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Blurb

It is 1779.  Tom Hughes, a Lieutenant in the British Royal Navy, is in love with his fellow Lieutenant, Alec Morgan.  But Morgan only has eyes for their Captain, John Hamilton.  Sick of watching Alec miserably eat his heart out over Hamilton, Tom determines to seduce him.  But Alec is a tough nut to crack and demands proof of love before he will submit.

Tom’s attempts to usurp Alec’s love for Hamilton lead him to expense, embarrassment, the threat of exposure, and mortal danger from the French.  Also into rather more hard work than he was prepared for.  If only Alec was more susceptible to the lure of perfume and bad poetry!

Excerpt

“You bastard son of a maggot and a weevil!”

Startled by the bellow beside his ear, Tom Hughes jerked.  The sextant slipped from his grip.  With a wild lunge, he snatched the instrument out of the air and turned.  The Swiftsure’s scrubbed deck gleamed the silver-white of old oak, ruled, like a child’s copy book, with perfectly straight black lines of pitch and oakum caulking.  Under the infernal Caribbean heat these melted, bleeding tacky, black liquid.  As Tom moved, his shoe stuck to the nearest line..  He yanked his foot free, his jaw tightening.

Below the main yard, the main sail unfurled.  With a sound like a bone breaking, it snapped in the wind, sending one of the ship’s boys flying. While sailors picked up and soothed the child, Alec-fists clenched and the veins standing out in his neck-yelled at the main-mast crew.
“If I was to get the doctor to saw open your heads, we’d be a fortnight looking for your brains. Now get back up there and reef it properly!”

A line of blood shone crimson on Alec’s lip, where he bit it rather than give way to an unseemly display of rage.  His shoulders strained at the seams of his navy-blue coat, and his knuckles vied with the whiteness of his cuffs.  Wig in his pocket-lest the expensive thing should get blown overboard in the brisk wind-his uncovered hair shone gold around a bold face vivid with scorn.  So very fine!

Passing the sextant to a delighted youngster, Tom took a yearning step forward and stretched out his hand to touch Alec’s white sleeve.  Look at me, Alec.  I’ll soothe that ache beneath your heart.  I’ll put a smile back on your face.  Look at me.

Linen grazed his fingers as Alec shrugged him off.  Dropping his hand to his sword, Tom clenched the hilt so tight he felt each individual wire in the grip.  Alec’s gaze swept across the deck and fastened helplessly on Captain William Hamilton.  Tom’s heart weighed like a cannon-ball in his chest.  He ground his heel into the caulking.  It yielded reluctantly, like flesh.

In the waist of the ship, gazing imploringly up at the quarterdeck, face tilted like a supplicant, Alec waited for approval.

“You’re drinking salt water there, son,” Tom muttered under his breath.  “However you prolong the torment, you’ll only end dying of thirst.”

The wind blew the whisper away.  Captain Hamilton nodded, his face untroubled.  Briefly, Alec bowed his head and pressed his fingertips to his eyes.  With obvious effort, he straightened, braced his back and turned away to his duties.

At the sight, as if struck by grapeshot, Tom’s patience burst into wreckage and flying splinters.  Five years of watching unrequited love turn Alec hard and bitter boiled up inside him and mingled with his native irreverence, bursting out in a sound half snarl, half snort of laughter.

You need to get laid, my lad, and I believe I’m just the man for the job. Steadying his sweat-damp hands on the ship’s rail, Tom grinned at the sea in fierce amusement.  And if it sweetens your temper, I dare say the crew can award me a medal afterwards.

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My apologies to anyone who is waiting for this story.  Although the publisher has had it under contract for two years now, there is no sign of it ever coming out.  I am considering pulling it from that publisher and trying to place it somewhere else.