Flame on the Sun Page 5

  But her enjoyment also came in large measure from the knowledge that she was doing something to improve her situation. As she had told Meg, action of any kind was better than waiting.

  Drawing up in front of the headquarters of the Black Star Trading Company, she sat for a moment absorbing the sheer size and scope of Storm's business. Besides the boatyard itself, with wharves and dry docks that could hold at least four times the half-dozen ships then in port, there were also several large warehouses, the quarters for workers that Elizabeth had spoken of, and a mess hall.

  At the center of it all stood a two-story wooden building with a sloping roof covered in red tile. Above its door was the discreet sign "S. Davin, Offices" with what she presumed to be its equivalent written below in Japanese.

  Gathering up her skirts, Erin stepped lightly from the carriage. In the process she exposed several inches of black high-button boots covering trim ankles and the white lace fringe of her petticoat. Several seamen working nearby whistled appreciatively.

  Ignoring them, she secured the horses to a post in front of the building and went quickly inside. The entire first floor was taken up by a single large room housing innumerable book- keepers' desks, stools and wooden filing cabinets. The walls were covered by maps of the world with the sea lanes marked and charts indicating the approximate positions of various ships, notations about the cargo they carried, and their anticipated arrival dates. Sturdy brass and copper gas lamps were positioned at intervals around the room. Several more hung from the rafters. In each corner, a potbellied stove stood ready for use as soon as the weather turned truly cold.

  It was all very orderly and impressive, hinting at far-flung activities generating considerable amounts of capital. Storm had obviously accomplished a great deal since he arrived in Japan. But then, with nothing to return to, he must have been driven beyond all limits to create a new life for himself or perish in the attempt.

  Erin's crystal blue eyes darkened. This was not the time to be thinking of what he had suffered. Reminding herself that she was here for only one purpose, to get her ships back, she looked around for someone who could direct her to him.

  A slightly built Japanese man wearing a dark blue kimono and a green eyeshade glanced up from the wooden frame strung with beads on which he appeared to be counting. "You wish something, miss?"

  "Yes, I would like to see Captain Davin. Is he here?"

  "Upstairs, miss. Does he expect you?"

  "I think so. He . . . suggested I should come here."

  The man nodded, apparently finding nothing odd in the idea that an unaccompanied young woman would call on his employer at his place of business. With the quiet courtesy that was an innate part of the Japanese character, he said, "I will take you up, if you like."

  Though she appreciated the offer, Erin shook her head. The pile of papers, ink pots and pens on his desk made it clear he was very busy. "Thank you, but I'm sure I can find the way."

  As she climbed the steep steps to the second floor, the seriousness of what she was doing engulfed her. If she failed to convince Storm to return the ships, the entire purpose of her trip to Japan would be for naught.

  But even beyond that, she realized that she had never quite managed to give up the dream that someday their love might have another chance. What happened in the next few days would show whether or not that dream had any basis in reality.

  She took a deep breath, trying to still the painful racing of her heart. Her palms were damp against the railing and she trembled slightly. Anxiety rippled through her as she reached the head of the stairs and came face to face with Storm.

  He stood in front of a large table spread with documents. Sunlight streaming in the window behind him turned his hair to burnished gold and softened the harsh lines of his face.

  The white silk shirt he wore was open at the collar to reveal the beginnings of a thick mat of hair covering his powerful chest. Snug black pants tapered from his narrow hips down long, sinewy legs. His feet were planted slightly apart, his arms braced on either side of the paper he was studying.

  Another Japanese man, apparently his assistant, was jotting down instructions in a notebook. The flow of orders broke off abruptly when she appeared.

  Storm glanced up, catching sight of her at the head of the stairs. A light flared in his quicksilver eyes, only to disappear instantly as his gaze became hooded.

  The impact of his presence made Erin forget her resolve to be cool and calm. Her shoulders tensed and a soft flutter spread outward from her stomach. Anything she might have said vanished from her mind. It was all she could do to take the last step up to him.

  "That will be all for right now, Ito. We'll finish later." His voice was low and matter-of-fact. Erin envied his composure. She concentrated even more on hiding the effect he had on her.

  The Japanese bowed and left. She was hardly aware of his departure. All her attention was focused on Storm. It took her a moment to realize he meant for her to sit down in the chair he had just pulled out.

  Her soft wool skirt brushed against him. The contact, slight as it was, startled them both. He moved away quickly, taking a seat across the table from her.

  Leaning back in the big chair, he studied her over the bridge of his lean fingers pressed together. "You surprise me. I didn't think you would come here."

  More calmly than she would have thought possible, Erin asked, "What choice did I have?"

  His eyes narrowed slightly at her matter-of-factness. "None. But I thought it would take you a while longer to acknowledge that."

  "There is no point in delaying what we both know has to be faced. You are holding my ships. I want them back."

  A lock of hair fell across his forehead. He brushed it away impatiently. "You don't believe in wasting any time, do you?"

  "I have none to waste. Unless I can outfit the ships soon and take a cargo back to the States, my family's business will cease to exist."

  A sardonic smile curved the mouth she could still feel against her own. "Would that be so terrible?"

  "Not to you, certainly. But I'm proud of the heritage passed down to me by generations of Conroys. I don't want to lose it all simply because my uncle was a profligate wastrel."

  "That would be Uncle Bates, wouldn't it? I seem to remember him. He drank quite a bit."

  Erin inclined her head slightly. She hoped that her silence would discourage him from pursuing recollections of their earlier acquaintance. It did not.

  "How did Bates end up running the line? Your father was in charge when the war began."

  "Papa . . . died in a carriage accident shortly after Bull Run. My mother was with him. She was . . . killed also."

  The shock that registered on his tanned features was followed instantly by a softening of his expression. He straightened in the chair, studying her intently. "I'm sorry, Erin. I know you loved them both."

  Inexplicably, those simple words were enough to make her throat tighten with unshed tears. The rigorous self-discipline she had imposed on herself ever since her parents' death abruptly threatened to crack. She looked away hastily. "Thank you. But that was a long time ago. I would prefer to speak of more immediate concerns."

  Storm was not fooled by her apparent coolness. Though he was tempted in view of her obvious unease to let the topic drop, he found that he could not. The urge to know more about her life during the years they were apart was irresistible.

  His gaze settled on her slender, ringless hands folded neatly in her lap. On impulse, he asked, "How is it you have not married?"

  He hardly expected her to admit what he now believed to be the truth, namely that she had cared for him too much to be attracted to another man. But neither was he quite prepared for her emotionless explanation. "I've been very busy."

  Storm laughed. "At what? The war put a halt to the social round. How did you manage to keep so thoroughly occupied that you had no time for your admirers? And don't try to tell me there weren't any," he insisted when 'she tried to inter
rupt. "I'll wager more than a few of Boston's upstanding young men tried to convince you to marry them before they went off to battle the traitorous rebs."

  Erin's eyes darkened to the consistency of a storm-tossed sea. His mocking tone pierced her fragile defenses, making her acutely aware of her vulnerability. Holding her head up proudly, she said, "You forget, I was in mourning."

  He flushed slightly at what should have been an unnecessary reminder, but did not relent. "Even so, there must have been some who tried to convince you to overlook the usual proprieties because of the war."

  Unwelcome recollections flowed through her. He was right about that. A few of the young men who had flocked around her were genuinely concerned about her being left alone at such a time, with her family led by a drunkard uncle. Most of them simply desired her and hoped to take advantage of a particularly susceptible time in her life.

  She had dealt gently with the first group and sent the second packing without a second thought. Her refusal to take shelter from her grief in the arms of a husband was the first true sign of her maturity.

  But it was also at least in part a recognition of the fact that Storm still stood between her and any other man. Beside him, everyone else faded into insignificance.

  In an attempt to cut short what was rapidly becoming a very difficult conversation, she said, "Does it matter whether or not I received proposals? We have already determined that I never married."

  "I suppose not. But I can't help but be curious. You are the last woman I would ever have thought of as a candidate for spinster-hood."

  The word stung, as it was no doubt intended to. Erin bit her lip, determined not to let him provoke her into a confrontation that she had little chance of winning.

  Instead, she said, "And you are the last man I would have suspected of trying to evade an issue. Or is there some reason you don't want me to discover what has happened to my ships while in your care?"

  The pewter sheen of his gaze warned her she was treading perilously close to the edge. He was not a man to tolerate any questioning of his honor. With difficulty he controlled what she did not doubt would have been a scathing retort.

  "Your ships have been as well-cared-for as my own. But I think you should see that for yourself."

  Standing, he held out his hand. Erin hesitated before taking it. His skin was pleasantly warm against hers, his fingers strong and firm. She remembered the way they felt tangling in her hair, caressing the nape of her neck, sliding along her shoulders and arms to the curve of her waist.

  The staircase was so narrow that only one of them could go down it at a time. She used that as an excuse to break the contact between them. When they reached the bottom, both her hands were occupied holding her skirt above the sawdust-strewn floor.

  Storm did not miss her unease. He smiled sardonically before saying a few words in Japanese to the employee who stepped forward to open the door for them. The man looked surprised, or at least as close to it as rigorous courtesy allowed.

  Erin was tempted to ask him what he had said, but she wasn't sure she would appreciate the answer. Resolutely silent, she accompanied him along the wooden-plank sidewalk laid over the dirt-packed roads that ran between the docks and warehouses.

  The sailors who had greeted her when she arrived stepped aside to let them pass. There were no further comments about her beauty and desirability. Instead, their eyes were kept rigorously averted and their mouths firmly closed. More than one looked appalled at the thought that they might have offended a woman in whom their employer had a proprietary interest.

  The dry docks in which ships were stored and repaired lay off to the side beyond the wharves. Erin had no difficulty picking out the Nantucket Moon and Emerald Isle.

  Both clipper ships sat well out of the water, their hulls scraped free of barnacles, the seams sealed with waterproof tar. The decks gleamed with fresh varnish, and all brass and copper implements shone in the sunlight. Even the wheelhouses were newly whitewashed, as though awaiting the arrival of their captains.

  The ships' fluid lines, proud masts and graceful prows fairly begged to slide back into the sea and feel the wind once more fill their sails.

  Storm's claim was correct: they had clearly received meticulous care. Turning to him, she could not deny her appreciation. "I had no hope of finding them in such good condition. Please forgive me for doubting you."

  Embarrassed by her gratitude, he attempted to shrug it off. "There's no need for that. I understand you were worried." Sternly he added, "As you should be. Just because they're in good shape doesn't mean you're going to sail them out of here anytime soon. There's still the matter of your uncle's debt to settle."

  "I realize that," Erin murmured, her elation fading as the truth of what he said reached her. She raised her head, facing him squarely. "You have yet to convince me there is a debt."

  "Is that so? Then how do you account for the shipments your firm received from here last year? If you paid any attention at all to the business, and I am beginning to suspect that you did, you must know your funds were exhausted. Without borrowed money, you couldn't have financed the cargoes."

  Erin didn't attempt to repudiate that, but neither did she accept it as proof of his right. "But you didn't lend us any funds. If you had, I would have found some record. Even failing that, if we had borrowed from you, you would certainly have been aware that my uncle was running the company, yet you admitted yourself you didn't know that. So I don't see how you can claim to hold a lien on my ships."

  "Not even if I tell you that the company your uncle did borrow from went bankrupt a few months ago, leaving among its debts a substantial liability to the Black Star Trading Company? I agreed to take control of property it was holding in lieu of the payments."

  Erin stared up at him bleakly. What he said had the ring of truth. It explained why she had not known the fate of the ships, and why he had indirectly become involved in the affairs of the company run by a family he must despise.

  Worse yet, it was a sufficiently complicated legal tangle to leave little hope of her being able to regain the ships anytime soon. At least not without Storm's approval.

  "I see. . . . That does make it clearer."

  "I'm so glad you think so."

  "There is no reason to be disdainful. I simply wanted to understand how you came into this."

  As he looked down at her from his great height, a hint of gentleness softened his features. "And now you do?"

  Erin nodded mutely. The heady impact of his nearness made it difficult for her to speak. For a moment she was struck by the absurdity of their situation. Why were they standing on a dock surrounded by other people, locked in a discussion of business, when all they both wanted was to be alone together to revel in the passions that threatened to break free at any moment?

  She retreated from that thought as she might from an inferno threatening to engulf her. Sternly she lectured herself on the importance of establishing realistic objectives and sticking to them.

  Not for her the dreamy-eyed visions of a handsome prince on a white charger who would whisk her away to eternal happiness. She was an intelligent, sensible woman prepared to make her own way in the world. If she could get her ships back.

  Taking a deep breath, she managed to keep her voice steady. "I would like to know the extent of the debt so that I can arrange to repay you."

  Storm studied her for a moment before apparently deciding not to delay any longer in letting her know the full magnitude of the problem she faced. Quietly he said, "Twelve thousand dollars."

  Erin gasped. All the color fled from her face. Her small hands clenched at her sides, the knuckles white. "T-twelve thousand . . . ?"

  He might have said a million, so far beyond her reach did it appear. Once, long ago, when she had no comprehension of what it took to earn even a single dollar, she would not have been more than mildly impressed by such a sum.

  But now that she had an all-too-acute understanding of the sheer toil that went i
nto acquiring so much money, she felt stunned. The meager resources she had managed to protect from her uncle's profligate spending would not stretch to cover half the debt.

  There seemed only one course left open to her. As calmly as she could, she said, "I will have to ask you to wait for payment until I can get cargoes back to the States and sell them. From what I have learned, a single voyage by the Nantucket Moon and Emerald Isle should yield profits to more than cover the amount owed to you."

  Masking her apprehension, she glanced up at him. His reaction was not encouraging. A frown darkened the eyes that a few moments before had looked as bright as a moon-washed sea.

  "Do you have any idea of the enormity of what you are proposing to do? The wiliest traders in the world are flocking to Japan. They snap up all the best products for distribution through well-oiled networks of middlemen and merchants. Compared to them, you are a rank amateur. Yet you seriously believe you can secure not one cargo, but two, get them safely back to the United States and sell them profitably? All while I wait patiently for my money? That is a risk I see no reason to run. Not when I can outfit the ships myself much more easily."

  His doubt in her abilities was hardly surprising, but it still hurt. As did his presumption that she was so gullible as to believe everything he had just said.

  "If you can make use of the ships, why haven't you already done so instead of letting them sit in dry dock?"

  A glimmer of respect flitted across his features, only to be instantly quenched. "Because I didn't take possession of them until a few weeks ago and they needed extensive repairs. I will admit that if you chose to make an issue of whether or not I have a right to use the ships, you could delay my doing so. However, I honestly see no alternative."

  "But there is. Let me carry out my original plan. That way we will both benefit."