CHAPTER 25

They were married by special license in a small parish church in Tintagel. Brandy barely recalled the vicar’s words, only remembered Marcus’s strong, clear voice as he had vowed to love, honor, and cherish her for all the days of their lives.

Two days later, word was sent to Richard, a brief note from Marcus, and a lengthy missive from her, begging his forgiveness and asking that they remain friends:

I love him, Richard, the message said. It wouldn’t have been fair to you if we had married. You deserve a woman who will love you with all her heart, not simply the broken pieces.

Brandy prayed he would understand and one day he would forgive her.

Meanwhile, the days and nights with Marcus were everything she’d ever dreamed. They spent endless hours walking in the garden or along the cliffs, speaking of the future, making passionate love. He spoke with excitement of his plans for the future, talked of Thomas Coke and his agricultural successes, as well as Lord Townsend’s notions of crop rotation, which Marcus intended to implement there in Cornwall.

“Your plans sound wonderful, Marcus.”

“The ideas aren’t mine, but I intend to make them so. I’ve several other estates with substantially more acreage and far better soil. These new techniques should work even better there.”

It pleased her to hear the eagerness in his voice when he spoke of the future. It kept that single tiny doubt at bay and encouraged her to trust him as she once had.

Still, when she saw him staring out at the water, gazing off toward the horizon, she couldn’t help wondering what it was that he was thinking.

*   *   *

Palmer Reese stepped lightly off the gangway onto the deck of the Fairwind. The ship was in port for a couple of days, then she’d be making short runs up and down the coast, staying close to home for the next month or so. Palmer had arranged her schedule that way. He had plans that would make him even more money and the Fairwind was an essential part of that plan.

“Mr. Reese, sir, ’tis good to be ’avin’ ye aboard.” The first mate, a swaggering, bowlegged seaman named Jigs Marlin, with stringy blond hair and eyes that were slightly devoid of sincerity, came striding toward him. “Cap’n Proctor has been waitin’ for ye below. I’ll take ye down to ’is cabin.”

Palmer raised a hand. “No need for that. I know the way. I’m sure you have work that needs to be done.”

Marlin scowled at the reminder and the slight disapproval in Palmer’s voice. “As ye wish, sir.” He ambled off to resume his duties and Palmer started forward, ignoring the curious stares of the crewmen, making his way toward the ladder leading down to the captain’s quarters.

Cole Proctor was waiting, dragging open the door at Palmer’s first light rap, giving him a big, gap-toothed grin and motioning him inside.

“I got your message. Woulda been happy to come to your office.” He was a big, beefy man, not nearly as intelligent as Cain Dalton, but capable enough at captaining the ship. And not nearly so much trouble.

“I’m certain you would have,” Palmer said, ignoring the seat Proctor offered, making his way instead to the carved wooden sideboard to pour himself a brandy. “I wanted to take a look at the ship, see what sort of shape she was in.”

Proctor beamed. “She’s in fine shape, Mr. Reese. Fit as a fiddle. I keep these soggers workin’ day and night. Ain’t no shirkin’ goin’ on ’round here.”

“That’s very good,” Reese said, filling his glass, then taking a sip. “I have plans for the Fairwind and I need her in prime condition. In the meantime, you’ll be making short hauls to nearby ports, here and on the Continent. I want you to use the time working with the crew to increase the ship’s overall speed.”

Interest flickered in Cole Proctor’s eyes. “You got somethin’ in mind, Mr. Reese? Somethin’ you might be wantin to tell me?”

“I’ll tell you when the time comes. In the meantime, suffice it to say I want the Fairwind to be the fastest full-rigged ship on the water. You make certain she is and there’ll be a good deal of money in it for you and a bonus for your crew.”

Proctor grinned. “Leave it to me, sir. I’ll take care of everything.”

“You’d better—if you want to continue as captain of this ship.”

Proctor’s grin slid away. Palmer downed the rest of his brandy and set the glass down on the sideboard. “As I said, I came to take a look at her. Shall we go?”

“Aye, sir, whatever you say.”

Palmer ignored the hostile note that had crept into Proctor’s voice. Now that the man knew the stakes, he was far more likely to get the job done.

And it was imperative he did. Reese’s jaw tightened with determination as he ducked his head and stepped out into the passage.

*   *   *

Marcus sat in the large, book-lined office that had formerly been his brother’s study. Now that he had undertaken the formidable job of managing the vast Hawksmoor holdings, he needed the space, and Rex, grateful to be free of the burden, had gladly obliged.

The warm months of summer had passed since his marriage, days of contentment unlike anything he could have imagined. He had never expected to find so much joy in being married. Or to discover the sort of love that made his chest go tight simply watching his wife cross a room. When she gave him that special smile she reserved just for him, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. The sound of her laughter could stir his body and make him hard, make him want her even if they had just made love. Thoughts of her lingered in his mind until he forgot what he was doing, or even what he was about to say.

At times it was embarrassing.

Like earlier in the morning when Rex had arrived in his study to find him staring like a lovesick fool out the window, watching Brianne at work in the garden.

“Still head over heels, I see.” Rex strode toward him grinning. “Sometimes I envy you, Marcus. Then again, sometimes I thank my lucky stars it’s you and not me.”

Warmth crept into the back of his neck. He cleared his throat and motioned for his brother to take a seat on the sofa across from him. Rex had arrived from London earlier that morning. Other than a moment of greeting, this was the first time they’d had a chance to speak.

Rex sat down and Marcus seated himself in the tufted leather chair behind his desk. “It’s good to see you, little brother. How are things in London these days?”

“Pretty much the same as when you left. Richard has started to recover. Lately, he’s been seeing a young woman named Marybeth Winston. He seems to be smitten already, and she is definitely interested in him. I think in time he’ll forgive you for stealing Brianne away.”

Marcus made a sound low in his throat. “I did him a favor,” he said gruffly. “He never could have handled her.”

“Perhaps not the woman she is since your return. She wasn’t the same without you, Marcus. She was only a shadow of the woman you see out that window. I’m glad you came back. I’m glad for both of you.”

Marcus stared out at the garden. Brianne was playing with a yellow tabby cat who looked a bit like Dandelion, laughing at the creature’s antics as it attacked a dried leaf on the path at her feet. She had found the animal injured in the stables and taken it under her care. The cat now slept in the house, far too often at the foot of his bed. “I’m a lucky man, Rex, and believe me I know it.”

Pulling an envelope from the pocket of his waistcoat, Rex leaned forward in his chair. “There was a reason I came to see you.”

Marcus’s gaze sharpened. “Other than brotherly love? I wondered if perhaps there might be.”

Rex reached over and dropped the envelope on top of the desk. “These arrived at Hawksmoor Shipping’s London office the end of the week. Papers from Reynolds and Kelly. I read them—I thought they might be important. After I saw what was in them, I thought it best I brought them here in person.”

Marcus paused in the act of opening the envelope, his gaze darting back to his brother’s face. He didn’t miss the somber expression that had crept over his features. Returning to the task at hand, he drew out a thick sheaf of papers and began to read.

First a letter from Mickey Reynolds, detailing the contents of the envelope, which included several parchment documents along with parish records from a small church in Hounslow, just a few miles outside of London. He knew the town. When he remembered it was the place Palmer Reese had been born, he began to read the letter with a renewed sense of purpose.

His fingers felt brittle by the time he had finished. He leaned back in his chair, released the pent-up breath he had been holding.

“Good God, I can hardly believe this.”

“Neither could I, but obviously it’s the truth. Aside from the birth documents, there are trust fund records from the Bank of London. Father had been placing bank drafts in Avery Reese’s account for nearly thirty years.”

Up until the day he died. The flow of money had ended then, perhaps by oversight. Knowing Palmer as his father must have, more likely by design. “Guilt money, I suspect,” Marcus said. “Father wasn’t willing to claim the child as his son, but he wouldn’t abandon him completely.”

“That sounds like the earl, though it’s still hard to accept. Palmer Reese is our brother.”

“Half-brother,” Marcus corrected bitterly.

“As am I,” Rex softly reminded him.

“My father loved your mother. That’s hardly the same as this. According to these papers, Avery Reese’s sister, Rachael Stowe, was a pretty young widow with a sordid reputation. When she died in childbirth, Avery took Palmer to raise as his son.”

“And not out of sheer benevolence, if I’m correctly reading between the lines.” Rex shifted his position on the sofa. “Father paid for Palmer’s education, even for the house he was raised in.”

“The earl was already married when Palmer was born, but the boy was still his oldest son. If Father had claimed him, he would have been heir to the Hawksmoor fortune.”

Rex’s features hardened. “‘Vengenance is mine, sayeth the Lord.’ I say it’s a damn good motive for the attacks against Hawksmoor Shipping.”

“Palmer was always resentful of us. Now I understand why.”

“He thought he should have been the one to inherit the title and fortune.”

“Apparently so. Combined with the financial problems he was facing—along with the money he has made since the ‘accidents’—I’d say he’s had every motive. Unfortunately, these documents still aren’t proof enough for the courts.”

“So what do we do about it?” Rex asked.

Marcus rubbed his chin with the tips of his fingers. “I’m not sure. But I’m certainly not going to stand by and let him get away with it.”

Rex just smiled. “I never thought you would, big brother.”

*   *   *

Brandy stood at the window of the drawing room. Through the garden behind the house, she could see Marcus walking along the cliffs, his eyes focused on the distant sails of a ship barely visible against the blue horizon.

A tiny ray of worry filtered through her. Was that longing she saw on his face when he stared out to sea? What was he thinking? Feeling?

Brandy knew what she was feeling. She was more in love with him than ever. But in the weeks since they had wed, the worry had refused to disappear, the tiny nagging fear that sooner or later he would leave her.

She saw him turn and head back toward the house. Perhaps he was thinking of Palmer Reese, of the news Rex had brought from London three days ago. Reese was Marcus’s illegitimate half-brother and obviously the man behind the attacks on Hawksmoor Shipping, the man who had nearly cost him the use of his legs.

What would Marcus do about it? The question had rolled through her mind a thousand times since he had told her of his discovery. With a sigh, she left the drawing room and went in search of him. When she reached the entry, she saw him in conversation with the butler, who had apparently intercepted a message. Rex also walked up just then.

“It’s from Tom Darton, my manager at Hawksmoor Shipping,” Marcus said, leading the way toward his study. Brandy followed the two men in.

“What does it say?” Rex asked.

“It’s in regard to the upcoming Consolidated Sugar contract. They’re Hawksmoor Shipping’s most valuable customer. Tom is worried about losing the contract.”

“That would certainly pose a problem,” Rex said. “Especially after so many other setbacks this past year.”

Marcus nodded, his eyes still fixed on the paper. “Tom says Consolidated has decided to do things a little bit differently this year.”

“Differently how?” Brandy asked.

“They’re going to hold a contest for the bid renewal. It’s not unheard of, though they’ve never done it that way before. They’re going to award the contract to the company whose ship makes the fastest time from London to their sugar milling operation in Barbados.”

Brandy felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. Unconsciously her hands formed into fists against her skirt. “Does that mean the Seahawk will have to compete?”

“Of course.” Both men answered at the same time, two sets of blue eyes swinging toward her.

“I suppose Palmer Reese will also be competing.”

“Palmer’s been wanting that contract for years,” Marcus answered. “He’ll do his damnedest to get it.”

“Unfortunately, with the bid going out this way,” Rex put in, “he’ll have a damned good shot at it. The Fairwind is one of the fastest ships on the water.”

The sinking feeling mushroomed to a cold feeling of dread. Her eyes remained on Marcus. “I imagine Consolidated Sugar will be expecting you to captain the Seahawk.”

For the first time, he seemed to sense where her thoughts were leading. He must have noticed how pale she had grown, for he tossed the letter onto the top of the desk, turned, and strode toward her.

Reaching out, he took her hand. “Tom suggested I go, yes. Thanks to Palmer Reese, Hawksmoor Shipping no longer earns the money it once did. We can’t afford to lose that contract.”

Brandy swallowed past the tight knot in her throat but words seemed to escape her.

Marcus caught her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You aren’t thinking this means I’m going back to sea?”

“Are you not? It sounds that way to me.”

“This is a single voyage. I realize I’ll be gone for a couple of months, but I have no choice. Hamish can’t handle this—at least not nearly as well as I can. I have to go, Brianne. Surely you can see that.”

She could see it, all right. Only too clearly. He was leaving again, returning to his life at sea—as she had always feared he would. And the worst part was, he was perfectly right in wanting to go.

“I understand why you have to do this, Marcus. I know how hard you’ve worked to build Hawksmoor Shipping. I know how you feel about the company and the people who work for you. I simply want to go with you.”

Marcus’s eyes widened in surprise. He clamped his jaw and shook his head, as she had known he would. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I’d love to see Barbados and—”

“It’s out of the question. There is every chance Reese will attempt to do as he has before and create some sort of problem. I won’t put you in that kind of danger.”

She wasn’t surprised, yet a soft ache rose in her chest. She wanted to argue, to convince him to take her along. But deep down she had known this would happen. Her heart had known, but her mind had refused to listen.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She turned away so that Marcus wouldn’t see.

“I wish you luck,” she said to him softly. “I have no doubt you’ll win.” Forcing her legs to move, she walked away.

Marcus stared at her small, retreating figure, a knot building in his stomach. “I thought she would understand.”

Rex’s gaze remained on the door even after she was gone. “I think she does. She knows you have to go. She also knows you promised not to leave her and return to sea, and now you are breaking your word.”

Irritation trickled through him. “I don’t believe this—not you, too. What do you expect me to do? If I let Hamish captain the Seahawk, there is every chance we’ll lose that contract to Palmer Reese. If that happens, Hawksmoore Shipping might as well close its doors. A lot of good people will lose their jobs, to say nothing of the fact that Palmer Reese will succeed in doing exactly what he set out to do—ruin Hawksmoor Shipping and get some sort of twisted revenge against our father.”

Rex raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t tell you what to do. Perhaps, if you give her some time, she’ll be able to accept your leaving.”

Marcus’s hand slammed down on the desk. “I’m not leaving, dammit! I’m doing a job I have no choice but to do. As soon as I’m finished I’ll be back, and that will be the end of it.”

For a long while Rex said nothing, but it was obvious he had his doubts. Apparently Brianne did, too. The clock on the mantel ticked into the silence. “When will you be going?”

Marcus sighed. “As soon as I can arrange it. Fortunately, Seahawk is due back in port sometime next week. After that, I’ll need at least another week to get her ready.”

“I imagine this is Palmer’s idea. He’s always bragged the Fairwind is the fastest ship of its size on the water. I wonder how he arranged it.”

Marcus glanced to the door, thinking of Brianne and hating Palmer Reese more than ever. “God only knows. One thing is certain—he inherited Father’s glib tongue.”

Rex laughed. “Father could talk a nun out of her habit. Perhaps that is how he got himself into trouble with the young widow Stowe.”

Marcus smiled faintly. “Perhaps it is. Whatever the truth, I certainly rue the day he slipped into the pretty widow’s bed.”

*   *   *

For Brandy, the next days passed in a haze of disturbing emotions. Part of her understood completely why Marcus had to leave.

He has no choice, that voice said. His company is depending on him. The people who work for him are depending on him. There is nothing else he can do.

Unfortunately, a second voice reminded her he refused to take her with him. It was the same voice that whispered how much he loved the sea, how he thought of it as his mistress. How he loved it more than he ever could a woman.

It was the voice that warned that once he returned to the life he loved, he would do so again and again, always leaving her behind to endure a lonely life without him.

The days crept past. Since his decision to leave, Marcus had been solicitious, telling her again and again how much he loved her. At the same time, he had been oddly distant, his mind on Palmer Reese and the confrontation ahead. Last night he had made love to her with incredible tenderness. She thought that perhaps he sensed how hard this was for her, how worried she was about the future.

Saturday, the day of his leaving, arrived all too soon. Marcus was packed, the carriage ready for its journey to London. Rex had left two days earlier, returning to the city to begin the needed preparations.

Now it was time for Marcus to join him, and Brandy’s stomach clenched with dread. She told herself to accept what she had known from the start, what she could not change, what she had known she would face when she had agreed to marry him. But it wasn’t an easy thing to do.

He came into the bedchamber walking purposely, the cane so much a part of him now it no longer distracted from his graceful movements but seemed to enhance them, adding to his masculine appeal. For an instant her heart twisted up inside her. Dragging in a steadying breath, she forced herself under control. He had to go. He had no other choice, and deep down she had always known he would return to sea.

“Are you ready?” she asked, summoning a shaky smile.

Marcus nodded. “My bags are loaded. The carriage awaits out in front.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you.”

Her smile faltered, faded away altogether. “So do I,” she said softly.

“If it weren’t for the danger, I would take you with me.”

She glanced away, blinking fiercely. “You never cared much for a woman on board your ship. I’m sure that hasn’t changed.”

Marcus reached out and caught her chin, forced her to look at him. “That isn’t true—not anymore. It is simply that I want you safe.”

Brandy drew away, moved off toward the window. “Sometimes being safe isn’t the most important thing.”

Marcus approached behind her. She could hear the rustle of his jacket as he drew near. “You don’t believe I want to go?”

“You’ve always loved the sea, Marcus. Of course you want to go.”

He turned her to face him, drew her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “It’s imperative I regain this contract. I’m going because I have to. I love you, Brianne. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

Brandy just nodded. He had to go, and yet her heart felt leaden. She could feel the crisp starch of his shirtfront against her cheek, smell the clean, masculine fragrance of his skin, and for an instant her careful control threatened to crumble.

He released his hold and a feeling of emptiness washed over her. “I’ll miss you, Marcus,” she said softly, looking into his dear, handsome face. “Please be careful.”

Bending his head, he kissed her and Brandy kissed him back, loving him in that moment more than she ever had before, terrified she was losing him, that the pull of the sea would simply be too strong.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” A last hard kiss and was gone, his footfalls echoing like a death knell as he made his way down the hall and out of her life again.

*   *   *

Marcus had almost reached the carriage before the nagging at the back of his head became a clanging hammer of warning. He thought of the journey ahead, imagined the long, lonely weeks he would be spending at sea. He thought of Brianne and how much he had missed her before, how close he had come to losing her, and his insides twisted up inside him.

He had told her the truth—he didn’t want to leave her. But the risk of taking her along was simply too great.

Sometimes being safe isn’t the most important thing.

Marcus paused at the bottom of the front porch stairs. Surely she didn’t think he was returning to sea for good? That this was simply the beginning of a life she would have no part in? And yet there was something in her eyes, something of longing and loss. He had begged her to marry him, had promised her he would not leave her, that his life at sea was over. And it was.

But in truth, part of him wanted to go back to sea, wanted to feel the deck of the Seahawk beneath his feet—at least for a while.

Marcus drew in a shuddering breath. In a way Brianne was right. He loved the sea and always would, but he loved his wife far more. He didn’t want to lose her—not for any reason. He remembered only too clearly what his life had been like without her.

Marcus felt a soul-deep chill. There was danger on this voyage, to be sure, but Brandy was the strongest, bravest woman he had ever known, and if he was careful, he could find a way to protect her. Leaving her behind, he suddenly saw, severing the bond of trust they had only begun to rebuild, was an even greater risk—one that could destroy them both.

Marcus turned at the bottom of the steps and started back into the house, his heart pounding almost painfully inside his chest. He strode down the carpeted hall toward the elaborate suite he shared with Brianne, opened the door, and stepped into the room.

She was sitting in a chair in front of the window, her back to the door, staring out at the water. Though she wasn’t making a sound, her shoulders shook as she sat there silently weeping. She turned as he walked in, jumped up from the chair, and hastily brushed the tears from her cheeks. Marcus’s heart twisted hard inside him, his long stride halting just inside the door.

“Marcus…?” Her cheeks were still damp, her golden eyes desolate and filled with pain. A swell of emotion streaked through him, made his fingers shake where they clutched the head of his cane.

“Brianne … love. I’m sorry.”

“Marcus … what is it? What’s happened? Did you forgot something?”

His throat closed up. He wanted to hold her, to take away the darkness in her eyes. God, how could he have been such a fool? He swallowed past the lump in his throat and smiled at her gently.

“No, love. I remembered something. I remembered that you were more important to me than any contract, any race, any thoughts of revenge. I remembered how I felt when I lost you, how desperate I was when I thought you might marry someone else. Suddenly I realized what a fool I’ve been.”

Brianne said nothing, but her hand reached down to grip the arm of the chair. Her golden eyes clung to his face. “I don’t.… I don’t understand.”

“I made you a promise before we were married. I asked you to trust me. If I leave here without you, I’m breaking my promise and destroying that trust.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Are you saying that you’re taking me with you?”

“Now and anytime you want to go. I won’t leave you again, Brianne. I promised you that and I meant it. I hope you can forgive me for forgetting what’s important.”

“Marcus…” She took a single step toward him and Marcus caught her up in his arms.

“God, Brianne.” She clung to his neck and he thought nothing had ever felt so wonderfully, incredibly good. He kissed her, desperately, thoroughly, and Brandy kissed him back. “Pack your things,” he said softly. “You’re going to see Barbados. And we have a race to win.”

The sweet sound of laughter bubbled up from her throat. Such a beautiful sound, he thought, more certain than ever he had done the right thing.

“We will win, Marcus.” She tossed back her cloud of copper hair. “Against the two of us, Palmer Reese doesn’t stand a chance.”

Marcus just smiled. Reese didn’t stand a chance and neither did he. Brandy Winters had won the contest for his heart long ago, in the days she had changed from girl to woman at the White Horse Tavern.