've asked her."

"Damn you, Mac, the girl's got nothing to do with this."

"No?"

"Of course not. I'm changing course for Bull's Head Bay. I want to make the inlet by tomorrow night."

"Goin' to see Mistress Ginger, are ye?"

"Why not? We're making good time. The men could use a little shore leave and so could I."

"But the lass has nothing to do with it."

"Dammit, Mac, I told you before she hasn't."

"Aye, so you said." He ambled toward several crewmen who were hauling in line. "Bull's Head Bay. Sounds like a fine idea to me. Good night to ye, Cap'n."

A blustery wind ruffled the sails and a full moon bathed the waters in glistening light as the ship approached Bull's Head Bay. Glancing at the tree-lined shore clearly visible in the moonlight, Nicholas breathed a heart-felt sigh of relief. Off to one side, tiny lights Nicholas recognized as the Bull's Head Tavern beckoned him ashore.

On the second floor of the house next door to the tavern lived Ginger McKinnes, a buxom wench with hair as black as the night sea and skin as fair as the whitecaps above it. An evening in Ginger's willing arms ought to soothe a little of the tension he'd been feeling of late. He'd leave only a skeleton crew aboard, and Joshua Pintassle had already volunteered to watch after Glory. After a night ashore, they'd weigh anchor at dawn and with any luck be back on schedule by the following day.

"Furl the sails and heave to," Nicholas instructed. The ship slid silently through the water; then he gave the order to drop anchor. The great chunk of metal plunged into the sea, caught, and the rode groaned as it tightened, bringing the ship to a shuddering stop in the quiet swells of the cove.

Since supper had been served several hours earlier, Nicholas having supped in his cabin, the men were eager to take their leave. "I'll expect to see you all back here before first light," Nicholas told them. "It'll go hard for any man who tarries." He watched as the men hustled to lower the shore boats, most wearing broad, knowing grins.

There was no more notorious den of cutthroats and scoundrels than Bull's Head Bay-nor a prettier lot of whores. Ginger was one of the most expensive and most sought-after, but she always made time for Nicholas. Tonight would be no exception. Nicholas could hardly wait.

"We're going ashore?" Glory asked, strolling up beside Nicholas as more of the crew climbed over the side and down the rope ladder to the small boats bobbing beside the ship.

"The men are."

"Madame LaFarge is going, isn't she? And Rosa-belle?"

"Rosy's been sick. She needs some time ashore. Madame LaFarge intends to ply her trade."

"I see." Glory felt her cheeks flame. But Nicholas seemed preoccupied, and she wondered if it had something to do with the reason he'd missed supper the past two nights. It galled her that he'd been ignoring her again.

"Joshua will be staying aboard," he told her. "You'll be safe enough."

"Why can't I go ashore with you?" she asked, and Nicholas glanced away, a little shamefaced, it seemed to Glory.

"Because I have business ashore. Besides, Bull's Head Bay is no place for a lady."

"But surely I'd be safe with you," she persisted.

"I'll be too busy to protect your virtue."

"But that's not fair. The other women get to go. They said we could all have a nice hot bath and-"

"Fair or not, you're staying aboard and that's final." He turned to Nathan, who was sitting on the deck finishing his lesson with Mac on how to braid hemp into line. "Your mistress is to remain aboard. Is that understood?"

"Yassa, Cap'n Blackwell."

Glory silently fumed. Wordlessly, she turned from the men and stormed toward the bow of the ship.

"Ah, let 'er go ashore, Nicky," Madame LaFarge cajoled. "She really wants to go. She kin have 'erself a nice hot bath upstairs, then sit in the tavern with Rosy whilst I earn a little pocket change."

"Not a chance. That place is nothing but a den of thieves."

"She could wear one o' me dresses," Rosabelle put in. No one would notice. She'd just be one o' the girls." Nicholas groaned aloud. "Just one of the girls. That's all I need. Julian Summerfield's daughter parading like the queen of Cock Alley."

"Come on, Nicky," Madame LaFarge pressed. "Loosen up. Let the girl have some fun."

"I said no, and that's the end of it. I left strict instructions with the night watch: Once we're gone, no one's to leave this vessel."

"Wouldn't be you're plannin' on meetin' Miss Ginger, now, would it?"

"What I do with my time ashore is none of your concern."

Rosabelle giggled. "Kin hardly fault a man fer wantin' to relieve his need."

"I guess not," Madame LaFarge reluctantly agreed. "That pretty little blond piece prob'ly has him plumb tied in knots."

Nicholas's dark look blackened.

"Don't seem right, though," Madame LaFarge added, "leavin' Miss Glory behind jus' so's you can relieve the ache in yer breeches."

Nicholas stalked away.

From her place behind the galley, Glory fought the urge to shove him overboard. So the black-hearted rake was meeting his harlot on shore! He hadn't meant a word he'd said. Sorry. That was a joke. Nicholas Blackwell hadn't been sorry a day in his life!

Standing alone in the darkness, Glory watched the captain's boat depart, carrying Mac and the last of the crew, while Joshua made a final turn around the deck. One small boat still bobbed near the anchor rode. Through her haze of temper, Glory made a decision: She was going ashore at Bull's Head Bay. She would dress up just as Rosabelle suggested, then find the girls at the tavern. She'd show Nicholas Blackwell he couldn't order her around just to satisfy his lusty appetites. It wouldn't be difficult-with Nathan to accompany her.

Secretly she hoped against hope she'd run into the tall sea captain. She'd let him know once and for all he was not going to dominate her the way he did his crew!

Chapter Eight.

"Nathan, you have to take me! If you don't I'll go alone."

"I don't like this, Glory. The captain says you're supposed to stay aboard."

"The captain says, the captain says. I'm sick and tired of doing what the captain says. Don't you want to see what it's like? Where's your spirit of adventure?"

"Since when did you develop this yen for excitement?" Nathan wanted to know, and Glory grudgingly admired his perception.

Adventure was the furthest thing from Glory's mind. She wanted a bath, but mostly she wanted to see for herself the kind of woman Captain Blackwell preferred to her. "Will you take me or not?" Glory asked.

"No. It's against the captain's orders."

"Fine, then I'll go alone." She lowered her chin and glowered at him furiously.

"You would, wouldn't you?" When she opened her mouth to answer, Nathan cut her off. "Never mind. I'll take you. I've never said no to you in my life. Why should I start now?"

Glory smiled in triumph. "I'll meet you near the bow as soon as Joshua retires for the night."

Nathan sighed resignedly, nodded, and slipped into the darkness.

Joshua Pintassle returned to Glory's side.

"I'm awfully tired, Joshua," she told him. "Would you mind terribly if I turned in early?"

He looked disappointed. "I suppose not. Though I was really looking forward to your company." When she didn't weaken, he walked her down the aft ladder to her cabin. She smiled up at him angelically, walked quietly into her room, and closed the door. The minute she heard Josh enter his cabin, Glory rushed to where Rosabelle's few tattered dresses were hung. Two had been let out to accommodate her now large girth, but one, a gaudy orange and white satin creation with stiff white petticoats, awaited the day she'd be small enough to wear it again.

Glory slipped out of her stylish black day dress and into Rosabelle's colorful gown. The gown was a good deal too small, pushing her breasts suggestively above the bodice and showing too much ankle beneath the hem. Glory swallowed hard. Knowing what she must look like, it was all she could do to keep her resolve. But she let her pale hair down, fluffed it out, and grabbed her cloak. She'd stay hidden within the folds of the cape, and as she walked, the color and fabric of her gown would imply she was no more than a working girl. Satisfied with her plan, she refused to dwell on the other implications.

Climbing the ladder to the deck, she glanced around, but took no more than a few steps before a masculine voice stopped her.

"Evenin', Miss." It was the night anchor watch, a youthful man with shaggy brown hair who stood a good four inches taller than Glory. Pulling her cloak around her, she prayed he hadn't noticed the odd clothing she wore beneath.

"Good evening." Glory's heart pounded. Of all the rotten luck. Now that the man had seen her, there was no way around it-she'd have to enlist his aid or forget their plan. The man could be prowling the deck half the night.

"My name's Glory," she said, batting her thick dark lashes. "What's yours?" The man smiled so broadly Glory counted two missing teeth, though the sailor looked no more than twenty.

"I'm called Ripley. Ripley Sterns."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sterns." She extended a slim-fingered hand, and the sailor accepted it almost reverently. "You know, Mr. Sterns-" she began, then paused for effect. "May I call you Ripley?"

Mutely he nodded.

"I feel so foolish, Ripley. Why, I hardly know you, yet here I am, about to ask for a favor."

"A favor?" He seemed almost pleased.

"Yes. You see I have to get to shore."

Instantly on guard, the sailor stiffened, his warm manner dissolving. "Cap'n Blackwell says nobody's to leave the ship."

"I know, but you see he didn't know about my special circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"Well, Rosabelle left her medicine for the . . . ah, for her delicate condition, if you take my meaning . . . and she's going to need it. My servant and I will take it to her and come right back. The captain won't even know we've been gone."

He looked skeptical. "That'd be breakin' the cap'n's direct orders. No, ma'am. I don't think I could do that."

"Glory," she said sweetly.

The sailor swallowed hard. "Glory," he repeated. The word came out on a breathless sigh.

"We'd be back in an hour. Two at most. Mr. Pintassle's asleep. No one would know except you and me"-she touched his arm, her fingers cool against his flushed skin- "Ripley," she added softly.

"Can't your man go alone?"

"I'm afraid he's not very . . . I hate to put it indelicately, but I don't believe Nathan would be smart enough to find her. Besides, there are certain . . . female problems she and I will need to discuss."

The young sailor actually blushed. Then he glanced from bow to stem, noting the deck was quiet, the stars bright above. Soft moonlight grazed the coral in Glory's cheeks. "You're sure you'll come right back?" he asked.

"Of course."

"I know I shouldn't do this." Though he shook his shaggy head in a negative gesture, Glory knew his answer was yes.

"Thank you, Ripley," she whispered softly.

Just then Nathan appeared on deck. Seeing the sailor, he hesitated a moment, then came forward.

"We'd better get going," Glory said. "Mr. Sterns has been kind enough to let us go ashore."

Nathan nodded dumbly, but Glory spotted his knowing glance. He wasn't a bit surprised she'd been able to talk the sailor into letting them leave.

With some assistance from the sailor, and several words of caution, Glory climbed over the side and began the descent down the rope ladder. Nathan waited below in the tiny shore boat. As Nathan shoved off, she waved back at the sailor and settled on the seat, pulling her cloak around her, though the evening was warm and humid.

Once they reached shore, Nathan beached the craft and secured it to a nearby pine tree. Glory climbed out, barely wetting her kidskin shoes.

"Hurry up, Nathan," she whispered. "Rosabelle and Madame LaFarge are supposed to be in the tavern." She glanced at the amber glow of lamplight coming from a nearby cluster of windows.

"Are you sure you don't just want to peek in the window?"

"Maybe we should. That way we'll be sure they're inside." She wondered if Captain Blackwell would be there too-or already wrapped in his lover's arms.

Nicholas Blackwell flipped over his final card. Ace of spades. This was turning out to be his lucky night-except that Ginger, it seemed, had gone to the country to visit a sick patron. Her girlfriend Nina had assured Nicholas that Ginger would be home soon, adding she'd be happy to fill in for her friend if she didn't arrive on time. So far Nicholas had been content to play cards with some of the crewmen from the Fleet Lady, a schooner bound for Charleston laden with Havana cigars, rye whiskey, and buckshot, among various and sundry items.

"Looks like I win again," Nicholas said. Grumbling, the four sailors at the table watched as he raked in his winnings. The low-ceilinged tavern was noisy and crowded. Thick black smoke hovered in patches over the small, dimly lit tables. Several rowdy sailors sang sea chanties in one comer of the room while others were content to pinch a barmaid's bottom or steal the quick feel of a soft breast.

"Ye can't seem to lose, Cap'n," Mac said, shaking his sandy-haired head. "Think I picked the wrong night to play wi' ye."

Nicholas almost smiled. He liked winning. At just about anything. As long as he was winning, he'd wait for Ginger. Well, maybe not that long. He'd come ashore for female companionship and the hour was already growing late. He glanced at the pretty little redhead, Nina. She was looking prettier all the time.

"Let's go around back," Glory suggested once they reached the tavern. Along the way they'd passed only a couple of drunken sailors who eyed her briefly, then staggered on down the dirt lane.

"I don't like this, Glory. I don't know how I let you talk me into this in the first place."