Cachet (14 page)

"I understand." Her shoulders lifted and fell. "I endured months in a covered wagon and years on the frontier. I'll endure this."

"Must you say 'endure,' as if you'd been sent to the Tower to be stretched upon the rack?" He kicked the chair around and dropped into it. "You claim I deceived you. Perhaps that's true, but what choice did you leave me, Rachel? The whole village saw me on bended knee. Instead of returning home to set a date for our marriage, I get a wire from my partner that you're leaving the country. You thought I'd calmly accept that?"

"You know there was good reason."

"Contrary to your notion about me leading some charmed existence, nothing has ever come easily to me, Rachel. I learned years ago that a man must fight for what he wants and there's a price to be paid. Don't be so quick to claim I've won today. I've also lost a measure of esteem in your eyes. You've vowed never to trust me again."

"I have only myself to blame," she sighed. "I should have known better than to place my faith in you. You bargain for yourself always, Morgan. Deep down I knew that."

"I couldn't dissuade you from this insanity, and I couldn't let you board this vessel alone." She saw there was genuine distress behind his gray eyes. "Why can't you see that I had no choice, even as you claim to have none? Your family needs you. You need me. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

"You may be right, but still, you shouldn't have handled matters this way. I just wish you'd—"

"You're a fool, Rachel Cordell. We must face the obstacles life sets before us. Wishing is a waste of energy. You might have come to care for your late husband, if you'd spent half the effort trying to appreciate the man as you did in wishing he'd been a better one!" With that he slammed out, leaving her to stare after him in stunned disbelief.

God help her, she had to tell him before it was too late. Before he got entangled in the mess that was her life back in the States. Before he came to hate her for the lies...She couldn't marry him!

Then she groaned, realizing he probably wouldn't believe her. He'd think she'd made up a wild tale to avoid a forced marriage. Or that she'd concocted it out of spite. What had he said?
Nothing has ever come easily to me. A man must fight for what he wants...
She knew he wouldn't relent, no matter what she told him. And he might be correct about the crew and her safety. It would be better for her if the men witnessed her taking vows, knew she had a virile husband watching over her.

She'd have to go through with the marriage at sea and find a way to tell him later.

Later. The word sent both a feeling of dread and a small thrill through her. Tonight would again be her wedding night. But this time it would be with a man she cared deeply for. Tonight Morgan would make love to her. Tonight she'd be his wife.

She peered out the cabin window. He was nowhere in sight. She brushed her thick hair and changed into a dress the color of tarnished silver she found at the bottom of her trunk. She'd never worn it in England, thinking the color too closely resembled the perpetually overcast skies. It wasn't black, but it was definitely somber. Considering her situation and the color of her bridegroom's eyes, it made a fitting bridal gown.

Morgan agreed when he returned to the cabin. "I don't recall that particular frock, madam, but I heartily approve of your choice. I'll be the envy of every man aboard."

"Thank you. I know you don't want to discuss this, but could you answer one question? I couldn't afford what this passage cost, could I?"

"Not on what I paid you. Which reminds me, you're still due a week's salary." He dug in his coat and handed her several folded notes. Then he unbuttoned the coat and hung it over the back of the chair before sitting on the edge of the bunk. He motioned for her to join him. "We need to discuss a few points."

"Meaning you intend to bully me, and I'm supposed to listen."

"Do listen. You must remain safely locked inside this cabin unless I escort you elsewhere. You're not to set foot outside that door without me. And when we are united in the eyes of God, it's critical that we appear like any other man and wife. That means you must try to look
pleased
about wedding me
.
Accept my displays of affection in front of the men. Do nothing to indicate a rift between us. I want your word that you'll heed me in this."

"Why am I always the one making promises? Look what the last one did for me! Morgan, I'm an American. I may never return to England. I really don't know that I'd be willing to give up my life in America. Had you thought of that?"

He rose and began rummaging through his larger trunk. "You shall, because your place is with me and my holdings are all in England. I'm not about to become a bloody Colonial."

"And I'm not certain I want to spend my life waiting for crows to roost on my rooftop in that village of yours!" she retorted. "This is part of why I couldn't accept when—actually, you never did come out and ask me to marry you. You still haven't asked me."

"Only a fool plays with knives."

She'd risen to peer out the cabin window. Now she dropped the curtain and turned around. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'd only refuse. I don't need that particular blade in my chest, thank you all the same."

She groaned. "Please listen a moment. I hadn't the faintest idea you were in London or when you'd be coming back to Crowshaven. You live at the inn because you travel so much. Am I to be content with a husband who's seldom home?"

"You weren't content with one who always was," he reminded her stiffly. "My trade activities will continue. There will be times when I'm not home to share supper or my bed with you. Doesn't mean I'll be sharing them with anyone else. All that's finished. I intend to honor my vows."

The meaning behind those words fully registered. "So hot-blooded Pamela wasn't enough for you? My God, you must have a string of bastards from Newcastle to Sheffield! Sniping at me for listening to Arnold's warnings. This time I'm being forced to marry a rutting stag. Hardly a step up from the drunken lout."

"You were forced to wed Cletus too? Do you dislike men?"

"No. My father decided I should marry. At the time I barely knew Cletus. He was one of Papa's employees."

"Were you...I take it he hadn't put you in the family way?"

She was aghast at the question. "I was sixteen years old! I'd no more than kissed a boy before my wedding night!"

He pulled out a clean white shirt. "Well, I'm more than twice that age. Whatever my prior experience, I'll not apologize for it. What bloody importance is it now? I'm in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, locked in this cabin, about to marry you."

"You could be locked in here with Pamela or Medusa herself, and I'd be rejoicing!"

"You didn't rejoice when you thought I'd taken Pamela to bed that afternoon at the inn," he pointed out. He peeled his rumpled shirt off. Rachel's eyes were drawn to his bare torso and his hands working the fastening of his breeches. He noticed and chuckled aloud.

"You're impossibly conceited," she hissed, turning her back to him.

His bare arms immediately wrapped around her shoulders. His breath puffed warm against her cheek. "Look at me all you want, Rachel. There's no longer any reason to be shy or pretend you don't want me. Tonight I'll love you as a man loves a woman, as I've yearned to do for months."

Rachel fought a fierce trembling within her. Part of her had vainly hoped if and when they ever became lovers, she would give herself to him, turn lovemaking into something he might treasure. Those hopes had been dashed by his scheming.

"You've made it clear what you expect. I won't deny your husbandly rights. It would be pointless to try, trapped in this cabin with you."

He stiffened. "Are you implying I'd force myself on you?"

"You've taken away my choice, defrauded me into marriage. Consummated or not, I may seek an annulment when we reach America. I hope you'll be decent and won't contest it."

He released her at once. "That's rather extreme, Rachel."

"I don't think so. I'm giving both of us an out. I'm being forced to marry in haste, exactly what I vowed I'd never do again. I spent years in a miserable life with Cletus that was a mistake from the start. If this doesn't work out between us—"

"No annulment."

"Morgan,
think
! My country's torn by war and my father's dying. You won't stay in America. You're asking me to give up my country and spend the rest of my life with you in England. It's not as though you expect so little of me! You probably want children, too."

"Aye, I hope to pass the signet to a son one day," he answered slowly. She turned away and softly began to cry.

Morgan pondered again the question that had inwardly troubled him more than once. Rachel had been married for years, yet she was alone, childless. He'd been loathe to broach the subject, owing to her unnatural reticence about her past. His eyes closed at the painful conclusion he reached now. Either Rachel was barren or didn't want children. Then he recalled her loan of the almanac to young Nathan Tate. That had been a kind gesture. Surely she didn't dislike children?

"Don't cry, Rachel," he coaxed, pulling her into his arms. "I'm not after breeding stock. What I need most from you is companionship. It has to do with the cottage. I've never told you the true reason I don't reside there. Travel's a plausible excuse, but I have Boyd let out the place because I can't set foot inside without a horrible melancholy taking hold. That is, I couldn't abide the cottage until a little widow came along. She can't light a fire or steep a decent cup of English tea, but she brought warmth and levity into a house too long filled with despair. I need you, Rachel."

Now she pulled back and searched his eyes. They were soft as they met hers, almost vulnerable. "Morgan, promise you won't fight me on annulling this union. I'll go through with the ceremony because it's the prudent choice. I don't want to live in sin, and I can't argue the attraction I feel for you. Still, we—"

His lips descended to silence her, the kiss butterfly soft. His lips moved to her throat as his fingers tunneled into her loose tresses. "Rachel, I couldn't let you go. Don't make this something detestable. I'm a man who cares for you, who struggles and fails miserably at times. I dream of many things, knowing more than half will likely never come to pass. All I expect is that you'll listen to me, argue with me, make love to me, grow old with me. Are those things you cannot do?"

"I'll disappoint you, Morgan! You don't understand—"

"Shh, Colonial," he whispered, stroking her hair. His hand froze in midair as a memory came flooding back. The comment she'd made about never having held a babe.

He'd interrupted her in mid-sentence. The recollection gripped his heart in solid ice. She'd been trying to tell him she couldn't bear children, but he couldn't hear that just now. He didn't want her blurting it out. He wanted to give her time to find the right words. He owed her that much.

"Rachel, if you love me, we can work the rest out. Face problems together." He glanced away, finding the next words the grimmest he'd ever had to utter. "It's not too late to speak to Haversham and call it off."

"You would do that?" He heard the surprise in her voice.

He gazed down into her dark eyes. "I'd look a bloody fool, and maybe I
am
one for thinking your jealousy and the way you look at me means...for hoping. Tell me what you want, Rachel. If you truly can't abide the thought of living with me, I'll go speak to Haversham and call off plans for the ceremony."

"Don't. Maybe I'm just...unsettled. Nervous."

His heart began to beat once more. Much faster. At least a part of her wanted him, cared for him. "Ah, well! All brides have wedding jitters. Grooms, too. Yours is no different. Let's have some brandy for our nerves."

He went to his smaller trunk and pulled out a bottle, taking a long swig before passing it to her. "Mercy, that's awful!" Rachel sputtered after swallowing the fiery amber liquid.

"An acquired taste," he said as he pulled on his frock coat.

"You're nervous, too?"

He nodded and reached to gather his dark hair in one hand, thong in the other. "Would you mind leaving it down?" she asked softly. "You look so handsome. And not the least bit nervous."

He chuckled. "Shall I tell you another little secret? When I look it least, you may rely on the feeling being at its strongest. I assure you, I'm quite human." He moved to the cabin door. "Come here, love." He waited until she crossed the cabin to join him by the portal. Her eyes were still clouded with worry. He took her hand in his. "Rachel, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

"Will you promise something before I answer?"

"I won't promise not to block an annulment."

"Would you at least agree to consider it? I have a valid reason for—"

"We'll not discuss it until we reach port. Mayhap by then you'll have changed your mind about wanting to dissolve our union."

"Or maybe you'll have changed yours." Her voice shook slightly, and Morgan frowned. "What I meant to ask," she clarified," is for a promise you'll be patient with me. I've had no time to compose myself or...I need time to adjust to...well, being your wife."