Rebecca (8 page)

The cabin door opened. Rebecca spun so that her unhooked gown was held together by her hands behind her back. She took a step backward as Nicholas came into the tiny room.

“Up and dressed, my dear?” He smiled, as he added, “Or I should say nearly dressed. Would you like some help hooking up your frock?”

“I can manage alone,” she said coolly. The expression of eagerness in his eyes warned that he would prefer to help her undress than dress.

He stepped closer. His foot pushed the door closed with a crash as he put his hands on her arms and whirled her to face the wall. Pulling her fingers away from her gown, he bent and kissed the back of her neck. As he tasted the dulcet flavor of her skin, his arm swept around her waist to draw her back against him.

Rebecca was shocked less by his actions than by her reaction. From deep inside her, a sweet flower of desire blossomed forth from a seed that she could not remember being planted. From the time of her fever, she could recall a most realistic dream when Nicholas had held her with sweet love that had drawn from her these same yearnings. As his tongue traced the half circle of her ear, she closed her eyes and felt her body lean against his muscular strength. Although she was tempted to twist in his arms to place her mouth against his, he held her motionless, intent on controlling her growing desire.

His mouth slipped along her neck, bringing a weakness to her knees as she felt the urge to surrender totally to the sensuality he brought forth from her. A soft gasp of delight escaped her lips as his fingers reached through the gap of her unhooked gown to caress the lush roundness of her breast. Only his arm around her waist kept her from falling to the hard surface of the bed.

The motion of his hand sliding the sleeve of her dress along her arm brought her back to her senses. “No!” she cried, trying to pull away.

“No?” he repeated in surprise.

She hooked her gown closed with trembling fingers. “Don't touch me, please, Nicholas.” Her voice was still breathless from the strong emotions he had brought to life.

“You are my wife. I can touch you whenever and however I please.” He pulled her back to him. His hands stroked her, pausing to rest on the hooks, but he did not release any of them. “Why are you fighting me when you know you like it when I caress you, sweetheart?”

Rebecca was not sure how to answer. He was correct. She liked the way he made her feel. Too much. It had been not a month since she said farewell to Keith, but she was ready to turn to this man when his well-practiced techniques aroused her desires. She had to admit that she no longer despised Nicholas. After his kindness during her illness, she would have been a heartless drudge to continue stoking her hatred of him. She did not love him. What he was asking she could not give to a man she did not love.

She was afraid to show him that she was relenting. If she did, he would turn that change to his own advantage. Her best course was to continue as she had from the moment he had informed her that she must go with him to England. Icily, she said, “I don't want to be your lover, Nicholas. It's as simple as that. I know you think you are irresistible, but I don't want you in my bed.”

Instead of the explosion she expected, he laughed lightly. “That is hardly news. You have made your opinion clear from the onset.” He held out his hand. “Come with me for a stroll on the deck. It's about time you got out of these close quarters.”

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. He never reacted as she thought he would. He was irate when she expected gentleness and tender when she was prepared for rage. What type of man was this one she had married? For a week he had nursed her as compassionately as a loving parent would a child. Then, during the past two weeks, he had acted as if he did not want to admit that she existed. Coming into her room, he was smiling at her as if nothing had ever been wrong between them. It seemed more as if nothing was ever right.

Softly, she said, “Thank you, Nicholas. I would appreciate your company. I want to go up on the deck, but I am still a little unsteady.”

“Then, my dear wife, that is all the more reason for you to hold my arm.” He smiled disarmingly as he offered his arm. When she took it, he asked, “Do you want your parasol? The sun is bright up there.”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at his honest kindness, but her amusement was not containable. Amid her chuckles, she retorted brightly, “A parasol? Do you think I carried some piece of silk and lace when I went to get the cows from the fields or worked gathering the harvest? I don't own such a thing, and I don't know anyone who does.”

Nicholas bent and kissed her check, which was still too pale. “You shall have a parasol to go with every one of your new outfits when we get back to Foxbridge Cloister, Rebecca. You shall have whatever it is that you want.”

For a moment, she was tempted to state that the one thing she wanted he would not give her. There was no sense in ruining this pleasant time together by repeating what she had told him so many times already. She wanted to go home. She wanted to marry the man she loved.

Regarding the hesitation on her face, Nicholas knew that at last she was learning to accept the inevitable. She was his, and nothing short of death would change that. Gently he turned her in his arms to face him once more. “Don't hate me and what I want to do for you.”

“I don't hate you. Not any longer.”

He chuckled at the near regret in her voice. It had been easier for her to hate him than to admit that he was not the demon she had labeled him. He put his hands on her cheeks and brought her mouth to his. With the tender kiss, he demanded no more from her than she wanted to give him.

She leaned into his body. Of their own accord, her hands slid along his sleeves to encircle his neck. When she felt his arms sweep around her, compliantly she let him press her closer. Her eyes opened to look up dreamily into his incredibly handsome face.

With a smile, he kissed her lightly. “Shall we go for that promenade, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she said, knowing how dangerous it was to remain in his arms.

Because her memories of the time when they had boarded the
Prize
were unsure, it was as if she was seeing the ship for the first time. The great sheets were taut with the wind. All around them, the boards creaked and moaned with the strength of the wind and the resistance of the water as the ship dipped and swayed across the water like a hummingbird seeking nectar in springtime flowers.

Nicholas chuckled when she grasped his arm tighter as her feet slipped on the wet deck. Ignoring his laughter, she sat on a nearby box. In moments she had removed her shoes and stockings. When he held out his hands for them, she smiled and gave them to him.

“Jake?” he called above the steady sound of the ship racing the wind.

“Aye, m'lord? Good morning, Lady Foxbridge. It sure is fine to see you up this morning.” The young man wore his ready smile.

“It sure is fine to be up this morning,” replied Rebecca with a laugh. Taking a deep breath of the salty air, she stared at the rigging so high above her head.

Nicholas held out the footwear. “Lady Foxbridge has decided to emulate you sailors. Would you be so kind as to take these back belowdecks to her cabin?”

“My pleasure, m'lord.” He dipped his head, grinned once more, and ran easily across the deck to the stairs. His feet compensated for the roll of the ship with unconscious grace.

“He's a good lad,” said Nicholas. “Someday he should be a fine captain.”

Rebecca smiled softly. “That is his dream.”

Although he regarded her strangely, he said nothing. He knew that the cabin boy had been spending time with Rebecca, but had not realized that they had become such good friends that they would share their young dreams of life. For a painful moment, he wondered what she had told Jake of the dreams she clearly thought were gone forever. He wished she would open her eyes and see that he wanted to give her a new set.

She was far more steady as she walked to the railing by his side. As she admired the massive seascape, she was overwhelmed with the solitude in the middle of the ocean. She knew Captain Jennings had tools to help him find his way across the trackless water, but she had no idea where the ship might be. All she saw were the waves which moved in their own tempo from shore to shore. A school of deep-water fish paralleled the ship, and she watched with delight. It was comforting to know that they were not alone. Overhead only fluffy clouds decorated the sky.

“What do you think, Rebecca?”

“I have never been able to see so many miles,” she said in awe. “At home, there are so many tall trees that you cannot see the horizon. Here it is miles away, and there is nothing to block the view.”

“Do you like it?”

She did not answer immediately. She had not thought of the sea in that manner. It filled her with reverence of its majesty. It terrified her when she considered its latent power. It delighted her when she saw its beauty. Slowly, she said, “Yes, I think I do, Nicholas. This ocean is like nothing else I have ever seen, but I think I like it.”

“That's good. I have loved the ocean as long as I can remember. Of course, it has its other shore not far from Foxbridge Cloister.”

In his voice she heard the same tinge of wistfulness she felt when she thought of her family's small cabin in the Connecticut woods. “You have missed Foxbridge Cloister, haven't you?”

He looked into her upturned face. For the first time since he had left her so long ago, Rebecca was reaching out to him in friendship. During the two weeks that he had left her alone, something inside her had changed. Not enough so he could tell her that although he had left her in anger which had erupted from his exhaustion, he had been afraid to return because he did not know whether he could resist making love to her. The only way she would share his bed was if he resorted to rape. He had no interest in choosing violence as the way to seduce his wife.

Honestly he answered, “Yes, I miss my home. It has been more than six years since I left. My brother was shot in a duel two years ago, but I only found out about it six months ago. For almost a year, none of our mail was given to us. In the packet I was given shortly before we were released was the news that Brad had been so stupid as to challenge a man who was a better shot. I had not thought that Foxbridge Cloister would be mine, but now that it is, I cannot lie and say I'm not happy. In a few more weeks, we will be there. It's a beautiful house, and you will love it there, Rebecca.”

“Will I?”

Nicholas turned her to face him as he heard the quiver of disquiet in her voice. His hands on her upper arms were gentle. “Look at me. Do you remember any of what I told you of the Cloister when I was hiding in your barn?”

“No, it was so long ago. How do you expect me to recall what you said when I didn't remember what you looked like?”

“Time travels much more slowly for the young.” He smiled wryly. “What for you seems so long ago does not seem that far in the past for me. I have noticed as I grow older, time slips past much more quickly. Even the years in the prison hulks passed faster than the years of my childhood when I waited for summer that seemed to have come last a century ago.” His smile became sad. “I am sorry you have forgotten so much, sweetheart. I think I remember it all but the very first days. All I can recall then was thinking that you were a very strange angel with braids instead of wings.”

Her laughter was a light sound which instantly took him back in time to those delightful, pain-wracked days when he had been entertained by Rebecca's gentle humor. In a way he had loved that child. Not as he longed to love the woman, but in a most special manner which had cut across the boundaries of different experiences, beliefs, and ages. It had bound them together long before they had spoken the vows of the love they did not feel and the fidelity which they had shared from the moment she had discovered him and had moved him to a secret spot in the barn.

“You don't see yourself as an angel?” he teased.

“No, not as an angel. Yet I do believe you have the looks of one, Nicholas.”

He smiled diabolically. “I have often been told I resemble the one thrown out of heaven by the powers of good. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, for it can be an asset to be able to intimidate one's enemies and friends alike.” He paused as he saw a man approaching. “Hello, Drew.”

Captain Jennings had seen his passengers come up on deck and had given them a few minutes alone before he joined them. The longer the Wythes were on the
Prize
, the more he became confused by their strange behavior. What man who has discovered his beautiful wife anew leaves her to sleep alone while he stretches out on the wet deck or sleeps in one of the hammocks in the crew's quarters? He told himself that Nicholas must have his reasons. With Lady Foxbridge well, he guessed they would resume their normal life together.

He tipped his cap to the lady. He could not help admiring the lithe form outlined within her dress by the forceful gusts of the wind. Carefully he drew his eyes back to her pretty face. His friend would not appreciate anyone ogling his bride. “Good day, Nicholas. Good day, Lady Foxbridge.”

“Rebecca,” she corrected him quietly.

With a grin that wiped away the years from his wind-wrinkled face, he said, “Good day, Rebecca. Isn't it a wonderful day?”

“Yes,” she agreed. She took a deep breath of the tangy breeze. “This must be close to paradise.”

Nicholas laughed and put him arm around her waist. “I think the love of the sea is infecting Rebecca very rapidly. Moments ago, she had to think deeply before she could decide if she liked this watery world. Now she is waxing poetic about it.”

“Well, I'm sorry I can't stay and chat, my friends. Will you join me for dinner tonight in my quarters? It would be an honor to have such a lovely lady share my meal.”