The Bartered Bride (Bride Trilogy) Page 13
Hanging onto the railing, she made her way through the pelting rain to the privacy of the bow, occasionally getting splashed as water rolled over the deck. Everything loose had been secured or taken below like the chickens, and the ship carried only enough sail to keep it steady.
When she reached the bow, she braced both hands on the railing as the Helena slid into the troughs of waves, then rose triumphantly again. It was almost like riding a spirited horse, but on horseback, she always felt powerful and in control. Now she was a mere passenger, dependent on the skill of the Helena’s crew.
Underneath her was the ship’s figurehead. Instead of the usual buxom female, the carving showed a blond, angelic woman modeled on the real Helena Elliott. A lady to respect and cherish and adore, not a bawdy tavern wench.
Despairingly Alex realized that she had neither the purity of the beloved wife nor the honest sensuality of the tavern wench. She was returning home a ruined woman, shamefully pregnant far too long after her husband had died. Without the traitorous testimony of her body, the missing months in the Indies could have been quietly ignored, with no one having to know what had happened to her. Now she would be revealed to the world as a slut or a victim. She wasn’t sure which thought she hated more.
She studied the dark, churning waves, mesmerized by their angry grandeur. Would she even survive to return home? She’d been buoyantly healthy when carrying Katie, but now she was constantly unwell. How much of her illness was from the sea voyage, how much from the pregnancy, and how much her fear of the future? She was at the limit of her strength, tired every minute of every day, exhausted by the effort to be the mother Katie deserved.
If something happened to her, Gavin would ensure Katie’s safe passage to Alex’s parents. In fact, she’d written him a letter of instructions in case disaster befell her on the voyage. If? No, when. She was on the edge of disaster now, she could feel the darkness calling her. Though she knew she should turn away from the hypnotic swell of the waves, she couldn’t. The sea was a siren that promised eternal peace below the fierce surging of the waves.
No. Someday she would go to her rest, but for now she must deal with the turbulence of life. She was about to move away when the bowsprit in front of her began to glow. After a startled moment, she realized that this must be St. Elmo’s fire, the mysterious, inexplicable light that sometimes danced through a ship’s rigging after storms. Though she’d heard of the phenomenon, she had never seen it. Fascinated, she stepped onto the middle rail to get a clearer look, clinging to lines with both hands as the luminescent bowsprit rose and fell against the dark, heaving sea.
She felt very small, a mote suspended above the waves, her problems meaning nothing against the immensity of the ocean. There was a seductive peace in the thought….
Hard knuckles rapped on the door. “Captain, you’d better come topside.”
Having only just dozed off after hours on deck, Gavin came awake with a curse before he opened the door to Benjamin Long. “What’s wrong?”
“The ship is sailing fine, sir, but I’ve never seen so much sea fire. It’s all through the rigging, and some of the men are skittish.”
Gavin repressed a sigh. Sailors had their superstitions, and it wasn’t wise to push them too far. “I’ll be right up.”
He pulled his damp oilskins on again. Even without a real emergency, it was appropriate for Benjamin to summon him. The two watches were headed by the chief mate and the second mate. As master, Gavin could come and go as he pleased, but he was always on call if needed. That included calming superstitious sailors, since the captain’s authority was second only to God.
He caught his breath when he stepped onto the deck. With most of the sail reefed, the glowing masts and spars made a lattice of pale fire against the stormy sky. Phosphorescent globes drifted through the yards, some as small as a nut, others larger than a man’s head. Though he enjoyed the sight, it was easy to see why superstitious seamen found the sea fire alarming.
He started by talking with the helmsman, who was aided by another sailor because of the heavy seas. Then he made his way to men huddled against the wall of the galley. It didn’t matter much what he said; his presence steadied those who were nervous. He was glad there was no need to send anyone aloft. Climbing the rigging was inherently dangerous in this weather, and an anxious sailor faced with buzzing St. Elmo’s fire ran the risk of a lethal accident.
He was about to join Benjamin on the quarterdeck when he spotted a dark figure floating above the bow, outlined against the shimmering fire of the bowsprit. For an instant his memory snapped back decades to the ship’s carpenter who’d told him of the dark angel of death that appeared to doomed ships. Black wings fluttered as the angel beckoned them to ruin…
No, blast it, this was no mythical angel of death. It was as real as he was, perhaps an injured albatross taking refuge from the storm. He headed forward to investigate, swinging from one secure hold to the next as dark water periodically swept over the deck.
Dear God, it was a cloaked woman, and there was only one woman on the Helena. As the ship plunged into a trough, Alex swayed precariously. He dived forward and wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her down to safety before she could pitch into the lethal sea. They crashed to the deck together.
Keeping one arm around her, he grabbed a stanchion with his other hand to anchor them. “Damnation, Alex, what the devil were you thinking?” he said furiously, his fear transmuted to rage. “If you meant to kill yourself, you should have done it when you were in slavery, not when you’re safe!”
In the faint glow of the sea fire, her expression was confused. “I wasn’t going to jump. I…I’d never do that to Katie.”
He inhaled deeply, trying to slow his pounding heart. “You may not have meant suicide, but the waves can be hypnotic. When one is melancholy, it’s all too easy to believe that the sea holds the answer to all one’s problems.” He knew that from personal experience.
She covered her face with her hands and began to shake with barely suppressed sobs. He pulled himself to a sitting position against the railing and drew her across his lap, holding stanchion and woman with equal firmness. “Alex, what’s wrong? You’ve been haunted by your own ghost ever since we left the Indies. The worst is over now. Soon you’ll be home safe among your family and friends.”
She buried her face against his shoulder, her tears increasing. “The worst isn’t over. I…I’m pregnant.”
The news was a shock colder than the drenching rain. No wonder she’d been ill and miserable. “Then we’d better be married in Ceylon.”
“Are you mad?” She raised her head, stunned. “I’m carrying the child of a rapist, and may God forgive me, I hate the fact of its existence.”
Her bitter words were a slap in the face. “Is the thought of a child of mine so unbearable?”
“I doubt that it’s yours,” she said dully. “Probably it was fathered by Bhudy, my second owner.”
How many times had the bastard raped her? Gavin cradled her close, wishing he could wipe the pain from her voice and her mind. “But it could be mine, couldn’t it?”
“I…I suppose so.” She pushed heavy wet hair from her face. “That’s not as likely, though.”
“But it might be. Marry me, Alex. If you return to England as a wife, no one will question your condition.”
“They’ll know soon enough if I give birth to a half-Malay baby.”
“If that happens—well, it’s not the child’s fault.” His voice hardened. “And if I am your husband, I defy anyone to question you or the child’s parentage.”
A vast wave crashed over the bow, drenching them both. When it receded, he said, “This is a damn fool place to have a conversation. Come on.”
He stood and hauled her to her feet, then started a slow progress to the nearest hatchway, one hand on the railing and his other arm around her waist. He still hadn’t recovered from the terror of seeing her in danger, so it was a relief to get belowdecks.
She drank, coughed, and drank again. “You’re a true knight-errant, Gavin, and I appreciate your desire to rescue me once again. But marriage is for a lifetime. It’s insane for you to tie yourself to me out of pity.”
Though her stark honesty was impressive, it didn’t change his mind. “Pity has little to do with it, Alexandra. We’ve been through much in a short time, and I’ve come to admire your strength and understanding. I care for you deeply. Is it impossible to imagine that you and I and Katie could make a family?” His glance went to her swaddled figure. “And this poor benighted baby as well.”
Her eyes closed against more tears. “You tempt me too much, Gavin. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fit to be a wife again. Do…do you understand what I’m saying?”
He understood, but that didn’t change his mind. Even if the child she carried wasn’t his, he bore responsibility for Alex.
He also desired her, but not only for her body. He wanted to be with this damaged, indomitable woman by day as well as night. He wanted them to weave a fabric of common experiences, of shared hopes and fears and laughter. He wanted them to be husband and wife till death did them part.
“After all you’ve been through, it’s understandable that you’re unwilling to share a man’s bed,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But…time heals. Perhaps someday you’ll feel differently. I’m a patient man. I’ll wait for as long as necessary.”
Her eyes opened, the aqua tone grayed by the dim light. “You’re taking a big risk, Gavin. You might have to wait forever.”
Would that exquisite, tainted pleasure he’d experienced in her body be the only physical intimacy they would ever know? He forced himself to accept the possibility. It would be an apt punishment for a dark deed. “Life and love and marriage are always risks, Alex. I want to take this risk with you.”
Her gaze dropped to her brandy glass, and she turned it nervously in her hands before taking another sip. “If we were to marry, you’d be free to take a mistress, though I hope you’d be discreet about it.”
He stared at her. “That’s not my idea of marriage, Alexandra.”
She raised her bleak gaze. “This wouldn’t be a normal marriage. If…if I recover to the point where I can be a proper wife to you, that would be different. I would want you to be faithful, as I would always be faithful to you. But unless that happens, I can’t bear to think of you celibate forever because of my weakness.”
“The mistress isn’t compulsory, is she?” he asked wryly, thinking he was too provincial for this much bluntness. “I doubt I could square that with my conscience.”
She smiled faintly. “Not compulsory, but I can’t marry you unless you’ll accept the possibility that someday you’ll want a woman who can be more than a…a companion and housekeeper. When that day comes, I don’t want you to feel that you’re committing an unforgivable sin.”
How could it not be a sin to be married to Alex and sleeping with some unknown female? He’d be committing a crime against both of them, not to mention God. And yet, he reluctantly admitted to himself that his mind might change. He could live like a monk if necessary; he already had for years. He wasn’t so sure that he could be a married monk, living with a beautiful, desirable woman he was pledged not to touch.
Yet at heart he didn’t believe the worst would happen. Alex had already shown amazing resilience. Once she was home and secure and the emotional storms of a hated pregnancy were over, her wounds would begin to heal. They wouldn’t disappear overnight, but as the two of them grew in fondness, she would want to please him, just as he wanted to please her. If she was willing to share a bed, even reluctantly, he was confident of his ability to help her bury the memories of horror with experiences of joy. Her nature was a passionate one, that he was sure of. Time, understanding, and caring could give them a satisfying marriage.
“Very well, you’re granting me permission to keep a mistress, though you don’t want to know about it. Do you have any other doubts that must be discussed?”
She ran stiff fingers through her wet hair. “Where would we live? England? America? The city? The country?”
“We can settle in England if you wish to stay near your family.” He considered, then added, “Still, it’s not inconceivable that someday it might seem best to return to America. If that happens—well, I suppose we’d argue it out like any other couple.”
“If I’m ostracized as a fallen woman, I might welcome a move to America.” She gave a sudden rueful smile. “Gavin, you’ve never even seen me at my best. I’ve been in a state of almost continuous desperation since we met. I might become a complete stranger if my life returns to normal.”
“I doubt that stranger would be a woman I like less than the one sharing my brandy now. Many couples spend years together before they learn the depths of their partner’s character. We’re starting out at that deep level, Alexandra. Surely that must be a good thing. And if you’re happy in the future, how can that not make me happy, too?”
Tears began to pool in her eyes. “You are so good, Gavin. What have I done to deserve you?”
“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”
“I…I think it does. If Katie approves, and I think she will.” Alex smiled unsteadily. “She adores you.”
“Then we shall be married. Thank you, Alexandra.” Gravely he lifted her hand for a kiss, thinking how different this marriage would be from his vague plans of finding himself an aristocratic wife in London. No matter. A good merchant needed to be flexible, and he was a very good merchant.
This marriage would be the greatest challenge of his life, but for better and worse, he and Alex belonged together.
Chapter 15
Colombo, Ceylon
KATIE FROWNED. “Mama, you’re shaking.”
“It’s traditional to be nervous when getting married.” Alex tried to keep her tone light. “I was when I married your father, too.”
At that first wedding she’d been ready to bolt, sure she was making the worst mistake of her life. In retrospect it wasn’t a disaster, but neither had it been the best possible choice. Today, inevitably, she wondered if she was making another mistake. Her life had spun out of control when the Amstel was attacked, and everything that had happened since had been under duress. In the normal course of life, she and Gavin were unlikely ever to have met.
And yet—he was right that they knew each other in ways most couples didn’t before marrying. She had no doubt that he would be a good provider, a kind husband, and a loving father to Katie and the child yet to be born. After her first blink of surprise, Katie had agreed that he’d make a very nice stepfather.
But despite Gavin’s considerable virtues, Alex knew she was marrying him out of fear and weakness. She wanted the security of arriving home under the protection of a powerful man, one her parents would like. Gavin and the colonel would get on famously. Now that she thought about it, they were alike in many ways. Gavin was more relaxed in his manner, but both men were kind, and utterly reliable.
The door opened and Jane Walker, chief wedding assistant, bustled in. After they agreed to marry, the Helena changed course for Ceylon. In Colombo, Gavin found lodgings for Alex and Katie in the home of Jane’s mother, a British military widow who had decided to stay in the East. Eighteen-year-old Jane had a romantic heart, and happily volunteered her services when she learned that a guest was getting married.
“You look lovely, Mrs. Warren. You and the captain will make a handsome couple.” Jane made a minute adjustment to the back of Alex’s cream-
colored gown. She and her mother were also seamstresses, and had been able to swiftly make up wedding finery for Alex and her daughter. Good clothes helped wavering confidence.
“It’s time to leave for the church.” Alex took Katie’s hand. With Jane on her other side, she left the house for the short walk to the Anglican chapel. The tropical heat was oppressive, but at least the sun was shining. She hoped that was a good omen.
They reached the church precisely on time, as the clock began striking eleven. At the foot of the steps, Alex felt a moment of terrified paralysis. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her skirts so she wouldn’t trip, and ascended the stairs. She was a widow and a mother, far too old for childish romantic dreams. Few women were as happy in marriage as her mother and the colonel; most must settle for less, as she had done.
With Edmund, she’d confused a love of adventure with love for the man. This time she was marrying for reasons more of the head than the heart. At least now she was old enough and wise enough to realize what she was doing. She liked, trusted, and respected Gavin. The fact that she found him attractive was merely…a complication.
Yet when she saw him standing at the altar with Suryo and Benjamin Long, she felt deep regret. Gavin looked like a romantic hero, and he’d acted as one, too. She was the one who was too bruised and scarred for romance.
Chilled to the marrow, she walked down the aisle with Katie and Jane following. Gavin watched so intently that she wondered if he was having second thoughts. But no, there was no uncertainty in his smile when he took her cold hand.
Since there were so few people present, Katie and Jane stood beside her, as Suryo and Benjamin stood by Gavin. The elderly vicar nodded a greeting to the new arrivals, then said in a slow, sonorous voice, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together…”