At the Captain's Command. Louise Gouge M.

      Dinah started to remind Captain Moberly of her vow not to marry a seafarer, but somehow the words would not form.

      He gazed about the room. “You have your choice between Mr. Richland Senior or Junior.”

      Dinah bit her lips to keep from giggling. “Captain, I order you to cease matchmaking for me.” A playful thought nudged Dinah’s mind. “That is, unless I am permitted to serve the same office for you.”

      He gave her a slight bow. “Fair enough. Make your selection and present me to the lady.”

      She stared around the room, seeking a likely candidate. “Hmm. Well. How about…no, not her. And then there’s…but no, she would not suit.” She released a dramatic sigh. “I fear not a single match can be found for you in our city, sir.”

      Kindness would not permit her to tease about pairing him with any of her acquaintances. Kindness? Or perhaps something far more selfish?

      LOUISE M. GOUGE

      has been married to her husband, David, for forty-six years. They have four children and six grandchildren. Louise always had an active imagination, thinking up stories for her friends, classmates and family, but seldom writing them down. At a friend’s insistence, in 1984 she finally began to type up her latest idea. Before trying to find a publisher, Louise returned to college, earning a B.A. in English/creative writing and a master’s degree in liberal studies. She reworked the novel based on what she had learned and sold it to a major Christian publisher. Louise then worked in television marketing for a short time before becoming a college English/humanities instructor. She has had ten novels published, five of which have earned multiple awards, including the 2006 Inspirational Readers’ Choice Award. Please visit her website at www.louisemgouge.com.

      At the Captain’s Command

      Louise M. Gouge

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      I will receive you and will be a Father unto you,

       and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.

      —II Corinthians 6:17b–18

      This book is dedicated

       to my beloved husband, David, who has stood by my side through my entire writing career, encouraging me, helping me with research, reading my raw manuscripts and giving me the gentlest of corrections. Oh, and best of all, he gives me the male perspective and insights a woman sometimes can’t quite grasp. He also gives me the benefit of his military experience in the U.S. Army, during which he served in the 101st Airborne in Vietnam. Every March 11, I thank God for bringing David safely home to me.

      Acknowledgments:

      In addition, I want to thank

       my amazing critique partners for their wonderful suggestions and research tips: DiAnn Mills, Ramona Cecil, MaryLu Tyndall and Laurie Alice Eakes, all gifted authors in their own rights.

      Finally, I’d like to thank my insightful editor,

       Melissa Endlich, who sets the bar high for writing excellence. I’m proud to be writing for you.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Epilogue

      Letter to Reader

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      May 1780

       St. Augustine, East Florida Colony

      The instant Dinah saw the three naval officers, she ducked into the mercantile and hid among the stacks of goods. To her relief, the men, grandly uniformed in indigo wool, gold braid and black bicorne hats, continued up St. George Street. Yet she could not help but notice the well-formed profile of the captain among them. A strong jaw. High cheekbones. Jet-black hair tied back in a queue. She wondered what color his eyes were.

      What was she thinking? She quickly turned her attention to a display of awls and knives laid out on a shelf.

      “How may I help you, Miss Templeton?” The rotund, middle-aged proprietor approached her, admiration gleaming in his dark eyes. “Some silk for a new gown, perhaps? My latest shipment of lace has arrived and—”

      “No, thank you.” Dinah lifted her basket of lavender flowers from her arm and held it like a shield as the widower moved closer. Coming in here had been a mistake. “I do not require anything.” Tension tightening in her chest, she hurried toward the door.

      He reached it first, and his eyebrows arched. “I have tea from China and…”

      Dinah drew herself up to her full height and lifted her chin. “Please allow me to pass, Mr. Waterston.”

      He mirrored her posture, although his shorter height did not reach hers, and he sniffed. “I must say, Miss Templeton, for a girl with no family, you certainly do put on airs. Would you not prefer to be mistress of your own home instead of living with Mr. and Mrs. Hussey?” His shoulders slumped, his gaze softened and his lips curved into a gentle smile. “You could do worse than marrying a responsible merchant such as myself.”

      A twinge of pity softened her annoyance. “As I have told you before, sir, we truly would not suit.”

      Even if she found the merchant’s offer appealing, which she did not, his reminder of her orphaned state did nothing to recommend him, nor did his reference to her living situation. She did indeed have relatives, but they were all far away. And yes, she would like to be mistress of her own home. But in truth, not one of the many unattached men in St. Augustine suited her, in spite of her friends’ attempts at matchmaking. After four years in this small city, she had no doubt God had consigned her to a state of spinsterhood.

      “I wish you a good day, sir.” She slid past Mr. Waterston and walked out into the street, lifting a silent prayer of thanks that the encounter had ended without unpleasantness. She encountered quite enough unpleasantness every day at home.

      Coming to this city had not been her preference, but she’d had no other choice. Even before the beginning of the war that now raged in the northern colonies, she had felt twice displaced. Her parents died when she