captain’s day cabin. At her knock, she
received a brusque, “Come” from the other side. Catherine opened the door
without a word and stepped across the threshold. Once inside, Catherine paused
uncomfortably. The captain stood with his back to the door, hands resting on
the great table at the room’s center as he peered over a collection of maps. Instead
of his usual careful uniformed figure, Knight was but casually dressed in
breeches and shirtwaist, his formal coat slung carelessly over the back of a
chair. Catherine had never seen John Knight in anything but his full dress
uniform. The sight of him in such a relaxed state of dress seemed completely
foreign. He still held the same powerful presence but there was something else
too – a sensuality that could not be denied. Her eyes moved over his person,
taking in at quick glance the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms;
the fabric of his shirt pulled taught across his broad shoulders; the strong,
taper legs that held him in an unaccustomed casual pose. A rush of color came
into Catherine’s cheeks and in a moment of panic she turned, thinking to leave
rather than interrupt him. At the sound of her movement, Knight turned around,
his own eyes widening in surprise at finding her there: “Miss Gibson,” he
spoke, and Catherine turned back around to face him. “I thought you were one of
the lieutenants. I was not expecting such fair company” he finished dryly. He
gave Catherine a sweeping glance, his eyes taking in her slight frame in the
lavender dress, the golden shine of her hair, and the unmistakable embarrassment
that stained her cheeks. Catherine was startled anew at the sight of his undone
collar, the deep tan of his broad chest showing in the wide vee.
“Sir,” she stammered uselessly; “I apologize
for the intrusion. I had a question for you….but I see you are busy. I will
return at another time….” She trailed off in confusion. “Stay” the Captain replied
in calm command, his eyes twinkling with wicked delight at Catherine’s obvious
discomfort. “Please,” he said, gesturing to a set of leather wingback chairs in
the corner, “Be seated and we can discuss… whatever is the matter.” Catherine
hesitated only a moment then walked forward to settle primly in the offered
chair. Catherine’s tiny frame was dwarfed by the large scale, masculine
furniture. She perched at the edge of the seat self-consciously smoothing the
fabric of her linen gown as Captain Knight moved to join her, his large frame
folding into the chair opposite. He stretched his long legs out in casual
attitude and Catherine pulled her own feet further back to avoid any contact
with his imposing frame. His casual state of dress and teasing, informal
attitude seemed completely out of character, leaving Catherine’s thoughts completely
disrupted. She steeled her nerves a moment longer then looked boldly at the captain
as she focused her turbulent thoughts on her request.
“I have come to ask your help,
Captain” she said formally. Knight’s eyebrows twitched in amusement at her
attempted reserve and serious demeanor. “But of course, Miss Gibson,” he
replied with a wry grin. “I am at your disposal. What can I do to be of
assistance?” Catherine heard the undercurrent of humor in his tone and
stiffened in pride. She faced him squarely and began in earnest: “As you know,
I have spent some considerable time in conversation with Tom Foster.” The
captain nodded his head in agreement, wondering to what this conversation might
be leading. “I understand,” Catherine continued, “That the… the difficult
circumstances of Tom’s home place are still a matter of concern for Tom’s sister,
Martha.” Captain Knight’s dark eyes widened in surprise at her speech; Tom was
a very private boy and few knew anything about the nature of his arrival
onboard, or of the sister who remained at home in England. “You surprise me,
Miss Gibson,” the captain said
received a brusque, “Come” from the other side. Catherine opened the door
without a word and stepped across the threshold. Once inside, Catherine paused
uncomfortably. The captain stood with his back to the door, hands resting on
the great table at the room’s center as he peered over a collection of maps. Instead
of his usual careful uniformed figure, Knight was but casually dressed in
breeches and shirtwaist, his formal coat slung carelessly over the back of a
chair. Catherine had never seen John Knight in anything but his full dress
uniform. The sight of him in such a relaxed state of dress seemed completely
foreign. He still held the same powerful presence but there was something else
too – a sensuality that could not be denied. Her eyes moved over his person,
taking in at quick glance the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms;
the fabric of his shirt pulled taught across his broad shoulders; the strong,
taper legs that held him in an unaccustomed casual pose. A rush of color came
into Catherine’s cheeks and in a moment of panic she turned, thinking to leave
rather than interrupt him. At the sound of her movement, Knight turned around,
his own eyes widening in surprise at finding her there: “Miss Gibson,” he
spoke, and Catherine turned back around to face him. “I thought you were one of
the lieutenants. I was not expecting such fair company” he finished dryly. He
gave Catherine a sweeping glance, his eyes taking in her slight frame in the
lavender dress, the golden shine of her hair, and the unmistakable embarrassment
that stained her cheeks. Catherine was startled anew at the sight of his undone
collar, the deep tan of his broad chest showing in the wide vee.
“Sir,” she stammered uselessly; “I apologize
for the intrusion. I had a question for you….but I see you are busy. I will
return at another time….” She trailed off in confusion. “Stay” the Captain replied
in calm command, his eyes twinkling with wicked delight at Catherine’s obvious
discomfort. “Please,” he said, gesturing to a set of leather wingback chairs in
the corner, “Be seated and we can discuss… whatever is the matter.” Catherine
hesitated only a moment then walked forward to settle primly in the offered
chair. Catherine’s tiny frame was dwarfed by the large scale, masculine
furniture. She perched at the edge of the seat self-consciously smoothing the
fabric of her linen gown as Captain Knight moved to join her, his large frame
folding into the chair opposite. He stretched his long legs out in casual
attitude and Catherine pulled her own feet further back to avoid any contact
with his imposing frame. His casual state of dress and teasing, informal
attitude seemed completely out of character, leaving Catherine’s thoughts completely
disrupted. She steeled her nerves a moment longer then looked boldly at the captain
as she focused her turbulent thoughts on her request.
“I have come to ask your help,
Captain” she said formally. Knight’s eyebrows twitched in amusement at her
attempted reserve and serious demeanor. “But of course, Miss Gibson,” he
replied with a wry grin. “I am at your disposal. What can I do to be of
assistance?” Catherine heard the undercurrent of humor in his tone and
stiffened in pride. She faced him squarely and began in earnest: “As you know,
I have spent some considerable time in conversation with Tom Foster.” The
captain nodded his head in agreement, wondering to what this conversation might
be leading. “I understand,” Catherine continued, “That the… the difficult
circumstances of Tom’s home place are still a matter of concern for Tom’s sister,
Martha.” Captain Knight’s dark eyes widened in surprise at her speech; Tom was
a very private boy and few knew anything about the nature of his arrival
onboard, or of the sister who remained at home in England. “You surprise me,
Miss Gibson,” the captain said
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