Commander of His Heart (Promise of Forever After Book 4)

by Arlem Hawks

  In her heart she prayed the captains would see reason. Mistakes had been made on both sides, but the elements made things difficult. No lives or ships had been lost. Collin deserved a second chance as much as Greetham. Marah made a face. More so than Greetham.

  A cocked hat appeared through the hatchway, then Collin’s somber face. He laid his hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip.

  That was a good sign, wasn’t it? She couldn’t remember if the court kept the sword on a guilty verdict.

  Collin searched the deck, then strode quickly toward her. Captains from the panel filed up after him and headed for the side to be lowered down into the waiting boat that would take them to shore.

  “I take it the ruling was in your favor?” She fussed with her apron. If her testimony had only made things worse, she’d never forgive herself.

  “It was more than I could have hoped for, being the focus of the Greethams’ fury. I’ll remain in the navy, though they are recommending I return to the rank of lieutenant.” He halted before her, hand falling from the hilt of his sword to hang wearily by his side. “Why did you come?” he asked softly. “Admiral Greetham will block any petition you make for widow’s pension after that.”

  On the other end of the deck, Captain Brenton paused and regarded them for a moment. Then he smiled before climbing over the side.

  “It was worth it to me,” she insisted.

  Collin swept off his hat. The sun setting behind the dockyards painted his face with a rosy glow. “Marah, you have family to help provide for. I have no one.” He fussed with the cockade on his hat.

  She covered his hand with hers, stilling him. “That was why I had to come.”

  The corners of his lips lifted. “You’re mad.”

  “If I didn’t come, who would?” The Greethams went over the side, muttering angrily to each other. Thank heavens they didn’t spot her and Collin. “I wanted to clear your name more than I wanted the pension.”

  Collin blew out a breath that ruffled the feathers along the ridge of his hat. “Why was clearing my name so important to you?”

  More than a week had passed since they’d stood at the Teaspoon’s bow as Chatham rose into view. Every day their last conversation played through her mind, the memory of his tenderness as he wrapped her fingers around the retrieved bracelet. How she’d longed for the feel of him beside her. Heart pounding, Marah placed her hands on his waist between his jacket and waistcoat. He tensed under her touch.

  “Because I hoped to share it.”

  His fingers found her chin and lifted her face until she looked him in the eye. His eyes glistened, though whether from emotion or the sunset’s light, she could not say. “But I have nothing to give you,” he said. “No house, no money. I don’t even have the Teaspoon, as they determined to reassign me.”

  She slid her arms around him. “I think we’ve both proven ourselves resolute enough to find a way.” She laid her forehead against his shoulder. His spicy cologne and the warmth of him in her arms clouded her senses.

  He suddenly seized her in an embrace, his hat tumbling to the deck. He leaned his head against hers with a delighted moan. “I hardly deserve this.”

  “Worthiness has nothing to do with it. Love is my gift to give.” She squeezed him tighter.

  “Love.”

  “Yes, love.” She pushed up on her toes until her lips were against his ear. “I love you, Collin Boyd.”

  He turned his head away quickly. Had she spoken too brazenly? She cupped his face in her hands. A tear slipped down his cheek and along her finger. “What is it?” She brushed the tear away.

  “Forgive me,” he said hoarsely.

  Marah turned his face back to her. “Tell me.” At least he grinned through the tears.

  “Do you know you are the first person in my memory who has said that to me?”

  When the urge tapped at her mind, she did not try to resist it. Heart soaring like a sail catching the wind, she pressed her lips to his. In a moment he returned the kiss—delicately, fervently, as though afraid to overwhelm her.

  But she was not a woman easily overwhelmed. As she moved with more intensity, grabbing his collar to haul him deeper into the kiss, his eagerness finally slipped out. He didn’t pull away until they were breathless, grinning, and holding tightly to each other without any intention of letting go.

  “I wouldn’t mind making more memories of that sort,” Marah said. How had she groaned and huffed at every mention of love when she was younger? It was a gift, one she would treasure above all else. “For the rest of our days. If you agree, of course.”

  He cocked his head, then rubbed his nose against hers. “I do agree. But I think I am supposed to do the asking.” His hands found her sides, his fingers digging in just enough to tickle through her stays. Marah yelped and giggled, batting at his sleeves.

  “I’ve never been one for conventions,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Then he crushed her to him and swept her off her feet. He spun her around, both of them laughing, until the sun’s last smile dipped behind the dockyard.

  Chapter 13

  June 1813, Chatham, England

  After the ceremony Daphne was the first to greet Marah and Collin at the front door of the church, which overlooked the harbor and its stately rows of masts. She gave a little squeal as she hugged Marah. “My dear friend, I couldn’t be happier for you. Mrs. Boyd. How lovely that sounds.”

  Marah’s throat tightened. She hadn’t cried so many tears of joy in her life as she had the last month since landing at Chatham. Through all the troubles that had befallen her, she hadn’t imagined such happiness could exist. Not for her.

  “You were right. You always were,” she said. “I should have believed you.”

  Daphne pulled back. She looked slightly pale, but the brightness in her eyes made up for it. “The others are all enormously jealous Cheriton is close enough that I could attend.”

  “Though you nearly didn’t survive the ride,” muttered a tall man with blond hair who stood protectively behind Daphne.

  “It was not that terrible,” Daphne whispered to him.

  “You were ill nearly every mile.”

  Ill? Marah raised an eyebrow. She shouldn’t assume, but it had been nearly a year since Daphne’s own wedding. Baby? she mouthed. Her friend blushed, putting a finger to her lips. Marah caught Daphne’s hands and squeezed them, the gladness inside turning to giddiness. Phoebe, Daphne, and Isabel were all married, two of them had little ones on the way, and now she’d joined their ranks. If only Lavinia could find someone, their promise would be complete.

  “It is so good to see you again, Mr. Everard,” Marah said. The few people who had attended the ceremony were lining up behind the Everards, but she didn’t mind letting them wait.

  “How do you feel, Lieutenant Boyd, being the means to fulfilling a promise?” Mr. Everard asked, thumping Collin on the shoulder. The man’s green eyes twinkled.

  Collin’s strong arm, covered in the brilliant blue wool of his dress coat, circled around Marah’s back. The feel of him against her sent a tingle over her skin. “I cannot say I mind,” he said with a grin.

  “Good man.” He motioned to Collin with his head and said to his wife, “He can stay.”

  “We won’t keep you,” Daphne said. Marah reluctantly let go of her friend’s hands. “You must visit us at Cheriton as soon as you are able.”

  “Of course.”

  The rest of the well-wishers filtered through the door, calling their congratulations. A few were navy friends of Collin, including a Captain King he seemed shocked to see in attendance. Adam, his wife, and two daughters quietly wished them joy before disappearing into the busy Chatham streets. Finally they were left with only her mother and brothers.

  “Must you leave so soon?” Mama asked, wiping her tear-stained face with a crumpled handkerchief. Collin had been assigned to serve as second lieutenant aboard HMS Walker, and they’d received permission for Ma
rah to accompany him.

  Marah embraced her mother. “We need to bring home a fantastic prize in order to purchase your cottage.”

  “You know that isn’t necessary.”

  “But we wish to do it all the same.”

  Mama pulled away and dabbed at her eyes once again. She wagged a finger at Collin. “You’ll be certain she comes to no harm and stays away from the battles.”

  Collin shrugged. “I will try my hardest.” He glanced at Marah’s older brothers, who gave him knowing smirks that Marah pretended to ignore.

  Eliab snorted. “Best of luck to you, sir.” His frustration with the match had softened in the weeks since the Teaspoon made land. Last evening he’d begrudgingly admitted his approval. Though he still regretted that things hadn’t worked better between her and Stephen, he said that he could rest easy now that she was finally happy.

  Collin pulled her closer as her family quit the church. The rector and curate spoke quietly near the altar, but the rest of the building stood empty.

  “Are we going to follow them?” Marah cocked her head.

  Collin snatched her hand and tugged her back inside the church. He practically dove into a corner near the entrance, blocked from view of both the clergymen and her family.

  “They’re waiting for us,” she whispered. The only wedding ceremonies she’d been to, her first included, had been such solemn affairs. The laughter and smiles they’d already shared that day had made it a delightfully strange event.

  Collin wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her hands against his chest. “We’ve done our duties to family and Society. Now is the time to see to us.”

  “We aren’t finished with those duties yet.” She couldn’t help a giggle as his lips ran along the side of her neck.

  “I thought you weren’t one for conventions.”

  There was truth to that. Marah melted into his embrace. “My family is blocking the way out.”

  “We’ll send the coach on without us and retire to my rooms at the Franklin on foot.” His lips traveled across her jaw and her pulse quickened. “You cannot tell me you are above that.”

  “You’ve thought this through. A sound battle plan, sir, if a risk. We’ll make a captain out of you yet.”

  Collin laughed and loosened his hold. “I suppose we should go join the family, then.”

  Marah caught hold of his lapels. How she liked seeing him in this coat, with its gold trim set against deep blue and stark white. “Where are you going?”

  “To attend to my duties, madam.” His brown eyes glinted with mischief.

  “You haven’t finished this one, yet.”

  “Ah. How foolish of me.” His hands slid to her waist as his lips finally met hers, softly at first. With each movement the pressure increased until she couldn’t remember the day or the year or what was supposed to come next. It was only Collin and the humble love they shared. And though she knew they’d never be immortalized in the novels that made her friends swoon all those years ago, this was the only romance she needed.

  She’d been both right and wrong back then. Love didn’t need a gentleman on a white horse galloping in to save the lady, only two people to treasure the greatest gift they could offer each other.

  “Why are you smiling?” Collin murmured.

  She pressed her cheek to his freshly shaved face. “Simply because I love you.” Then she turned her lips back to his. “Carry on, sir.”

  ***

  Did you enjoy reading about Marah? There is more to the story of the five friends and their lucky bracelet. Continue with Lavinia’s story, The Determined Suitor, written by Heidi Kimball.

  If you enjoyed Arlem Hawks’s writing, turn the page for a list of her other titles.

  Author’s Note

  HM Brig Teaspoon, HM Brig Manly, HMS Andersen, HMS Cricket, HMS Caledonian, HMS Walker, and HMS Crimson are all fictional ships, though the Manly is named after a real brig of the period. HMS Agamemnon is a real ship that was commanded by Lord Nelson. The Battle of the Hyères Islands was a real battle between British and French forces in 1795.

  In the story, the Teaspoon is an American privateer taken during the Revolutionary War. It is loosely based on the Lady Washington, a real brig whose replica resides in Washington, USA, and is much better kept than the poor Teaspoon.

  Chatham dockyard and Upchurch are real places in Sussex, England, though the exact streets described are fictional. There also is a church in the dockyard, but I was unable to find evidence whether or not marriages were performed there during the Regency era.

  Admiral Nelson did sponsor the orphaned children of men who served under him. The orphan hospital in the story is based on the Greenwich hospital. These were not hospitals by modern terms. We would call them orphanages, a term not in use until later in the 1800s.

  Captain Boyd is named after my father, HMS Caledonian is named after my son, and HMS Walker is named after one of my dear friends.

  Acknowledgments

  I’ll be forever grateful to the ladies of Love Letter Press—Megan Walker, Heidi Kimball, Joanna Barker, and Sally Britton—for agreeing to form our critique group in 2018. It has been amazing to see everyone’s career flourish over the last couple of years. They have been fantastic friends as well as partners, and I’ve loved working on this series with them.

  I must especially thank Megan Walker and Deborah Hathaway for helping me through the difficult times in writing this book (and in life) the last couple of months. Their support has pushed me through many a rough spot. Thank you Meg, Deborah, and Jo for your thoughts that helped get this manuscript ready for the world. And Jo, I owe you a plate of macarons for formatting this.

  A shoutout to my beta readers—Colette Campbell, Alison Clawson, Stacy Compton, Meghan Merkley, Alayna Townsend, and Jill Warner. Thanks for catching the things I always miss and helping me make sure my nautical jargon is understandable!

  Shaela Kay Odd and Erica Shifflet made this cover amazing! Erica’s photos for this series were spectacular, and Shaela arranged the whole design beautifully. It turned out even better than I’d planned it in my head. And thanks to Jeff Hawks and Alison Moore, who helped tremendously with the whole photo shoot and appeared on other covers in the series.

  Thank you to Jessica Christian and Daphne James Huff for helping me name Cyrus.

  I must thank N. A. M. Rodger, whose research and fantastic books on the Royal Navy have brought that world to life for me. I owe most of my knowledge on the subject either directly to his work or to historians who drew from his work.

  I’ve long believed my fascination with nautical stories to come from my seafaring great grandfathers who served in the Royal Navy for at least three generations, including during the Regency era. I love the inspiration I draw from my heritage.

  Thank you to my parents, Boyd and Debbie Matheson, for helping with our kids while I wrote this. My siblings—Lindsay, Sarah, McKay, and Will—also helped tremendously. And a thank you to my sisters-in-law—Kathryn, Corie, Kalle, and Arielle—who have been my cheer squad this entire journey.

  Lastly, but most importantly, a huge thank you to my husband and three children, who have sacrificed and served so much so that I could finish this book. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but I could not have asked for a better crew. I love you all.

  Also by Arlem Hawks

  Georgana’s Secret

  In Pursuit of a Gentleman

  All You Wish

  The Steadfast Heart

  About the Author

  Arlem Hawks began making up stories before she could write. A hopeless romantic from a young age, she grew up wanting to be just like her writer father, who instilled in her a passion for stories. Living all over the Western United States and traveling around the world gave her a love of cultures and people, and the stories they have to tell. With her travels came an interest in history, especially that of the places tied to her heritage.

  She graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in communica
tions and emphasis in print journalism, and also studied French for seven years. After college she worked as a Sports Information Director for BYU Athletics, helping with media relations for football, volleyball, and women's basketball. It wasn't until she moved with her husband to Arizona that she was finally able to get back to her first love, creative writing. She'd always enjoyed Jane Austen and the Regency Era, but tending to small children in a place she hardly knew pushed Arlem back to those beloved stories. When the time came to write again, she turned to the genre that had helped her through the difficult days. When she isn't writing, Arlem is baking her characters' favorite foods, sewing Regency dresses, learning how to play the tin whistle, and watercoloring.