Surrender by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

shadows, was a large, leather-upholstered wing-backed chair. Across the cabin was more shelving, wardrobe space, and again, what appeared to be a closet. Center, to the far rear of the room, with leather upholstered seating before, were windows, covered now with masculine, deep cobalt drapes. It was a striking cabin, tastefully appointed in every way; the woodwork itself was exquisite. This appeared to be the master’s cabin of a rich merchant vessel rather than the captain’s quarters of a military warship.
    “Well?” he inquired politely.
    She turned to face him. There was a certain arrogance about him that he wore well. He was now clad in form-hugging breeches, boots, an open white shirt, and a deep gray frock coat. He definitely appeared to be the captain of his ship—and his own destiny.
    She certainly didn’t intend to compliment him.
    “Are you sure you and your ragtag crew are Confederate Navy?”
    He laughed lightly, a husky sound that seemed to slip irritatingly beneath her skin.
    “In the Confederacy, Miss Magee, we make do with what we have. Remember, the Union states entered this war with eighty-odd years of preparation as a country. We began with no government, no treasury, no army—no navy. Forgive our lack of uniformity.”
    She was startled by his lighthearted response; she wished to have irritated him. “Is this to be my prison, then? If so, I admit to seeing no escape other than through the door, so you may feel free to leave me, and captain your ship.”
    “Yes, this is to be your prison,” he told her. He said nothing more, though his cobalt eyes were now touched with a deep anger. He turned about and left. The door closed behind him, and she was startled to realize thatshe hadn’t actually been ready for him to leave—she had longed to provoke a fight. She wasn’t exactly sure why, except that she was afraid. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of, nor could she admit she was afraid—she was a general’s daughter.
    Left alone, she stood still for several moments. Then she felt a sudden sharp sway, and found herself thrown across the cabin. She landed neatly on the bunk, and remained there. She had spent a fair amount of time aboard ship in the last several months, coming south from Washington to St. Augustine, then from St. Augustine to Biscayne Bay. Yet she was suddenly praying that she wouldn’t find herself seasick—it would just be too humiliating under the circumstances.
    She lay still, feeling the ship pick up speed as they headed across the waves. She closed her eyes, thinking she would adjust to the sway.
    She adjusted. The sway felt good. She kept her eyes closed just a few minutes too long. She dozed off.
    She awoke, aware again of the movement beneath her. It was comforting and lulling still. Then she remembered she was a prisoner aboard an enemy ship.
    She sat up quickly. The movement made her dizzy, more aware than ever of the continual sway of the ship. But after a moment, she was accustomed to the movement, and she rose carefully.
    She wondered at the time. Light filtered in through the drapes, so she knew that she must have slept for several hours. She rubbed her neck, then looked curiously around the room. She stared at the desk, and couldn’t help but wonder what correspondence might lie within it. She was a prisoner now, but she wouldn’t remain so. And when she escaped …
    She hurried to the large captain’s chair behind the massive oak desk. She sat down, then wrenched open the top drawer to find haphazard stacks of letters. Surely, they contained some useful information! With a pleased cry, she started sifting through them.
    To her dismay, they all seemed to be personal. The first was from Ian’s sister, Tia, who described her longing to be of some use to someone, and her determination to work with her brother, Julian, at his makeshift fieldhospitals along the St. Johns. A second letter was from Jerome McKenzie’s own sister, Sydney, who was living in