“WHAT DO YOU mean, you’re not going to bed with me?” Beau railed at his young wife. “You were there just a little while ago. So what has changed since I went on deck?”
Cerynise had winced at each word he had shouted and couldn’t help but tremble before his glowering stare. She had anticipated his rage when she stated her position, but she hadn’t imagined that it would come in such thunderous tones. “Will you please lower your voice, Beau,” she begged. “You’ll have the whole ship knowing our business.”
In a vivid display of temper, Beau snarled and sent his log sailing across the cabin. It hit the corner of the locker, sending sheaves of papers flying helter-skelter before it plummeted to the floor. “I don’t give a damn if the whole world hears us, madam. All I want to know is what happened to make you change your mind while I was up on deck talking to that dolt of a constable!”
“If you’ll lower your voice, I’ll tell you,” Cerynise quietly assured him. “But if you continue shouting at me, I’ll leave this ship and let you sail to the Carolinas without me.”
Beau snorted cantankerously and stalked to his locker, where he knelt and began gathering up his receipts and documents. When he had left the cabin some moments earlier, he had felt as if his entrails were being drawn out through his belly, so caught up in the heat of passion had he been. To say that he was now acutely disappointed with his wife’s declaration would have vastly understated his distress.
“I know that you don’t really wish to be married, Beau,” Cerynise began nervously and abruptly quailed at the glare he tossed at her over his shoulder. Gathering her courage, she forced herself to continue, but now there was definitely a shakiness in her voice that she could not subdue. “If I allowed you to have your way with me and, as a result, got with child, your freedom would be jeopardized. I don’t ever want you to feel as if you’re tied to me simply because you may be pressed to do the right thing by your offspring. Therefore, if you’re still willing to take me to Charleston, I believe it would be better for us both if there was some distance between us. If I could have another cabin…”
Beau had the greatest desire to throw his log again in roweling frustration, this time to the opposite side of his cabin, but he restrained the urge to vent his wrath upon the already battered book. Instead, he unleashed it upon his winsome bride. “Damnation, woman! Didn’t I tell you before there’s not one left in this whole ship that isn’t stored neck-deep with cargo?”
Cerynise wrung her hands, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist him if he plied her again with his persuasive wooing. He could steal her will away with no more than a soft, nuzzling kiss. “I’ll need only enough space on the floor to spread a blanket and a place to wash and dress.”
Beau mumbled a foul curse, and then, without saying a word, he marched to the cabin door, yanked it open and roared through the passageway, “Oaks!”
From there, he went to his desk and slammed the log down flat on top of it. His eyes seething with fury, he gave her a withering glare that clearly conveyed his rampant disgust with the situation in which he found himself. Then he began to pace about with fists tightly clenched, his wrists folded one over the other behind his back as he awaited his second-in-command.
Cerynise watched him warily. In the nine years he had been on his own, Beau Birmingham had changed in ways she was just beginning to fully comprehend. Only the superficial traces of the boy whom she had remembered so well now remained. He was a more determined man than she might have once imagined he would become, one who had only to glance at her to make her keenly aware of his ire. He had grown accustomed to his authority and to issuing orders that were readily obeyed. By agreeing to marry him, she had entered an area under his control. As her husband, he had an absolute right to keep her ensconced in his cabin and make love to her if he so desired. Except that she had balked, and now he was having to deal with something that closely resembled mutiny in the ranks.
Footsteps swiftly descending the companionway brought their attention to bear upon the open portal, where a brief moment later the panting first mate appeared.
“You bellowed, Captain?” Stephen Oaks asked with a jocular grin.
“Aye!” Beau answered caustically. “Set some hands to removing the cargo from the cabin next door.”
Oaks seemed suddenly dumbfounded. “Where shall I put it, sir?”
“Anywhere!” Beau growled, throwing up a hand in a gesture of impatience and irritation. “Preferably in the other cabins if there’s room.”
Stephen Oaks was still perplexed as he inclined his head toward the accommodations next door. “What do you want done with this one once it’s cleaned out?”
“Outfit it for my lady’s comfort.…”
“Your lady…?” Oaks’s jaw sagged as he glanced from one to the other in confusion. “You mean…your…your wife, sir?”
“Is there another lady on board?” Beau questioned sardonically, settling his fists on his narrow hips. “Of course, I mean my wife!”
Oaks was sure his hearing would never be the same. “But I…I thought—”
“Don’t think, dammit! Just do as you’re told!”
“Aye, Captain.” Looking extremely nervous and befuddled, the mate stumbled from the cabin with admirable speed, managing enough presence of mind to close the door gently behind him.
Cerynise almost felt sorry for the man, except that she was far more worried about herself and what might be forthcoming from her husband. She waited in trepidation as Beau pivoted about and stalked to the gallery windows, as if he couldn’t bear to look upon her another moment. Gazing out upon the river, he clamped his hands behind him again and stood with his long, darkly garbed legs splayed in a rigid stance, his polished boots planted firmly apart as Cerynise quietly began packing her belongings for her move to another cabin. She started as Beau’s voice broke the silence.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, too,” he challenged without turning. “You would have let me make love to you if not for the intrusion.”
Cerynise knew only too well that he was right, but she held her tongue, seeing no advantage in discussing how completely she had been swept away by his ardor.
“What didn’t you like about it?” Beau continued stoically. “Were you averse to touching me?”
Cerynise opened her mouth to deny the possibility and then clamped it closed, realizing she would only be giving him incentive to press for her submission if she let him know how thoroughly she had enjoyed caressing him.
“You refuse to say anything about what happened between us?” he rumbled.
“I dare not,” she meekly replied, facing his stalwart back. “I can only say that I found no displeasure in what we did together. It was quite delightful, in fact, but we both know the consequences I would eventually reap by allowing you to have your way with me. Until I’m certain there is no doubt in your mind about wanting me as your wife, not only now but in the years to come, then ’tis best I withhold myself from you until our marriage is annulled.”
“So, you lay your trap for me like all the other women who wheedle men into marriage,” Beau accused snidely. “You give me a little tidbit to savor and thereafter dangle the sweetmeat on a string before me until I am besieged with anguish and finally consent to yield you everything you want if you would but give me what I seek in return.”
Cerynise could feel her temper rising at his callous conclusion. “Sir, may I remind you that marriage was your solution to leaving London with me and your ship.” She glowered as he faced her and continued on, her temper undiminished. “A titular arrangement was your idea, sir, but now you whine and bemoan the fact that I hold you to your proposal. Don’t give me any of your sniveling excuses about how difficult it may be for a man to be around a woman. That’s the price you’ll have to pay for wanting to return to your bachelor status once we reach Charleston! I haven’t asked you for anything more than what you’ve already given, and I urge you to be gentleman enough to do the same.”
With one last scowling glance, she strode to the door, yanked it open and made her departure in a decided huff.
“Dammit, Cerynise, come back here!”
Ignoring his gruff command, she seized her skirts and fairly flew along the corridor and up the stairs. She could hear his rumbling curses and his running footfalls in hot pursuit, but they only served to put wings to her feet.
She was breathless and flushed by the time she neared the last step. One glimpse at her gained the curious attention of nearly everybody within close proximity of the companionway, but what Cerynise hadn’t expected was a pair of young, stylishly garbed gentlemen who were just crossing in front of the stairs as she bolted to the deck. Their resulting collision caused her to reel haphazardly, prompting one of the gallants to gasp and grab her arm in an attempt to halt her fall. At once, the man found his own wrist seized in a steely grasp.
“Take your hands off my wife!” Beau commanded, having leapt up the stairs three at a time in his haste to catch her. The jealous rage he had felt at seeing another man touch his wife nearly caused him to launch a fist into that one’s face.
“Your pardon, sir,” the gentleman apologized hurriedly as he loosened his grip on the lady and stepped back. “She seemed in danger of falling. Otherwise, I would never have been so bold.”
Mollified, Beau bestowed a stiff smile upon the man. It was the best he could manage at the moment, for he was still enraged with Cerynise for having fled. He caught her hand, and because he promptly sensed from the icy look she tossed him that she was determined to reclaim her freedom, he tucked the captured hand out of sight behind his back, where he held it firmly. Directing his gaze toward the man, Beau finally managed a verbal response. “I’m sure my wife is grateful for your assistance, sir. Thank you, gentlemen. Now, if you will excuse us, we were discussing a matter of grave importance.…”
“Are you the captain?” the second gentleman asked, seeming suddenly hopeful.
Beau gave the man a stilted nod. “Yes.”
The two strangers exchanged relieved smiles before the second one spoke again. “Your mate said you were indisposed, Captain, but we’ve traveled some distance to discuss a matter which should be of great interest to you. We have in our possession some rare artifacts which a merchant, who knows you, said might intrigue you since you’re a collector of beautiful art.”
“Just what are these rare artifacts?”
“Paintings, sir,” the first gentleman answered. “We’ve brought one with us so you can see the quality we’re talking about. Might you be interested in looking at it, sir?”
Beau could have chosen a better time than the present to give his attention to what they had brought, especially since Cerynise was still trying to get free of him, albeit surreptitiously, but he gave his consent, tenaciously hanging on to the slender wrist. In a moment the second gentleman, who had hastened to leave the ship, came back carrying a framed canvas wrapped in a soft cloth.
“Wait until you see this, Captain,” the first one said with a buoyant smile as he glanced at Beau. He awaited the unwrapping of the piece with close attention and then, as his companion turned the painting toward the captain, he swept his hand in a flamboyant flourish before it. “Have you ever seen anything so magnificent, sir?”
Cerynise gasped, recognizing one of her own paintings. It was a scene of a woman carrying a child and a basket of food to her working husband, who was holding his arms out to take the curly-headed youngster. Seeing it again under such circumstances, Cerynise had the greatest desire to laugh. Although the two men were oblivious to the compliment they had given her by claiming it was a rare artifact of highest quality, she squelched her amusement and leaned near Beau to murmur. “Dearest,” she cooed for the benefit of the two, “could I speak with you in private for just a moment, if you wouldn’t mind?”
Beau was confused by her endearment, but he made their excuses. In presenting his back to the men, he was forced to free his wife’s hand but he was instantly gratified when she slipped it demurely into the bend of his arm. After moving away a significant space to where they could talk privately, he faced her. “What is it, Cerynise?”
“Beau, I really think those men are trying to dupe you.”
He frowned in bemusement. “What makes you say that? The painting is very fine. It has a quality about it that I rarely see…such as the masters have painted in the past.”
Cerynise beamed brightly as she gazed up into his face. “Thank you.”
The truth struck Beau, but his amazement was swiftly compounded by his admiration of the piece. “You painted that?”
She responded with an eager nod. “Aye, and it sold for nearly five thousand pounds.”
“I never dreamed you could paint that well,” Beau admitted, feeling in great awe of her talent. He slashed his hand as if to negate his statement. “What I mean is that after you told me what your paintings usually sold for, I was expecting something far more commendable than my first notions of your ability, but I never expected talent worthy of a Rembrandt.”
“Oh, Beau, what a lovely compliment.” She smiled gently and lightly caressed his hand, all thoughts of anger expelled from her mind and spirit. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever, ever had.”
“’Tis simple truth, my dear girl.”
Cerynise coyly played with a button on his shirt, causing his heart to lurch rather strangely in his chest. “Then you’ll tell those two you’re onto their schemes and that they’d better fly before you throw them overboard like you threatened to do with Alistair?”
Beau raised a hand invitingly toward the companionway. “Why don’t you await me in my cabin, my dear? I don’t wish you to hear our discussion. It may well burn your ears.”
“Yes, of course,” she replied, feeling immensely sorry for the men all of a sudden.
Beau waited until he heard the cabin door close behind her before approaching the two. “Gentlemen, I’m very interested in this painting you’ve brought and am wondering if you may have others painted by the same artist.”
“I fear not, sir. This one was so rare, we feel enormously privileged that it came into our possession by the passing of an uncle. But we have others which are just as valuable.”
“I’m not interested in any others. Just this one. How much will you take for it?”
“Seeing as how it’s so exceptional, we’ll have to have at least twenty thousand pounds for it.”
“I’ll give you seven, not a farthing more.”
The first man was set to dicker. “I don’t know, sir.…”
Beau started to turn aside, and after a quick exchange of anxiously querying glances between the two, the second hastened to speak. “However, Captain, we seem to be in a desperate bind at this time.…”
“The painting isn’t stolen, is it?” Beau pressed, settling a suspicious gaze upon the men.
“Oh, no, sir! Absolutely not!” the first declared. And then his cheeks darkened in chagrin as he confessed, “Truth be, sir, we’ve been cast out of our family home after our tailors presented our father a bill for our clothing. He said unless we learned to control our spending, we’ll never see a shilling of our inheritance. In the meantime, our tailors are threatening us with dire consequences if we don’t pay them. We’ll take the seven. It won’t be enough to settle our debts, but it will placate our tailors until we manage to sell the other paintings.”
“How did you come by this one?”
“My mother recently purchased it, along with others of rare quality. She intended to add them to her collection, but when my father forbade her to give us coin, she gifted us with her paintings instead.”
Satisfied that the pair were telling the truth, Beau gave them a clipped nod. “I’ll have my mate fetch the money for you and a receipt for you to sign.”
The two smiled and waited patiently as Beau moved away to talk to Oaks. “I need you to go down to my cabin and beg admittance from my wife, at least long enough for you to fetch the strongbox and a receipt. If she should ask…which I doubt that she will…tell her some merchants have come aboard to collect what is due them. Count out seven thousand pounds, make the receipt out for that sum, and then return here.”
Stephen Oaks had been admiring the painting as his captain gave instructions and couldn’t resist an inquiry. “A new acquisition, Captain?” He smiled as he drew Beau’s gaze to the painting. “’Tis a beauty, sir.”
“So is the one who painted it.”
Oaks looked at him in surprise. “You mean…?”
“My wife,” Beau answered, allowing a spartan smile to curve his lips. “But it’s not for her. ’Twill be a Christmas gift for my parents.”
“A very nice one, ’twill be, sir.”
“Aye, I’m sure of that, but I’d prefer that you not speak of this matter to my wife.”
“I’m swore to secrecy, Captain,” Oaks declared, clasping a hand to his breast.
“Good, now get along with you.”
Stephen had gone only a few paces when he paused and half turned with another question. “Do you still want the men to clear out the cabin near yours, sir?”
His brows gathering in dark gloom, Beau faced away. “Aye, Mr. Oaks. ’Twould seem my wife would like more privacy than my cabin affords.”
The mate heaved a sigh, wondering if the lady knew what she was asking of her husband. Or if she had any indication what she would be subjecting the crew to while their captain was so out of sorts. “’Tis a pity, sir, to be sure.”
“Aye, Mr. Oaks, that it is.”
Some time later Cerynise entered the small cabin that she had been given and nearly shuddered as she glanced around the gloomy interior. Blank, windowless walls seemed to close in around her from all four sides in the narrow room, which she roughly estimated was less than a quarter of the size of Beau’s cabin. The only relief came from the door, but only because she had left it ajar. She had no doubt that with her abnormal dread of being closeted in tiny, cramped spaces she’d suffer exceedingly during the voyage home.
A bunk occupied one end, but it was much smaller than the captain’s and, instead of a soft feather comforter, rough woolen blankets had been tucked in around the mattress. She ran a hand musefully over the pillowcases and sheets, smelling their clean but bland odor, and felt an inexplicable melancholy invading the area very near her heart. She quickly blinked away a start of tears and took a deep breath to fortify herself before considering the rest of the meager furnishings. A washstand with pitcher and basin resided beneath a small mirror hanging on the wall. A tiny table and a single chair near the bed would have to suffice for any meals she would partake of in the cabin. Other than that, a battered sea chest, butted up against the wall, left little space for her to move around.
“Is it to your liking, my dear?”
The familiar voice wrenched a start from her, and when she faced Beau in trembling disquiet, she found him standing in the doorway with a shoulder braced against the doorjamb. Her chin lifted in obstinate pride as she contemplated the complacent smile that lightly touched his handsome lips.
“’Twill do,” she replied stiltedly.
He tilted his dark head at a curious angle as his eyes probed the unwavering dark greenish orbs that stared back at him with cool indifference. “Are you sure?”
Cerynise nodded stoically. “I’ll have my privacy and now I won’t have to worry about intruding upon yours. Considering all of that, why shouldn’t it suffice?”
The wide shoulders lifted briefly in a casual shrug. “Oh, I’m sure it would serve the needs of any other passenger, but I seem to remember from years back that you had a fear of being shut up in anything small and airless. I especially recall when some of my classmates sought to play a prank on you and locked you in that old trunk in your father’s barn. When I followed your screams and finally let you out, you were in such a panic you locked your arms around my neck and nearly strangled me before I could get you calmed down.”
Every instinct within Cerynise rallied to take offense at the supposition that he had deliberately chosen this cabin for no other purpose than to see her completely miserable. “The Beasley boys were a mean, rowdy bunch, as I remember. They always did take delight in playing on others’ fears.” She fixed Beau with a coolly querying gaze. “Was that your intent as well, Captain?”
“You said that all you’d need would be a small space to sleep,” he reminded her. “Considering the cargo I’m taking back to Charleston, this was the best I could offer you. The other cabins are larger, but after making room for you, they’re now stacked to the ceiling. This was the only cabin I could spare.”
“Could or wanted?”
Beau was not above laying out her options. “If you don’t like the accommodations, madam, you can give up this nonsense and come back to my cabin. I’ve told you before I don’t normally take passengers aboard my ship. You’re the exception, and I’m sure as hell not going to throw my cargo overboard so you can have a cabin that suits your personal requirements.”
Cerynise felt her own ire rising at his terseness. “If you think I’m going to crawl back to your cabin, Beau Birmingham, and beg you to let me stay, then you’ll be disappointed to know that I’ll rot in here before I do.”
Beau flared at her stubborn declaration. “Suit yourself, my dear, but if you should decide differently, my cabin door will always be open to you even if you don’t beg me to take you in.”
Stephen Oaks descended the companionway and, upon espying his captain in the corridor, hurried to join him at the door. When he caught sight of Cerynise standing in the tiny cabin, he swept off his cap and, with a ready smile, inquired, “Would you be liking your baggage carried in now, Mrs. Birmingham?”
“Whenever it’s convenient, Mr. Oaks,” she said solemnly. “There’s no rush.”
The mate grinned at her for so long Beau grew perturbed. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask my wife, Mr. Oaks?”
“Well, actually there was,” the mate replied, ignoring the peevish frown that presently resided on the captain’s face. “Seeing as how these quarters are unfit for a lady, I was going to suggest that your wife use my cabin. I’m sure she’ll be far more comfortable in mine on the voyage home.”
“And where will you bunk?” Beau asked acidly, resenting the man’s interference.
“I’ll be perfectly happy slinging a hammock with the crew,” Stephen answered amiably. “Truth be, I’ve missed the camaraderie below deck since I’ve been advanced to my present position.”
“That’s the price of being first mate,” Beau reminded him curtly. “Your authority over them must be maintained. I simply cannot allow it.”
“Then I can bunk here in this cabin,” Oaks offered, turning a boyish grin upon Cerynise again.
“Your kindness is appreciated, Mr. Oaks,” she assured him graciously. “But I couldn’t possibly put you out of your own quarters.”
The mate sighed as if disappointed. “A pity my cabin will go unused then,” he rejoined. “You see, I’m quite resolved on the matter, Mrs. Birmingham, and until we see the port of Charleston, I’ll not set foot across the threshold except to remove my belongings…should you have a change of heart, that is. ’Tis entirely up to you whether you use it or not, but it shall be available.”
“Damnation!” Beau growled.
Cerynise glanced up at her husband to find a glowering scowl the likes of which might have come nigh to frightening the devil himself. Of a sudden her lips curved upward winsomely in a delightfully triumphant smile, and with an elegant nod, she accepted the mate’s offer. “Well, seeing as how your cabin will go vacant, Mr. Oaks, I can hardly refuse.” And then, because her husband folded his arms across his chest in an overt display of agitation, she sweetly praised the mate. “’Tis rare to find a gentleman gallant enough to give up his own quarters for a lady. If I had my way, your chivalry would serve as a standard for other officers of your rank, but alas, few are inclined to put themselves out on another’s behalf.”
Beau cleared his throat sharply, knowing full well that his wife was directing her barbs toward him. Even as a child, she had always had a skill for stinging ripostes that, like a whip, could flay a boy’s hide. They were both older now, but behind that sweet, beautiful exterior of a genteel woman lurked an impish vixen who was every bit a match for the beast in him.
“My cabin is this way, Mrs. Birmingham,” Mr. Oaks readily informed her, sweeping his hand outward.
Upon passing Beau, Cerynise set the spurs firmly by displaying a brightly buoyant smile and evidencing her elation by a little skipping dance. What was left for Beau to do but follow in her wake? He did so mutely, watching her skirts swaying jauntily ahead of him.
Oaks led the procession down the passageway toward the captain’s cabin, but prior to reaching it, he paused beside the door that led to his own. Suddenly remembering the cluttered state in which he had left his quarters, he reddened in chagrin and begged, “If you’d give me a few moments to tidy up.…”
“By all means,” Cerynise responded, reluctantly stepping back in the corridor with Beau.
“If you can tear yourself away from your champion, madam,” her husband said broodingly, “I’ll take you up on deck, where we can perhaps discuss this matter in some semblance of mutual courtesy.” It didn’t seem at all likely that she’d yield to any of his demands to return to his cabin for a talk.
The offer sounded far too grudging to suit Cerynise. Deliberately lending the wall her undivided attention, she moved her slender shoulders upward in an abbreviated shrug. “I would be loathed to inconvenience you, sir.”
Beau’s breath hissed outward in a cynical snort. “I fear you’ve inconvenienced me more than you can possibly imagine, madam.”
“Then I shan’t trouble you any further, Captain. I’m perfectly willing to wait here.” And then, because she simply could not help herself, she added loftily, “Perhaps Mr. Oaks will be kind enough to escort me on deck later should I find myself inclined to take a breath of fresh air.”
Beau leaned a shoulder against the paneled wall buttressing her rigid back and pointedly questioned, “Do you enjoy deliberately provoking me or does it come naturally?”
Cerynise lifted an astonished stare to meet his. “Me? Provoking?” She laughed lightly, banishing the idea with a fluttering sweep of dainty fingers. “I could take lessons from you, Captain, have no doubt.”
Focusing her gaze on the far wall again, Cerynise promised herself that she would ignore that tall, powerful figure standing so close beside her. It proved far more difficult than she had imagined. She couldn’t breathe without feeling his presence with every heightened sense of womanly perception in her possession. If she allowed herself, she’d yield herself to those provocatively stirring memories that he had created when his large hands had moved boldly over her naked body, rousing sensations that even now sent a hotness gushing into her cheeks. If silence was the only way to quell the turbulent emotions he had unleashed within her, then by heavens, she would never utter another word.
Beau could hardly harness his longing to trace a finger around a dainty ear and the stubborn set of her jaw. The temptation was far too potent for him to pass off lightly. He bent near, indulging himself in her delicate fragrance, and considered the wisdom of using a different tactic. “Did I tell you, Cerynise, how utterly beautiful you are when you’re lying all warm with desire in my arms?” he whispered. “You’re like a strong wine that has gone to my head, and despite my attempts to subdue such tantalizing visions, I cannot thrust them from my mind. I’ve never wanted another woman as much as I want you.”
Cerynise released a quivering sigh as his words flicked across her senses, awakening her own visions of her hard-muscled, bronze-skinned husband.
“Your breasts are so soft and fair,” he breathed, yearning to cup a swelling mound in his hand, “they’re like delicate pink rosebuds on a dewy morn, opening up to a rosy aurora of light. Their nectar is as sweet on my tongue as—”
The door across the hall opened without warning, startling them. Oaks looked from one to the other of them in sudden bemusement, sensing their unease. “Is anything wrong?”
“No!” they both denied simultaneously.
“There is nothing—” Cerynise began, hardly able to breathe. Even in the presence of the mate her breasts tingled as she recalled the warm bliss that her husband’s mouth had evoked within her.
“We were just talking—” Beau began.
Looking very guilty, they glanced at each other. Oaks cleared his throat and stepped away from the cabin door. “I think you’ll find everything you need, Mrs. Birmingham, but if there should be anything…”
“She’ll manage,” Beau informed him dryly. “You do have duties elsewhere, don’t you? Or have I been lax in assigning them?”
“I do indeed have duties, sir,” Stephen assured him hastily. “And I’ll get about them this very moment.” Giving Cerynise another smile, he hurried toward the companionway.
“I really do regret putting him out of his quarters,” Cerynise murmured.
“He put himself out,” Beau stated bluntly. “I’ll send Billy down to help you get settled in your new accommodations.”
Cerynise inclined her head stiffly. It seemed they were on opposite ends of the fray again. “That would be appreciated, Captain.”
It gave her a measure of security to shut the cabin door quickly behind her. Only then would she be safe from his heady cajoling.
When Billy Todd knocked on Cerynise’s door some time later, he bashfully delivered the announcement that her husband desired her presence at dinner later that evening. “He’ll be entertainin’ some English gentlemen tonight, mum, so’s ye’re ta dress special for the occasion since he’ll be presentin’ ye as his wife. An’ ye’re ta be there afore his guests arrive, ’bout six if’n ye’re able.”
The delicate chimes of the clock in the captain’s cabin were just tolling the sixth hour when Cerynise rapped lightly on the portal. At a call from Beau, she swept inward and found him standing before his shaving stand trying to tie his cravat. He looked extremely handsome in a dark gray double-breasted tailcoat, large-lapeled silver-hued waistcoat, which truly ended at the waist, and slender, thinly striped pale gray trousers that were secured by straps beneath polished ankle-length boots. Her eyes warmly devoured his admirable form until he turned to her in some distress.
“Can you help me straighten this damn thing?” he growled, still struggling with the cravat. As his eyes lit on her, he forgot his exasperation with the neckpiece and slowly lowered his arms to his sides as his eyes skimmed the entire length of her. Her hair was dressed high on her head in an intricately coiled and looped coiffure that staggered his imagination as to the length of time it might have taken her to coif such elegance. She wore a pale pink creation that shimmered like tiny diamonds in the candlelight. The bodice was cut straight across her breasts, displaying an enticing cleavage while molding the ripe fullness divinely. Around her slender neck she wore a stiff, dainty ruff of a translucent fabric sewn with the same beading that bejeweled her gown. No costly necklace could have added such a charming accent to her evening attire. Her wide, gossamer sleeves were gathered in narrow, beaded bands at her wrists, yet they seemed to flow around her like a thin veil. The skirt swayed in undulating waves about her long, shapely limbs, and Beau could only admire the effect. Indeed, he found his tongue far too weighty to express his full appreciation of her unparalleled beauty.
Subjecting herself to his heated gaze, Cerynise floated enticingly near and began to repair his cravat. Beau didn’t know what to do with his hands, and although the temptation to spread them over her buttocks was nigh to overpowering, he shoved them into the pockets of his trousers instead, deeming it safer by far to keep them to himself rather than cause another war between them. To be sure, the desire to indulge in a little husbandly familiarity at that particular moment caused him to have definite doubts about his wisdom in ever mentioning the word annulment.
“Billy said you’re having guests for dinner tonight,” Cerynise murmured, rising on tiptoes to search out the front portion of the cravat and sweep it forward over the knot near his neck.
Beau stretched his chin upward, submitting himself completely into her care. “Aye, some of the young gentry of the city. We were hunting the other day, and we bagged some partridge, which Philippe has been keeping on ice for this occasion. I thought they might enjoy his exceptional flare with food. I actually invited them before I realized this would be our wedding night.”
“You have acquaintances here in London?” she asked in amazement. “I thought that with the way you sail about the world and flit from port to port, friendships would be hard to foster.”
“Aye, ’tis difficult,” he admitted, “but I’ve managed to garner a few.”
“I’m surprised that you’ve managed to socialize at all. You seem far too busy when you’re in port to fraternize with the local inhabitants.”
Beau cast a gaze down his lean nose at her and promptly became enthralled with the enticing gap which permitted him to see into her gown as she worked on his cravat. It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a corset, for her breasts had a more natural fullness to them that seemed to flow into the shallow top of her camisole. He was sure he had never surveyed anything quite so delectable in all of his mature years. His palms itched to caress those creamy orbs, and it took an effort of will to keep his hands where they were. Not wishing to disturb his view, he casually lifted his shoulders before she decided to glance up at him. “What’s the sense in working hard, my sweet, if you can’t enjoy the benefits?”
Cerynise laughed, warmed by his blandishment and equally approving of his wisdom. “Oh, I agree, sir. Most heartily, in fact.”
“My guests are unaware that this is my wedding night, and if you’re at all in agreement, my dear, I’d rather let them assume that we’ve been married for a while, although as young as you are, I doubt they’d believe we’ve been wed longer than a year or two.”
Cerynise lifted her eyes in wonder, sending his own chasing upward to meet her gaze. “And if they ask?”
His dark brows flicked upward in a tiny shrug. “No help for it. We’ll have to confess.”
“May I be allowed to know your reasoning, sir?”
Beau couldn’t resist the urge any longer and slipped his arms carefully around her waist. He felt her stiffen momentarily, and then smiled when she yielded to his embrace without a quarrel. She even relaxed back against his arms. “Because I don’t want them to get the impression that you’d marry a man without a lengthy courtship.”
“Because I might seem a fickle sort?” she dared.
“Because I don’t want them to get the idea they can steal you away from me,” he corrected with a rankled sigh. “I’ve heard them boasting of some of their conquests, and I don’t want them to think you’re susceptible.”
“Have you, in turn, boasted of your conquests in their company?” she asked carefully. “If you have, I doubt ’twould shed a good light on our marriage.”
“My father taught me long ago ’tis unseemly for a gentleman to talk about such things in the presence of others. Those who do usually are seeking to puff up their own image. I’ve never felt inclined to do so.”
Pleased with his answer, she twined her own arms around his neck and gave him a light peck upon the lips. Then she slipped quickly out of his grasp, leaving him groaning in frustration.
“I think you’re an unsympathetic tease, madam, but you’d best be wary,” he warned. “I cannot tolerate the torture of holding you one moment and letting you skip out of my grasp in the next. If you play with fire, ’twill eventually burn you.”
Cerynise pouted prettily, daring a flirtatious flick of long, silky lashes as she cast him a coy glance. Just because he had said that he would have their marriage annulled once they reached Charleston didn’t entirely prevent him from having a change of heart before then. Nor did she feel constrained to dutifully concur with their separation without putting into play some guileful temptations that would perhaps spur him into accepting her as his wife on a permanent basis. Since she had been in love with him for most of her life, she couldn’t imagine herself ever desiring another man as her husband. “I don’t mean to tease you, Beau, but I do enjoy the idea of being able to kiss you now and then. If that’s too much for you to bear, then I’ll limit my attentions to nothing more than a gentle pat on the hand.”
“Bah!” His frustration came down to the simple matter of being damned if he did and damned if he didn’t!
Cerynise squelched a grin as he glared at her playfully. They were on safe ground again, and she could play his wife to her heart’s content while his guests were there. Then she would retreat to her lonely bed and spend a wakeful night yearning for his consuming kisses and stirring caresses.
The three gentlemen ranged in age from a score and three to six years more. Their eyes gleamed with delight when Cerynise came into view, but they maintained a respectful reserve after Beau presented her as his wife and, in gallant manner, briefly kissed her hand. Their titles were readily dismissed as they bade Cerynise to call them by their first names, and the group soon entered into a relaxed and amiable conversation.
The partridge was excellent served with a delicate sauce, and after tasting it, the guests begged an introduction to the chef. With unquenchable humor they offered the grinning Philippe outlandish fees if he would but come and cook for them. He waved away their pleas, assuring them that he had much to teach his captain about the French and that it would probably take years before he came to the end of his instructions, seeing as how his pupil was reluctant to learn. His teasing banter was met by hearty laughter, even from the one whom he playfully harassed.
Before the evening was out, all four of the men were chortling and vying for Cerynise’s witty repartee on a variety of subjects. Upon making their departure, each of the three gallantly bestowed a kiss upon her fingertips again, albeit under the watchful eyes of her husband, and happily waved farewell, assuring the couple that it had been a delightful evening.
Soon after their departure, Beau became lost in thought, so much so that Cerynise dared to ask him, “Are you still angry with me?”
He heaved a sigh and leaned back in the chair behind his desk. “I expect Alistair will be coming back to the ship tomorrow, possibly with the magistrate.”
Cerynise traced a finger around the cover of the pewter inkwell residing on the massive desk. “You said our marriage would supersede any claim Alistair might present as my legal guardian,” she reminded her husband. “Have you changed your mind?”
“If our marriage was one in fact as well as deed, madam, then I’d have no qualms about the strength of it holding up in any court of law. Unfortunately, Alistair will be inclined to question its authenticity and encourage the magistrate to accept it as nothing more than a sham since our vows were spoken right after his visit. And frankly, madam, I don’t think you’re a very talented liar.”
Cerynise became apprehensive. “You’re not suggesting that we consummate our marriage just so we can convince that toad we’re married?” Her tone became skeptical. “Come now, Beau.…”
“I’m not,” he snapped, and then repented of his caustic anger. Reaching across the desk, he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. The evening has been so pleasant, I’ve no desire to see us end it in sour discord.”
“What do you think we should do?” she asked contritely, regretting her suspicions. “They can’t very well have me subjected to an inquisition—” She gulped at the thought that intruded quickly on the heels of that idea, but she could not bring herself to say it.
Beau read the repugnance in her face and tried to put her at ease. “They wouldn’t dare subject you to anything more than an interrogation, but if they have serious doubts about it, they might simply assume the marriage is a farce, have the vows annulled and give you over into Alistair’s care.”
“Care is hardly the word for it,” Cerynise replied with a noticeable shiver. “If there was a dungeon in the depths of Lydia’s house, I’d have cause to fear. I’m sure Alistair would outfit it with gruesome implements to wring whatever he wants from me. Truly, I cannot believe he has any desire to become my guardian. He wants…or needs…something from me that is beyond my ken to understand at present.”
“If you can listen for a moment, Cerynise, without getting up in arms about what I may be wanting from you, perhaps we can work this out together and come to a proper solution.”
Deciding she needed fortification for what he was going to suggest, Cerynise reached for the goblet of wine she had left on the desk some time earlier, for she seriously doubted that he’d offer anything she could calmly accept, considering he had warned her against jumping to conclusions.
Beau raised a brow as he watched her drain the contents. That simple act alone lent him great insight into her trepidation. The little girl who had adored him from years past had apparently come to fear him…or at least his proposals.
Cerynise promptly hiccuped and pressed her fingertips to her lips in wide-eyed surprise. “Excuse me.”
“No more wine for you,” Beau chided, moving around to the table and locking away the decanter. He didn’t need half his wits to realize she wasn’t used to imbibing.
“So you don’t think I can lie and make them believe me,” Cerynise harped, and flushed with embarrassment as she hiccuped again.
His mouth quirked at the merest thought. “I think you blush more readily than most people breathe.” He sighed heavily. “If your father had anything to do with establishing your values, young lady, I have no doubt that you’ve had little experience with duplicity. Therefore, you must make use of your strengths.”
“And what are they?” She smothered another hiccup and immediately grew fearful that she would have to endure them for a while.
“Innocence, naiveté. Obviously you know little of the world, and perhaps, if the magistrate can recognize a lady when he sees one, he’ll be reluctant to think you’d lie about our marriage.” Sitting on the edge of his desk, he stretched his long legs out before him and folded his arms across his chest as he peered into her flushed face. “Try not to be too nervous when he starts asking you questions. If you can, let yourself imagine that we’ve made love together and that you’re no longer a virgin.”
Cerynise fanned herself, feeling decidedly heated by their discussion. Her hiccups didn’t help her discomposure in the least.
“You do know what follows, don’t you?” Beau probed, studying her keenly.
She refused to submit herself to his close scrutiny and, with a casual shrug of her shoulders, strolled across to the shaving stand. There she could see his face in the mirror without him being aware of it. “Lydia told me some things years ago.”
Beau rolled his eyes in disbelief. “That must have been informative.”
“I know that a man and woman must merge to make a child!” she declared, irritated that he thought her such an innocent. “I’m just not aware how it all comes about exactly.”
“Would you like to know exactly?”
Even as inquisitive as she was about it all, Cerynise didn’t think it proper that he should be the one to instruct her. “’Tis unseemly for you—”
“Who else has a better right? I am your husband.…”
“Not for long, you said.…”
“For the time being, I am,” Beau pointed out, and watched her closely as he added, “But perhaps Alistair can tutor you when you become his ward.”
Cerynise made no effort to hide a convulsive shiver. The revulsion she had felt when Alistair’s eyes had passed over her in a prurient leer came back with startling distaste. “What exactly do you think I should know?”
Beau enlightened her in great detail, making it as stimulating to her womanly senses as he was capable of doing. Explaining the act of mating to her was nearly as satisfying as kissing her breasts, he thought, but it would never be as thrilling as the real thing. Still, he’d take what he could get.
When Cerynise faced him in rapt attention, Beau knew he had evoked a comparable sensuality in her. He could feel a familiar tightening in his loins and made no effort to either hide or display that fact. It became obvious enough with his slimly tailored trousers, drawing flitting glances from his wife until she raised her eyes to his and saw his smile. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and in quick response her gaze went chasing off to the far wall.
“I couldn’t make love to you without that happening,” he explained, for he knew she’d be inclined to think he was making a deliberate overture. “Despite the control I would like to have over my body at times, I cannot prevent my arousal when I think of being intimate with you.”
“Don’t think,” Cerynise flung over her shoulder, mimicking his earlier dictate to Oaks. “’Tis better for us both if you don’t.”
“You may see it as unfortunate, madam, but I’ve been bequeathed with these manly instincts by nature for the purpose of procreation. ’Tis sure there’d be fewer babies in the world if men weren’t driven at times by their primitive inclinations.”
“Have you informed me of all of this simply for your own pleasure, sir?” she inquired with a hint of sarcasm. “Or did you do so only because you wish me to be thoroughly aware of what the magistrate might ask me? ’Tis apparent that you think I’ll be unable to answer the man unrehearsed.”
Not wanting to arouse his wife’s suspicions more than they were already, Beau carefully avoided her first question. “I just don’t want you to blunder into revealing the fact that I wasn’t able to consummate our marriage.”
Feeling absurdly slighted, Cerynise wished vainly for some witty retort that would impress him. When none came to mind, she argued her case. “I’m not a bumpkin actress who has to be instructed in her repertoire every hour on the hour so she can speak her lines even moderately well.”
Beau eyed her closely. “Then tell me this, if you will, madam. If you have to swear tomorrow that we became man and wife in my bed tonight, can you do it credibly after what I’ve told you?”
She found it difficult to breathe suddenly, for her whole being felt as if it were aflame. “I…I…”
“Come now, Mrs. Birmingham…if that’s who you are exactly. You must tell me whether or not you have shared a bed with your alleged husband, because if you cannot swear that your marriage is valid, I’ll have no other recourse but to give you over into Mr. Winthrop’s care.” Beau leaned forward and stared intently into her astounded visage as he continued his authoritative inquiries in a softer tone. “Now answer me truthfully, Mrs. Birmingham, did you and your husband make love together and consummate your marriage?”
Cerynise was speechless for a moment until she finally blurted, “Surely they wouldn’t be so forward!”
“For whatever purposes he has planned, Alistair is desperate to have you,” Beau averred. “He’ll stop at nothing to get his way. The magistrate, however, will hopefully be a bit more delicate. For his benefit, you must be able to say honestly that we spent tonight together.” He gave an abortive laugh. “Looking the way you do, you shouldn’t have to say anything more than that. The rest will naturally be assumed.”
If Beau had thought she blushed a lot before, then he was quickly learning that it was nothing compared to what she had done within the last hour since their guests had left. “I know this isn’t easy for you, the idea of sharing a bed with me for the night, but frankly, it’s the best solution I can think of for alleviating the problem of you telling a lie. And though I’ll be hard-pressed to withhold my attentions, I promise you I won’t resort to rape.”
Cerynise finally realized the hiccups had fled. No doubt being shocked out of her virginal innocence had squelched that small problem. “If that’s the only thing you can suggest, I guess we should try it for a time…but you’ll have to keep your trousers on.”
Beau smiled. “If you insist.”
His young wife heaved a wavering sigh. “In that case I’d better go and get into my nightclothes.”
“Nothing too enticing, I hope,” he teased.
“You needn’t worry. I’m well aware of just how fast your trousers come off, sir.”
A moment of silence passed between them as each of them entertained memories of what had happened earlier in the day.
“Feeling more relaxed?” Beau finally asked.
Deciding it wouldn’t be wise of her to mention that her knees seemed to have melted, Cerynise gave him a careful nod. “Yes, thank you.”
Their polite conversation didn’t make it any easier when the time came to go to bed, nor did Beau’s deliberate tarrying at his desk to straighten out his log and all the receipts and documents that had been thrown chaotically about. Cerynise was still wide awake when he doffed everything but his pants and stretched out beside her in his bunk. For a long time they both stared at the ceiling of the cubicle, each unable to ignore the presence of the other. Finally Cerynise curled on her side away from him, but with his weight depressing the mattress on the outer side, it became a struggle to keep her distance. She was just beginning to relax when she felt his large body against her back. She tried to wiggle closer to the wall but found the tail of her nightgown imprisoned beneath him.
“I always thought this was a fair-sized bunk,” Beau commented as he levered himself up slightly to give Cerynise a chance to reclaim the hem of her garment. She scooted over to the wall, but it did little good on an incline. She was soon back where she had started, and much to her chagrin, seemed ever destined to return.
“I could sleep on the floor,” she volunteered.
“Absolutely not. If I have to do something chivalrous, I might as well do it up royally.”
“Well, then, you could—”
“I said chivalrous, not saintly,” Beau retorted, having no doubt that he’d resort to rape before committing himself to the floor.
Cerynise tried to curb her giggles, but they soon raised Beau’s brows to a curious level. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Tell me,” he urged.
He was too close, too compelling. Her stomach did a slow, leisurely roll as she realized just how very hard it was for her to thrust him out of her thoughts for longer than a moment. Lying back upon the bed, she cast a glance askance at the broad expanse of his chest, wishing fervently that she could touch him again in ways that would make him gasp. “Earlier today I was thinking of you as a knight in shining armor. It struck me as funny, that’s all.”
Beau looked appalled. “A knight in shining armor?”
“Only for a moment, but it was pure fantasy. I couldn’t even get you to kiss my hand, and we both know you’ve done much more.…”
“You couldn’t what?”
“In my imagination,” Cerynise explained hastily, and then waved a slender hand to hopefully dismiss the discussion. “It doesn’t matter. The idea was absurd anyway. Why don’t we try to get some sleep?” As if that was remotely possible.
“I’m not sure I like that.”
“What?”
“Not kissing your hand.”
He was right about her being an innocent. It actually took her a moment to recognize where she had neatly led herself. Cerynise almost panicked, having already become aware of the fact that with his charmingly winsome cajolery, he could wheedle his way into a girl’s pantaloons with very little effort. “Beau, don’t.…”
Too late!
Turning her palm upward, he kissed it in a slow caressing way that made her suck in her breath. By the time he raised his head again, the bunk had narrowed alarmingly.
“I don’t think you should have done that,” Cerynise whispered, already feeling the molten heat flowing into her loins.
Beau’s expression was grim. “Neither do I.” Without another word, he fled the bunk, grabbed a blanket from one of the lockers, and returned to the chair at his desk. Cerynise remained where she was. Long moments passed before she had to accept the fact that he did not intend to touch her again. She should have been relieved. Instead, there bloomed a hungry ache deep within her womanly being that yearned to be filled and assuaged.