Samantha James (6 page)

And indeed, so she would.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, all eyes turned their way. Near the last step, Cassie found herself possessed of the desire to bolt wildly into the street and run for all she was worth. But the grip on her elbow tightened as if in warning. Cassie decided almost bitterly that he had no trouble guessing her intention.

Black Jack jumped up from the bench and hurried toward them. “Here, yer lordship, you needn’t trouble yourself any further.” He shot Cassie a dark glance. “I’ll take her off yer hands. Oh, and you can be certain she’ll never again steal from you or anyone else.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt of that. As my wife, there’ll be no need to.”

Black Jack’s eyes bulged. His lips worked, but no sound came out.

Nell straightened with a strangled cry. “You cannot mean to marry the bitch!”

Gabriel paid no heed to either of them. “We shall be married within the hour,” he went on smoothly. “There’s a church near the docks. We’ll stop there on the way to my ship.”

Nell’s face was purple. “Why? Why her?” she burst out. “The bitch just thinks she’s better ’n me. But she won’t please you in bed. Why, she don’t know half what I know!”

Black Jack finally regained his powers of speech. “Yer lordship, you—you can’t marry her! She’s just a bar whore!”

A bar whore
. Cassie cringed inside, and lowered her gaze to the floor. She could look at none of them.

So it was that she did not see Gabriel level on Black Jack a look of such blackness that the burly man fell back a step. “I will marry whom I please,” the earl stated coldly. “Neither you nor any other man can stop me. Now if you don’t mind, please have a carriage summoned. I’m anxious to be on my way.”

Black Jack scurried to obey. Nell glared at Cassie’s bowed head a few seconds longer, then flounced back into the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

Christopher had only now lost his expression of shock. He stepped up to Gabriel, tapped him on the shoulder, and jerked his head toward the entrance. “A word with you in private, if you please.”

Only then did Cassie’s head come up. She watched the two men leave with eyes both troubled and fearful. Outside on the boardwalk the two men faced each other.

It was Gabriel who spoke first, before Christopher even had a chance. “’Tis my hope you will stand as witness to this wedding,” he said calmly.

“Witness?” Both Christopher’s tone and his features were unusually harsh. “Have you lost your mind, man? This marriage will be a mockery, and we both know it!”

Gabriel’s smile held no mirth. “Tell me this, my friend. Would marriage to Lady Evelyn be any less of a mockery? At least this way my bride will be of my choosing.”

Christopher’s mouth opened, then closed. As dearly as it appeared he’d have liked to, it seemed he couldn’t refute Gabriel’s words.

“You may have fooled Cassie, but you don’t fool
me. You marry her only to spite your father! He will be furious, and so will Warrenton when he discovers you unable to wed Lady Evelyn!”

Gabriel neither agreed nor disagreed. “I did not lie to her.”
Perhaps you did not lie
, jeered a voice from within,
but certainly you did not reveal all…
“The girl is well aware of my reasons for this marriage—and knows all she needs to know.”

“Do you mean to say you did not coerce her into it?”

Gabriel only narrowly held on to his temper. “I did not lay a hand on her,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “And if you further imply that I did, you risk much, my friend, much indeed.”

“I imply no such thing,” Christopher said stiffly. “But she stole your watch and was caught with it. You could have used that against her.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “You do seem to have a great deal of sympathy for her,” he said in deceptively dulcet tones. “Could it be that you have taken a fancy to her and envy me my choice of bride?”

“That’s not it at all.” Christopher defended himself hastily. “Gabriel, you know I have seldom judged you. But tell me this. Does the girl know what you will be dragging her into?”

“Christopher, I take her from a life of work and struggle and poverty. You know as well as I that her circumstances will be far, far better. Indeed,” he gave a harsh laugh, “’twould seem to me I am to be commended.”

Christopher clearly did not agree, but he said nothing. Unfortunately, Gabriel had no trouble reading his mind.

“I will brook no interference from you or any other man,” he said coolly. “My mind is made up. Now will you stand witness to this wedding or do I have to find myself another man?”

Christopher sighed heavily. “There is no need to search further,” he said quietly. “I will stand as witness.”

Moments later the three climbed in the coach. Christopher took a seat across from Cassie. The future bride sat huddled in the corner, as far distant from her husband-to-be as she could possibly get. Gabriel paid no heed, but stared out the window, no expression whatsoever marking his handsome features. The atmosphere was anything but jovial.

A short time later, they filed into a small church. Cassie could recall nothing of the conversation exchanged between Gabriel and the minister, a stout, pudgy man whose girth nearly exceeded his height. Over and over again, his eyes traveled between her ragged dress and the formidable, imposing man who proposed to wed her. He was clearly puzzled by such an unlikely union, yet he said nothing. Nor did Cassie wonder why—she did not miss the gold coins passed into his pudgy hands.

All too soon Cassie found herself standing next to Gabriel in front of the altar. The minister cleared his throat and began to speak, but his words were a blur.

Then it was over. Cassie swallowed, aware that the fingers clutching her pouch were trembling. Uncertain what was expected of her, slowly she lifted her eyes to the man who was now her husband…sweet heaven,
her husband
.

He was pleased. She could see it in the sly satisfaction of his smile. Dear Lord, she was married to this cold, hard man…and it was too late to change it. A shiver shook her form.

All at once she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d just made a bargain with the devil.

I
t was almost noon by the time the carriage delivered the trio to the waterfront.

Christopher was the first to alight from the carriage. Gabriel followed, landing lightly on booted feet. By then, Cassie had arisen from the seat as well. Gabriel turned, wordlessly extending his hand toward her.

Seeing him before her, his manner brisk and confident, she found herself caught in the grip of a fleeting uncertainty. Loath to touch him, though for the life of her she didn’t know why, she made no move to oblige him. Eyes the color of slate hardened ever so slightly.

“If you please, madam, I’m hardly eager to remain here. I’d thought you felt the same.”

Cassie flushed, then tentatively placed her hand in his and allowed him to assist her from the carriage. The instant she was out of the carriage, she quickly tugged her fingers free of his grasp. Gabriel’s lips tightened slightly, but he said nothing. While he paid the driver, Christopher retrieved their bags.

Cassie remained where she was. Damp, moist air from a morning rain lay heavy and thick around
her, and mingled with the tang of salt, strong and pungent in her nostrils. Although the fog had lifted, the sky remained a pale, depthless shade of gray.

Beside her, Christopher cleared his throat. “The ship anchored there at the end—that’s Gabriel’s.”

Cassie’s gaze trailed his. There, where the wharf jutted into the bay, a sleek, three-masted vessel bobbed gently in tempo with the current.

She had no chance to reply. Gabriel was there again, a hand at her elbow, guiding her around numerous crates and barrels. Just ahead of them, a burly seaman heaved a square crate onto his shoulder, then marched up the gangplank onto the ship’s deck.

Her heart sank. An awful feeling of dread wound its way around Cassie’s spine. Was this the only way onto the vessel?
Silly fool
, chided a voice inside.
How else could you board?
Seeking to waylay her fear, she glanced down.

Below the gangplank, dark, choppy waters swirled in a furious eddy around and around the pilings supporting the dock.

She stood there, paralyzed. As if in a dream, a vision loomed in her mind. She saw her body tumbling in a slow arc, the dark green waters yawning wide, as if to swallow her whole. Her breath came jerkily. Her lungs burned like fire, for she knew what it was like to gasp desperately for air when there was only foul, fetid water filling her mouth, her lungs…

“Come, Yank. You may go first, and I will follow.”

His words penetrated the haze surrounding her, widening her eyes. She shook her head and shuf
fled back a step. “No,” she said faintly. “I cannot…”

“It’s too late to change your mind, girl. We’ve already begun the first leg of our journey and soon will begin the next.” His expression was as harshly forbidding as his tone.

Cassie swallowed a sick feeling in the pit of her belly. “I’ve not changed my mind.” She faltered. “But I—I cannot swim, and if I should miss a step—”

“You will not.”

Oh, if only she were as certain! But her knees had begun to quaver, along with her voice. “Please—” she began.

She got no further. Stifling an impatient oath, Gabriel swung her high in his arms. It was just as he’d said—they had come too far to turn back now.

Cassie had no choice but to cling to his neck. She squeezed her eyes shut as he strode with surefooted ease up the gangplank and onto the deck. He did not stop, but carried her down the companionway to a cabin below.

Only when she felt solid ground beneath her feet once again did Cassie open her eyes. For the space of a heartbeat, time was immeasurably still. Not until Gabriel cocked a brow did she realize her arms were still twined around his neck. She flushed furiously and withdrew them in all haste, anxious to put some distance between them.

“I suggest you make yourself comfortable. We will be weighing anchor shortly.” He retreated, closing the door firmly behind him.

With that, Cassie was left alone. She glanced
around, taking belated note of her surroundings. She was in a generous-sized cabin—her husband’s no doubt. The thought roused a shiver, but she willed her mind not to linger further on that troubling realization. Instead her gaze traveled slowly around the cabin.

A sea chest and wooden cabinet crowded one wall, both of which were framed in rich mahogany. There was a table bolted to the wall, while the center of the cabin was dominated by a desk covered with charts and maps. There was even a small, pot-bellied stove with a simple chair next to it. But it was the wide bed opposite the door that bound Cassie’s attention the longest.

A sudden creaking accompanied the movement of the ship beneath her feet. It seemed to buck and heave and strain, but then they were off.

Both fear and excitement leaped high in her breast. The narrow seat set beneath the cabin’s only window beckoned; it was there she directed her weaving steps. Scrambling up, she peered through the dingy glass.

The ship soon gathered speed, gliding through the waters of the bay. The forested coastline—and Charleston—grew further and further distant.

It struck her then…the enormity of all that had happened this past day. Never again would she see Charleston…or Black Jack. No longer was she bound to a life of servitude. There would be no more scrubbing floors, no more ducking eager hands, dodging pinching fingers, and evading lust-filled glances.

No, it was little wonder that she felt no sadness…yet neither was there joy—or the vivid
relief she had expected to feel. There was only the familiar sense of being so very alone, as well as a gnawing unease of wondering what the fates held in store for her…

She could only hope the future brought better.

The feeling of being lost and alone persisted throughout the long day. Cassie did not dare to venture outside the cabin, and certainly no one ventured within. Soon the shadows began to lengthen, and a dark gloom invaded the cabin. She was given to wonder if she’d not been forgotten.

At that precise moment there was a knock on the door. Cassie had scarcely called a tentative “Come in” when the door was flung wide. A stocky young man wearing a scarlet wool cap jammed on russet brown curls appeared, whistling and pulling a small cart. The cart was barely inside before the formidable figure of the earl dominated the entryway.

“This is Ian, my dear. He will be tending to our meals and the cabin during our voyage. Ian…my wife.”

Having already risen to her feet, Cassie smiled at the young man. He seemed a cheerful sort, and she could not help but respond to him. “Hello, Ian,” she said softly.

“Milady.” The young man swept the cap to his belly with a bow and a most engaging grin. He then set about transferring several dishes onto the table, along with service for two. Delicious smells assailed her nostrils, while ravening pangs of hunger began to gnaw at her belly. Cassie had not realized until then how very hungry she was. Ian
finished his task, then quietly withdrew. The cabin door shut with a click.

She was left alone with her new husband.

He strode to the table and pulled out a chair, then glanced at her expectantly. It took a moment before Cassie gathered that he intended to seat her. She could not help the thought that rushed in at her…did he mock her? Or was he merely being polite? Feeling rather foolish, Cassie flushed and moved to oblige him.

He did not ask, but filled her plate for her—not that Cassie was inclined to be contrary. Perhaps it was silly, but the prospect of sharing a meal with this man made her distinctly nervous. She knew not what to say. She knew not what to
do
. Flustered, but determined not to show it, she turned her attention to the food. The fare was simple but filling—a rich, savory stew and warm, fragrant bread. Impossible though it had seemed just moments earlier, her hunger soon eclipsed all else, including her awareness of the man sitting across from her.

She had nearly finished her second helping when she chanced to glance up and find those crystalline gray eyes fixed upon her. There was an odd expression on his features, and hot shame colored her cheeks. No doubt to him she appeared half-starved and greedy.

She laid down her fork, lowering her lashes quickly. “I am sorry,” she murmured. “I should not have—”

He shook his head. “You’ve done nothing to be sorry for, Yank. From the look of you, you’ve missed too many meals already.” He paused, then added
softly, “And I’d far rather see you eat your fill than see good food wasted.” He did not mention that her enjoyment of the meal made him feel a trifle guilty for something he had always taken for granted.

When she flushed and clasped her hands in her lap, he allowed the merest of smiles to graze his mouth. “Only I must say, I am heartily glad you’ve not proven to be a poor sailor.”

“Other than hunger, my stomach has not troubled me at all.” Her smile was rather tremulous, but it served to dissolve some of her tension. Perhaps, she decided cautiously, he could be kind after all.

He would have refilled her wine glass, but she declined with a quick shake of her head. He studied her, then said suddenly, “I fear I must impose a few rules, Yank. There are many men on this ship, and as you are surely aware, sometimes seamen can be a rough lot. Bear in mind that it’s not safe for you to be wandering about the decks alone.”

Cassie thought of the dark and depthless seas that surrounded them. He need not worry on that score, she decided, barely suppressing a shiver of dread.

Ian entered and briskly cleared the remains of their meal. The earl rose and seated himself behind his desk. As he uncurled a rolled-up chart and spread it across the wide surface, Cassie retreated to the chair beside the potbellied stove.

The minutes passed. He seemed oblivious to her presence, engrossed in his papers, but Cassie did not mind. She could not help the way her eyes strayed to him again and again.

He had discarded his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, baring tanned muscular forearms coat
ed with a liberal covering of dark, silky-looking hair. The memory of being held tight in his arms as he carried her up the gangplank rose swiftly in her mind. They had been surprisingly strong and hard, those arms. Clearly he did not live a life of such ease as she had thought. His fingers were lean and brown, the nails square and clean. Wincing, she glanced at the rough, dry skin of her hands, then hid them in her skirts. Tucking her feet beneath her, she burrowed more deeply into the chair, as if to make herself disappear.

It wasn’t long before her restless sleep the previous night claimed its due. She soon dozed. The next thing she was aware of was a strong hand shaking her awake. Eyes wide, she stared into the darkly handsome face of her husband.

He towered over her. “You’re exhausted, Yank. I suggest you retire for the night.”

Cassie sat up slowly, her mind still fuzzy. The remnants of sleep lent a strange huskiness to her voice. “Where am I to sleep?”

A mocking brow arose. “It should take no great surfeit of intelligence to figure out where, Yank—especially considering there is but one bunk in this cabin.”

It was the coolness of his tone, far more than his words, which left Cassie in no doubt she’d just been insulted. Oh, but he was horrid—and to think she’d been foolish enough to believe he possessed even a shred of kindness!

Pierced by an angry hurt, her chin came up. She dropped her legs to the floor. “I’ve no wish to sleep in my gown,” she said stiffly. “And I have no intention of removing it before you.”

“What! Never say you expect me to leave. I think you forget this is my cabin, and just so there is no misunderstanding between us…I refuse to sleep on the floor during this voyage while you take my bunk. It’s big enough for the both of us.”

Cassie gasped. Why, the wretch—and to think he called himself a gentleman! “You led me to believe you had no desire to lie with me!”

He gave her a long, slow look. “Yank,” he said in clipped, icy tones. “I see no need to repeat myself yet again, but I will. No one enjoys the pleasures of the flesh more than I. But you are not such a temptress, and I am not such a lecherous rogue that I cannot sleep next to a woman without ripping the very clothes from her back and ravishing her.”

Each word struck home like a hooked barb. Her heart rebelled, though Cassie was wise enough to recognize when she’d been beaten. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I’ll thank you to at least turn your back!”

The taut line of his mouth did not ease. “You’re hardly the first woman I’ve seen in her natural state.”

“You have not seen me in my natural state—nor will you!”

He made a sound of disgust. “I hope you do not insist on maintaining this pretense of shy embarrassment. It’s wasted on me, Yank.”

More than anything, Cassie longed to cry that it was no pretense. Oh, she knew what he believed her to be—a bar whore. But what would he say if he knew it were not so? Would he be angry? Would he even care? She admitted she knew little
of this man she had married—save that he was unpredictable! No, she would not take the chance he might turn the ship around and head back to Charleston, for then where would she be?

Back at Black Jack’s, that’s where, she acknowledged bitterly. And given the earl’s present mood, she feared he needed little provocation.

But at least he had turned his back. Cassie hastily pulled off her boots and hose, then tugged her gown over her head. It would be just like the beast to change his mind before she’d finished! She felt meagerly attired indeed wearing only her chemise and a thin cotton petticoat. She scurried to the far side of the bunk and nestled beneath the covers, pulling them to her chin.

“All right,” she said rather breathlessly. “You may turn around.”

He obliged, but paid her no further heed. It gave her a start to see that his shirt was already unbuttoned. She surveyed him warily as he shrugged it from his shoulders. His chest and belly were brazenly masculine, matted with dense, dark hair. It took several heartbeats before she could fully catch her breath. When his hands went to the buttons of his breeches, it was shockingly apparent he had no intention of stopping.