Renegade (32 page)

He watched her for a long moment, and she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, and thanked God
yet again that he’d lived. “I had to see you, Becks.”

She dragged her gaze to his, and saw the hesitation, the uncertainty in his eyes. “Why?” she whispered. Why would he torment her this way?

“Because we’re married. Because you’re my wife, even if you don’t want to be. My place is here, by your side.” She was too surprised to say anything, but he grabbed her hand again. “Becks, I know you didn’t want to marry me, and I’m sorry I forced you into it… but I can be a good husband, I swear it.”

Oh God
. Her throat thickened, and she was reminded of all the tears she’d shed over the last month. “You think
I
didn’t want to marry
you
?”

“You told me. You said it was a mistake—”

“
You
said it was a mistake!”

“—and that you didn’t want to marry me!”

“I said that I didn’t want
you
to marry
me
!”

Mac opened his mouth, and then closed it again with a snap. He appeared to think for a moment, and then, more hesitantly, asked, “Those aren’t the same things?”

Becks sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “You’d made it very clear that you didn’t want to get married, Mac.” He squeezed her hand then, but she made herself continue. “And then your brother forced you into it. I was
so
angry at him for it. I didn’t want you to have to marry me, just because we’d…” She peeked at him, and he smiled slightly, and she knew he knew what she’d meant.

Becks took a deep breath. “It was a mistake to get married, Mac. You lost your freedom, your independence—everything you cared about.” She had to look away then, not able to stand the way his brows dipped in…confusion? Anger? “I thought that, by coming back home, I could give you that back. We could be married in name only, and you could continue your life the way you always had.”

“Without you.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded miserably. “Let me get this straight: You thought that you were being
noble
by abandoning our marriage? Abandoning
me
?”

She winced at the scorn in his voice, but still didn’t look at him. “Yes,” she whispered. “You said you never wanted to get married.”

“Well,
you
said you couldn’t marry a man like me.”

“I said I couldn’t marry a man who didn’t love Beckett as much as I did!” She pulled her hand out of his grasp again.

“You don’t think I could?”

“I don’t think you could love anything as much as you love your… your ship! And the freedom she brings you!” She didn’t care if they were both shouting now.

“Well, you’re wrong.”

She dismissed the admission. “Well,
of course
you’re going to say that
now
.” She rolled her eyes.

“
You
told me you didn’t love me!”

She gasped. “When did I say
that?”

“At our wedding. I asked if you loved me, and you said no.”

“Well, I lied!”

The room was still for a moment after her confession, and then his face burst into one of those true smiles, the one that wasn’t over in a blink. She shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see him gloat at her admission.

“Really, honey? You love me?”

Becks folded her arms across her chest and stared resolutely at the faded blue wallpaper. She should probably make herself get up off the bed, but she found that she lacked the willpower to leave him a second time. “I’m hardly going to admit to that
now
, am I?”

That
might
have been a chuckle she heard from him. She refused to look to check. She heard him shift slightly, and then his hand was on her thigh. Its warmth was… comforting, and wasn’t that just an irritation to discover?

“Becks, I want to ask you a question.”

“Hmmm.”

“Honey, look at me.” Sighing, pretending great annoyance, she did. His expression was serious again, and she hated seeing him lying in bed so weakly. “You know me. You know how I feel about being told what to do.”

Boy, did she ever. That’s why she was so angry with Holt passing that high-handed decree, ruining Mac’s life like he did. But she merely pressed her lips tighter and raised a brow at him… her husband.

“Do you honestly think that my brother could make me do something I didn’t want to do?”

Well,
that
took her aback. “He’s your
older
brother, Mac! The head of the family.”

“And yeah, he’s been after me to marry for years, because he wants to have someone to leave Baird’s Cove to. But I’m not about to call
him
‘Master’ either. Do you really think he could
make
me marry someone I didn’t want to?”

“Well… yes. He did.”

He took her hand then and brought it to his lips. She tamped down on the shiver that tried to spread through her at the feel of his skin against hers. “No, he didn’t, Becks.” His murmur almost undid her. “I knew what would happen if I brought you there. I knew what he would insist. I knew that he could make you marry me.”

Now it was Mac’s turn to look away, but he didn’t let loose her hand. “And I—I counted on it. I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth. To tell you that I wanted to marry you even before that first night, here in this room.” She’d stopped breathing, afraid that she’d miss something he said. “I wanted you so badly but knew it would mean marriage, and I came to realize that I was okay with that, too.”

“No, it didn’t have—”

He squeezed her hand to cut her off and met her eyes again. “It might not have, when we started, but after you gave yourself to me, Becks, I knew that I wanted you for the rest of my life. That day on the beach, when you told me about finding some
place
to give your heart to? You were wrong, honey. The place matters, but the person matters more. I realized that my freedom and my adventures would mean nothing, if you weren’t there to share them with me. Just being
with
you was an adventure, the only freedom I wanted.” He took a deep breath, and she watched his chest expand, and marveled at how close she’d come to losing him. “I’ve spent the last month lying in bed, pondering every second we were together, every word we said to each other, and wondering where I’d lost you.”

“You didn’t. I was right here.” Her voice sounded weak, even to her.

He pulled her closer—and she went willingly—until she was bent over him. “Where you belong.”

He understood
. He’d always understood how she’d felt about her home. Her Beckett.

Slowly, he pulled her even closer, and then lifted himself towards her lips. Her heart wrenched to think of the pain he must’ve gone through for that movement, and she couldn’t deny him any longer. She gladly met his lips, and they shared a sweet, undemanding kiss. It was different and lovely, and she sighed against him, unwilling to put any extra weight on his wound. He smelled of the cinnamon he liked to chew, but she missed his saltwater scent. He’d been too weak for too long.

“Honey,” he murmured against her lips, “I need to show you something.”

She pushed herself up, one brow raised in question. His free hand—the one not wrapped around her—fumbled awkwardly at the buttons of his shirt. Curious now, she helped him, slipping the buttons through the hole one by one. His chest was as handsome as she remembered, but covered now in a white bandage, stark against his tanned skin. Her heart climbed into her throat to see the evidence of his wound and to know how close he’d come to dying on her behalf.

But that wasn’t what he wanted to show her. He pushed his shirt open further to reveal the design inked over his heart. The elaborate compass rose was as beautiful as ever, but whereas before the north arrow had pointed at Polaris, now there was a new tattoo above the star. His hair had been shaved away, and the skin was still an angry red around the ornate letters:

Beckett

Her gaze snapped back up to his when she understood. But he smiled and explained anyhow. “I have a new guiding star, Becks. You. You and Beckett. You told me I would fall in love someday, and you were right, only it wasn’t
someday
, it was then. You showed me what it meant to belong, and you showed me that I could be free just by believing in something—someplace.”

He took a deep breath but only hesitated a moment. She was glad, because she didn’t think she could make herself speak then. “I want to belong here, Becks. With you. I want to work beside you to make this place a home for all of the Beckett people.”

She cleared her throat, still not sure she trusted herself to speak. “But… Zeb and the others… the danger you put them in.”

He winced then, but his gaze was still intense. “You will never know how sorry I am about that, honey. I was so selfish, and it had never occurred to me to wonder what might happen to the people who were risking their necks for me.” He pulled her closer. “Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know, Mac.
Lace
? That just seems so… stupid.”

One dark brow rose, and that dimple appeared. “The mark-up on lace is outrageous, thanks to the tariffs. I’ve been making a pretty profit being able to undercut the legitimate sellers.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending yourself!”

He pulled her even closer, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go. “Besides,” his voice lowered seductively, “lace can be useful for all…
sorts of things.
” She caught her breath when she saw the way his gaze caressed her cheek, her neck. “I’ll have to show you sometime.”

She closed her eyes on a groan. For the last month she’d been dreaming about his touch, and now that he was offering it, she couldn’t give in so easily. “
What
you were smuggling isn’t really relevant, I guess. It’s the smuggling…”

“I gave it up, honey.” Well, that got her attention. Her gaze found his again. “The night Creel showed up here for dinner. Robert and I decided that the risk wasn’t worth it anymore, not to anyone. Baird Shipping is entirely legitimate now.”

Well hell. There went her last objection. He wasn’t smuggling anymore, and he wanted to be a part of her life here on Beckett. That sounded like he’d countered all of her protests.

With a sigh, she melted against him, still careful not to put pressure on his bandages, and traced his new tattoo with one finger. Shyly, almost, she smiled. “Then I suppose I could let you show me what
things
lace is useful for, after all.”

She felt him chuckle under her. “So you forgive me, honey?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Take me to Nassau?” Now he laughed aloud, and she was quick to defend her request. “I’ve never had any of the adventures you’ve had—”

“You’re the most adventurous woman I know!”

“—and it’s not fair to tie us both to Beckett all the time. If Baird Shipping is still traveling to the Caribbean, I want to go, too. At least once.” She peeked up at him. “Please, Mac?”

Laughing, he rolled over on top of her, and she squealed when she fell backwards against the pillow. He braced himself over her, still laughing, and she suddenly realized that he wasn’t as wounded—or as weak—as she’d thought. Sputtering helplessly, she slapped at his arm, trying to get him to let her up, but he just lowered himself closer to her lips. She couldn’t believe he’d been faking such a serious weakness since she’d entered the room; why, she’d thought he was near death! But she could ignore the strength in this body she loved so much.

“Mrs. Baird, I’ll take you anywhere you want, as long as we’re together.”

Sighing, she gave up fighting him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, reveling in his hidden sweetness. “It’s a deal, husband.”

“I love you, Becks.”

A smile bloomed across her face at his admission, even though it wasn’t needed after she’d seen that tattoo. Any man who could love Beckett as much as she did
must
be the man for her.

“And I love you, my renegade. I think I have from the moment you caught me.”

“I’ll always catch you, honey.”

“Then I’ll  make sure to fall more often.”

He was laughing when he finally kissed her.

AFTERWORD

October 1877

Eugenia stood in the shade of the big magnolia tree and watched her daughter laughingly throw herself into her husband’s arms. McKee braced one foot against the dinghy’s transom, and caught the young woman, his arms sweeping her in almost a full circle before he lowered her to the thwart beside him. Anyone looking at his face could see the way he adored his wife, and Eugenia knew the feeling was mutual.

In the months since their marriage, McKee had moved into the house at Beckett, and the rest of the
Polaris’
crew were frequent visitors. She smiled fondly, thinking of Ironto in particular, and how pleased she was to have met him. The two of them had come to an…
arrangement
that Eugenia had opted not to explain to her daughter. She and Ironto—the dear man!—had decided that marriage would suit neither of them, but she enjoyed his company immensely and was glad when McKee opted to run Baird Shipping out of Beckett.

Yes, McKee’s marriage to Rebecca Beckett was beneficial to everyone involved. He’d settled right down and become a surprisingly good farmer. She supposed his daddy’s blood was stronger than he’d guessed, because he had a talent for cotton cultivation that none of them had guessed. He hadn’t given up the sea entirely; he and Rebecca Beckett still disappeared in the rowboat for days, coming back tanner and happier, grinning like no one could guess what they’d been up to. And he’d even crewed the
Polaris
down to the Caribbean twice, taking his wife with him both times. They were about to head out on their third trip; it had taken all of Eugenia’s considerable efforts to convince her daughter that the cotton would be fine without her for a few weeks.

Now, Eugenia lit a small cheroot from the box Ironto had given her last night during
their
special goodbye and watched the future of Beckett make ready for their next adventure. But not everyone was smiling; Robert stood on the dock, staring impassively towards the house. Some might have guessed that he was irritated by his partner’s displays or having his captainship usurped now that McKee was sailing again. But Eugenia knew better; she didn’t have to turn her head to see what held his gaze.

Pearl stood at the rail of the veranda, her face just as stony, staring at her sister leaving Beckett. Eugenia could see the white grip of the girl’s knuckles on the rail, and it wasn’t because of Rebecca Beckett.

Exhaling a thin stream of smoke, Eugenia sighed. That girl was more tangled up inside than a wisteria vine and just as tough. There was nothing anyone could do to help her until Pearl herself figured out what she wanted out of life. Eugenia was good at meddling… but she couldn’t help Pearl until she helped herself.

Holton Baird, on the other hand…

Eugenia thoughtfully sucked on her cheroot, and patted the pocket of her bloomers where she’d stuffed Holton’s letter when it had arrived that morning. They’d exchanged some letters in the last months, and she’d even gone up to visit the reclusive man once. He was anxious to hear about his brother’s recovery and acceptance at Beckett, even if he did seem disappointed that McKee didn’t want anything to do with Baird’s Cove.

But who could blame McKee? Beckett was so much livelier and more welcoming than Baird’s Cove. The Ashley plantation—and its master—was still stuck in the darkest and most morose past. Holton needed someone to bring him back to life, to teach him that he had a future. That he was
worthy
of a future.

Oh yes, Eugenia was good at meddling, and she planned to prove it again. She owed it to her old friend Emily.

When she’d seen Emily’s boys at the funeral all those years ago, Eugenia
knew
she’d have to do something to bring happiness back into their lives. Ramsey had been so young—too young to be anything other than a social darling, a scamp—and Holton had been too
dead
inside. But she’d seen McKee and understood his potential. And she knew that he’d be a fine match for her young daughter. So she set a scheme in motion that ended with her standing here on her lawn, the lawn that she’d loved since she was a little girl, watching her own little girl waving happily as she embarked on another adventure.

Eugenia blew a kiss and waved back, sighing contentedly. Oh yes, she’d been marvelously successful with her choice of mate for McKee.

Now she had to find someone for Holton. He needed someone to remind him of the joys of a bustling and happy home. The secret to bringing life back to Baird’s Cove was the people, and what better way than through the children?

Smiling slightly, Eugenia snuffed the cheroot out on the bottom of her boot and went to write a letter. She’d heard from a friend about a new teacher in Charleston who was looking for a post. She might be just the one to bring Baird’s Cove—and Holton—back to life…