Twice Loved (copy2) (50 page)

Shortly after noon, a bell announced dinner, which was served in a long forward salon as lackluster as the rest of the craft. Tables and benches filled the room, and there was little space for the galley help to pass between them with the hot seafood chowder and hard dark bread that comprised the meal.

Laura sat next to Rye, scorchingly aware of every brush of his thigh against hers. The conversation around the table ran on brightly as passengers compared destinations and home ports. It was unnecessary to reveal that Laura and Rye were to be married that afternoon, for everybody took them to be a married couple, since Josh was with them, and Josiah, too.

In the afternoon, Rye left Laura in the cabin to rest if she wanted, while he excused himself, taking his suitcase next door. But she was keyed up so tightly it was impossible to relax. She found herself continuously checking the tiny gold pendant watch pinned near her collarbone, and finally, when it read three o’clock, she went next door to fetch Josh, ordering, much to the boy’s dismay, that it was time for him to change clothes and get ready.

She had decided to wear the yellow dress, had recombed her hair into a flattering nutmeg top knot, but was nervously indecisive about whether or not to wear her bonnet.

“What do you think, Josh?”

But Josh was little help. He merely shrugged and wondered why his mother was acting as flappy as a fish out of water.

At ten to four, a knock sounded and Laura sucked in a quick breath and whispered, “You answer it, Josh!”

The door opened upon a freshly combed, freshly shaved Rye Dalton, decked out in the same splendid suit he’d worn the night of Joseph Starbuck’s party. The green trousers clung to his thighs as the skin hugs a grape. The jacket delineated his shoulders’ breadth and musculature with awesome precision. His sienna skin was temptingly foiled by the snowy ruffles that fell to his knuckles and the tightly wound stock that climbed his neck nearly to his side-whiskers.

“Are y’ready?”

I’ve been ready since I was fifteen.

Laura reined in her wild thoughts and managed to utter hoarsely, “Yes, both of us.”

He nodded and stepped back from the door, through which Josh immediately began to precede his mother, only to be halted in midstride by his father’s strong hand.

“Ladies first, young man.”

They were joined in the companionway by Josiah, and the four made their way up to the main aft deck and the captain’s quarters.

Captain Benjamin Swain was a burly mutton-chopped man with red cheeks and a raw scrape to his voice. He stepped back to allow them entrance, raspily welcoming, “Step inside! Step inside!” But he was surprised to see the shortest of the quartet, who followed on his mother’s heels. “Well, now who have we here?”

Josh looked up. “Joshua Morgan, sir.”

“Joshua Morgan, is it?”

Josh nodded, giving the captain no further enlightenment.

The ruddy-cheeked captain closed the door and cleared his throat with a thunderous rumble. “This is m’ first mate, Dardanelle McCallister,” Captain Swain announced. “Thought y’ might need a witness.”

Rye and the first mate shook hands. “Mr. McCallister, I thank y’, but we won’t be needin’ y’. My father will act as witness.”

“Ah, very well, sir, then I’ll take m’self off to other duties.”

Other introductions were made all around, and Laura’s hand was crushed in the tight grip of the captain.

His cabin was the most luxurious part of the craft. It had rich walls of waxed teak and finely crafted fittings such as the belowdecks cubicles hadn’t. A carved bedstead covered one end of the room while on another was a long pigeonholed desk and closed storage cabinet resembling a chifforobe. The center of the room was monopolized by a table over which were strewn maps, ledgers, a brass sextant, and compass. There was more space than their own cabins afforded, but still, with five people in this room, it was undeniably crowded.

Captain Swain motioned them to stand to one side of the desk while he stooped to fetch a Bible from its lower drawer.

Laura stood between Rye and Josiah, while Josh took up a place before them, with Rye’s hands resting on the boy’s shoulders. The captain began paging through the book, but before he found what he was looking for, Josiah leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Rye and Laura exchanged curious glances but were left unenlightened as the whispered exchange continued, then the captain nodded his head, found his place, and looked up with a second clearing of his throat.

“All ready, then?”

Josh’s rooster tail bobbed as he nodded enthusiastically. The captain puffed out his chest and began reading a simple prayer. Beside Laura, Rye’s elbow seemed to quiver as it brushed hers. She stared at the gold buttons on the captain’s protruding stomach. The prayer ended, and the rotund man dropped the book and extemporized.

“Y’ve come to me on this, the thirtieth day of March, eighteen thirty-eight, to join together as man and wife. Is that correct, Mr. Dalton?”

“That’s correct.”

“Is that correct, Miss Morgan?”

“That’s correct—Mrs. Morgan.”

The captain arched a brow. “Mrs. Morgan, yes,” he amended. “And to the best of your knowledge, is there any reason why the Commonwealth of Massachusetts should not grant its seal to your wishes?” He looked first at Rye, then at Laura. In turn, they answered, “None.”

“Marriage is a state into which you must enter with all intentions of making it last a lifetime. Do you both so intend? Mr. Dalton?”

“Yes, I do,” Rye answered.

“Yes, I do,” Laura answered.

“And it is also a state into which none should enter without the bond of love. Do you promise to love each other for the rest of your lives?”

“I promise ...” Rye turned loving eyes on Laura, “for the rest o’ my life.”

“I promise,” she echoed, meeting his blue eyes, “for the rest of my life.”

“And who will witness this union?”

“I will,” Josiah stated. “Josiah Dalton.”

The captain nodded. “And who gives this woman?”

“I do,” Josh piped up.

The captain quirked an eyebrow—obviously this was the part of the ceremony about which he’d been prompted. “And you are?”

“I’m Josh.” He looked up over his left shoulder. “She’s my mother.” Then he looked up over his right. “And he’s my father.”

The captain forgot protocol. “What!”

Laura bit her lip to keep from smiling. Beside her, Rye colored and shuffled his feet.

“She’s my mother and he’s my father, and I give ’em permission to get married.”

The captain gathered his wits and proceeded. “Very well, and are there any rings?”

There was a sudden flurry of activity as Laura pulled open the drawstring of a tiny reticule and the groom—to the captain’s utter amazement—pulled a gold wedding band off his finger and handed it to his bride. Then they faced the captain as if nothing unusual were taking place here.

The captain’s mouth hung open as he realized the groom would be wearing the same wedding ring again.

“You gonna marry ’em or not?” Josh asked, fidgeting now.

“Oh ... oh, yes, where were we?”

“Are there any rings,” Josh reminded the captain, who harrumphed in an effort to cover his confusion.

“Oh yes, so repeat after me while you’re placing the ring on her finger. ‘With this ring I take you, Laura Morgan, for my wife, forsaking all others, loving only you, till the end of our days on this earth.’ ”

Laura gazed at Rye’s callused fingers holding the gold band on the appropriate knuckle. His own trembled, as did his voice while he repeated the words of the captain. Then he slipped the gold band onto her finger for the second time in her life.

She took Rye’s left hand in hers and held the ring he’d just removed. It still held the warmth of his flesh, captured in the polished gold. She held it shakily while Captain Swain dictated the words again and her subdued voice repeated them.

“With this ring I take you, Rye Dalton, for my husband, forsaking all others, loving only you, till the end of our days on this earth.”

She slid the ring on securely and her face lifted to find his pale blue eyes waiting as the captain sealed the union.

“By the power vested in me by the ...” He took a moment to glance out the cabin window at the shoreline and verify their location. “...by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you man and wife.”

“For once and for all,” Josiah mumbled, smiling in satisfaction as his tall, strapping son bent over the woman who lifted her lips for his kiss. He watched the couple part, then break into two of the most beaming smiles Josiah had ever seen as they impetuously hugged each other one more time.

“Well, you goin’t’ keep her all t’ yourself or y’ goin’t’ let an old man get in on this?”

While Josiah hugged Laura, Rye shook hands with Captain Swain, but suddenly realized Josh’s short stature put him well below the action. Rye leaned down and scooped the little one up.

“I think the bride deserves a kiss from her son.” Perched on Rye’s powerful arm, the child leaned to kiss his mother. The joy reflected in her face brought a bright smile to his face, too. Her laughter lilted through the cabin before she looked into Josh’s eyes and spoke softly. “I think the groom deserves a kiss from his son, too.”

For a moment Josh hesitated, his small hand resting at the back of Rye’s collar, his other behind Laura’s neck, uniting them into a trio. When he moved to touch his rosebud lips to Rye’s for the first time, a current of joy swelled the man’s heart. Josh straightened, and with their eyes so close together and so very much alike, the two studied each other. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity. Then suddenly Josh’s hand left Laura and he flung both arms around Rye and buried his face in the strong neck that smelled of cedar. Rye’s eyes closed as he breathed deeply to control the floodtide of emotion generated by the embrace.

The captain cleared his throat. “I believe a little toast is in order, after which I’d be honored to have you at my table for supper. I’ve asked the cook to see if he can’t scratch up something besides stew for the occasion. ”

***

Laura and Rye might have been eating sawdust for all they cared. The conversation was sprightly, and the salon seemed much gayer than it had at noon, once Captain Swain announced to the other passengers that he’d had the honor of performing a marriage ceremony. But in spite of the chatter around them, Rye and Laura were conscious of only two things—each other and the time. It seemed to slog by on leaden feet. It took a conscious effort to keep from getting lost in each other’s eyes. They were surrounded by people and were approached repeatedly by total strangers offering congratulations. Though it was impossible for Laura to check her pendant watch without being observed, she noted that, more and more often as the evening progressed, Rye pulled his watch out under cover of the table. Each time he snapped its cover shut and tucked it away in his vest, he would move his eyes to hers and she would feel the heat travel up her cheeks. Once as she listened to a female passenger relating an anecdote about a millinery store in Albany, Laura felt Rye’s gaze and turned slightly to find him staring at her left hand, which was unconsciously fingering the pendant watch at her collarbone. She dropped the hand immediately and turned to pay attention to the woman. But Laura heard not a word the stranger said, for beneath the table Rye shifted his leg until a long, hard thigh pushed hard against hers, even as he turned to face the opposite direction and answer a man on his far side.

Several minutes later the leg shifted again, and Rye’s heel began bouncing in an unconscious jitter of impatience. The motion quivered its way up Laura’s leg and increased the heavy-hollow feeling of arousal deep within her.

At a point when she thought her patience couldn’t hold out another second, Josh—bless him!—turned to Josiah and put a hand on his arm.

“Grampa, I think we better go check our chickens.”

“Aye, I think y’r right, boy. Been lollygaggin’ here long enough.”

Beneath the table Rye’s heel stopped jumping. He stretched his long form up off the bench with a feigned leisure that made Laura smile inwardly, then took her elbow to urge her to her feet. As if I need urging, she thought.

The handshakes and good nights seemed to take a monumental amount of time, but at last the group broke up and the Dalton party filed through the companionway to their quarters.

At Rye and Laura’s door, Josiah stopped and gestured at them with the stem of his pipe. “Y’ best sleep late in the mornin’. Don’t worry about Josh and me ...” His hand felt for Josh’s shoulder, found it, and squeezed. “We’ll be busy feedin’ the animals.”

Josh took the wide, gnarled hand and dragged his grandfather toward the next door. “C’mon, Grampa! Ship is whining!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin.” Josiah let the boy tug him away, knowing a sense of well-being he hadn’t felt since the day his son sailed off on the whaleship 
Massachusetts.

Chapter 23

THE LATCH CLICKED 
behind them. Laura paused in the middle of the room, Rye a foot from the door. Through the wall came the muffled sound of Josh greeting Ship enthusiastically, answered by two canine yips of excitement, then silence, but for the steady, throbbing beat of the steam engine that churned in the bowels of the boat. They’d left the lantern burning. It swung now above Laura’s head, throwing her shadow across Rye’s legs, up the wall, and back to his feet again.

Laura studied the narrow single bunks, comparing their inadequate length to Rye’s, coming up short by a good six inches. She was slipping the drawstrings of her reticule from her wrist when Rye’s low voice came from behind her.

“Mrs. Dalton.”

She turned slowly to face him. He stood with feet planted wide apart, knees locked, one hand hanging loosely at his side while the other untied the stock at his throat.

“Yes, Mr. Dalton?” She tossed the reticule toward the bench without bothering to check where it landed. Her heart did a mating dance along her ribcage. Her breath was in short supply.