His Californian Countess (6 page)

“Bridal jitters, I’m sure,” a woman responded.

Then a man who was clearly the woman’s husband said, “You need to be a bit easier on her. Isn’t that right, Mother? The wife, here, hid in her room for nearly a fortnight after our wedding night.”

“It was scarcely a day or two, Stewart!”

“Well, I’m sure it just seemed that long to me, dearest. Your little bride will come around just as mine did.”

Amber pressed her ear to the door, but still couldn’t understand what the woman was going on about until her voice rose. “Let me know if she needs a woman’s support. I noticed she had no older woman along to advise her and she looks quite young.”

Good God! She’d never leave her stateroom again.

“Let. Me. In,” came Jamie’s tight demand moments later.

She couldn’t fight the smile that bloomed unbidden. So she wasn’t the only one mortified by this situation. Good! But oh, Lord, her face felt as if it was on fire. She
doubted she would even leave the cabin in the very middle of the night after this. The passengers must all be talking about their argument. Argument was so civilized a word for that donnybrook! They’d screamed at each other. No, actually, she’d screamed. At the top of her lungs. He’d just stood there naked and sure of himself.

She backed away from the door, her eyes still trained on it.

“I can stand here all day,” he threatened now.

And wasn’t that a lovely thought. She turned her back to the door. Him out there, drawing attention to them. “Go away. I’m never coming out and you’re not up to standing there all day anyway.”

“See.” His voice dropped. “You still care even though I acted like an ass.”

She balled her hands into fists. She pulled the skirt over her head, then donned, buttoned and tucked the blouse inside the dark serge before buttoning the smart front placket. It was nearly too much for Amber—that mocking tone in his voice even if he’d mocked himself. And he
had
acted like an ass.

Oh, how she wished she had the nerve to say something like that out loud. Instead she finally said the only thing that came into her head. “I don’t need your limp and lifeless body lying across my doorway. I prefer to make my way to meals unimpeded.”

“Excellent. We’re getting somewhere. You admit you have to come out some time. We can go to the dining hall together. I can’t wait to see your lovely face. Take your time dressing, though. I’ll wait. And so you won’t worry, I’ll just sit on this comfortable sofa outside our cabin.”

Our cabin?
Amber felt it happen again. Her long, well-controlled temper erupted for the second time in one single morning. She didn’t know why he had the ability to anger her so severely, but having him call that cabin theirs just ran her patience right out to the end. She whirled around, stalked to the door and yanked it open before she could stop herself.

And there he was, still as tall as she remembered, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, long, lean legs crossed. He was leaning against the doorjamb, a little smile tipping his lips up at the corners. “Pixie,” he said, “your ensemble is lovely.”

“Don’t you dare try to jolly me!” she said breathlessly, rage constricting her muscles. “You are a cad! I had my whole life planned. And you…you stand there smiling while that life becomes more and more out of my reach.”

He held his hands up as if in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t myself earlier. At least not the kind person I try to be.”

“You try to be kind? You failed. Spectacularly!” She pushed on the door to slam it in his face, but his foot stopped her.

After a momentary tussle, he pressed his hand against it and asked, “How can I prove I’m sorry for the things I said? Please allow me to come in so we can be private. Or maybe we could find a quiet place on deck.”

“Very well,” she said, stepping back to allow him entry. The last thing she wanted was to have a conversation with him on deck with the other passengers listening. Unfortunately, his presence seemed to shrink the comfortable cabin to the size of a teacup. She backed away, gestured to the chair she’d occupied just minutes
earlier. Her stomach flipped around like a landed carp. With nowhere else to sit, she sank to the edge of the bed.

“How can I make it up to you?” he asked as soon as she was seated.

She clasped her hands together, trying to maintain control. “Make it up to me?” she demanded through her teeth. “Give me back my reputation. The life I had planned. My virginity so I can get the annulment you promised. I gave you back your life by taking care of you. As thanks, you stole mine.”

A look very much like pain crossed his face. “That wasn’t what I intended. And I
am
sorry. For that and for what I said this morning when I woke. I wasn’t thinking clearly yet, you see. Just reacting. I woke in the night, but I thought it was still a dream. I suppose because so much of my time spent in there was spent in delirium I had trouble telling the real from the imagined. There you were, sleeping so near—so lovely. My pixie. And when I touched you, it was all so perfect—
you
were so perfect. Then when I woke and…”

He raked a hand through his already tousled hair. “It was something in my past that made me react so poorly. But that is no excuse. I did not take the time to think it through. I lashed out. I was wrong. And I
am
sorry.”

She nodded, not knowing what to say. He seemed sincere. But her heart broke just a bit for herself. And for him. He was stuck with her. And his next words confirmed it.

“As you say, an annulment is not possible now, but a quiet divorce here in your country will set you free to pursue the life you seem to be mourning.”

Was he this dense? Did he think Americans so lax in morals that divorce was not frowned upon? “Do you
think this story won’t leave the ship with its passengers? That the family who hired me as governess to their little girls will want me even near them once they hear about it? And about a divorce?”

“I don’t know. I am trying to make it up to you.”

“As I have just explained, you cannot.”

He shook his head. “I remember snatches of the days of my illness. I care for you, as well. How could I not? You’ve done so much for me. Is there no chance of you coming to care for me? But perhaps not.” He smiled. “We agreed, did we not, that the annulment was only to occur if at the end of the voyage, we felt we did not suit?”

That
had
been the plan. She nodded.

“Though annulment is no longer possible,” he went on, “why not follow that original plan? Get to know each other during the voyage? Decide upon our futures together? Will you trust me that far?”

She looked down at her hands. “I do not know. This was not the way I thought to return to California.”

“As before, if we do not suit, we will separate. I am sorry about your plans, but I would settle a good sum on you. You would not have to work at all.”

She could retire to a town home in San Francisco and live out her days alone with a “past” to be lived down. Pride forced her to say, “I don’t need your charity,” though she didn’t know what she would do without it now.

“But it appears I need yours. A divorce in my country is a difficult thing. A very public embarrassment. Only if I proved you an adulterer, would I be permitted to divorce. I couldn’t do that to you. Regardless of our marital status, you need not work and raise the children of others. You could remain with me—with us—and raise Meara. Mimm is only her nanny. She isn’t edu
cated enough to be Meara’s governess. You could fill that role in my home and be my countess at the same time.”

Amber dropped her gaze to her hands where they lay folded in her lap. Countess—the one position she wasn’t sure she could fill. Nor did she think she would be able to live under Jamie’s roof and not love him. It would open her up to heartache eventually. But wouldn’t losing him now with so few good memories be worse than losing him later with many? She honestly didn’t know.

“I had a position,” she said. “The one thing I didn’t want for my life was to live on someone’s charity.”

She could see he was running out of patience. “A wife doesn’t live on her husband’s charity. Think about what I’ve said. I don’t give up easily,” he said, his gaze piercing. “I warn you I will spend this entire voyage trying to woo you. I intend to give you the courtship our hasty marriage cheated you of. Right now, though, I’m famished.” He stood. “Would you accompany me to the dining hall and breakfast with me, my lady? Together we’ll put an end to any rumors and gossip.”

Amber shook her head. She needed time. She’d given up on marriage and it was very difficult to change direction so suddenly. It was true she had few options but she had to carefully examine them. The most important was that she wasn’t Helena. Hadn’t he called her name in the throes of passion? Because of that she knew he loved the other woman even though Helena was beyond his reach.

And Helena would have made him a fine countess.

“Very well,” he said on a sigh and looked disappointed. “I’ll have a meal sent to you. But be warned. Mimm says I am the most stubborn person she has ever
come across and no one knows me better. We could have a good life based on respect, common goals. And attraction. I
will
win you over.”

Oh, she was so very afraid he already had. And she was just as afraid, if not more, that Helena Conwell would always have his heart. He hadn’t offered love, after all. She was just his inconvenient wife.

J
amie leaned his forearms on the teak rail and stared down at the water below. It was clear as glass, a curious mix of blue and green. He saw no answers in its depths nor heard one in the gentle hiss of the bow cutting through the sea. Amber had proven herself to be as stubborn an adversary as he’d come across.

How could they reach an understanding when she kept her door closed and sent him away? Every morning. Every afternoon. Every evening.

A hand clapped on his shoulder and Jamie glanced to his left. Captain E. C. Baker stood there, a look of concern in his eyes. “Your bride still being stubborn?”

“She may have coined the word. For the life of me I don’t know how to tempt her out of that cabin. I cannot imagine spending a week in there. I’d think it the worst of punishments.” He chuckled bitterly. “Did, in fact, as a boy. And it was a room ten times larger and I had my nanny.”

Captain Baker grinned, his gray eyes alive with mirth. “She’s not in there at all times. She comes on
deck at about midnight just after eight bells sound to the start of the graveyard shift. She remains topside till eight bells sound again.”

Jamie frowned. “Is that safe?”

“I have my second in command watch out for her after I’ve smoked the last of my cigar and retired.”

With a curious mixture of annoyance and admiration bubbling in his veins for the woman he’d taken in marriage, Jamie gave in to a smile. “The little scoundrel. She sleeps all day and enjoys the stars from midnight till dawn.” Jamie straightened. “Thank you. I’ll use the information wisely.”

Baker raised a bushy eyebrow. “See that you use it as quietly as possible. It wouldn’t do to awaken everyone when the ship is mostly bedded down.”

Jamie nodded, regretting that he’d caused a stir before with his ill treatment of Amber. “I promise to retire the field before hostilities occur.”

“It isn’t you I worry about, son,” the captain quipped, a grin splitting his weathered face. Jamie returned to his cabin then, needing to get to sleep so he’d be awake and alert at midnight.

A cabin door in the companionway opened, then ever so quietly snapped shut again. Jamie sat up. He’d heard eight bells ring just moments before.
Amber.

The sound of the sails heightened for a moment, then another door shut, dimming the sound. She was on deck now. He’d not seen her face in over a week and waiting till the count of one hundred was agony. But he wanted to make sure she was under the careful eyes of the on-duty crew members. Hopefully her wish to avoid a scene would keep her from fleeing his company.

Two minutes later, Jamie quietly followed her topside. The brisk wind alleviated the ever-present heat so close to the African continent, where the captain had steered the vessel in the hope of avoiding the currents of the Gulf Stream. Having rested all day in his cabin, Jamie had come to understand what a hardship that was. The cabins were far warmer than he’d realized when the captain told him of Amber’s nighttime activities.

She stood a bit beyond amidships where the whoosh of the bow cutting through the water was more pronounced. The sail, full of wind, flew above like giant wings, accompanied by the creaks and groans of the lines holding them fast to the masts and braces.

Jamie moved toward her. She stood, her face raised to meet the wind, her blond tresses flowed over her shoulders like a river of gold, shimmering in the light from the moon and lanterns. Her beautiful sherry-colored eyes were closed. She had a tight grip on the teak gunwale and stood breathing in the blessed coolness of the night.

“Amber,” he said quietly as he settled a hand at her back, afraid she’d lose her footing if he startled her. But his bride was not faint of heart.

She turned her head and looked at him steadily for a long, silent moment. “I’m surprised it took so long for gossip about my nightly movements to reach your ears. Whom should I
thank
for your presence?” she asked, sarcasm rife in her voice.

“The captain took pity on me as I loitered about this afternoon devastated by your continued absence.”

Her lips tipped up into a mysterious half-smile. “I’m sure you were no such thing.”

“You’re wrong, my dear. We agreed we would
attempt to get to know each other. That cannot happen if you insist upon keeping a door between us. We move closer and closer to the equator each day. It will grow more uncomfortable and unhealthy each day for you to hide in your cabin.”

“I am not hiding.”

Jamie smiled at that. “We both know you are. I’m just not sure if it’s me you’re hiding from or the other passengers. I assure you there aren’t that many.”

“I heard the conversation you had with that couple outside my door. I have no desire to further any gossip.”

“You’ve greatly misjudged the situation, Pixie.” He was gratified when she didn’t protest the pet name. He still had trouble thinking of her as Amber, especially when she looked so wild and free.

“How?” she demanded, drawing her straight eyebrows into a near V.

“The other passengers know I was ill when the voyage began and they know we wed after you cared for me. Baker did not let it out how ill I was or that we are virtual strangers to each other. He thought our nuptials would seem much less remarkable that way and much less likely to be remarked upon later. I agree with him.”

“Oh. I must appear to be a complete ninny.” She’d said it so quietly he’d had to lean forward to hear her. She put her hand on his chest, but he didn’t know why. His heart began to pound. Did she crave touching him as much as he craved touching her?

In a blinding flash Jamie understood. She loved him and he’d rejected her before he’d understood the gift she’d given him. A woman like this didn’t give her body without her love. Her honor was too bred in the bone. Her moral code too deeply felt. What was he to do now?

He was loath to release her from their marriage, knowing that to set her free would be to all but brand her a fallen woman. He might be unable to love her. Love for him meant only pain and loss. But he could show her she was respected and valued. That the gift of her heart was valued. It wasn’t all she deserved, but it was the best he could give.

Iris’s voice, sharp and vindictive, still rang in his ears. And resounded in his heart. Try though he might, he couldn’t silence her voice or the things she’d said after Meara’s birth. “Love you? Are you a fool? I loved the idea of your title. Who has ever loved you? Your mother? She never knew you! Your father? Was it love that allowed him to take his own life and leave you behind? Your uncle could barely abide being in the same room with you. Your beloved cousin will probably shoot you on sight when next you meet. That nanny you’ve already hired to take care of that worthless whelp I was forced to give birth to? You pay her to love Meara. And you. When did she ever love you when a salary wasn’t forthcoming?”

The last had been a lie. Mimm had moved halfway across Britain and secured employment at his boarding school and later at Edinburgh to be near him. So why could he not ignore the rest as the ravings of a bitter, spoiled woman?

Because he feared the rest was true. It sounded true.

Taking a chance on a future with Amber, Jamie gathered her hand in his. “Don’t be sorry. Just promise to change the situation. Walk with me in the day. Eat meals with me. Share your time with me. That is all that should be required. That, and accept a sincere apology.”

“I have accepted it,” she said quickly and pulled her hand free of his.

“I cannot believe that or you would agree to be in my company. I hurt you. Words alone would never take away the sting of all the terrible things that tumbled from my mouth that morning. Had I not hurt you deeply, you would agree to learn who I am and allow me to know who you are.”

“I have said it, have I not?” she answered and went to turn away. Before she could, he took her shoulders in his hands. For a long moment he tried to equate the delicate bones beneath his palms with the Valkyrie’s heart beating within her and the spine of iron hidden in so delicate a body. He couldn’t have chosen a better mother for Meara had he searched the world.

Because she didn’t protest the truth in his words, he went on, “Our lovemaking formed a bond between us. We didn’t mean it to happen, but the bond is there, is it not? Don’t we owe it to ourselves to explore this curious state of affairs?”

Amber couldn’t seem to look away from his glittering eyes, her heart pounding with fear over the hidden danger in his question. Of course there was a bond. Those beautiful moments in his cabin had somehow imprinted him upon her very soul. She’d known he was on deck well before he’d spoken. Everything about him stayed in her mind and body like a living thing, possessed of a will its own.

She would wake in the night, thinking the curls at the nape of his neck lay beneath her hands, only to find her pillow twisted in her fingers. In her dreams those haunting violet eyes drew her to him, then cruelly rejected
her as it became a nightmare. Her breasts would ache after sensual dreams of him being in her bed. It was as if his hard chest with its crisp hair had gently abraded her nipples, making them sensitive for all time. She couldn’t even wish those accursed dreams away. She ached for him.

She needed what she’d never missed before. What she’d made herself believe she didn’t want. A man. This man.

With Joseph there had been that nebulous joining in the near future that had worried her and made her curious at the same time. Now she knew the act held nothing—and everything—to worry about.

Lovemaking had created sensations in her that had blasted her mind into millions of pieces, but still allowed her to think. It held a consequence—a bond, as he called it—that she didn’t want, but that she felt the need of in the depths of her soul.

There was a look of longing in his eyes and she didn’t think it came only from physical need. She couldn’t forget the man she’d come to know when he’d been at his most vulnerable. A good man when delirious was the same fully aware.

She still didn’t know what to do about it all. Doing nothing had seemed the best course. She’d clearly been wrong. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you want to go on punishing us both for a situation not entirely of our own creation?”

Was she doing that? She honestly wasn’t sure, but wouldn’t admit that. “I am not trying to punish you or myself. That would be foolish. May we just take it a day at a time?”

He tilted his head as if considering her request, then
he smiled, and her heart skipped several beats. “As long as tomorrow is one of those days,” he said, the moon and wind in his hair making it shine almost as much as the light from within that she always saw sparkling in his striking violet eyes.

She nodded.

“Then may I walk you to your cabin, my lady?”

Again she nodded and he took her hand, placing it tenderly on his forearm and covering it with his own hand. “I worry about you topside all alone,” he said, bending his head to hers. “Please don’t come up here this way. Tap on my door any time you feel the need to take air. I’ll be available.”

They’d reached her door and her heart began to hammer again. Would he try to kiss her? More important—did she wish him to?

Amber looked up and could see it was what he wanted, but after a protracted moment, he let her hand go. “I’ll see you in the morning then. Sweet dreams, Pixie.” Then he turned away, but not before she saw the longing in his gaze. She went in and leaned against the door, a bit sorry he’d shown such restraint.

Amber walked hesitantly to the door to answer the knock she’d awaited with equal parts dread and anticipation.
Stop it! He’s just a man.
The admonition did no good. She’d been telling herself the same thing for days—and nights.

Because he wasn’t just a man. He was
her
man.

Or at least he could be.

All she had to do was let go of the hurt. Let go of her fear. Fear of losing him. Pushing him away had seemed safer.

She’d agreed to spend time with him, though she wasn’t yet sure if she dare open her heart to the possibilities time with him opened to her.

The knock came again. It sounded a bit more impatient this time. She smiled, hopeful. Restrained restlessness was so very Jamie, whereas the starchy manners and slightly imperious requests were all lord of the realm. Now to discover which man stood at her door.

She opened it and caught him just about to knock again. “Goodness, you must be starving,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Do they often run out of food even this early?”

“It isn’t missing the breakfast I’m worried about, but the company I feared missing out on. And that I have missed.”

What drivel. “I don’t see how you could miss me when you only met me on this misbegotten voyage.”

“Haven’t you ever missed what you’ve never had? I greatly missed having a mother, though I don’t remember mine. I had a nanny who was like a mother, but she didn’t have the power of a real mother.”

“And that nanny was Mimm?” she asked, remembering the name from the time of his illness.

He nodded. “And in that same manner it’s all the possibilities of you I’m impatient for.”

It was definitely Jamie awaiting her company. Relieved, she smiled. “Suppose we just begin with the meal? The rest is overwhelming to me at this hour.”

“Then let us retire to the dining saloon and see what the cook has prepared.” He reached out a hand.

She took it and they walked in silence toward the dining saloon along the outside deck. The closer she got
the more apprehensive she grew. The scent of frying bacon wafting into the small hallway didn’t help. “Actually, the meal itself is a bit much this early,” she told him, not at all ready to face eating, especially with witnesses to their first meal together.

She peered into the lovely room. The walls were done in rich mahogany with raised zebrawood panels with creamy white scrollwork stenciled in gold leaf above. The coffered ceiling was partially mahogany as well, with carved inset panels that had also been gilded. There were two round tables that appeared to seat eight. They were elegantly set with crisp linens, blue-and-white china edged in gold and gleaming silverware.