Their Wicked Ways (23 page)

He cracked an eye and looked
up at her.  “Darlin’, I thought you were going to kill me.”

“Oh.  I didn’t do it right?”

He lifted an arm with an
effort and dragged her down for a kiss.  “I’ve never felt anything more ‘right’
in my life.”

Relieved, she lay down once
more, wrapping an arm around him.  Nick settled behind her, draping an arm and
leg over her.

Sighing contentedly, Bronte
drifted to sleep.

She woke when she felt them
move away from her and sat up, watching them dress.

Noticing her at last, Nick
shoved his foot into his boot and strode toward her, leaning down to kiss her
lightly on the lips.  “Stay put.  We’re going topside for a bit.  I’ll have the
cabin boy bring you a bath before dinner.”

Subsiding, Bronte pulled the
covers over herself and lay back, watching them contentedly until they
departed.

Chapter Twenty Two

The cabin boy appeared just
as Bronte was drifting to sleep once more, dragging a tub into the room. 
Groggily, she sat up, clutching the sheets to her.  “Pardon me, Lady--” He
stopped, obviously confused as well as disconcerted to find her lying in the
bed.  “Are you Mrs. Cain?  Or Mrs. St. James?”

“I’m Lady--” Bronte broke
off, biting her lip.  In truth, she wasn’t a ‘lady’ at all, not that she felt
particularly mournful over it.  She wasn’t even entitled to the title since she
was no longer an English citizen.  “You can call me Bronte.”

He bobbed his head and left
again.  When he’d finished filling the tub, he bowed.  “Will there be anything
else, Lady Bronte?”

She shook her head.

“Cook said to tell you dinner
would be ready in twenty minutes and he wasn’t taking responsibility for ruined
food if you weren’t ready to eat.”

Bronte chuckled.  “I’ll be
quick.”

She was still in the tub when
Nick and Darcy returned a few minutes later, tapped at the door and then
entered.  She jumped but relaxed when she saw it was them, settling back and
watching as they brought in a table and chairs.  When they’d ceased fanning the
door and sprawled in the chairs to watch her, she climbed from the tub and took
the linen toweling, ignoring them as she dried herself.

She sent the two of them an
irritated glance.  “Are you going to help me dress for dinner?”

Darcy grinned at her.  “I was
thinking you could wear that.”

“The towel?”

“No.”

Bronte gaped at him in
outrage.  “Nothing?”

Nick got to his feet and
opened one of her trunks.  Rummaging through it, he unearthed a robe and held
it up.  She looked at him doubtfully.  “A robe?”

A slow smile curled his
lips.  “There’s not much point in dressing when we’ll be taking it off again.”

Heat curled in her belly. 
Shivering, Bronte slipped her arms into the robe, securing the belt at the
waist.  “You intend to keep me naked throughout the entire crossing?” she
asked, torn between amusement and irritation.

“We have a lot of lost time
to make up for,” Darcy explained, mock serious.

“And it will be a long,
otherwise boring voyage,” Nick said pensively.

Bronte uttered a disbelieving
laugh.  “And I’m supposed to be the entertainment?”

Nick slipped his hands around
her waist, pulling her close.  “Mmm.  We’ll entertain you, too.”

* * * *

When Bronte awoke, she
discovered without a great deal of surprise that she was alone in the cabin. 
They had established a habit in the past week and a half since they’d been at
sea of disappearing up on deck for much of the day and leaving her to her own
devices.

She didn’t particularly
mind.  They were attentive enough--more than attentive enough when they spent
their evenings and nights with her.  Between the two of them she’d been too
sore even to consider leaving the cabin after the first few days.  Truthfully,
she’d been too exhausted to do much besides sleep.

She’d grown accustomed,
however, and even though she didn’t feel as if she required their constant
attention, even though she was quite content to have time to herself, she
wasn’t content to remain in the cabin.

Rising, she dug through her
trunks until she’d found something that looked simple enough that she could
dress herself without assistance and moved to the washstand and bathed.  The
corset presented problems, but she tied it as snugly as she could and pulled
the gown over her head.  After struggling with the lacing down the back for a
time, she ran her fingers over it, decided it was good enough and sat down on
the bed to comb her hair and arrange it.

There was no mirror in the
room.  She could do nothing more than check what she could see and feel, but
she finally decided that she was dressed acceptably and left the cabin.  The
sun dazzled her as she reached the deck and she paused, shielding her eyes. 
When her vision had cleared, she saw Nick striding toward her.  He stopped as
he reached her, looked her over critically and grasped her arm, hauling her
back down the stairs and to the cabin without a word.

Bronte was too surprised even
to protest.  She’d recovered, however, by the time Nick closed the door firmly
behind them to glare at him.  He grasped her jaw, giving her a quelling
glance.  “Unorthodox our relationship may be, my love, but make no mistake. 
You are mine and I will not have other men gaping at you.  If you’d told me you
wanted to go topside for a stroll, I would’ve helped you dress and escorted
you.”

Bronte was still gasping in
surprise when he released his grasp on her cheeks, caught her shoulders and
turned her away from him.  Loosening her ties, he spread the gown and reworked
the ties of her corset, binding it snugly.  When he was satisfied, he adjusted
her bodice and sleeves and tied her gown once more.

He turned her once more,
surveyed her critically and nodded.  “The hair will have to do.  Arranging that
is beyond me.”

His gaze met hers.  Seeing
the quizzical look in her eyes, he smiled faintly, flicking an affectionate
finger over her cheek.  “You will have to grow accustomed, you know.”

“Will I?”

“You will.”  He pulled her
close, tucking her head against his shoulder.  “In my heart and mind, you are
my wife.”

Warmth suffused Bronte, but
she bit her lip as a touch of uneasiness moved over her as well.  “And Darcy?”
she asked tentatively.  To her surprise and relief, he chuckled.

“In his, too.”

“You are … comfortable with
that?”

His arms tightened.  “Will it
surprise you if I say yes?”

“I think it would.”

He sighed.  “I didn’t think I
would be.  I do love you, you see, and I am as jealous and possessive as any
other man.  Strangely enough, Darcy and I are more like two halves of a whole,
though.  I don’t know how, or why, or even when that came about … probably when
we were still youngsters, but that is the way of it.  And after a bit of
adjustment we came to the realization that we would far prefer to share you
than not to have you at all.”

Kissing her briefly, he
tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her to topside once more. 
Darcy joined them as they strolled around the deck, tucking her other hand in
the crook of his arm.  After a couple of circuits of the ship, they stopped by
the railing and stared out at the vast sea that surrounded them.

“Where are we going?” Bronte
asked, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t even asked.  She’d assumed she was
going home, but then she had thought to begin with that she’d booked passage
home.

“Virginia first.  I sent an
agent to purchase land, but I’ve no notion until I speak with him what he’s
come up with.  I’ve a mind to try my hand as a planter and give over the
running of the shipping business to Darcy.  He’s far better at it than I am. 
Hopefully he’s found something near a promising port town.

“I suppose we could stay at
your place until the house is built.”

Bronte frowned thoughtfully
and finally smiled wryly.  “I’m not so sure that would be a very good idea. 
Americans are a lot different than Englishmen, but they are as easily
scandalized … perhaps even more so.”

Darcy shrugged.  “One of us
could pose as your brother and the other your husband and there would be no
reason for anyone to think anything of it.”

“An excellent suggestion,”
Nick said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.  “I shall be the husband.  You can
be the brother.”

“Now wait just a damned
minute,” Darcy snapped angrily.  “Why do I have to be the brother?”

“Because you have a touch of
red in your hair.  I do not.”

“What’s that got to do with
it?  I don’t look like her brother!”

“You’re saying I do?”

Bronte glanced from one to
the other and started laughing.  “Neither of you look as if you could be my
brother, and what’s more, I’ve been living there for years.  They
know
I
don’t have a brother.”

“That’s that, then.  We’ll
have to find rooms until the house is done … in another town.  It would be best
anyway if we found something close to the plantation.”

“Yes,” Darcy said, “but one
of us is still going to have to pose as a relative or things could get very
uncomfortable.  It’s not that I care that much about socializing, mind you, but
I won’t have the locals snickering about my wife.”

“
Our
wife,” Nick
reminded him, all traces of amusement gone.

“That’s what I meant,” Darcy
retorted.

“That’s not what you said.”

Bronte rolled her eyes.  “I’m
not your wife or yours,” she said tartly.  “I told you I didn’t want to get
married again.  I’ll not tie either of you to me, for I’d as soon not have you
growing dissatisfied when we have no children.”

Darcy and Nick eyed her
speculatively for several moments.  “We’ll cross that bridge when, and if, we
come to it,” Nick said.

“We won’t.  We’ll cross it
now.”

“It’s settled then.”

“It is?” Bronte said blankly,
wondering if she’d missed something.

“Yes.  I’ll have the captain
perform the ceremony, grease his fist and threaten his life if he ‘remembers’
the names when he’s in his cups,” Nick said.

“Good idea,” Darcy agreed. 
“Better yet, I’ll put him on one of the long hauls and make sure he doesn’t hit
port for a while.”

“Now?”

Darcy shrugged.  “There’s no
time like the present.”

Nick nodded.  “I’ll meet the
two of you in the cabin.” His eyes narrowed speculatively.  “The emerald, I
think.  I like the green on her.”

“What are you talking about?”
Bronte demanded.

“Never mind,” Darcy said
soothingly, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and leading her toward the
gangway.  “I’ll explain when we get to the cabin.”

Bronte tugged at her hand. 
“Darcy!”

He gave her a warning look. 
“You don’t want me to carry you down, do you?”

She subsided.  “You
wouldn’t!” she said doubtfully.

“Ah, but I would, darlin’ and
likely spank that luscious backside of yours for putting me to the effort.”

She was still arguing with
Darcy when Nick tapped at the door a few minutes later and entered.  His eyes
narrowed when he saw that Bronte was clutching the front of her gown, resisting
Darcy’s efforts to remove it.  Striding toward her, he caught her hands in
his.  “What’s this all about?”

“I don’t want to get
married.  It wouldn’t be legal anyway, would it?”

“If you think so, then why
argue?”

“Because....”  She looked at
Nick helplessly.  “It wouldn’t be right to tie you to me, Nick.  Eventually,
you will want children.  You’ll come to resent me.  I would far rather we
simply lived together and then, if you find someone else you would be free to
wed.”

He caught her chin, forcing
her to look at him.  “We have compromised for you, Bronte.  You will do this
for us,” he said sternly.