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Entering the cabin for the last time, her arms shaking with the weight of the water, Danese had to kick the door shut with her foot. Turning toward the tub, she nearly lost her grip on the bucket handle. Michael had stripped down to his breeches and he stood with his chest bared working with the front lacings. With an audible gasp, Danese quickly lowered her eyes to the floor. Her body shocked her as it came alive with longing.

Michael noticed Harry’s shaking hands and relieved her of the last two buckets. Danese promptly scurried to the door, but Michael’s warm voice stopped her hand in mid-air as she grabbed for the latch. “Harry.”

“Aye, Captain,” Danese mumbled, keeping her eyes glued to the floor and refusing to turn around. She heard the splash of water as Michael stepped into the tub.

“I forgot the soap and towel. It’s over there in the washstand cabinet. Would you get it for me?” His voice lowered considerably as he felt the warm soothing water seep over his body. Michael moaned and stretched, sinking lower into the water. Danese, red-faced and feeling decidedly

awkward, stumbled across the room, managing to keep her eyes averted from the man lounging in the tub. Snatching the soap and towel, she wanted to throw them at the captain and beat a hasty retreat. But knowing she could not risk his ire or raise questions about her actions, Danese crept over to the tub and extended her hand with the soap.

A long moment passed before Danese risked a glance in Michael’s direction. He was lying back as far as his long-legged frame allowed, his head resting on the rim, his eyes closed.

Not knowing what to do now, but realizing he would be angry if she left, Danese cleared her throat. Still getting no response, she cleared her throat again, this time more loudly.

Startled out of his cat nap, Michael almost leapt to his feet. Fortunately for Danese, the splashing water brought him to his senses, as it sloshed over the sides of the tub onto the carpet and wood planking.

Quickly coming out of his lethargy, Michael chuckled, “Sorry, Harry. I haven’t been so relaxed in a long time.”

“He wouldn’t be relaxed if he had any idea I considered bashing something heavy over his head!” she thought, wishing she had the heart to do it. Instead, Danese shoved the soap in his direction.

Danese was having her own thoughts. Thoughts of mayhem and murder and everything in between. She attacked his back with a vengeance, the soapy cloth moving rapidly over his skin. Danese’s face was on fire, and it was rapidly spreading. The room was becoming stuffy and everything but the gorgeous, virile body in front of her went out of focus. She didn’t realize her hands had slowed, becoming bolder and more intimate. But Michael had. His breathing increased markedly, his eyes closed in sweet pleasure.

Danese abruptly came to her senses. Dropping the soap and cloth over the captain’s broad shoulder, she scurried from the room, mumbling something under her breath that Michael didn’t catch.

“Oh, well” Michael sighed, as he glanced over his shoulder at Harry’s retreating backside. He could see his work was certainly cut out for him. He chuckled with delight. It wasn’t going to be easy to make a man out of Harry!

Michael’s game suddenly became unimportant in the grand scheme of events. The news of rebellion was spreading and everywhere sides were being drawn. All of Michael’s men were loyal patriots, but while in port, they kept quiet for their own safety, not knowing whom to trust. In July, George Washington had taken command of the Colonial troops, if that label could be applied to the ragtag army of farmers and merchants who provided their own muskets and powder and dressed themselves in homespun. In August, 1775, King George III of England formally proclaimed the Colonies in rebellion.

In several encounters with British ships, Michael’s ship, the “Bold Spirit,”drew fire. With cargo holds nearly full, they did not stop to engage the enemy, though Michael and the crew would have liked nothing better. But leading the British a merry chase gave them much excitement and lifted their spirits.

Through it all, Danese felt she was hanging on with the skin of her teeth. What in the world was she doing on a ship with twenty-one cannons, made to blow English ships out of the water? Her life was a daily peril, her emotions were constantly churning and her state of mind was extremely confused.

Fortunately, she had no doubt that she would side with the Americans. After all, she had been born and raised in the Colonies, despite her three years in England. But during a war, one must keep one’s wits about her, mustn’t she? And Michael Smith chased hers right out of her head.

Complicating everything was the thought of her family stunned and angered at her abduction. What could they think but the worst? For all her hoydenish ways, Danese had been raised to become a genteel lady. How they must be suffering to think that she was at the mercy of some unscrupulous pirate! She know when the time was right, she would have to talk her captor into letting her leave the ship and return home.

As Danese’s confusion increased day after day, Captain Smith watched and waited. He had managed to protect Harry by installing her in a tiny room next to his, normally used for extra sail. There was simply no room in his cabin without having Harry bunk in with him, and there was no way he would allow her in the crew’s cabin. Michael did everything short of announcing young Harry was under his personal protection, which would have caused a stir and a batch of speculations amongst the older crew and the younger recruits, and would have ended with Oliver laughing hard enough to split that rakish scar down his cheek.

He checked on Danese constantly until one day she’d had enough. “Must you be forever underfoot?” she ranted at him one day as she attempted to replace clean folded clothes back into the drawers of the upright closet. She had turned abruptly and had bumped her nose on his chest. “Don’t you have some sales to mend or some instruments to clean, or some slop to throw overboard?”

Michael lifted one dark eyebrow. “I don’t believe those are among my list of duties as captain. What is on my list is reprimanding insubordinate children, such as yourself.”

Michael settled himself at his desk and picked up the ship’s log. He then turned back several pages and began to read. Within seconds, he knew it was useless. The only thing on his mind was Harry.

Michael studied her from beneath lowered eyelids. The woolen cap continued to cover her head, but the blond arch of her eyebrows suggested soft strands of wavy, blond hair. Closing his eyes he could visualize it spread across his pillow. A silent curse came to mind as he felt his tension increase by leaps and bounds.

“Something wrong, Captain?’ Danese inquired sweetly, remembering to lower her voice.

Danese frowned at his rudeness and turned back to the chest.

Danese’s attributes led Michael back to his original thoughts. He noticed Harry’s sailor pantaloons were baggier than most and hung on her small waist like a sack, but Michael bet he could span her waist with his hands. His breath came quicker. There were a lot more things he’d like to do with his hands. First, he’d strip off her bulky striped woolen stockings that, he was sure, covered up shapely curved calves and trim little ankles. Then he would …. Damn! He was doing it again. He jerked upright. The chair he’d been sitting in would have toppled over if it hadn’t been bolted to the floor.

If nothing else, Michael mused, his eyes’ finding her again, Harry’s tidiness gave her away. Each item she placed in the chest was folded neatly and each had its own place. Feminine neatness seemed to be so well ingrained in her, he doubted she could have done it any other way.

Michael stared at his trembling hands and swore under his breath. The woman was making him crazy! Without a backward glance, he fled the room. Taken by surprise, Danese turned quickly to watch Michael’s sudden retreat.

A grin slowly spread across her face. “Must have been something he ate.” Glad to be rid of watchful eyes, Danese returned to her work, humming a little tune.

Normally, Michael enjoyed stirring up Harry’s dander. It helped him put some much needed distance between the two of them. He could feel the tension between then growing daily and if he really wanted a relationship to develop, he might spoil it if he tipped his hand too early. He sensed Harry wasn’t ready for a commitment. At the same time, he sensed something more important. If the racing of his heart whenever Harry was near was any indication, his commitment to her was already a fact.

The sound of “Land, ho!” brought Danese running to the rails. This could be her chance to escape! By this time, she knew her family would be worried sick. She was obligated for their sake to at least make the attempt, wasn’t she? Her questions to the captain had been met with a stiff, “I’ll let you go only when I no longer want you with me.” What Danese hadn’t heard was the end of Michael’s thought, “And I’ll always want you.”

The “Bold Spirit” unloaded its hold in Charles Town. Danese was furious to find out Captain Smith had no intention of escorting her anywhere. She was left to Oliver’s good graces. Cabin boy or not, she fumed, she had feelings. The least Michael could have done is show her the town! But she came to her senses readily enough. No captain was honor bound to show his cabin boy a good time. Just as they entered a tavern for their evening meal, Danese spotted Michael several establishments down the street. She almost called out to him, but caught herself in time when she saw the corners of an emerald green velvet dress peeking out from around his legs.

The woman was beautiful, with lustrous red hair hanging in long Sausage rolls over her shoulders, large expressive eyes, and a tiny waist. But that wasn’t what caught Danese’s attention. It was the fact that she was draped all over Michael Smith that mad Danese stop and stare open-mouthed. An the fact that it made her feel decidedly sick to her stomach certainly didn’t mean anything, did it?

Resentment flared up in Danese and she had no idea why. She didn’t want him herself, did she? So why was she feeling jealous over that red-haired bit of fluff?

Pondering that question, Danese found she had little appetite when Oliver treated her to a delicious meal of baked ham with a light orange glaze, parsley potatoes with a smooth creamy sauce, fresh asparagus, and cornbread with heaps of melting sweet butter.

“Saw that, did ya?” Oliver had to smirk at her interest. He didn’t know why Michael hadn’t told him that Harry was a girl, but he had been able to figure it out without too much difficulty. He was pretty sure the rest of the crew didn’t know, but he had seen the way the captain protected her and kept the other crewmen away.

Now, it seemed she had taken a liking to the captain. He smiled at her, transforming his homely face. “Well, lad, with a face like Michael’s, how could he not keep female company? He’s got them stacked all along the coast, every harbor, coming and going. Our captain does have a way with the ladies.” His hesitation was apparent when he mumbled, “All types.”

“All types,” Danese repeated, and gritted her small white teeth. If she wasn’t inherently sweet-natured, she’d pull every hair from the woman’s head! Then she’d do the same with the randy captain’s! Flaunt another woman in her face, would he? She growled her displeasure and attacked her full plate with a vengeance.

Oliver noticed Harry’s hint of jealousy with a wicked gleam in his eyes. His young friend, Captain Michael Smith, was in for the time of his life, if Oliver was any judge of women. He chuckled and promptly ordered another ale for himself, and while he was at it, he ordered one for the cabin boy, Harry.