Free The Virgin Huntress by Victoria Vane

those same rules applied when he was the one being compromised. He had kissed her, certainly. There was no denying that fact, but Vesta had said he’d not laid a hand on her. Strange, that. Hew certainly was in no position to refute it, given his dubious state of consciousness while they were alone together. If she had desired to force the issue of marriage, she’d only to say he had and be done with it, but she had not . Hew feared puzzling out the Vesta enigma might be well beyond his understanding.
    He strode out to the foredeck, relishing the wind, the salt air, and the sense of freedom and well-being the sea always seemed to incite. Had he not been such an avid horseman, Hew thought he might have taken well to a life at sea. But here he was altogether against his will, a circumstance he was determined to rectify without further ado. Turning about, Hew made his way aft to seek out the pilot but realized upon reaching the quarterdeck that Vesta was nowhere to be seen. Pratt met him with a worried look.
    “Where is she, Pratt?” Hew demanded. “Did she go back below deck?”
    Pratt rolled his eyes. “I only wish.”
    “What do you mean?”
    The jockey pointed heavenward, and Hew’s heart lurched. There, one hundred feet above them in the crow’s nest, hugging the mainmast for dear life, was Vesta.
    “She has the ship all in a pother,” Pratt said. “She just tied her skirts together and climbed the bleeding thing like a monkey, but now she won’t come back down. The first mate, Mister Campbell, tried to fetch her, and she refused to let go.”
    “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice...” murmured Hew. “No, Pratt, I’m not about to fall for the damsel in distress act again.”
    “’Tis not fear that stops her,” said Mr. Campbell, “but an acute onset of mal de mer . It’s the height. The crow’s nest being farthest from the ship’s center, even the smallest movement is greatly magnified. Even the most weathered sea dog canna help but be affected by it. ‘Tis why the Royal Navy uses it as a form of discipline.”
    “Is that so?” said Hew with a grin. “Then it seems a fitting penalty, does it not?”
    “Ye canna mean to leave the lass up there?” the mate said with alarm.
    “Not forever, certainly,” said Hew. “But a little while longer shan’t do her any harm, the damned reckless, little fool.”
    “Wi’ all due respect, Cap’n Hew, ain’t ye a bit hard on her? Though a right high-spirited slip of a thing, she be no different than you once was yourself,” reminded Pratt. “Ye was once up to much tomfoolery.”
    “The bloody difference is that I am a man! And I would have come back down without endangering others.”
    Pratt scratched his grizzled chin. “Aye, there be no doubt the lass needs to be reined in, but she only wants for the right touch. Ye ken?”
    “The only touch she wants for is a good lash to her backside!” Hew retorted.
    “Stodgy blighter,” Pratt mumbled under his breath.
    Hew glowered. “What the deuce did you say?”
    “’Tis like his lordship says, ye grow old well before yer time, Cap’n Hew.”
    “Because I exercise moderation and good sense? Hang you, Pratt! One of us has to take his responsibilities seriously, and it’s not likely to be my reprobate brother. He and I will come to a reckoning the moment I return too. He swore not to meddle in my life, yet it is he who seems intent on foisting this hoyden upon me.”
    “’Tis more than that, ye know. Ye haven’t been yerself since ye returned from the war. Pr’haps the little hoyden is exactly what you need.”
    “Devil take you, Pratt!” Hew shielded his eyes and looked back up. “I won’t have her. I wouldn’t curse my worst enemy with that girl!”
    “Ye don’t intend to fetch her?”
    “No, I do not. If she climbed up, she is certainly capable of climbing back down.”
    Hew ignored Vesta for a good quarter hour until the sky began to darken and the wind to kick up.
    ***
    Vesta