Ceressa’s words dropped like lead, the ensuing silence broken only by wind rattling the panes of glass in the window and the creaking of the ship’s timbers. Mariette ceased brushing.
“Milady, you can’t be serious.”
“But I am. My parents were betrayed by a man they’d treated with only kindness and respect. When I tried to discover the truth, this same man attacked me. I stabbed him while trying to save myself.”
“But that’s no crime.”
“He’s a man with important connections. Latimer—Lord Kirkleigh—came to my aid and helped me escape before I could be taken away by a murderous mob who’d already decided I was guilty. I am here on this ship bound for Virginia because I couldn’t remain in London.” Ceressa turned to look at Mariette, who was speechless.
Unexpectedly, the girl smiled. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve been accused of. But I am sorry about your parents. I know what it is to have no mother or father.”
Impulsively, Ceressa reached out and took Mariette’s hand. “Thank you for not judging me.” Ceressa was deeply moved by the girl’s loyalty.
“I would never do that.” Mariette resumed brushing her hair. “Tell me one thing, though, for I am truly puzzled. Do these clothes belong to you?”
“No, they do not.” Ceressa laughed. The thought of silly Heloise was actually funny now. “They belong to the woman who jilted Lord Kirkleigh. She ran off with a baron, and I took her place.”
“Was this baron handsomer than Lord Kirkleigh?”
“I heard that he’s ancient and is plagued by gout.”
“The woman must be daft. But better for you.” Suddenly, the door flew open, and Ceressa came off the seat, her hands pressed to her wildly racing heart.
Latimer filled the space, and Mariette dropped a curtsy. He wore a soft linen shirt loosely tied at the neck with a leather string that provided glimpses of his muscled, darkly furred chest. Plain taupe breeches were tucked into worn boots that reached his knees. He looked more like a peasant than an English nobleman, but even so, his presence was commanding. His unbound auburn hair fell to his broad shoulders, and his eyes were a dark gold as his gaze rested upon Mariette. “You may leave us.”
Mariette bobbed another curtsy then hurried out of the cabin, closing the door. Ceressa knew that she blushed for she had stared overlong at him. She looked terrible, her hair still a snarl of knots and tangles. She actually jumped when Latimer laughed.
“The young Mistress Jones must think me some sort of sea monster given her hasty departure. Or have you been telling her what an ogre I am?”
“Dragon,” Ceressa corrected, having regained a bit of her composure. “I describe you as a dragon rather than an ogre.”
“Should I be flattered or insulted?” He was teasing, and Ceressa took a closer look, aware that he seemed in better spirits than he’d been the evening before. Amazing, considering he must have been awake a good deal of the night.
“You choose.” She turned and picked up the brush Mariette had abandoned. Catching her wrist, Latimer lowered her arm, leaning uncomfortably close; so close she could feel his breath.
“I took the liberty of requesting that you be brought a tub and hot water for bathing. And assuming you would be hungry, I asked that breakfast be delivered to us, as well.”
“Why have you gone to such trouble?” Ceressa asked, her voice strangely pitched, even though she could have hugged him when he mentioned a bath. He shrugged, then straightened.
“I won’t have it said I mistreat my wife.”
“Latimer,” she began as she faced him. “There are things we need to settle.”
“We’ve settled everything that needs to be settled.”
“When you came to my aid, you didn’t realize I was the child you knew, now grown.”
“Who now possesses a flapping tongue and little sense. It hardly matters who I thought you were. My actions would have been the same.”
“My intention was never to dupe you. If you take me to Virginia—”
“I am taking you to Virginia,” he corrected.
Ceressa refused to let him intimidate. ”What will become of me?”
“You’ll take up residence at Tidelands and be a mother to April.” His cool tone told her he was annoyed.
“Will I live in your house?” As soon as she asked the question, she realized how silly it sounded.
“I had intended such unless you prefer to live with the Indians. There are some close by, but they have a tendency to behave improperly.”
“You make light of this. I’m being serious.”
Latimer expelled a breath through gritted teeth. He’d been gritting them so frequently she feared they might grind down to his gums. “Tidelands is a large place with many rooms. I’m sure I can fit you in somewhere.”
His sarcasm angered her, and she was ready to battle. This man certainly brought out the worst in her. “What I’m trying to ask….” Again, she hesitated.
“Will I present you as my wife? What other logical explanation would I give for your presence? Just be certain you don’t interfere with my life.” His words served to stiffen her spine.
“Heaven forbid that I disrupt your peaceful existence. You know perfectly well I’m inquiring as to, ah, sleeping arrangements.”
“Rest assured, madam, I have no intention of installing you in my room. After taking the vows of marriage with you last evening, I have given you my name and pledged my protection. However, I don’t plan to make anything more of this marriage than two names signed on a legal document.”
As Ceressa met his frigid gaze, she was possessed of a wild urge to trample his heart of ice and pound him senseless until he begged for mercy. “I can do without your protection,” she snapped. “I’m not without options.” She folded her arms and lifted her chin.
Latimer infuriated her by chuckling. “Is that so? Let me think; if Herrington is dead, you could hang or waste away in prison. Both alternatives have merit, if you can see past having your neck in a noose or rotting in a rat-infested cell. I can see how you would prefer that to being part of a marriage in name only. Perhaps I should leave you to enjoy your breakfast alone so you can contemplate your ‘options.’ I’ve suddenly developed an aversion to a certain spoiled, ungrateful child.”
“I am not a child!” How could he speak in this manner? She wished a storm would descend upon the ship and sweep him from the deck so he could be swallowed by a whale just like Jonah and spewed out when he learned to be nice.
“No, you’re not a child. But I wish you were. I liked you the child much more than I like you the termagant.”
Furious, she caught up the brush with every intention of striking him. Latimer’s reaction was swift and decisive as he grasped it and wrested it from her hand. She stood there staring with mouth agape. He tossed it to the bunk. Before she could verbally lash him, a knock sounded.
Latimer opened the door to reveal the cabin boy, who bore a tray containing the promised breakfast. The aroma of porridge and honey mingled with biscuits and jam. And Ceressa was certain she caught a whiff of bacon. She no longer wanted to continue the argument; she wanted to eat. As the lad placed the tray on the table, Ceressa followed the drifting scents, mesmerized as she inhaled the wonderful smells. Before the cabin boy could exit, she’d taken up a piece of bacon and was eagerly chewing it.
“Perhaps, if the cook has any leftovers, you might bring them as well,” Latimer instructed the lad. Ceressa didn’t give a whit if he was making fun. She was starved, and she would eat. I’ve never been more grateful for food than I am at this moment, Lord, she sent heavenward. And I’m not even upset that I have to share it with Latimer Kirkleigh.
****
When Ceressa finally put in an appearance on deck around midday, Latimer knew with an indisputable finality that his ill thought and ill spoken assurances their marriage was to be in name only was ridiculous. How could he hope to spend a minute alone with Ceressa and not envision her as more than a platonic companion? It was much easier to say he would ignore her than it was to stay away from her.
He was drawn to her, his steps taking him closer to where she had settled upon a crate, the Bible open on her lap. He purposefully took up a position not far from where she sat. The thought that she could be so composed was irritating when she’d turned his world upside down. He was also aggravated she was reading. A worthwhile life was one spent doing—accomplishing, producing—not idling away hours with a nose in a book, even if that nose was pert and kissable. And after the verbal sparring they’d engaged in that morning, he was determined to put an end to her quietude.
Stopping before her, fisted hands on his hips, he stared down as the wind whipped back his cloak. His feet were braced firmly on the unsteady deck, and the scent of an approaching storm was carried by the wind. Latimer awaited her acknowledgement, but none came as she kept her head lowered, reading. Latimer remained there, determined that she should look up.
The stiffening breeze tugged at the escaped curls of the loosely twisted coil pinned at her neck. She was wearing one of the new capes—the one of dark green velvet lined with mink. The russet satin of her skirt peeked beneath it. He couldn’t help but think how much better these clothes looked on Ceressa than they would have looked on Heloise. And for the first time since Heloise’s desertion, he admitted Geoffrey had done a tremendous favor. Latimer was certain he must have been out of his mind to ask Heloise to marry him.
At last, Ceressa looked up from the Bible, her gaze one of haughty indifference. “Did you wish to speak to me?” Her tone was regally cool, and he was tempted to give her the paddling she so richly deserved.
“What are you doing?” His tone resonated peevishly, for it was impossible to retain control of his temper when confronted by her open hostility. He shouldn’t expect to be spoken to in any other way; he’d done nothing to deserve a pleasant word from her. Other than save her pretty neck, he reminded.
“It appears you are lacking in more than manners. As a former divinity student, you should easily know that I’m reading the Bible.”
“Thank you for pointing that out.” He propped his booted foot on a crate next to the one upon which Ceressa sat. By doing so, he created a barrier from which she could not easily escape. Latimer fought down the smile of victory that threatened.
Ceressa pretended not to notice his proximity, but he saw the tremble of her hands as she smoothed her skirt. “I suppose it must fall to someone’s lot to do so.”
“So, it’s the first chapter of Joshua you’ve chosen to read.” Then to prove he had taken his studies seriously, he began to quote. “Be strong and of a good courage: for unto this people shalt thou divide for an inheritance the land, which I sware unto their fathers to give them. Only be thou strong and very courageous, that thou mayest observe to do according to all the law, which Moses my servant commandeth thee: turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper withersoever thou goest.”
Ceressa’s gaze moved from his face, and she now looked out over the sea. She began to speak softly. “Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee withersoever thou goest.”
Silence slipped between them, and Latimer wondered if Ceressa found comfort in those words. He had when he’d first sailed to Virginia.
“Clearly, you’ve spent much time in Bible study,” Latimer said, hoping she perceived it as a compliment and not sarcasm.
“My parents thought it important to study the Bible and other subjects.”
“So, you managed to work that in between needlepoint and dance instruction?” He was teasing and, as her gaze met his, he saw a hint of a smile.
“No, I managed to work it in between fencing lessons and philosophy. For your information, I’m more adept at fencing than I am in taking a stitch. Mariette is the one who managed to make over this gown”—she swept her hand over her skirt—“so that I would have something to wear. At this very moment, she is laboring over another gown. If not for her, I would be without a stitch to wear.”
Latimer swallowed hard, clamping down on the pictures her innocent words conjured. He cleared his throat.
“I’m not surprised,” he replied, earning a confused look from Ceressa. “That you can fence better than you can sew,” he added. “After all, it was I who taught you.”
“So you did, but Father’s’ valet, once a fencing master in France, helped with my technique. It’s well known the French are superior swordsmen.”
Latimer felt the heat of insult. “Such has also been said of the English.”
Ceressa shrugged as though not in the least impressed.
For some reason, he wanted her to be impressed—by him and everything about him. “Perhaps we should test our skill?”
“I’d like nothing better. But I apologize beforehand as I will best you.”
Latimer absorbed her words, then genuine laughter escaped. When he sobered, he looked at her again, seated so primly upon her crate as though it were a throne. “I don’t doubt your skill, but your confidence could be bolstered by a far too high opinion of your untested ability.”
“Then test it,” she challenged with sugary sweetness, but such sugar he would gladly consume until he was wretchedly ill. And then beg for more. He knew he needed to seriously rethink this marriage and not just because he had no wish to spend a month or two sleeping on a hard deck.
“Perhaps I will, at a more appropriate time and place. However, in the event you wish to peruse a volume of philosophy, I have a few books. Are you acquainted with Francis Bacon’s Novum Organum?”
“I’ve not read it, though Father and Sir Geoffrey have. I have read his History of Henry VII and was most impressed with the man’s research.”
“You’ll find it interesting to know that Bacon’s descendent is working hard in the Virginia colony to wreak more havoc than the Viscount Saint Albans did when he was found guilty of accepting bribes.”
“What do you mean?” Ceressa appeared intrigued by his comment, for her beautiful eyes brightened.
“Nathaniel Bacon, kinsman to none other than Sir Francis—or the Viscount St. Albans—is trying his hardest to assume leadership of the Virginia colony. Much to the displeasure of his other kinsman, the governor, William Berkeley.”
“Why would Bacon question the governor’s leadership if the two are related?”
“Because the two men are strong willed, and neither wishes to back down. Berkeley’s governing style is heavy-handed and unsympathetic, but Bacon won’t convince the man of that without diplomacy. The colony is torn by troubles with the Indians, unfair taxation, and inadequate representation in the local assembly. Berkeley is more worried about his share of the fur trade than in defending the western counties against Indian attacks. He’s done little to make friends among the frontier farmers and the Indians. The natives are justified in their anger for we, the invaders, wish to kill them and take their land.”
“These Indians—there are many near Tidelands?” Ceressa’s eyes conveyed her fear, but Latimer wouldn’t lie. She was to become part of this strange, new world, rife with discontent, discomfort, and danger. It would be unfair of him to tell her anything other than truth.
“There have been attacks upon outlying settlers, some who live not more than a few hours ride from the James River. Just before I left for England, the local militia was called up, and I experienced the fighting firsthand. It wasn’t pleasant.”
It was difficult to keep the grim look from his face as he recalled the carnage that had left fifty Indians dead as well as ten male residents of James Cittie and the surrounding counties. His arm still ached from the arrow wound he’d suffered during the mêlée. And Latimer would never forget the dazed look of the bronzed warrior when the ball from his musket had knocked him down. Latimer wondered if the man had lived or if he had died. Never had he found anything more difficult than fighting against Kitchiwanok’s people.
Ceressa clasped her throat and the color drained from her face. He sought words that would allay her fear.
“Virginia is a place where a man can live his dream but not without sacrifice. Nothing of worth comes easily.”
“Working hard to achieve a goal is one thing. Living in an uncivilized land is quite another. You’ve painted a terrifying picture.”
“Then let me paint you another picture. Hard-working, honest people live there. They love and laugh; they cry and they mourn. They go to church on Sundays to thank God for His blessings and Monday morning they’re back in the fields toiling. Their dreams keep them going. And their faith.”
A companionable silence slipped between them, and Latimer wondered if he dare kiss her. He had only to lean over. He reached out and brushed her cheek. Ceressa remained motionless.
“Lady Kirkleigh, I’ve finished another gown. Would you come try it on—oh,” Mariette ended a bit breathlessly, then halted. Blushing, the embarrassed girl backed away, but it was too late to recapture the tender moment.
Ceressa stood and clasped the Bible to her chest. “Mariette needs me.”
Latimer nodded and lowered his leg, moving aside so she could pass. Their eyes locked briefly, and she gave him a fleeting smile.
She joined Mariette and the two hurried off the deck.
Latimer expelled a deep sigh.