Rebecca (9 page)

Rebecca blushed. She was not used to such effusive compliments. Even Keith had been most grudging in admiring her. She was startled not to experience the deep slice of agony that she expected at each thought of him. Her eyes rose to meet Nicholas's dark ones, which contained unbridled desires in their fathomless depths.

His fingers tightened on her waist as he drew her closer. Turning to their host, he said, “That would be delightful, Drew. I know Rebecca and I shall enjoy that immensely.”

When the captain bid them farewell, they continued their stroll along the swaying deck. Nicholas led her to the bow of the ship where the sea spray was heaviest. As Rebecca's fingers clutched the railing, he held his arm around her. From the helm, Captain Jennings could see Nicholas point in a sweeping motion to different points on the compass. He did not have to be near them to see how well the two forms blended together with the rhythm of the ship. It was only his obsessive love of this seafaring life which kept him from wishing for a wife like Lady Foxbridge.

The days flowed one into another with no sense of hurry or of time. Sunlight was for being awake, moonlight for sleeping. For the passengers, there was no need for any other timepiece. The crew were more aware of the movement of the stars, but only as a beacon to help them steer their course toward the shores of Britain to the north and east.

Each evening, Rebecca joined Nicholas and Drew in the captain's cabin for dinner. None of them made any pretense of formality. Both men wore the open-necked, loose shirts and breeches which the crew found most comfortable. Rebecca had packed away her shoes and kilted her skirts to keep them out of the water on the deck. Her hair was tied back in a single braid which hung heavily along her back. She had removed the scarf from the neckline of her dress. Her normal coloring quickly returned, and she began to accumulate the golden tan which denoted seamen.

The crew adopted her in the same way they had Jake a few years before. Knowing that this pretty lady was off-limits to any man who did not want to be shark bait, they developed an easy relationship with her. They answered her questions and taught her of the ways of the ship.

Between Nicholas and Rebecca, things were becoming less difficult, mainly because both knew there was no choice but to accept the close confines of their quarters. Each night, she slept on the bunk with one pillow and the blanket. He stretched out in the chair with his feet propped on the table and using the other pillow behind his head. Although it was silly for him to sleep like that, they were aware that for him to rest next to her would be too dangerous to their status quo.

Every morning, Nicholas politely disappeared so she could have privacy for her ablutions. Where he shaved and washed, she did not ask. Rebecca was afraid to delve too deeply into any facet of her husband. The friendship they shared could be ignored no longer. She could accept the fact that they could be friends, for they had been in the not-so-distant past. It was being lovers she was unsure of, for each time he pressed his lips over hers in a sweet invitation to rapture, she remembered the man who had warned her to keep Nicholas from her bed.

Keith had promised that he would bring her home as his wife. She could not betray her vow that she would be true to him if she was able. Already her body was urging her to submit to Nicholas's superb loving, but it was not possible to forget her love for the man she had been set to marry.

Each day passed in this impasse. Nicholas pressured her no more, but he let her know that he wanted her more than when he had come to claim her. Days dissolved into weeks until it seemed that they had lived all their lives on this small ship braving the unending waters of the ocean. It was because she was so attuned to the rhythms of life aboard the
Prize
that Rebecca was able to notice immediately when that tune changed to one more frantic.

She stood at the railing where she often could be found when she was alone. Her usual smile had vanished as she watched the changing scene on the ship and in the elements around them. The fitful breeze blew uneasily through the sheets above her head. They usually stretched taut, making the ropes creak with a sound that she at first had thought meant they were ready to unravel, but in this midday whisper of wind they sagged listlessly. Rebecca sensed the crew was waiting, although she could not guess what they knew was going to happen. She was sure it would not be pleasant.

She watched the waves, which were higher than usual. Certainly the
Prize
seemed to be climbing longer before dropping into the deep trough between the crests. Turning to view the frenzied activity on the deck, she was sure something horrible was set to happen. When she saw the crew taking any loose articles belowdeck or, if they were too cumbersome, lashing them to one of the masts, she could not doubt that they were heading into violent weather.

Involuntarily, she turned to look at the dark patch that had at one time been a mere black line on the horizon. It had reached halfway up the sky as if it was a giant mountain lion rising on its haunches to pounce on its prey. A primitive fear of the fierce strength of the monstrous storm looming over them urged her to seek the comfort of someone who cared for her. Her eyes searched the small ship and found Nicholas standing at the helm talking with Captain Jennings.

She fought her own feet as they tried to run to the two men. They saw her coming across the deck with the easy grace that she had learned quickly. Her years of skipping across moss-slick stones in the creek had taught her a sense of balance that had helped her gain her sea legs with alacrity. Before she could climb the ladder to the helm, Nicholas leapt down. He took her hands in his and pulled her into the half-circle of his arm.

Quietly, he explained, “Drew suggested that we might want to go belowdecks so we're out of the way of his men during the storm.”

“Is it going to be that bad?”

He started to dissemble, then nodded. She would want to know the truth. Captain Jennings had been watching the ominous thunderheads rising out of the sea, and Nicholas had seen that the captain was not pleased to be running into a storm this close to shallow waters. They were not far out from England. A chance wind could run the ship up on the shoals offshore.

“It could be very bad, Rebecca. Drew is an experienced master, and the
Prize
is a fine ship with a good crew. He just wants us landbound folks out from underfoot.” He kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked to the stairs leading to their quarters. “Let us secure our things, as well. I'm sure we are going to get quite a ride.”

Wishing she could joke about it as he did, she nodded. After they entered the room, he closed and bolted the door. Opening the small closet, he shoved the lone chair into it. Rebecca put any loose items into the already full drawers under the bed. Overhead the lamp swayed with the uneven rhythm of the ship which had been so predictable for so many weeks.

Suddenly the ship leapt forward with the speed of a wildly racing horse. She could not help the shriek that escaped as she fell back against the floor. “Sorry.” She grinned sheepishly as Nicholas helped her to her feet.

“That's all right.” He did not laugh as the ship rocked sharply again. “Sit on the bed.” Reaching up, he unhooked the lantern from the ceiling. The wax in the lamp could be dangerously slippery if it splashed onto the floor. He tied it onto one of the shelves. They would not have a light until the storm passed.

As he walked toward her, the floor turned into a wall beneath his feet. Allowing his bare feet to slide, he clumsily made his way to the bunk where Rebecca sat clutching the shelf above it. He sat and took her in his arms as the ship reached the crest of the wave. When it plummeted into the trough, it felt as if he had left his stomach on the top of the mountain of water.

“This is just the beginning?” she asked, hoping he would tell her this rough ride would be the worst of it.

“I'm afraid so, sweetheart. Are you scared?”

She laughed unevenly. “Of course I am! Don't worry. I won't get hysterical.”

Tapping her nose with his fingertip, he smiled. “I would be shocked if you did. You are one of the bravest people I know.”

“Hold me, Nicholas,” she whispered as the sound of the wind rose swiftly. “I don't feel brave. I'm terrified.”

He brought her lips to his as her fingers clutched the material of his loose shirt. When her hands slipped, with the motion of the ship, under the open front of his shirt to touch the black hair on his chest, he pressed her back against the mattress which heaved beneath her. He had no time to touch her before the ship was rocked abruptly to port as a gigantic wave threatened to swamp her.

Rebecca cried out in pain as her shoulder banged into the wall. It took the full brunt of her weight as well as Nicholas' above her. Instantly he pulled away and reached to help her sit. As he touched her right arm, which had been so close to the port wall, she moaned. “Don't, Nicholas!”

Ignoring her words, he checked her tender shoulder. Tears of pain rolled along her face more steadily than the fitful rain on the window. He sighed. “It's not broken, sweetheart. Just bruised.”

He gripped her tightly as the ship bucked under them. Although her arm ached with the steady pain of an abscessed tooth, she did not complain as they huddled together through the long minutes, then hours, as the storm roared around them. She hid her face against the warmth of his chest and sobbed out her anguish until there were no more tears. Even then, she stayed in his arms. The creak of the ship escalated to a screech as the wood was buffeted from every side by the powerful waves. When they heard the sharp snap of a giant whip, they knew that one of the furled sails had loosened to flap uselessly but dangerously in the high winds.

Once Nicholas lurched across the volatile deck to stuff material under the door. Water had rapidly pooled on the floor as rain and the waves washing over the deck above cascaded down the stairs. At the same time, Rebecca wrapped one of the pillowcases around the sill of the porthole which had served as their window. The squall was forcing water through cracks too small for them to see.

Although the night came and went, they were unaware of its passing, for the unrelenting darkness of the storm did not alter. They paid no attention to their stomachs, which told them that both dinner time and breakfast had been forgotten.

Rebecca was dozing fitfully against Nicholas when she came abruptly awake. A painful silence assaulted her ears. She glanced at him in hope, but he shook his head regretfully. “Drew explained that there would be a brief period of calm in the center of the storm. Not more than a few minutes.” He paused as he heard a knock on the door.

When he unbolted it, Jake poked his head in to ask, “The cap'n wants to know if you two are doing all right, m'lord.”

Nicholas smiled as he glanced at Rebecca cradling her injured arm and himself in his soaked and torn clothes. The cabin boy looked far worse with his hair and clothing plastered to his body. “We are fine, Jake. Let Captain Jennings know that if he needs an extra hand, I'm available.”

Jake vacillated between the truth and not wanting to hurt the taller man's pride, but a landlubber would be a liability on the deck where decisions must be made in seconds. Swallowing so harshly his Adam's apple bounced, he said, “We're doing well so far, Lord Foxbridge. Carruthers and Holloway are securing the mainsheet that's loosened in the blow. A few hours more should take us out of it. The
Prize
is a dandy ship, and she'll ride like a mermaid through it.” He looked at Rebecca with a silent question.

With a weak smile, she answered, “I'm fine, Jake. You go and help Captain Jennings.”

He tipped the cap that somehow had remained on his head through the storm and closed the door. They could hear his footfalls racing away. Many tasks had to be done before they faced the fury of the hurricane winds once more.

Nicholas restuffed the cloth under the door and came back to sit next to Rebecca. “You have another admirer, my dear wife. You seem to collect them wherever you go.” When she regarded him uneasily, he smiled and added, “You collect them without trying.”

“He's a very nice young man. He kept me company when—” She hesitated, for she did not know how to speak of the days when he had ignored her purposely.

His eyes narrowed as he saw her face close up as it did whenever he spoke of anything that related to their marriage and their lives within it. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. When she gasped in pain, he pulled his fingers from her bruised right shoulder with a quick apology. His voice remained stern as he said, “I think it is time to discuss what our relationship is going to be, Rebecca.”

“Now? In the midst of a storm at sea?” she asked incredulously.

“This is the calm before the storm, my dear,” he said with a cold chuckle. “We have many more to face. Soon we'll be back in England. I think we should know what our relationship is going to be before we reach Foxbridge Cloister.” He regarded her unsteadily. “I assume that, despite the seductiveness of your touch, you haven't changed your mind and want to be my wife in truth.”

She stood and walked across the strangely still deck. Gazing at the door, she said, “I can't. I love someone else.”

“Yet you let me touch you and kiss you?” he demanded. “You don't seem to be thinking of Bennett when I hold you in my arms. Oh, I know he acts as your conscience when I show you that I want you lying in my arms, but you're using him only as an excuse to keep me at bay.”

She did not answer immediately. He was correct. In the weeks since she had left home, Keith had been on her mind and in her heart less and less. She must remain true to him, although his kiss had never excited her like Nicholas' did. He was going to sell everything he owned and come and secure her release from this unwanted marriage. He had extracted a promise that she would wait for him to come for her. She could not break such a vow. “I cannot,” she repeated softly.