Much Ado About Marriage (17 page)

Scowling, Thomas pushed himself from the railing and resumed pacing, vowing to never again succumb to temptation, no matter how often she smiled. No matter what it took.

The door slammed, startling Robert, whose whiskey sloshed onto the table.

“Where in hell have you been hiding, you cur?” Thomas snapped.

Robert winced and took a delicate sip of his whiskey. “Pray speak quietly, for I have a tender ear whenever I venture upon the sea.”

Thomas threw himself into a chair, his face as dark as a thundercloud. “I’ll see that more than your ears are tender if you don’t explain why you put Fia in my cabin.”

“I was being chivalrous. There are few places on the ship to house guests, and your cabin seemed the most suitable to a lady. Besides, she
is
your wife.” He frowned at the whiskey that had spilled; he still had a Scotsman’s dislike of wasting good drink. ’Twas but one of the many inherited traits he seemed unable to remove, try though he might.

“She will not be my wife for long.”

Robert sat up straighter. “What’s this? Do you plan a murder? Shall I help you toss the body from the side of
the ship? Before you carry out your nefarious plan, be sure to learn Lady Fia’s handwriting. Her painfully expressive cousin is expecting a letter every week and if he doesn’t get it, he will have no hesitation in marching to London to fetch it.”

“I am not afraid of Duncan MacLean.”

“You should be. In fact, you’re fortunate he didn’t realize why you were attempting to crawl into his castle.”

“Oh, he realized it soon enough. I found the missive without problem, but then MacLean found me and I awoke unlettered.”

“Did he say aught?”

“Nay, but I’m certain he knew.” Thomas frowned. Though he and MacLean had never spoken of it, the laird’s smirk had told its own story.

“So you risked life and limb for naught.” Robert’s jaw tightened; his gaze flickered over Thomas. “When I saw you on shore so bloodied and beaten, I was almost ready to kill him. Tell me of this letter you came to fetch.”

“Walsingham wanted the missive and knew ’twas in MacLean’s desk in a hidden compartment.” Thomas added darkly, “That’s
one
thing the arse bothered to tell me. He certainly never mentioned MacLean had a lovely cousin that he was guarding like a prize jewel.”

“I wonder why Walsingham didn’t mention Fia? The castle was more heavily fortified because she was there; MacLean would not leave her unprotected.”

Thomas frowned. “That’s true.” He’d had much the same thought over the last week. Why
hadn’t
Walsingham told him about Fia? It was unfathomable that Walsingham would miss a major development like that.

In fact, the man had said that with MacLean gone,
none but a few elderly servants would be at the castle. “Something happened, but I don’t know what.” Thomas shook his head. “Anyway, as I was saying, I had that damned letter in my possession. I wish I’d made it to the ship with it.”

“’Tis a miracle you managed to escape alive. You are the luckiest bastard I ever met.”

“No, I’m not. I lost the letter, and I wonder if ’twas worth a wife.”

“
I
wonder that you follow Walsingham’s commands like a puppet. He uses you most hard and yet you care not.”

“He does no such thing,” Thomas said, annoyance clear in his tone. “He offers me adventures, excitement, and ways to set the Wentworth name with the queen.”

“He places you in danger every chance he gets.” Robert’s blue eyes blazed. “Walsingham is a maggot on the underbelly of the earth, yet you are determined to think well of him.”

“Walsingham has done more for England than you admit. One day, you will understand.”

Robert had to bite his tongue to keep silent. It would do no good to rail against the minister. In the dark days after the death of Thomas’s father, Walsingham had slipped into Thomas’s good graces. As a new earl, Thomas had been grateful for the older man’s quiet support. Robert had to admit that Walsingham had been an invaluable source of advice to Thomas during those hectic and sad days when Thomas had struggled to set his father’s estates in order. During those weeks, he and Walsingham had forged a deep bond that now often put Thomas in grave danger.

Thomas didn’t shy from that danger, for he’d been raised
to put duty above all else. But that Walsingham would ask so many dangerous tasks from a man he professed to care about did not ring true with Robert.

No, Walsingham was the sort of man to find one’s weakness and play to it—all the way to the gory end, if it suited his purposes.

Robert took a sip of whiskey to wash away the bitter taste of his thoughts “Speaking of monsters, have you seen the creature your lady wife has secured in the hold? I think ’tis a horse, though I wouldn’t swear it.” He leaned across the table for another mug, poured a stately measure of whiskey into it, and slid it across the table to Thomas.

“Aye, I’ve seen it.” Thomas took a sip of the whiskey. “And it’s seen me.”

Robert shuddered. “The men were talking of it, so I went to have a peek and . . .” He lifted his arm and a straggle of lace drooped from his sleeve. “It tried to eat me!”

“You’re fortunate it didn’t get your arm.”

Robert smoothed his sleeve. “I’d rather have given up a finger than my lace. ’Tis Italian, you know.”

Thomas grunted.

Robert regarded him for a moment. “Well? Tell me by what foul manner you plan on ridding yourself of your lovely wife. Shall it be by knife? Sword? Pistol? Poison?”

“No, we are to get an annulment from Queen Elizabeth. I was forced at sword’s end to wed the chit, and the queen won’t enjoy hearing how one of her own was so cruelly abused. With Walsingham’s help, she will agree to set the marriage aside.”

“And what of Fia? She will have to agree to the petition as well.”

“She agrees it must be done.”

Robert caught a hint of sharpness in his friend’s voice. “Oho! The web tangles! She is glad to be rid of you!”

Thomas gazed at him with a considering look. “As usual, you act the virgin, yet there is something of the harlot in your gestures.”

Robert’s grin was swift. “A minor talent. I have others.”

Thomas knew better than to argue with this piece of impertinence. For all his foppish ways, Robert MacQuarrie was the most gifted swordsman and navigator of any man Thomas had ever met. He sighed and rubbed his chin, wincing when he touched a lingering bruise.

Robert regarded him over the lip of his mug. “You certainly took a beating at MacLean’s hands.”

Thomas tossed down the whiskey, welcoming its burning warmth. “It could have been worse. I was to be consigned to the dungeons, but Fia intervened.”

“She saved you? Then ’tis love. What other reason would she have to go against her own kith and kin?”

Thomas frowned. “Cease your jesting.”

“’Twas no jest,” protested Robert. “Now that I think on it, you have all the symptoms of being in love, as does she. Do you find Lady Fia attractive?”

“She’s a beautiful woman. Every man on this ship would agree to that.”

“Ah, but no other man on this ship is feeling the cut of jealousy.”

“Jealousy? When have I been jealous?”

“When have you not been? You glare at everyone when she is about, including her own cousin. And then there is your attraction to her—” Robert grinned. “Forgive me for mentioning it, but I couldn’t help but notice it when I accidentally walked into your cabin yesterday eve.”

Thomas’s face heated. “You should have knocked.”

“However I came to interrupt you, you had the look of a jealous husband. I know, for I’ve witnessed it many a time.”

Thomas was hard-pressed not to answer Robert’s grin with a fist. “I admit Fia has an effect on me, and I’ll be well rid of such a troublesome wench. London cannot come too soon.”

“And then?”

“And then the maid is free.”

“Free to do what?”

“Whatever she wishes.” Thomas took a deep draught of his whiskey. “There’s only one thing I must do. In order to gain the lady’s cooperation, I promised to find a sponsor for her plays.”

“You
had
to promise? Or you made this gesture out of the munificent generosity of your own heart?”

Thomas didn’t answer.

“Ah.” Robert took a long sip of his whiskey. “Tell me something,
mon ami;
why seek an annulment at all? Why not keep the beauteous Fia as wife?”

“What sort of a question is that?”

“A practical one. Isn’t she of noble birth?”

“Aye.”

“And pleasant to look upon?”

“More than pleasant,” Thomas said grudgingly.

“Quick of wit?”

“Too
quick of wit for my tastes.”

Robert quirked a disbelieving brow. “You prefer a witless woman?”

“No, of course not. Just one who isn’t so prone to speaking out of turn.”

“Hmm.” Robert nodded thoughtfully. “And I know that you find her physically appealing.”

Thomas stirred in his chair, assaulted by memories. “Aye,” he admitted reluctantly. “I can scarce look at the maid without becoming as ready as a ship in a full wind.”

Robert looked delighted. “She torments you, eh?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Robert counted on his fingers, “So she’s wellborn, beauteous, filled with wit, blessed by passion and character, and you cannot keep your hands from her . . .” He threw up his hands. “Explain why you should not be on your knees thanking the stars to have been gifted with such a wife!”

“She’s also untamed and half-wild; she says what she thinks when she thinks it, regardless of the appropriateness of it; would rather be with her animals than people; runs about with her hair tumbled to her shoulders and her skirts clinging to her; wears muddy boots like some stable boy—” He shook his head. “Damn it, Robert, I don’t have to explain this to you. You know how brutal the court can be; she’d be scorned and ridiculed.”

Robert shrugged. “I hear naught that could not be fixed. She could be taught comportment.”

“Robert, the woman doesn’t even own a petticoat. And then there’s the
wool.
”

Robert blinked. “Wool?”

“Aye, it clings and is far softer than any wool I’ve ever touched and—” He clamped his mouth closed as he noted the twinkle in Robert’s eyes. “I’ve already admitted that I lust for her, you pestilent cur. What more do you want?”

Smiling smugly, Robert took a considering drink. “So you think this is lust and not love. You are ever the cynic.”

“I prefer the term ‘realist.’” Thomas took another draw
of his whiskey. There might be no answers for him in Robert’s company, but at least the whiskey was melting some of his tension. “It’s a pity, I admit, for she’s certainly comely, but she’s not the woman for me.”

“’Tis a sad case,” Robert said, his gaze faraway, as if he could see the solution. “There is only one thing to do, then.”

“What’s that?” Thomas looked at the bottom of his mug. ’Twas already empty. He found the bottle and refilled his mug. At this rate, he would soon be unable to stand. Part of him welcomed the idea of a few hours of blissful unawareness.

“You must take her. Make her yours. Woo her and—”

“What?
How am I to do that and leave her a maid? Elizabeth will not grant an annulment if I so much as touch the wench.”

“Then there is no hope. From what I witnessed in your cabin, that woman will not touch the shores of London still a maid. Your blood is too high.”

As much as Thomas hated to admit it, Robert was right. There must be something he could do to lessen the tension. Seeing her in such close quarters, her silken hair flying, her mouth soft and begging for kisses . . . He shifted in his chair. The chit stirred his blood just as he knew he stirred hers; her kisses could not lie. Indeed, she’d scarce been able to look away from his bared chest last night.

It was gratifying that the attraction he felt was shared. Too gratifying.

All he had to do was outlast this yearning until they reached London. Once there, he’d allow the wiles of the perfumed court beauties to douse his lust. If only there were some diversion here, aboard ship, at least for Fia.

Thomas set his mug on the table.

Why not? It wouldn’t hurt Robert to do something worthwhile.

Thomas eyed his friend. “Perhaps there is something
you
can do to help with this situation.”

“Me?”

“Aye. The queen herself says you’d as soon talk a woman out of her petticoats as pull the laces yourself.”

Robert beamed and tilted back in his chair, placing his booted feet upon the table. “I must admit to owning some address.”

“Then
you
will keep Fia busy during our voyage home.”

Robert’s boots and the front legs of his chair hit the floor.
“What?”

“You heard me. You’ll keep her busy and well escorted. I’ll not have her out of her cabin without a proper chaperone.”

“Just how am I to keep her ‘busy?’ We’re on a ship. It’s not as if there are amusing places we could ride to, or people to visit, or—”

“I don’t know and don’t care; just do it. Perhaps you can play cards or chess, or read books aloud—you know better than I how to entertain a fanciful woman. Better yet, tell her you’ve always wished to be an actor, and offer to act out her plays.”

Robert was silent a long time before he let out his breath in a long sigh. “I cannot. She’s a MacLean.”

“So?”

“The MacQuarries have been pledged to the MacLeans for centuries; I can’t forget the allegiance of my clan. They may have abandoned me, but I’ll never abandon them. ’Tis a matter of honor.”

“Since when has honor been a concern of yours? You would as soon cheat at cards as take an honest loan.”

“Cheating a Sassenach at cards
is
a matter of honor among Scots,” said Robert gently.

“I never realized just how much of a Scot you are. I’ll not forget it.”

“Thank you,
mon ami.
I’ll stand at your side in any venture you care to undertake, be it pirating, fighting, or else. But I’ll not lift a hand against a MacLean.”

“I never said anything about lifting a hand,” Thomas said irritably. “I merely asked you to keep her busy so she’s not wandering alone on deck, tempting me to—interfering with the crew as they go about their duties.”