THERE WAS SOMETHING very intriguing about waking up with a soft, womanly form curled in the curve of one’s body, Beau mused sleepily as he became aware of the very first light of a new day casting its glow through the stern windows. The whole bunk was bathed with a strangely bright, reddish gold aura that gilded everything it touched, making the tawny tresses upon which he lay shine as if with a luster of their own. His wife’s long hair had tumbled across his pillow, and its delicate scent lured him to rub his cheek against the soft curls. But that was not the only enticement he was aware of. His thighs were tucked beneath her trim buttocks, and had he been without his trousers, he might have more fully appreciated the fact that her nightgown had wandered up nigh to her hip, leaving him a view that was breathtaking. His quickening pulse warned him that if he didn’t soon leave her side, he’d be remiss in his promise to her, because he was definitely thinking of waking her with soft, tantalizing caresses.
Carefully he eased away from her and crept across to his shaving stand, where he splashed cold water over his face. What he needed was a frigid plunge into the river to wrench his mind away from what he was leaving behind in his bunk. In fact, there would just be time enough to indulge himself in a more humane bath in the first mate’s temporary quarters before his crew started stirring. He tossed a glance over his shoulder as he stepped toward the door, then promptly halted, feeling as if he had been hit in the gut. She was still lying in innocent repose upon her side, but the sight of her unclad backside was almost as compelling to his manly senses as a smiling invitation from her lips. He just couldn’t leave her like that when the mate might walk in, unaware of her presence.
Returning quietly to his bunk, he reached across to the far side of the bunk and, lifting the sheet carefully, spread it over her. He stood staring down at her for a long moment, feeling his vitals twisting in knots in his belly as his eyes caressed her delicate features resting in profile against the pillow. For the life of him, he couldn’t resist stroking the backs of his fingers over the wisps of hair curling softly at her temples. A fluttering sigh wafted from her lips, and still deep in slumber, she rolled upon her back, flinging an arm wide across his pillow. It seemed only a momentary lapse of time before her hand started searching for him, and then her eyes flew open and found him leaning over her. Instead of fear sweeping her visage, a smile as sweet as the breaking dawn curved her lips and illumined her eyes.
“Good morning,” she murmured sleepily.
“Good morning, my sweet. I trust you slept well.”
“Amazingly well…after you finally came to bed.”
He cocked a brow in surprise. “Madam?”
Giggling, Cerynise shook her head, refusing to answer the question that was implied rather than spoken. Turning on her side away from him, she curled in a knot, muttering something like “Never mind” behind the hand with which she scratched her nose.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” he inquired hopefully, bracing a hand on her hip as he leaned over her to peruse her profile again.
“Only if you are,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip to keep it from curving upward in a grin. The fact that she was inviting him to accept the lengthy position of being her husband was subtle, but he was keenly astute and had no need of further explanations.
“Oh.”
The single syllable sounded much like a note of dejection, Cerynise thought, abruptly losing her elation. She blinked away a start of tears and, to hide her disappointment, made much of rubbing her nose into her pillow as if it itched. Finally, after clearing her throat and trying to swallow the lump in it, she cast a glance askance to find that he hadn’t moved.
“Would you mind turning your head long enough for me to get out of bed and put on my robe?”
The lilting buoyancy had gone out of her voice, causing Beau to suffer feelings of regret. Although he was intensely aware of just how much he wanted to make love to her, there was still that rational side of him that refused to be herded into a long enduring situation without allowing himself enough time to think everything through very carefully. He knew her from years back, but with their lengthy separation, he could not swear that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her without first becoming acquainted with the woman she had become.
Stepping away from the bunk, he presented his back to her and waited. In the next instant he heard her bare feet padding swiftly toward the door and whirled to see her fleeing through the open portal. A brief moment later he heard the mate’s door slam loudly in the silence.
Gnashing out a curse through gritted teeth, Beau flung his own door closed, ending the pleasantry of the morning.
Beau wasn’t overly impressed with the magistrate who was ushered aboard by Alistair Winthrop and Howard Rudd. The judge was a stout, florid-faced individual who seemed pompously aware of his own importance, and it was evident from the amount of bowing and scraping the two unworthies did in his presence that they were vying for his favor. Indeed, they seemed confident of it as they bade Beau to call Cerynise up to the deck.
“You will see, Your Honor, that this Yankee has taken advantage of an innocent young woman and enticed her to forget her proper upbringing,” Alistair assured the judge from as near as his elbow. “Having been ensconced on his ship for some days now, one must wonder what she has already given over to the rascal.”
Mr. Oaks had been summoned to fetch the lady, and when she arrived, the deck grew hushed as the sailors halted their labor to watch what promised to be an exciting confrontation. Confident grins were worn by those wagering that their captain could handle the judge as well as the two pipsqueaks who were with him.
Cerynise moved with elegant grace across the deck and arrived at her husband’s side before facing the three. The fact that Beau’s steadying arm came around her helped to buttress her for the task ahead.
“You see!” Alistair declared, thrusting a finger toward the couple. “This blackguard even has the effrontery to handle the girl in your presence. I told you he was a lecherous scoundrel!”
“Yes, I see,” the magistrate mused aloud, flicking his bushy brows upward. The girl was delectable enough to tempt the most staid gentleman, so it was understandable that she would arouse the attentions of a lusty, seafaring man. “Perhaps the lady and I should be introduced.…”
Alistair stepped forward to do the honors. “Miss Cerynise Kend—”
“Excuse me,” Beau interrupted curtly, “but I think I’d better make the introductions, since this is my ship.”
The thin man sneered, unable to see what difference that made, but he bowed mockingly, permitting the captain to perform the services.
“Cerynise, this is the Right Honorable Judge Blakely,” Beau said, and as she dipped into a polite curtsy, he swept his hand toward her, “Your Honor, this is my wife, Mrs. Birming—”
“What?” Alistair croaked in outrage.
A twitter of amusement ran through the crew, and elbows were prodded as the men waited to see what would follow.
“This is my wife, Mrs. Birmingham,” Beau repeated for the benefit of the magistrate.
The cords in Alistair’s neck became visibly distended as he stretched it far out of his collar and railed, “He’s lying!”
The official looked perplexed. “But I thought she was—”
“This is too much!” Alistair flared, this time rising on tiptoes to shake a fist threateningly beneath the captain’s nose. “Just who the hell are you trying to dupe?”
Beau calmly reached into his coat and removed a folded parchment which he handed over to Judge Blakely. “I’m sure you’ll find everything in order, sir.”
“This is a recent marriage,” Blakely stated, studying the document and paying particular attention to the signatures. Then he peered up at his host with blatant suspicion. “Are there any witnesses?”
“Every man of my crew, sir.”
“Can’t have married her,” Howard Rudd broke in. “The girl is underage! Without permission from her guardian, the marriage isn’t legal!” Bobbing his head like a child who was wont to gloat, he smirked at Beau in triumph.
“Cerynise’s guardian is deceased,” Beau rejoined as if he had never heard the man, directing his attention instead to the magistrate. “Besides, the officiating clergyman was fully aware that Cerynise is a few months short her eighteenth birthday. Under the circumstances, he saw no reason to object.”
“Under what circumstances?” Blakely queried.
“I’m about to set sail for the Carolinas,” Beau informed him. “Naturally, I meant for the young lady to accompany me.”
“As your wife, you mean,” the judge mused aloud, leveling a pointed stare upon the younger man.
“Exactly.”
Alistair glanced between the two men, all of his senses alert to the fact that shortly after Cerynise’s appearance, the judge had seemed to vacillate between the two entities that strove to possess her, as if the elder only wanted to do the right thing by her. That idea certainly didn’t bode well for his claims. “None of this makes any difference,” Alistair insisted, overly loud. “The marriage can’t be valid unless it’s sanctioned by her guardian! And since I’ve been given that authority, Cerynise must return home with me.”
Blakely turned a perturbed stare upon the lanky man. “I can hear you better if you don’t shout in my ear, sir.”
The corners of Beau’s lips quivered as he struggled to subdue his amusement. His sparkling eyes passed on to Rudd, who seemed suddenly petulant.
The magistrate bestowed a fatherly gaze upon the girl. “Miss…your pardon…I mean, Mrs. Birmingham. I hope you’ll understand that my duty is to make certain that nothing untoward is happening here.”
The gracious smile she bestowed upon him belied her desperation and did much to win his approval. “I understand, Your Honor. However, I must confess that I’m bemused because Mr. Winthrop has dared to pretend any interest in my welfare when I’ve seen no evidence of such.…”
Alistair opened his mouth to argue, but Blakely held up a hand, forestalling him. “He claims to be your guardian.”
Cerynise scoffed. “I would soon perish with such a guardian as he has proven to be. Indeed, he threw me out of Mrs. Winthrop’s home without cloak or coin. I very nearly froze to death, and now he’s back here claiming to want only my good. ’Tis a farce if I’ve ever come across one.”
“He has presented a codicil to his aunt’s will which places you in his care,” Blakely informed her, eyeing her closely.
She met his probing gaze unwaveringly as she calmly inquired, “Is there much difference between a farce and a forgery, Your Honor?”
Alistair snarled and stepped forward as if to lay hand upon her, but Beau swept her safely to the far side of him and lifted a mocking brow as he met the thin man’s seething glower. “Perhaps you’d like to discuss this at length after the judge leaves,” he suggested. “I’m open to pistols or fists, if you’re of such a mind.”
“Now, now, we’ll have none of that,” Blakely barked.
“The girl is lying, Your Honor,” Alistair insisted. “She is set on going with this rake, despite the fact that he will probably fling her aside once he reaches his home port.”
“Your wife has laid serious charges against this man,” the judge informed Beau.
“Are they any less serious than Mr. Winthrop’s efforts to challenge the legality of our marriage? Now tell me, Your Honor, what would a father do for his daughter in this situation? If you have daughters, perhaps you can instruct us.”
“I have three, Captain. In fact, my youngest is the same age as your wife.”
“What would be your reaction to any notion that a young lady can be married by a properly ordained clergyman, in full view of a crew of men, and spend the night with her husband only to be told the next day that she is not, in fact, lawfully wed?”
Blakely flung up a hand even higher when Alistair tried once again to interrupt. Then he cleared his throat and blustered over his answer. “I’d be set to see that they’re properly wed if they’re not already.”
He hesitated a moment, and then looked at Cerynise. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Birmingham, but I do have to ask. Were you and Captain Birmingham together last night?”
A hush seemed to settle over the deck as everyone awaited her answer. She caught as many as three glances cast surreptitiously at her, but they were hastily averted. Despite the fact that Beau had warned her, she found the situation acutely embarrassing, but at least she could tell the man the truth, even if it was with a blush. “Yes, Your Honor, we were together last night.” And then, because she was completely fed up with Alistair and his claims, she added for good measure, “In the same bed.”
That seemed more than the judge needed to hear. His face was quite red when he faced Beau. “My apologies for having disturbed you, Captain Birmingham.” He settled his top hat snugly upon his head. “Have a pleasant voyage home.”
Alistair stared after the magistrate in burgeoning disbelief as that one made his way toward the gangplank. “You don’t mean…You can’t…You mustn’t let this blackguard get away with this!”
Judge Blakely paused near the plank and turned to peer over a shoulder at Alistair. “Captain and Mrs. Birmingham have given every evidence of being lawfully married, sir. You’ll not find another judge in all of England who’ll say otherwise. ’Twould be a disgrace if any did. I’m afraid you’ll just have to accept that, Winthrop.”
“Why, you arrogant heap of slime!” Alistair railed back at him. “You should be denied access to the bench!” Shaking off Rudd’s restraining hand, he wheeled on Beau, his fury rising to heights that shocked everyone around him. “And as for you, you bastard! You may feel like a cock of the walk now, but I assure you I won’t let you get away with this travesty.…”
Beau’s eyes squinted dangerously as he fixed a glare upon the thin man. “What did you call me?”
Unaware of the peril he was in, Alistair shook a fist at the captain and gratified himself by enlarging upon his earlier slur. “A stinking bastard! A filthy, lying Yankee bastard who—”
In three long strides Beau was beside the man, catching him by the back of his collar and the seat of his britches. Alistair railed in shocked protest and sought madly to reach the deck with his toes as Beau whisked him swiftly a-port. At the rail, the captain swept his burden upward and outward, launching it from his ship. His unworthy guest scrambled with wildly flailing limbs to find a haven in midair, but alas, there was none. Alistair’s horrendous screech dwindled to a wavering wail that ended abruptly in a significant splash, causing the crew to erupt in loud guffaws and cheers. Beau was not entirely finished with his wife’s adversary. Snatching hold of the ratlines, he swung himself up with a dazzling display of strength and alighted with equal grace atop the rail. He paced forward to an open space and, with arms braced akimbo, roared down at the man who, upon bobbing to the surface of the water, promptly started coughing and gasping for breath.
“You can insult me if you have the gall, Winthrop, but if you even think of maligning my mother again, I’ll see you horsewhipped till your flesh comes off with the lash! I’ll let no sniveling lout like you cast aspersions on a woman to whom I happen to be very devoted!”
Beau swung down from his perch and dusted his hands off in the manner of one who had just rid himself of so much garbage.
“That’ll teach the bloke ta keep his lip in line, Cap’n,” chortled one of his crewmen.
Beau waved an arm in ready agreement. “Break out a cask, lads, and we’ll celebrate that toad’s departure.”
Thundering footfalls of those who went to fetch it nearly made the judge cringe, but he smiled in approval as the captain strode toward him. “I’m quite fond of my mother, too, sir.”
Beau grinned, repenting of his earlier impression of the man. “I thought you’d understand, Your Honor.”
Beau directed his gaze upon Howard Rudd, who had been immobilized from the moment he had seen his companion snatched up by the raging captain. The solicitor’s dewlap seemed to flap in the wind as he struggled to find his tongue and deny the possibility that he would ever dream of defaming so noble a creature as a mother. Giving up that feeble attempt, he whirled and, with coattails flying, sprinted toward the gangplank, nearly bowling the good judge over as he brushed past him. A moment later he could be seen launching a rope out to Alistair, who was trying desperately to learn how to swim.
Cerynise’s giggles joined her husband’s laughter as he took her in his arms, and for much more his own pleasure than for the benefit of his cheering crew, he kissed her long and thoroughly.