BILLY TODD FROWNED as he glanced down at the breakfast tray that he had brought to the captain’s cabin an hour earlier and had just now returned to fetch. “Aren’t ye feelin’ well, miss?”
“Oh, yes, very fine,” Cerynise readily assured him, unwilling to confess her inability to sleep during the night and elicit questions that she’d prefer not to answer. “I feel better than I have in some days now.”
“Then might ye be likin’ some other kind o’ vittles?”
Cerynise smiled and shook her head. Billy was being very thoughtful and going out of his way to see to her comfort, no doubt on the captain’s orders. “I’m just not hungry this morning, that’s all.”
“Mr. Monét does it up fine, as ye can see, miss, but if there be anything else ye’d rather have, I’d only be too glad ta fetch it for ye.”
Cerynise was put to task to imagine what else could have tempted her pallet more than the meal he had brought, for it had looked even more delectable than her first sampling of Philippe’s extraordinary cuisine. But the reason for Beau’s departure had remained obscure to her during a restless night of tossing and turning, and she hadn’t felt at all like eating when her every thought was fraught with worry that her presence aboard ship had somehow motivated him to seek lodging elsewhere. She certainly hadn’t wanted to impose upon his gentlemanly forbearance or be an encumbrance of any kind. Then, too, the memory of the harlot fondling him had set her imagination sharply awry and the burgeoning suspicion that the two had gone off together seriously thwarted her serenity. What that doleful conjecture had evoked within her could have been likened to a prisoner being hauled by weighty chains down steep dungeon steps. No matter how much she had struggled to overcome an encroaching dejection, she had felt her spirits descending precipitously into a gloomy pit.
“Fruit and tea will be enough this morning, Billy,” she insisted. “Really.”
The cabin boy gave her a shy grin. “The rest makes ye feel like a Christmas goose, eh, miss?”
Cerynise was surprised by his conclusion and lamely confessed, “I hate eating alone, Billy, but most of all, I fear I’ve displaced the captain from his quarters.”
The boy brightened at once. “Then ye’ll be happy ta know the cap’n is back, miss. Arrived a good hour ago, he did.”
She might have found his news infinitely more comforting had Beau made some effort to come to his cabin, bid her morning tidings or even ask how she had fared throughout the night, but he hadn’t. Such simple etiquette might have done much to convey some small concern for her well-being, and she could only assume that he had no interest in carrying on their friendship and would likely be relieved when she was gone.
Cerynise couldn’t bear the thought of being slighted by Beau and grew increasingly anxious to be on her way before she actually became cognizant of his disregard. “Then I shall make haste to pack up my possessions and ready myself for the move to Captain Sullivan’s ship. I’m sure Captain Birmingham would enjoy having some privacy after being away all night.”
Billy wisely assumed an amenable mask. The captain was not in the best of moods, and the lad could only guess that whatever the man had gone searching for, he hadn’t found it to his liking. “No need ta hurry yerself, miss. The last time I saw the cap’n, he was talkin’ with the mate ’bout the crated furniture what’s being brought aboard.”
“Furniture?”
“Aye, miss. The cap’n will be shippin’ a load o’ it back wit’ us. All ’em wealthy folk livin’ in Charl’ton like the idea o’ gettin’ furniture from the old country. Usually they’re the first ta come aboard after the Audacious arrives in port.”
“Captain Birmingham seems to be a very enterprising man,” Cerynise mused aloud. She could readily understand how he might be so occupied with business that he had little time to spare for cultivating friendships or affections.
Billy wasn’t quite sure what the word enterprising meant and could only assume that it had something to do with being resourceful. If so, then enterprising described his captain exactly. “I best be on me way, miss. The cap’n is wantin’ his breakfast in Mr. Oaks’s quarters, an’ I’ll be hearin’ ’bout it from him if’n I don’t have it there in short order.”
“Mr. Oaks’s quarters?” Cerynise’s brows gathered. If Beau had returned an hour ago, then he could just as well have joined her for breakfast instead of eating a solitary meal in the mate’s cabin. It was becoming increasingly evident that he was making every attempt to keep his distance from her.
“Aye, miss. The cap’n didn’t want ta disturb ye.” After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the youth added his own conjecture, “I guess ’cause o’ ye an’ him not bein’ married an’ all.”
“Oh.” What more could she say? The youth’s statement only solidified her belief that the captain was trying to avoid her.
An hour later, Cerynise felt quite civilized garbed in a pale peach gown. Tiny tucks were sewn in multiple V’s down the front of her short-waisted bodice, and a stiffly pleated, silkier fabric served as a ruff of sorts. Satiny thread of the same hue finished the edge of the fabric, causing the pleats to flare charmingly outward from beneath her jaw like the petals of a flower. The sleeves were long and generously puffed at the tops, but closely fitted otherwise, ending at the wrists with a scalloped treatment of flaring pleats. A trio of pleated flounces, as long as her forearm, cascaded in tiers down the skirt.
Cerynise had brushed her long hair until it gleamed, tied it securely near her crown, and swept the entire length several times around the top of her head, creating a simple but charming coiffure. She touched a bit of jasmine-scented toilet water behind each ear and donned a pair of slippers over pale-hued stockings. Then she sat down to await Beau Birmingham’s return to his cabin or perhaps an order instructing her to prepare herself for the trip to the Mirage.
Cerynise sighed. She wasn’t necessarily thrilled with the idea of sailing home aboard Captain Sullivan’s ship, but Beau had proven adamant about his inability to take her with him. She wouldn’t plead with the man. Considering his recent efforts to keep his distance, to do so would only bring her shame.
A knock on the cabin door came sooner than she had anticipated. Nervously smoothing her hair and gown, she crossed the room, hoping that Beau had come at last, but a man, perhaps a score and five, with fair hair and a narrow, fine-boned face stood before the threshold. When his gray eyes fell on her, he stared at her as if all reason had fled. Then, with a start, he recalled his manners and snatched off the cap that he wore, blushing as he did so. “Your pardon, miss, but the captain asked me to escort you up on deck.”
Cerynise had no doubt that the man was a member of the crew, but she was at a loss for a name, for she had never seen him before. “And you are?”
The color in the man’s cheeks deepened to a ruddy hue as he realized his blunder. “Your pardon again, miss. I’m the mate, Stephen Oaks.”
“And did the captain say why he wanted me to come up on deck?” she inquired. “Will he be taking me to the Mirage now?”
The mate was a bit stymied by her question. “He didn’t say, miss, only that you’re to come on deck.”
A frown flitted across Cerynise’s features. Having sent his lackey to fetch her, Beau Birmingham was undoubtedly hoping to get rid of her posthaste and without any effort on his part. No preamble, no discussion. She would be off of his ship before she could blink. Truly, if the man had ever learned any manners, he certainly wasn’t trotting them out on her behalf.
“The captain is rather rushed right now, miss, what with the loading and all,” Oaks explained. “But he thought of you just the same and wondered if you might be liking a bit of fresh air and sunshine.”
Cerynise didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark about her departure and tried once again. “Do you happen to know when the captain is planning on taking me to the Mirage? Or has he directed someone else to escort me?”
Stephen Oaks was no less perplexed. “As far as I know, miss, the captain didn’t mention anything about you leaving. I’m sure he would have said something to me if he had planned on being away again for any length of time…seeing as how we’re trying to finish up with the loading so we can set sail in the next day or two. Why don’t you come on deck and talk to him yourself, miss? He can tell you better than I what he has in mind.”
Cerynise realized she was being beguiled into obeying, but she had no wish to decline the summons. Having been secluded in the cabin for more hours than she cared to count, she was more than willing to venture out. She paused to wrap a handsome cashmere shawl of peach and olive-green paisley about her shoulders and then followed as the mate led the way along the corridor and up the companionway.
A soft breeze wafted across the deck of the ship, blending the salty tang of the sea with the earthy scents of the city and the cobblestone quay against which the ship nestled. No clouds hindered the morning light, and the sun’s rays were bright and clean, bouncing off the water in radiating shards as if they were being poured through a crystal. Small prismatic spots of light dappled the deck, creating a shimmering display that nigh bedazzled Cerynise. For a moment she stood transfixed, soaking in the scene with an artist’s delight, wishing she could unpack her paints and put every minute detail on canvas before this mystical ambience was forever lost.
“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she breathed in awe.
The mate cocked a brow wonderingly as he glanced around, for he had no idea what the lady was talking about. He drew his own conclusions. “Aye, miss, the Audacious is a real beauty, that she is.”
Cerynise smiled at his limited vision and made an effort to reach out with her own. The ship was certainly one a sailor could be proud of. Even to a novice it was readily apparent that it would remain so for some time, for it was being maintained in good order.
At present, men swarmed the deck and the adjacent pier as they labored to transfer the cargo onto the ship. A large wooden crate was hoisted aloft and, before long, laboriously lowered through the open hatch to the hold below. Barely had it settled into place and the ropes been wrenched free before another was being securely lashed and sent on its way from the quay.
“Is that the crated furniture Billy spoke of?” Cerynise asked the mate, who was also observing the proceedings.
“Aye, miss,” Mr. Oaks replied. “Breakfronts, armoires, beds and the like are what we’ll be hauling back to Charleston this time. I’m sure we could finance a whole voyage with just the furniture we bring back. The captain likes to glean the very best from every port we enter.”
“Billy said your docking is well-anticipated,” she murmured distractedly as she shaded her eyes and scanned the deck for Beau, much as she had done as a girl.
“Aye, miss. Captain Birmingham has gained quite a reputation for his excellent taste in merchandise. The Charleston merchants would love to get their hands on the treasures he brings back so they could make a nice profit reselling them, but the bulk of the furniture is usually sold to private collectors who rush to meet our ship as soon as we dock. They wrangle over the pieces and try to outdo each other by offering the best price, leaving the captain nothing to do but accept the most generous proposal.”
“If the furniture he brings back is as fine as what he has in his cabin, I can understand why there is such a demand for it.”
“Aye,” Stephen Oaks agreed and then tipped his hat to her again. “Now, miss, if you’ll pardon me, I need to get back to work.”
“Of course.”
Cerynise’s sweeping gaze ended on the forecastle, for it was there she found Beau. He was garbed casually in a white, full-sleeved shirt and long, slender trousers that accentuated the muscular trimness of his hips. The shirt lay open to the middle of his muscular chest, revealing sun-bronzed skin and a light furring of black. No doubt he had brushed his thick mane back from his face during an earlier morning grooming, but curling wisps now tumbled carelessly onto his brow. He was wont to comb his fingers absently through those shining, coal-black locks as he argued with another man who was older, shorter, and nattily garbed. Cerynise guessed the stranger to be a merchant, but whatever his profession, it was apparent from the quality of his clothes that he was immensely successful at what he did. It was equally evident that Beau could stand on his own in his dealings with the man. Throughout their conversation Beau remained unyielding, firmly holding his position by shaking his head until his companion finally threw up his hands in exasperation. Then Beau smiled as he handed the man a receipt to sign, counted out a sizable sum from a purse he wore on his belt, and gave it over into the waiting hand of the other. A handshake ended the agreement, and the stranger beamed as he clamped his hat upon his head and took his leave, obviously satisfied that whatever bargain they had struck had been fair for them both.
His business concluded, Beau glanced toward the companionway, wondering what was keeping Mr. Oaks. It wasn’t that he needed the man for anything at that particular moment; he only wanted to see if he had brought Cerynise up from his cabin yet. He finally espied the mate approaching the forecastle through a maze of laboring men, but it was the bit of color behind Mr. Oaks that soon drew Beau’s eye, assuring him that his young guest was now gracing the deck of his ship with her uncommon beauty. That small wedge of pleated flounce, barely visible behind his second-in-command, held his gaze ensnared, but it was hardly enough.
Purposefully Beau strolled to a spot near the upper rail where he could view Cerynise without hindrance. It was a sight that nearly caused his heart to lurch in admiration. In some amazement he realized that he was no less affected by the way she looked in her ladylike finery than he had been when she had worn Billy’s ducks. Since she had come aboard the Audacious, he had been unable to thrust her from his mind. Indeed, his difficulty in finding a wench equally as winsome had caused him to regret ever seeing her again, for he had returned to his ship no better off than when he had left. And now, what nearly tore him apart inside was the fact that she looked simply delicious. For someone who had always been like an older brother to the girl, he was being brought up short by his growing infatuation with her.
“I brought Miss Kendall on deck, Captain,” Oaks informed him, as if there had been any need.
“I noticed.” Beau cast a quick glance around to gauge the reaction of his crew. Basically most of the sailors had one eye on the girl and the other on what they were doing. “And so have the men, ’twould seem.”
Stephen Oaks cleared his throat, repressing the urge to look back at her himself. “Miss Kendall was wondering if you’ll be taking her to the Mirage any time soon, sir. If you ask me, it seems a bloody shame to let her sail on that old washtub when we could just as well empty out a cabin and take her home in fine style. Besides, I’ve seen that scurvy lot of Sullivan’s in the alehouses, and I’m of a mind to think that they can’t be trusted with a lady, much less one as comely as Miss Kendall.”
Beau settled a chilly stare upon his second-in-command. It certainly didn’t help that he, too, was cognizant of the flaws associated with that particular ship, its skipper and crew, but he was crushingly aware of his own limitations. Having two genteel sisters and a mother who was the very epitome of a lady, he knew only too well the difference between gently bred women and the trollops from whom he sought easement for his manly needs and disposition. Having failed during the previous night to find comfort in the arms of the latter, he knew he’d have to face three months or more of acute torture if he allowed the most lovely, gracious and utterly tempting Cerynise Kendall to accompany them on their voyage home.
“Are you suggesting, Mr. Oaks, that I allow her to disrupt my whole crew for the duration of the voyage home? ’Twould be lucky if any of us reached safe port the way we’re wont to ogle her. Myself included.”
The mate looked back at his captain in sharp suspicion. “I take it you didn’t find what you went searching for last night.”
“Hell!” Beau muttered disagreeably. “I might as well have been a damned eunuch. After being around Miss Kendall, bedding a whore would’ve been the same as trying to down hardtack after feasting on Philippe’s fare. The idea left me…shall we say…uninspired.”
Oaks curbed a smile. “I rather gathered as much, the way you came back snorting like a rutting stag.”
“And you think she’d be safer here than on Sullivan’s ship?” Beau asked curtly, fixing an incredulous squint upon the mate. “Hell, the way she looks now, I might as well forget I’m captain of this damned frigate.”
“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if I escorted Miss Kendall back to your cabin.”
“No!” Beau barked.
Once again Oaks fought to squelch his amusement. “But I thought only to ease your pli—”
“Don’t think!” Beau advised tersely with an angry slash of his hand. “I’m not in the mood for any of your coolheaded logic, Mr. Oaks. If you must know, I happen to enjoy watching the lady, and with my men observing us both, it may well be the only way I can safely indulge that propensity.”
“Perhaps if you’d allow her to sail with us, Miss Kendall would be content to remain in her cabin for most of the voyage.…”
Beau scoffed at the idea. “Being kept a prisoner doesn’t strike me as a situation suitable for any woman.”
“Then you’re willing to subject her to the dangers that Captain Sullivan’s crew might force upon her.”
“That’s merely a conjecture, Mr. Oaks. On the Audacious ’twould be a certainty.” Beau waved a hand, dismissing his first officer. “We’ve work to do. We’d better get on with it.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Beau strode down to the main deck and crossed to the rail to see how the work was progressing on the quay. Noticing fibers snapping apart in a rope that a handful of crewmen were straining against in order to steady a large crate presently being hoisted toward the deck, he thrust out an arm to bring the bosun’s attention to bear upon the cable. “Watch that guy, Mr. McDurmett. There’s a bad flaw in it.”
A tall, sandy-haired man with a weathered face glanced up to inspect the cordage and, upon seeing the difficulty, gave his superior a casual salute. “Aye, Cap’n. I’ll take care of it right away, sir.”
No sooner had Beau turned from the rail than an audible snap was heard and the stabling line whipped free. Startled cries erupted from the loading crew, who spilled backward to the dock. From another sector came warning shouts as the now-spinning, armoire-sized crate swung forward toward the ship. Beau whirled and, catching a glimpse of a lofty shadow rapidly approaching, glanced up with a start. The heavy box passed overhead with the stabling rope whipping wildly behind. Beau hardly paused. Leaping upward, he seized the guy, only to realize that the weight of one man wasn’t enough to halt the ponderous load. The crate never paused as it sailed toward the crowded deck, hauling him along with it.
The shouts had drawn Cerynise’s attention to bear upon the dangerously careening crate, but when she espied Beau dangling under it, her heart was stricken by fear. The risk of the weighty thing plummeting to the deck and crushing him beneath it was too great for her peace of mind. Clasping a hand over her mouth to smother a frightened scream, she watched in paralyzed awe as he began clambering up the rope.
The powerful muscles of his back and shoulders bulged as Beau swung intentionally outward away from the crate. Upon the return, he reversed his direction, extending his legs toward the load. He hit the cumbersome dervish with feet braced wide apart, stabilizing it enough to allow Oaks and several others to seize the rope. As they did, Beau clasped hold of the box and, climbing upon it, released the guy, giving his men full control of it as they sought to bring the wayward load in line. Gradually the crate slowed its swaying, and a command sounded to start lowering it into the hold. Beau jumped free and landed on his feet on the far side of the hatch. Then he turned, dusting off his hands as if concluding an everyday occurrence. Only then did Cerynise find her breath, which had been frozen in a hard lump in her throat.
When the crate came to rest on the lower deck, an audible sigh slipped from the crew. They soon broke into relieved laughter and engaged each other in a flurry of back-slapping as they showed their appreciation for a disaster successfully averted. Beau gave no evidence of begrudging his men this familiarity, but it was not long before he gave a signal for the loading to resume.
Stephen Oaks lifted his cap and wiped his forehead in relief as he came back to Cerynise. “Bit close, that one.”
Cerynise’s heart still felt a bit wobbly in its rhythm. The only thing she could think of at the moment was what might have happened if the crate had come loose and plummeted down upon Beau. The vision of him lying lifeless beneath the cumbersome box made her shudder. Weakly she murmured, “’Tis fortunate Captain Birmingham is so perceptive.”
“Aye, ’tis that, miss,” Mr. Oaks eagerly agreed. “There isn’t much that gets past him. He always seems to be a step ahead of the rest of us. Why, he’s just as quick of mind as he is of foot.”
Cerynise was too deeply shaken by the incident to make further comment on Beau’s feat. The fact that he had ignored the danger to himself in his quest to subdue the crate was perhaps all well and good. But as far as she was concerned, she had serious doubts that she’d ever be able to watch another heroic, life-threatening deed of his without fainting dead away.
Some moments passed before the tingling fright that had assailed Cerynise ebbed to a more tolerable level. Once again she found her gaze drawn to Beau. With unwilling fascination, she observed him as he moved with comfortable ease among his men and the constant stream of visitors. Wherever he was needed, he was there, listening, observing, directing or explaining. At times, he stood back in an attitude of approval as he watched his men performing their tasks adeptly, but whenever a need arose, he stepped in, giving curt orders here, suggestions there. Cerynise could fully understand why he was always speedily obeyed. The merest thought of those eyes, which seemed to flame with a green fire of their own, staring at her in cool displeasure was enough to make her tremble. Yet there was nothing dictatorial or arrogant about his manner. He simply exuded confidence and a firm command that other men were bound to follow.
A growing desire to sketch Beau amid the activity of the ship and the ruddy, weathered faces of his men began to flourish. If she could have foreseen the possibility of completing even a rough sketch before she had to leave, she would have asked Mr. Oaks to find her a place on deck where she’d be able to draw without hindering their work. But it seemed the only one who could give her a definite answer about her departure was Beau, and she couldn’t work up enough courage to approach him while he was absorbed in his work.
Several moments elapsed before a carriage veered onto the dock, passing close enough to a six-in-hand to make the lead pair of drays bolt upright. Behind them, the other four steeds grew skittish and shied away. Turning the air nigh blue with loud curses, the teamster sawed frantically on the reins as he tried to bring his animals in line. His huge steeds calmed to some degree, allowing him to rail obscenities and shake a clenched fist at the other driver, who seemed to deliberately ignore the disturbance he had caused.
The new arrival continued on a destructive path, sending startled peddlers scattering in screaming panic and eliciting outraged screeches as other vendors saw their baskets of produce flying helter-skelter. A young boy, after surveying the squashed remains of his vegetables, picked up a tomato and flung it against the conveyance, leaving a reddened blotch adhering to its black door.
Finally the carriage came to a halt near a stack of crates that had been heaped up beyond the gangplank of the Audacious. Immediately the carriage door was flung open, and two men moved simultaneously to make their descent. For a moment they struggled to squeeze past each other and succeeded only in drawing derisive hoots from the vendors. Finally, the rounder of the two relented and sat back, allowing his companion to precede him. That worthy stepped to the ground just as the squashed tomato slid from the door and plopped onto the top of his shoe. Feeling a sudden splat, the man cast a curious glance downward. The slow turning of wide, flaccid lips conveyed the depth of his disgust. He kicked the seedy pulp off and then, glowering toward the chortling peddlers, flipped a coin to the coachman, who immediately raised an angry protest. When his demands were ignored in lofty arrogance, the driver swore and began to rein his horses about, causing the remaining occupant to hastily execute an escape from the turning coach. His ungainly departure left him teetering on the ground with arms flailing wildly as he struggled to regain his footing. His lank-bodied, black-haired companion muttered a curse and relented enough to toss another coin to the driver. Evidently it was enough to mollify him this time, for a self-satisfied smirk compressed one side of his rough-featured face. With an air of one who had all the time in the world, he folded his arms across his chest and relaxed back upon the seat to await the pair.
The reckless arrival of the carriage had alerted nearly everybody aboard the Audacious, including Mr. Oaks, who eyed the two passengers curiously as they strode toward the gangplank. If they were merchants at all, then they were none he had been made aware of. Even so, he went to meet them.
Cerynise followed more slowly, at least until she was able to see the men clearly. Then she gasped in shock, recognizing Alistair Winthrop and Howard Rudd. “Oh, my…”
Stephen Oaks recognized the anguish in the lady’s tone and, glancing back, grew concerned at her sudden pallor. “Is something wrong, miss?” he asked, returning to her side. “Here, you’d better sit down.” Without waiting for a reply, he guided her solicitously to several smaller crates and held her hand as she sank listlessly to one of the wooden boxes. “I’ll go and fetch the captain.…”
It was too late. Alistair Winthrop and Howard Rudd were already coming up the plank, demanding to see the one in charge. Cerynise watched in mute horror as Beau turned to face them. Frowning in bemusement, he approached them.
“May I help you?”
“You certainly may!” Alistair answered haughtily. “We’re looking for a runaway girl, and from what we’ve learned from Captain Sullivan down the river a piece, she’s here on your ship.”
“A runaway girl?” Beau cocked a curious brow as he sized up the pair. He quickly decided he didn’t like what he saw or smelt. They both reeked of stale brandy or some other strong intoxicant. “I’m not aware that we have a runaway girl aboard the Audacious. You must be mistaken.”
“Oh, you have her all right,” Alistair insisted, his lips turning in a sneer as his dark eyes glinted with anger. “And I’m going to find her! Even if I have to search this damned barge to the depths of her stinking hold.”
The cruel talons of dread clawed at Cerynise. She had no idea what the two men were about, but she could only assume that after kicking her out of the Winthrop house, they needed her to return for some malicious purpose of their own. Perhaps they had even found out about all of the clothes and things that Bridget and Jasper had managed to bring to her and intended to accuse her of thievery. She had come so close to leaving England. Another few days and she would have been sailing home.
“Do you have names?” Beau queried brusquely, surreptitiously flicking a hand toward Oaks, who promptly motioned several sailors to form a human wall in front of Cerynise.
“Alistair Winthrop,” that one announced.
“Howard Rudd, Solicitor,” the other volunteered apprehensively, noticing at least half a dozen tars edging closer.
“Well, Alistair Winthrop and Howard Rudd, Solicitor,” Beau replied tartly, “this happens to be my ship, and anyone who thinks they can search it without my permission is in danger of being thrown into the river headfirst. Now, suppose you tell me what this is all about, and perhaps I might consider delaying your icy dip.”
Rudd bobbed his head in eager agreement. “Must explain.”
Alistair cast a livid glare over his shoulder at his companion, who seemed suddenly afflicted by a nervous rolling of his eyes and a sharp twitch that made his head jerk in the same direction. The warning signals fairly flew over Alistair’s own head, for he was far more intent upon getting what he wanted from this uncouth Yankee. “We’ve come for Miss Cerynise Kendall, and we have every reason to believe that she has acquired passage on this vessel since Captain Sullivan has vigorously denied that she has done so on his.”
Beau was totally unmoved by the man’s statement. “Why do you wish to see Miss Kendall?”
“She was a ward of the Winthrop estate and, as such, has become my responsibility.”
“You don’t say.” Beau’s eyes were as cold as his terse smile. “Well, I have it on good authority that Miss Kendall is from the Carolinas and not an English subject. Therefore I fail to see how you can make any legal claim to her.”
Alistair curled his lips in an angry sneer as he tossed another glance behind him at the mutely pleading Rudd. Jerking his sleeve away from the solicitor’s persistent plucking, he sighed sharply in exasperation before he fixed his gaze again upon the captain. “Obviously you didn’t hear me. Miss Kendall hasn’t yet come of an age whereby she can make lawful decisions on her own. She was a legal ward of my late aunt until the elder’s recent death. Now she has become mine, and I’m duty-bound to provide for her care.”
“From what I hear, you threw her out into the street,” Beau countered. “That’s hardly an act of solicitude.”
Alistair scoffed in rampant distaste. “I’m sure the chit gave you quite a tale to win your sympathy, Captain, but that will hardly dissuade me from complying with the wishes of my aunt. Now where is the girl?”
Cerynise pushed herself upright on legs that felt far too weak to carry her across the deck. She silently shushed Mr. Oaks’s protests with a finger across her lips, and then moved forward through the bulwark of broad-shouldered sailors to join the three men who stood near the rail.
“I’m here, Alistair,” she announced with a heavy sigh. “What do you want?”
The man quickly whirled at the sound of her voice, but his jaw sagged slowly a-slack as his gaze swept her. He had expected to find a bedraggled, wretchedly miserable girl, but she was just as well groomed and beautiful as ever. Obviously the captain had already extended a goodly amount of coin on her to garb her so well. Perhaps he had even been reimbursed for his generosity. Tossing a virgin upon her back and instructing her in some of the finer pleasures of life was a feast some men only had illusions of, himself included.
Alistair forced a gentle smile despite the resentment that began to roil within him at his supposition. “Why, to take you home, of course.”
“I no longer have a home here in England,” Cerynise replied icily. “You made that perfectly clear when you threw me out.”
“Tsk, tsk! How you do run on, Cerynise.” He feigned a laugh as he waved a thin hand in the air to dismiss her claims. “If you’re not careful, dear child, you’ll make the captain think that I’m an ogre or something far worse.”
“Strange,” Beau pondered aloud. “I was just thinking that very same thing.”
Alistair suddenly grew wary, for the man’s eyes flashed with a chilling green light that was, at the very least, threatening. “The girl has no business being here, Captain,” he assured his host hurriedly. “I shall remove her forthwith.” He reached out to take hold of Cerynise’s wrist, wrenching a startled gasp from her. In the next moment he found his own wrist seized by the captain. Alistair’s voice reached a high octave as he demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”
“I’ll explain very simply,” Beau offered almost pleasantly. “I’m not letting you take Cerynise until she assures me herself that she wants to go. And I really don’t think she does. Do you understand?”
“This is an outrage! You can’t do this!” Alistair cried, snatching free of the other’s steely grasp.
Beau’s soft chuckle was totally lacking in humor. “Can’t I?” Then he looked toward the lady. “Cerynise, do you wish to leave with this gentleman?” The emphasis he placed upon the last word came through clearly as an insult.
She shook her head, unable to take her gaze from Alistair’s rapidly darkening face. “It’s not true what he said. I’m not his ward. I saw Mrs. Winthrop’s will myself. There was no mention of any guardianship being transferred to him.”
“’Twas in a codicil we found later,” Alistair explained, removing a piece of parchment from his coat and snapping it open in front of Beau’s face. “Read it for yourself, Captain. I have legal ownership of this girl. She must obey me.”
The muscles in Beau’s lean cheeks tightened progressively until they fairly snapped. “Guardianship is hardly the same as ownership, Mr. Winthrop. Perhaps you need to consider the difference. As for this…” He flicked his fingers contemptuously against the paper. “This could be anything, a forgery for all I know.”
Alistair sputtered in indignation. “I’m a man of wealth and position, sir! The law will affirm that I have a valid right to remove this girl from your ship. Indeed, you’d be well advised not to trouble yourself in this matter any longer, for I assure you that I can bring the law down upon this measly little ship and prevent you from ever leaving port. Now! If you don’t want things to go badly for you, you’d better comply with my wishes posthaste.”
Rudd nodded from behind Alistair’s shoulder, as if affirming the fact that the captain would suffer dire consequences. But for the sake of caution, he tried once again to redirect Alistair’s attention to the hulking sailors who were closing in around them.
Beau arched an eyebrow in sharp derision. “Badly for me? You threw Cerynise out to fend for herself on the streets, a girl whom you now claim is your ward, and you caution me about the law?”
“Lies!” Alistair railed. “All lies! Cerynise is obviously saying that because she wants to stay here with you. Perhaps you’ve given the girl more attention than can possibly be deemed appropriate and have whispered sweet, little promises of empty adoration in her ears until she’s now reeling with empty-headed pash and is so bedazzled she’s willing to sail to the far ends of the earth with her noble captain.” Alistair cast a scathing glance down the long masculine form, and his pliable lips twisted downward in sharp disdain. “No doubt she’s already allowed you to mount her like some horny stag.”
Cerynise gasped at the insult, but Beau proved more physical. He hauled back a fist and sent it flying toward the other man’s face. Alistair saw the blow coming and tried to duck, but he was not entirely successful. Beau’s hard knuckles caught him on the cheekbone, sending him sprawling backwards into Rudd, who nearly collapsed in surprise. The lawyer sputtered in confusion as he hefted his companion to his feet again.
“You dare accost me!” Alistair cried indignantly, clasping a hand over his throbbing cheek. “I’ll have you arrested!”
He tried again to take hold of Cerynise, but she jerked away and skittered behind Beau who stepped forward menacingly to confront Alistair. “Get off this ship before I throttle you, you scurvy lump of dung.”
Alistair’s eyes flared at the slur, and he raised a clenched fist to shake it at Beau. “I’ll make you sorry you ever laid eyes on Cerynise Kendall.”
“I doubt that,” Beau scoffed. Raising a hand, he beckoned the waiting sailors forward. “Throw this offal overboard.”
Glancing askance at the burly sailors, Rudd began to tug desperately at Alistair’s elbow. “Better go now! Better go now.…”
“You’ll regret this!” Alistair warned at the top of his lungs as he backed toward the gangplank. “When I return, I’ll bring the authorities with me and see you arrested for molesting my ward. I’ll have a watch set this very morning to prevent you from leaving port while Cerynise is aboard your ship. If you dare make a run for it, I’ll have you hauled back in chains and charged with kidnapping. You’ll spend the rest of your sorry life rotting in prison!”
Beau paced forward, and Rudd frantically yanked on Alistair’s arm as he hissed some worthy advice: “Don’t rile him any more than he is already, else he’ll come after us! We’ll let the authorities deal with him!”
Alistair was hardly subdued. Even as Rudd towed him toward the safety of the dock, he shouted irate curses at the captain. Getting him into the carriage proved just as difficult, for he was still intent upon venting his tirade. His enraged screeches could even be heard above the clatter of hooves as the conveyance rumbled away.
In the wake of its passage, silence reigned for barely a moment. Then a dog barked, a horse whinnied, and a vendor cried out the prices of his wares. On board the Audacious, the sailors returned to their duties, but now sly winks were being exchanged among them, murmured comments made, and bets taken.
“I’m dreadfully sorry, Beau,” Cerynise apologized as he stepped back to her. She spread her hands, unable to understand why Alistair had been so adamant that she leave with him. “I never expected anyone to protest my departure, certainly not after being thrown out of the Winthrop house. Under the circumstances, I think it would be best if you had someone escort me to Captain Sullivan’s ship before Alistair sets up a guard to patrol the area around your ship.”
Beau shook his head. “That’s impossible now.”
Cerynise realized it would have been difficult to find a man who wasn’t busy and tried to think of a way she could get her baggage over to the Mirage herself. “Then if you’d tell me how to find Captain Sullivan’s ship, perhaps Moon will be willing to come back and fetch my things.”
Once again Beau bluntly negated the idea. “I won’t allow it.”
Cerynise stammered in confusion. “W-won’t allow what, Captain? I don’t understand. If you can’t spare any of your men to serve as my escort, why won’t you allow Moon to come back for my baggage?”
Beau crossed his arms in some vexation as he stared down at her. “Because, Miss Kendall, if you try to leave the country on the Mirage, you’ll never make it beyond these docks. Alistair Winthrop will find you, and knowing Captain Sullivan as I do, he’ll not be inclined to argue with the authorities.”
“Then what am I to do?” she queried dismally.
The magnificent brows gathered in a contemplative scowl. “Just how desperate are you to reach the Carolinas?”
“Most desperate,” she averred.
Beau stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Alistair poses a problem that could prove almost insurmountable if he truly has been named your guardian. Even if the codicil is a forgery, the authorities will give him the benefit of the doubt…at least for a time.”
“You said ‘almost,’ Captain.” Cerynise looked at him closely. “As long as there’s some chance of defeating Alistair’s purposes in taking me back, I’m willing to hear any suggestions you might have.”
“Aye, but you may not like what I have to say. Yet I can think of no other way at present to nullify Alistair’s immediate claims to you.”
“Say what’s on your mind, Captain,” she urged. “I’m listening.”
Beau’s mouth quirked thoughtfully as he continued to stare at her in silence. He would likely shock her to her senses, perhaps send her fleeing back to the Winthrop house.
Being the recipient of his intense gaze, Cerynise grew increasingly uneasy. She could only believe that whatever Beau was about to recommend was something so immensely odious he was reluctant to explain. “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”
Beau blinked in confusion. “Do what, my dear?”
The endearment brought a blush of pleasure to her cheeks, making her drop her head in an attempt to hide it. “Stare at me so intently. It makes me feel as if you’re dissecting me like some fledgling physician with his first corpse.”
Beau winced sharply, making much of his repugnance. “I shall strive most heartily to improve my manners, my dear.”
There it was again! Enchanting words from princely lips!
Cerynise released her breath in short, shallow drafts as she sought to steady herself. His eyes might well have worked their magic on her, but his words had the same effect as honeyed mead, leaving her more than a little intoxicated.
She cleared her throat, taking firm control of herself. Even so, her eyelids fluttered with uncertainty as she lifted her gaze to meet those smiling emerald orbs. “It seems that I’m being left in needless suspense, sir,” she prodded with a faltering sigh. “Won’t you please tell me what you have in mind?”
“Forgive me for the delay, Cerynise.” His wide shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. “Since the idea has only just come to me, I must pause a moment and consider the possible repercussions that may occur because of it.” Chewing thoughtfully on a corner of his bottom lip, he pivoted sharply and strode to the rail. For a length of several moments, he stared off beyond the docks toward the city as he considered what he owed this girl by way of his friendship.
His father, Brandon Birmingham, had once stood near this very same place decades ago, viewing this identical city from his own vessel. The elder Birmingham had faced many of the same challenges his son had often confronted as a ship’s captain, and with a parent’s concern for his only male offspring, Brandon had sought to share the wisdom he had gleaned from his own experiences. He had taught his son not merely with words but through example. Above all, he had shown him the true meaning of duty and honor.
A man’s rightful claim to being a gentleman was not something one could inherit, like a title, his father had once counseled. It came through careful instruction from one who knew the depth and scope of its inner workings. Brandon’s father had once taught him, and in turn, he was duty bound to teach his own son. Compassion, fairness, valor, honor, and integrity were a few of the characteristics a man could lay claim to as a gentleman. Certainly one had a responsibility to protect members of his own household from the harsh cruelties of the world, but such an obligation also extended to friends and those poor unfortunates who had neither. Noblesse oblige, more or less. Except that his family was not of noble birth, at least none that had ever made a difference in their lives. Still, the weight of responsibility had to be carried gallantly, no matter how it might weigh heavily upon a man at times. Oppression could come in a variety of forms, physical mistreatment being the most obvious. Beau’s face darkened as he remembered Cerynise’s condition when he had lifted her in his arms and carried her aboard the Audacious. It enraged him to think of Alistair Winthrop gaining control of her and resorting to other measures of subjugation. But there were other kinds of persecution that were not readily apparent, such as the whispered conjectures, the gossip, and subtle innuendoes that could destroy a reputation and inflict a lifetime of damage.
Alistair Winthrop appeared to be a desperate man. Beau did not doubt that for an instant. Certainly, while the man was able to make legal claim to Cerynise, however false it might be, he could prevent her from escaping to the Carolinas. Beau could think of only one possible arrangement that could hold sway over a guardian’s rights and be adequate enough to protect her from Winthrop and the danger the man represented, even in a court of law.
The silence dragged on until Cerynise thought she couldn’t bear it another moment. If Beau was tormenting her for some sadistic pleasure, then he was being completely thorough in that endeavor.
Beau clasped his hands behind his back as he returned to Cerynise. He smiled briefly. “’Twould seem there are no alternatives, my dear. Your friend, Alistair, leaves us little choice if you are indeed intent upon going home.”
“I am,” she affirmed once again.
“Then, my dear, we must be married posthaste.”
Cerynise stared at him, wondering if she had heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me correctly. ’Tis the only available solution for us both. As things stand now, Winthrop will have little difficulty convincing the authorities to turn you over to him. I’m a foreigner in this country, and I’ve angered port officials who seem jealous of my ability to whisk in and out of this country with relative ease. ’Tis not uncommon for them to resent Yankees. And if I try to leave with you, I’m sure they’ll attempt to seize my ship and cast me into prison. As my wife, you’ll be under my protection, and I can almost promise you that no magistrate is going to step between a husband and his wife.”
How strange the things she noticed now that the world had gone out of kilter with the universe. The man standing in front of her was so tall, her head barely touched the top of his shoulders, and there was the nicest little scar on his chin.…
Having gained no response, Beau probed for an answer. “Do you understand, Cerynise?”
“Of course,” she breathed. “You want to marry me, you said.” The thought of being his wife filled her with many contradictory emotions…shock, fear, and a burgeoning excitement she didn’t dare consider at the present moment.
“Actually, that’s not quite what I said,” Beau corrected carefully.
Her gaze flicked up, revealing her confusion.
As much as he yearned to make love to her, Beau refused to commit himself to a long-term union from which he’d be unable to walk away. He enjoyed sailing too much, and if he continued roaming the world after taking on the responsibilities of a wife and offspring, he’d be doing them a grave disservice, for he would never be around to nurture them or when they truly needed him. Indeed, the way he flitted from continent to island or elsewhere, he’d probably spend just enough time at home to see the child he had sired from a previous visit and to get his wife pregnant again. He had seen it happen much too often in the lives of other captains and seamen to doubt that it would be any different for him.
Beau explained with painstaking clarity, lest Cerynise suffer any doubt about what he was proposing. “Once we arrive in Charleston, we can have the marriage annulled, and then we’ll be free to go our separate ways. By then, you’ll be at home where you want to be, and I won’t have my ship confined on the wrong side of the Atlantic while I wrestle with the courts.”
“There’s no need for you to do anything so drastic, Beau,” Cerynise murmured in quiet dignity. He made it bitingly clear that he really didn’t want her for a wife. He was only being chivalrous, helping her out of a predicament, nothing more. She hadn’t really thought him to be serious. Well, not for more than an instant perhaps. “You can simply sail away.”
“Without you?” Beau was astounded at her suggestion. “I wouldn’t do that, Cerynise. I’d never forgive myself, most certainly not after seeing what you’d have to confront with Alistair Winthrop as your guardian. Call it a debt that I owe your father for not giving up on me when I could just as well have gone the way of some of my friends, who laughed at his efforts to make them study. Your father’s visits to my parents brought about the results he desired in keeping my mind fixed on what was important rather than on the frivolous enjoyments a lad is wont to seek after. I owe him much more than I can ever repay.”
Cerynise stared at him, thinking of that tall, handsome lad with short, loosely curling black locks and jet-lashed green eyes with whom she had always been enamored. She recalled the times when he had lifted her astride his horse in front of him to give her lessons and, over a season, had gently coaxed her out of her fear of riding. Then there was that singular afternoon many years ago when she had been playing by herself near the schoolhouse and several boys, after leaving class, had started pestering her, yanking her pigtails, snapping her with pebbles launched from peashooters, and doing everything they could to make her supremely miserable. Beau had heard her outraged cries upon his departure from school and had come running to box the ears of her tormentors, gaining for himself a harsh reprimand and extra homework as a penalty from her father, who after hearing her story later that evening had traveled to Harthaven to humbly apologize to the lad and thank him for defending his daughter.
Beau was now the one growing impatient for an answer and wondered if the girl had fallen into a daze. He didn’t know what percentage of women swooned after receiving a proposal of marriage, but she had never impressed him as the type. “Blast it, Cerynise, it’s not as if I’m asking you to swear fealty to me or…”
“Oh, but you are,” she pointed out, not unreasonably she thought.
Beau seemed taken aback. “All right, perhaps I am, but we both know it will only be a temporary situation. As soon as the voyage is over, then we can sever the marriage, and that will be the end of it.”
He made it sound so simple, Cerynise mused distantly. A marriage of convenience to be followed by a prompt annulment. A legal technicality. A way out of their situation. Nothing more. Nothing really at all.
But she knew it wasn’t quite that easy, at least not with her. To claim Beau Birmingham as her husband had been a long-held dream born a decade ago in the mind of a child. She smiled wistfully. Strange how enduring that fantasy had been. She still yearned for it even now.
Cerynise looked up into eyes that were a deeper, truer green than a rolling meadow. He was the boy she had once known, and yet he really wasn’t. He was a man full grown, with a mind of his own, and he was offering to give her the protection of his name when she most desperately needed it. His very presence made her feel utterly safe. Yet, at the same time, she was aware of a poignant disquiet growing within her, which made her almost fearful. If she fell more deeply in love with her prince, what would happen to her heart once their marriage was dissolved? Would she be able to bear the abject loneliness that would descend upon her once they were separated? Would he even care what she might suffer when they went their separate ways?
Beau saw nothing in Cerynise’s face that gave any hint of her acceptance of his plan. Indeed, she seemed almost apprehensive, as if fearful of what their marriage might lead to. He could only imagine that with the lack of space aboard ship she might be afraid of sharing his quarters and of what might follow. Making love to her was not something he could promise would never happen; he was too damned aware of his own needs to do an irrational thing like that. Three months could seem like an eternity when one was bound up in oaths of abstinence. He was no monk by any means, nor a gentleman to that degree, nor would he commit himself to her in that way. His mating instincts were too strong to be ignored even now. What torment would he devise for himself if he foolishly spilled such gallant covenants only to regret them later? The way he was feeling presently, later could mean only a matter of moments from now. Still, he relented enough to suggest, “For the time being, think of it as a…a titular arrangement, if you must. Beyond that, I can only pledge that I won’t force you to do anything with which you’re not in complete agreement.”
Cerynise closed her eyes, trying to mentally sort out what he had just said to her. He wasn’t necessary vowing not to touch her…or was he? What else could one possibly imagine about a titular arrangement?
“Is my proposal something you can accept?” Beau pressed after another lengthy wait.
Cerynise opened her eyes and, in a small voice, stated her decision. “It seems to be the only option I have to be free of Alistair.”
Beau had no doubt that any suitor who had hopes of gaining her for a wife either now or in the future would have a hard time calmly accepting what she was agreeing to at this very moment. Since they were destined to be confined aboard a ship for the length of three months, give or take a week or two, any swain would naturally wonder what the two of them had done together to while away so much time in a temporary marriage. No one could predict what their relationship would bear. But when Beau tried to determine what his own reactions would be if some swain pressed him to sign annulment papers after the voyage, an odd sense of vexation rose up within him, as if he’d actually resent being prodded into signing away his rights to a woman who nearly took his breath away. It was uppermost in his mind that he desired her, no doubt more than any woman he had ever known, but he also wanted to be free of the chains that could forever bind him to land.
“I sense that you’re troubled over the necessity of making this decision…”
Cerynise halted his words with a small shake of her head. “I’d prefer not to discuss this matter any further, Beau, if you don’t mind. I’ve made my decision, and I can only urge you to proceed as quickly as possible ere we find our plans set awry.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Beau informed her, slipping a hand beneath her arm and turning her toward the companionway. “But I’m sure before the afternoon is well spent, the nuptials will be concluded.”
He escorted her back to his cabin and, after a short time, sent Billy Todd to her with instructions to be useful in whatever way she deemed fit. Beau had informed the lad what would take place before the day was out, and as a result, Billy was terribly flustered. He was inclined to stare at Cerynise as a ruddy hue ebbed and flowed into his cheeks. Every seaman aboard the Audacious had been aware of the captain’s reluctance to marry for some years now, and to hear that he was giving up his freedom had come as something of a shock to all of them. It didn’t matter that the girl was more winsome than any Billy had personally seen; he was still flabbergasted by the alacrity with which his captain was advancing to make her his own.
“Cap’n says…the two o’ ye—” Billy broke off and simply gaped at her, finding his tongue tied by his awkward attempt to make conversation.
“Said what, Billy?”
He waved a hand in mute apology, but as she continued to await his answer, he hurried to give an excuse. “I forgot, miss.”
“’Tis quite all right, Billy,” Cerynise soothed, subduing a dejected sigh. “I’m not very mindful of anything right now either.” Perhaps it was just as well that she had someone else to reassure. Trying to ease the lad’s abashment diverted her thoughts from what she was actually committing herself to. Marriage with a man whom she all but idolized? What could be so distressing about that?
The years she had spent in England had eventually led her to dismiss her long-savored dream in which she would become Beau’s wife as nothing more than a girlish fantasy. It had definitely not seemed conceivable. Thereafter she had thought about marriage with only passing interest. She had simply assumed that one day she’d marry and, in a vague sort of way, had looked forward to doing so. Yet she had also been content to have the fulfillment of that premise floating off in the distant future somewhere. Painting became the focal point of her attention, and it had taken over her interests so completely that it had left her with little inclination for daydreaming about the faceless, unknown male who would one day become her husband.
Except that he was no longer faceless now, and he really wasn’t going to be her husband, at least not in the way that Lydia had delicately tried to explain shortly after Cerynise had crossed the threshold into budding maturity. Beau would merely be doing her a favor, rather like the parfait, gentil knight of Chaucer would do, she as the damsel in distress and he as a chivalrous knight riding to her rescue.
A vision of Beau outfitted in shining armor and racing to her aid on a gleaming white charger was wonderful to behold in her mind, even if it did seem a bit absurd. She was sure that Beau would absolutely abhor being in armor, preferring as he did the casual comfort of a shirt and finely tailored trousers. He rode remarkably well, as she recalled, but she entertained serious doubts that he’d approve of any horse being festooned with plumes and embroidered reins. Still, she might have found it pleasurable had he consented to kissing her hand.…
Ah, yes, she mused in sublime pleasure. That would be absolutely perfect to start off with. The farfetched idea drew a giggle from her, but she choked it off, realizing that Billy Todd was still in the room, laying out the captain’s clothes.
“Miss?” He looked around nervously. “Are you all right?”
Cerynise gave the cabin boy a bright smile, trying to dispell any notion that she was ailing or afflicted in any manner. “I’m sorry, Billy. My imagination has a tendency to run away with me at times.”
The cabin boy reddened as he realized that she might well be thinking of the evening to come when she and the captain would be alone together in the cabin. “I can see where it might have cause today, miss.”
Scarcely an hour after Billy had taken the captain’s clothes and left her to her solitude, Cerynise was once again interrupted. This time it was Stephen Oaks whom she ushered in. He seemed almost as stunned as Billy and, for a moment, wavered between shock and amusement. The latter finally won out.
“I guess ’tis true what they say,” he mused aloud. “If you sail the seven seas long enough, you’ll eventually see everything.”
“Is this wedding so remarkable, Mr. Oaks?” Cerynise inquired, trying to curb her irritation. She didn’t need to be reminded of how startling the impending nuptials might seem to the crew, but it certainly wasn’t that outlandish for a man and a woman to suddenly decide to wed. “People get married every day.”
“Aye, miss, but they’re not the captain. I’d never have thought that he’d consent to tying himself down to any lady by wedding—” The mate broke off, immediately aware of having gone too far. “I beg your pardon, miss. I didn’t mean…that is, there is nothing wrong with you marrying the captain, not at all. ’Tis a grand idea, in fact. The perfect solution, as it be.”
Cerynise’s brows lifted to a lofty level. “Solution? Do you mean you know—”
Mr. Oaks held up a hand, forestalling her. “All I meant, miss, is that the crew was betting the captain wouldn’t let that sod, Winthrop, take you. We had no doubt that he’d find a way ta keep you safe. The only question we couldn’t answer accurately was just how he was going ta do it.” The mate grinned broadly. “Of course, most of the men didn’t realize he’d go this far. They were thinking perhaps a few shots would be fired, and there’d be a run for the open sea, that sort of thing. Nothing like this, though.”
Cerynise stared at him in amazement. “You thought the captain would set you to flight along the Thames, fighting your way out like…like a band of pirates…all because of me?”
Mr. Oaks responded with a casual shrug. “It happens, miss. From time to time, there’s a difference of opinion that can’t be easily or peaceably settled. Why, in Barcelona last year, we—” The mate caught himself abruptly and changed the subject. “The point is, miss, I know the captain better than anybody on board. It didn’t seem likely he’d do anything to endanger you, so there wasn’t a lot of choices to be had. Besides, he’s not exactly the most ordinary bloke I’ve ever come across. Likes to do the unexpected, he does.” Oaks chortled and patted the purse he wore on his belt. “At least, it was unexpected to most of the lads.”
Cerynise’s jaw sagged as the realization dawned. Then she snapped her mouth closed in an angry huff. “Do you mean, Mr. Oaks, that you actually wagered on the outcome of our set-to with Mr. Winthrop?”
Stephen Oaks looked suddenly sheepish. “Aye, miss.”
“I hope you will enjoy your winnings, Mr. Oaks,” she replied as graciously as she could manage at the moment. Indeed, she was rather surprised at how steady her voice sounded in her own ears. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like a few moments to myself before—”
It was impossible for Oaks to ignore her irritation. “I’m sorry, miss. Sometimes my mouth runs ahead of my wits.”
“’Tis a folly some people must cope with,” she replied pithily. “However, if you’ll excuse me.…”
Mr. Oaks looked acutely repentant as he twisted his cap between his hands. “That’s actually what I came to tell you, miss. ’Tis time.”
She gasped in shock. “Already?”
The mate gave her a nod. “Aye, miss. There’s a rector right here in Southwark who owes the captain a favor or two. He came straightaway when he was sent for. He and the captain are on deck waiting for you now.”
Cerynise was astounded. The time had come upon her in such a rush that she wasn’t at all sure she was mentally prepared to face the nuptials. “Surely there are formalities, permission to be obtained, and other things.…”
“You’ll have to ask the captain about all of that, miss. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve been sent to escort you to the quarterdeck.”
Cerynise meekly followed the mate, once again watching one foot being placed before the other as she ascended the companionway. She could see this thing through, she told herself, and get beyond it without feeling any remorse because it was only a farce. The real difficulty would come later, when she had to sign her name to the annulment papers and watch Beau Birmingham sail out of her life.
The loading of the cargo had stopped, and the entire crew had gathered. Most were on the main deck. Others had climbed into the ratlines for a better view. The men fell silent when she emerged, and their eyes slowly followed as she climbed to the upper deck. She was dimly aware of a slight figure of a man standing beside Beau, but she barely noticed him, for her attention was completely focused on the powerful, compelling individual who was about to become her husband.
Beau was handsomely garbed in a darkly subdued navy-and-gray plaid frock coat, white shirt and cravat, high-buttoned waistcoat that matched the gray in his coat, and darker gray trousers with straps fastened beneath black ankle-boots. The sight of him made her heart flutter nervously, for he was quite distinguished looking in his dapper attire. Looking at him made her wish that she had been forewarned about his decision to dress for the occasion. Smoothing her hair was the best she could do as Mr. Oaks escorted her to the deck.
Beau smiled into her eyes and, reaching out to take her hand, pulled her against him. The unease that Cerynise had felt over her appearance dissipated. It was as if spring had come once more to the land. Her would-be husband slid an arm around her waist and pressed his lips against the hair above her temples. “You look lovelier than any bride I’ve ever seen, my dear.”
Cerynise braced a trembling hand against his waistcoat to keep herself from falling forward against him, for the sturdy arm encompassing her pulled her much too close for what seemed suitable for an in name only arrangement. If Beau didn’t yet realize how susceptible she was to his sweet words, cajoling looks and to his very presence, she most certainly did. She knew exactly why her heart raced out of control above the confines of her corset.
“May I return similar compliments to the groom, sir?” Cerynise breathed, hoping he couldn’t detect the nervous quaver in her voice. “Your appearance has far-exceeded my expectations. Indeed, I feel put out with myself for not having taken more time with my own preparations.”
“Your worries are groundless, my dear.” Beau leaned down to nuzzle her hair again, stirring forth a tantalizing scent that flicked across his senses, awakening him to the realization that she was not only beautiful, but utterly feminine as well. It wasn’t a compliment he casually bestowed upon all women, but it was unquestionably true in this case. “You smell nice, too.”
At the moment, it didn’t matter to Cerynise that she felt wonderfully suffocated by his presence or that her cheeks were glowing warmly. She could only assume that his wooing was contrived for the rector or perhaps for the pleasure of his crew. She could hear many of them encouraging their captain amid the running banter of their cohorts. That fact didn’t concern her overly much. What really mattered was the astonishing sense of contentment that she felt in his embrace, as if she had always belonged there. But then, she had always dreamed she would.
A thin, gray-haired, middle-aged man with kindly gray eyes stepped near. From the rough appearance of his hands, Cerynise quickly surmised that he had been tilling soil prior to his arrival, no doubt readying it for the winter ahead. Although he had obviously made some effort to wash, his deeply calloused hands still bore traces of dirt in the cracks of his hardened skin and beneath his ragged nails. His frayed waistcoat was only partially fastened, his stock ill tied and askew, and his cheeks bristly from a recent growth of whiskers, all evidence of a man who had hastened to answer an urgent summons and one who had difficulty making ends meet. Yet, in spite of his rather poor and disheveled appearance, Cerynise felt immediately at ease in his presence, for she sensed him to be a gentle and kindhearted man.
“You are Miss Kendall?” he queried with a friendly smile.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are entering into this marriage of your own free will, without coercion of any sort?”
The question was unexpected, and she glanced up at Beau in some surprise. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Mr. Carmichael doesn’t concern himself with formalities overmuch, my dear, but he must confirm, for his own peace of mind, that both parties have come willingly to a decision to marry. Did you of your own free will agree to marry me?”
Though Beau presented the question, Cerynise turned her gaze to the clergyman and answered in a softly hushed tone. “I am consenting, sir.”
The warmth of Beau’s hand replaced the coldness that had threatened to engulf her only moments ago when she had climbed to the quarterdeck. She entwined her fingers through his and held on tightly.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony.…”