The Golden Cross (49 page)

Aidan listened, shuddering in revulsion. “How can this ‘fleshly conversation’ be good if there is no joy in it?” she whispered, anger filling her voice. “Look at you, Mother—so angry, so hard, so bitter! If this is what I have to look forward to—”

“No, Aidan, this life is not for you!” Lili whirled to glare at her. “This is not love! This is not marriage! You, my precious lass, will find a man who loves you, someone who will take you away from this place!” She slipped an arm around Aidan’s stiff shoulders, and her rusty voice softened. “What you saw is but the physical
act
of love, not the thing itself,” she said. “It is like the grass growing next to the beach. In its proper place, ’tis a thing of beauty, and it brings forth life. But if you took a clod of grass and brought it into the tavern, it would no longer be beautiful.”

“It would be
dirt,”
Aidan snapped, knowing her words had the power to wound. “And those who took it from its rightful and proper place would be
dirty
, they’d be
stained.”

Lili’s eyes went suddenly blank as windowpanes, as though the soul they mirrored had abruptly vanished. After a while she
whispered, “Well, naturally, I was wanting to explain these things to you.” Her voice seemed as dead as her eyes. “You grow up, lass, and then you’ll see. You love a man and lose him and see how you feel about love after that. Maybe then you’ll feel a wee bit of pity for your tired old mother.”

The memory closed around Aidan now and filled her with a longing to turn back.
Yes, Mother, I’ve found a man and I’ve loved him, and I am beginning to understand. For I feel so alive in his embrace, I can imagine I would feel dead inside if I were to lose him. I am not a tavern maid in his arms, I am Aidan, his wife, his love, his lady—

The thought arrested her, and she shivered. Why did Sterling love her?
Because he thought her a lady
. What would he think of her if he knew the truth? This marriage was based upon a misconception, and his love would fade like a vapor if he knew who she really was. Sterling treated her like a gentlewoman because he believed her to be one. If he had known her true origins, he would never have behaved so sweetly; indeed, he would never have married her. What did he say only moments before taking her into his arms?
I don’t want to talk about the riffraff down at the docks
.

Riffraff. That’s what she was. If he knew the truth, he would hate her for entering his life, for touching him, for … loving him.

Feeling suddenly trapped by his heavy arm, she lifted it from her waist and dropped it to his side, then sat up. The movement woke him, and she heard him stir beside her. But she kept her back turned as she struggled to master her emotions.

“Good morning, love.” His voice, heavy with sleep and contentment, sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.

“Sterling,” she whispered, not turning around, “I must know something.”

“What?” The playfulness vanished from his voice, but his hand touched her back, a steady, reassuring pressure. “I am your wife—but no longer in name only.”

“True enough.” A gentle softness filled his voice, and he sat up
and reached for her. She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him away, not able to look into his eyes … yet.

“Sterling, if you want an annulment when we return to Batavia, you can no longer say our marriage was unconsummated. You’d have to lie to the magistrate.”

“I told you last night,” he said with quiet emphasis, “I do not want any other woman. I have no regrets. I married you willingly, and I meant every word I have ever uttered in your presence.”

“Truly?” She lifted her gaze then, and a new and unexpected warmth surged through her when his blue eyes darkened with emotion.

“Truly.” He reached out and ran a finger along her jaw. “But perhaps I have spoken out of turn. I would regret last night only if
you
wanted to end our marriage.”

Aidan took a deep breath as a dozen different emotions collided in her heart. “You thought I want an annulment? I don’t! Well, I did, but only because I thought you were in love with Lina Tasman. And I know you took that oath to help people. It would be like you to marry me in order to help me, but you don’t know the person you’ve married—”

She stopped abruptly. She was about to reveal too much. “Sterling,” she whispered, taking his hand between both of her own, “my past is not without stain or blame. I would spare you any association with it; indeed, I have cut myself off from it. A doctor should be respectable, and so should his wife, and for that reason alone you might do yourself a disservice if you remain married to me.”

“There is nothing in your past, Aidan, that would make me disavow you.” He placed his hand upon her shoulder, and she wondered if he could feel the rushing of her pulse beneath the skin. He was saying the right things, things she wanted to hear, but still he had no idea of the truth. And if she told him, what would he do? Turn away in disgust probably. Or wonder aloud how he had managed to snag Batavia’s rubbish into his arms.

“You think me an artist, a boy in disguise, but you do not know me.”

“I think you are extraordinary, exceptional, and the gentle mistress of my heart.” Suddenly she was in his arms, his hands warm against her skin, his lips whispering into her hair. “I have thought of nothing but you since the day I saw you brawling in that bar. I loved you then, foolish girl, and I will cherish you until the day I die. So speak no more of the past or your disguise, and trust me to take care of your tomorrows.”

His light touch unfurled streamers of sensation Aidan had never known, and she could only nod in agreement as his hands spanned her waist, drawing her to him.

Contented, happy, and feeling more victorious than was quite proper, Sterling adjusted the collar of his shirt and stepped out of the bridal hut, making his way along the flower-strewn path back to the beach. The wind was sweet, the air pungent with the scent of brine, the sky a faultless wide curve of blue from horizon to horizon.

Debris from the feast covered the beach—broken bamboo poles, discarded animal bones and fruit rinds, half a dozen jugs from which all the rum had been drunk in an orgy of excess. Here and there Sterling caught sight of a sailor snoring under a palmetto bush, but he shrugged and kept walking. These fools would wake scratching insect bites and squinting through throbbing headaches, and they’d undoubtedly be lining up at his cabin door later in the day. But nothing could spoil his euphoric mood.

He had married a woman who loved him. Was there any feeling more powerful? Last night she had abandoned the last of her pretenses, and they had embraced as husband and wife. And this morning, frightened and still insecure, she had sought reassurance again. He hoped he had put the last of her fears to rest.

He smiled as he walked over the beach. Secrets of her past still troubled her, she said. Some skeleton in the family closet, no
doubt, perhaps the reason both her parents were dead and she the sole family heiress. Perhaps her father had been a pirate or a tax collector—chuckling, Sterling shook his head. He had far too active an imagination. She probably had a mad uncle locked away in an asylum somewhere in Europe, or perhaps she was the child of her father’s mistress.

It didn’t matter. He looked up at the sky, where faint wisps of clouds were blowing in from the east. Lovely. Everything was lovely. This was another Eden, and he had discovered and loved the woman God created especially for him. He had felt her uniqueness as he held her in his arms; his heart had swelled nearly to bursting when she murmured his name just before falling asleep. “Sterling,” she had said. Not “Dr. Thorne.” For the first time he could recall, she had called him by his familiar name, and he had thought he might burst from the sudden swell of happiness that flooded his soul.

He pulled on the edges of his doublet, enjoying this sense of peace and satisfaction. He had won the only woman to ever pique his curiosity as well as catch his eye.

“Dr. Thorne!” Visscher came jogging over from a huddle of men near the water, and for once, the sight of the taciturn officer did not wipe the smile from Sterling’s face. The barge lay on the shore, two oarsmen standing by the bow, while a third man lay stretched across one of the benches, his face as pale as candle wax. “This man is ill, sir,” Visscher said, falling into step beside Sterling. “He’s been vomiting blood since eating that roasted pig last night.”

Sterling stopped and rubbed a hand over his stubbled face, scrubbing roughly to wipe off his ridiculous grin. He hated to leave Aidan, but if he left her sleeping here while he attended to this man, he could return soon. The thought of another private rendezvous in the little hut spurred him forward.

“How much of the pig did he eat?”

“The whole thing,” Visscher answered with a grim smile.

Sterling climbed into the boat and looked down at the man’s wan face. The old sailor was covered in sand, and beads of sweat clung trembling to the gray stubble of his beard. His wide gray eyes darted nervously from the doctor to the first mate.

Sterling ruefully shook his head. Patting the sick man’s hand, he glanced back toward the beach and the huts where his bride lay sleeping … perhaps dreaming.

“We’ll have you fixed up in no time, man.” He nodded for the oarsmen to commence rowing. “But let’s hurry and take care of you, shall we?”

Wrapped in Sterling’s cloak, Aidan sat up, dazed and deliriously happy. Her first night with her husband had been
nothing
like the tavern girls had said it would be. He had been gentle and kind, compassionate, even
reverent
as he claimed her as his wife.

She turned her back to the mat-covered doorway and hugged her knees. If only she could wish the world away for a few more hours! Sterling had said he ought to check the ship; there were bound to be a few upset stomachs and accidents in the night before. The men of the
Heemskerk
and
Zeehaen
had not experienced generosity like this in several months. Without a doubt a number of them would have overindulged in spirits, food, and native friendliness.

“Many a seaman who would not lose his footing in the rigging in the midst of a gale,” Sterling had said, “will find himself unable to stand upon the solid shore after a night of merrymaking.”

“What about you?” she murmured in return. “We made a bit merry ourselves last night.”

“Indeed we did.” He paused to brush a gentle kiss across her forehead. “But you, my lady, are the only wine these lips will ever seek.”

He kissed her again, boldly but briefly, and when he rose and stood beside the door she felt a sudden chill at the loss of his warmth.

Aidan smiled as she remembered the look of love in his eyes. She ought to get up and search for some breakfast, perhaps comb her hair and wash her face, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving this private place where love had touched her for the first time.

Sighing, she lay down and spread his cloak over her. The scent of the wool reminded her of Sterling—robust and clean, tinged faintly with the odor of medicinal herbs. The fragrance mingled with the fresh aroma of the grass sleeping mat, the woven walls of the thatched hut. She would never again smell hay or grass or clover without remembering this place, without thinking of Sterling and the truth that he loved her.

Sterling still does not know about the tavern and Irish Annie
, a cynical inner voice reminded her. But if he did not want an annulment in order to marry Lina Tasman, Aidan had already won half the battle. She would just have to guard her secret. After they returned to Batavia, she would keep him away from the wharf and any other place where she might be recognized. Perhaps she’d convince him that they should return to England where his family lived … and where no rumors of Aidan’s past could follow.

The first few days after their arrival back in port would be risky, but if Aidan went directly from the ship to a respectable inn, she could avoid anyone from the Broad Street Tavern. Sterling did not frequent the taverns or the wharf district, thank the good Lord, and of all the people at the wharf, only Lili and Orabel had known that Aidan planned to go to sea.