by Adele Clee
“I only wish I could trust your word,” she said so he alone could hear.
The comment cut deep, but he deserved nothing less.
The reverend addressed the congregation, but Fabian placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I swear you will not regret your decision.” And by God, he meant it.
Lillian remained silent. She focused on the reverend who, in his eagerness to leave the cold, wretched place, recited the relevant passage from the Bible. Numerous times during the ceremony her gaze fell to Fabian. Her cheeks flushed scarlet at the mention of joining and of satisfying carnal lusts. Fear flashed in her eyes when the reverend informed them that marriage was ordained for the procreation of children.
“Ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed,” the reverend preached.
Lillian touched the gold locket at her neck. Until now, it had not occurred to him to ask if she loved another, if she kept his likeness close to her heart. Why would it when love played no part in their bargain? Still, the thought created an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
No one made a sound when called to offer a reason why they should not be wed.
The reverend turned to him. “Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her in sickness and in health?”
Fabian stared into her eyes. The vows had a profound effect on him. A rush of heat flooded his body. “I will.” Heaven help him. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. His life flashed before his eyes, every deed, every trial and tribulation culminating into this life-changing moment.
But what did it mean?
“Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour…”
Lillian struggled to hold Fabian’s gaze.
A prolonged silence filled the stone building.
The whole congregation watched her intently. Mouths fell open. Heads hung forward as they waited for her reply.
Lillian looked at the posy in her hand and sighed. She glanced at Mackenzie who smiled and gave a reassuring nod.
The Reverend Sykes cleared his throat.
Fabian willed her to answer. During all his dangerous encounters at sea, he’d never felt a fear like the one gripping him now. Without Lillian at his side, he had no hope of gaining Vane’s help. But that was not the reason for his internal discomfort.
“I—I will.” A deep exhale followed her declaration.
Fabian’s shoulders relaxed. The collective sigh from those squashed into the pews mirrored his own sense of relief.
The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur as Fabian struggled to address the odd feeling of contentment filling his chest. They held hands, and he wasn’t sure whose fingers trembled. They pledged their troth, knelt in prayer.
“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder,” the reverend said before proceeding to announce them, “man and wife together.”
Together.
He’d been alone for so damn long, perhaps that was what unnerved him.
Soon they were outside, swamped by well-wishers cheering and shouting congratulations. The women stepped forward, grabbed a handful of petals from Nancy’s basket and threw them in the air.
Lillian clutched Fabian’s arm, and a sudden urge to protect her took hold.
Damnation. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
The celebratory cries proved infectious. A chuckle burst from Lillian’s lips, the sound sweet, light-hearted, and then they were both smiling and laughing, both lost in a moment of pure bliss.
“Let me be the first to call you Lady Ravenscroft.” Mackenzie came before them and bowed his head. “Mrs Bell has prepared a feast to mark the occasion. It won’t be as grand as a wedding breakfast you’d have in London, mind, but it will be the best meal ever to grace our table.”
Fabian turned to her. “When he says it won’t be grand, he means we’ll be dining with the men. Although if you prefer privacy, I can arrange for us to dine in the drawing room or my chamber.” His mind chose that moment to imagine a feast of a different sort. One where her lips tasted of wild berries, and her skin tasted of milk and honey.
Lillian scanned the crowd and smiled. “No, I should like to hear their kind words and watch them drink a toast in our honour.”
Clearly, the lady had never witnessed the bawdy antics of drunken sailors. When the ale flowed freely, things invariably became boisterous. “I cannot promise they’ll mind their manners. These men do not live by the same rules of etiquette and decorum.”
“Have no fear.” Mackenzie puffed his chest. “I’ll banish them to the dungeons for a night if they dare speak out of turn. I shall see to it personally.”
“There are dungeons?” Lillian sounded surprised.
“Yes, though we’ve not had cause to use them — yet,” Fabian teased. “I shall give you a tour of the castle this evening as long as you promise not to chain me up and leave me to rot.”
“No doubt I would return in the morning to find you had escaped. If there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re resourceful.”
The compliment touched him. It had taken years to come to terms with losing Prescott Hall. Quick wit and ingenuity had set him on the right path again.
Mackenzie cleared his throat. “I should head back. Mrs Bell threatened to spoil my ale unless I agreed to play footman.”
Mackenzie climbed onto the seat next to Mr Brown, and the women clambered into the back of the cart. The men began their march towards the castle, eager to sample Mackenzie’s prized ale before he drained the barrel.
“As my wife, you’re expected to ride back with me.” Fabian sensed her uncertainty. “Thunder is a little temperamental, but I recall you always favoured a spirited animal. Is that not another reason you agreed to marry me?”
“You called your horse Thunder?” She offered him a smirk.
“The name conveys strength and power does it not? Is a man’s horse not an extension of his character?”
Lillian’s eyes lit up. “Indeed, you’re a man of many contradictions, much like your horse." When Fabian frowned, she added, “Thunder looks rather timid with flowers tucked into his bridle.”
Fabian swung around. Someone had pushed roses around the browband and headpiece, so it looked as though the beast wore a crown of flowers. “Blast Mackenzie. This is his doing.”
Lillian pursed her lips. “I think he feels guilty for plying me with laudanum and stealing me away from home. He’s doing everything he can to make me feel welcome, and to make this a special day.”
The comment showed Fabian to be hopelessly inadequate. There wasn’t a man alive with a heart as huge as Mackenzie’s. What hope had he of making a good impression? Why did he even want to? “Be prepared for more surprises. Heaven knows what he’s done to the great hall. Had I given him more time I’m sure he would have sewn petals into shoes and carved leaves into the wooden tables.”
Lillian chuckled.
He liked it when her eyes shone with amusement. It reminded him of the carefree days of their youth. Noting the pink petal caught in her hair, he reached up to pluck it out. His fingers slipped into the silky strands, and he couldn’t resist stroking her temple and cupping her cheek.
Lillian’s eyelids fluttered, and she tilted her head a fraction as if leaning into his touch. But then she straightened and stepped back.
“We were friends once,” he said. “Under the circumstances, do you not think it wise to try again?” Friends and occasional lovers was the best he could hope for. Once Vane arrived, she would have an ally, someone to sour her opinion, someone to think for her.
Lillian remained silent for a moment. “Are the odds not stacked against us?”
She was probably right. She’d sacrificed her soul for Estelle, for peace and freedom.
“If I’ve learnt anything at sea, it’s that this moment is all that matters. A sailor focuses on the destination at his peril.”
“You mean one cannot expect to arrive at an idyllic location without e
ffort.” She brought the posy of flowers up to her nose and inhaled.
“No, we must work hard even if the journey is perilous, even if we want to abandon all hope and turn back.”
“And where will our travels take us, do you think?”
He shrugged because he dared not think that far ahead. “There are havens littered along the coast.” Places called Friendship, Respect and Love. “Let us hope the wind steers us on the right course.”
“And what do we do when the storm comes?” Was she referring to Vane’s imminent arrival? “Because it is coming, Fabian, make no mistake about that.”
“Then we shall just have to weather it, and hope we’re strong enough to stay afloat.”
Something he said seemed to soothe her. Those bewitching hazel eyes softened, and she whispered, “Hope is all we have.”
Chapter Seven
They rode back to the castle in silence. The sea breeze picked up momentum, and the temperature dropped. Lillian wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, and Fabian cursed for not having the foresight to remove his greatcoat from the cart.
“Lean into me. It will keep the wind off your back.”
“I’m fine.” She held her body rigid, inches away from him, as if he carried an infectious disease and the merest touch would cause certain death.
He leant forward and firmed his grip on the reins. Trapped in his arms, she had no choice but to rest against him. After a few muttered groans, she relaxed. He would have to take his time with her in bed. While a fiery passion simmered beneath the surface, it was clear she fought to suppress her feelings. Perhaps it had something to do with her scandalous past. Perhaps she despised him. But then he’d seen the flash of affection in her eyes when he’d given her the bouquet, one he’d seen many times in their youth.
They rode into the bailey to find Mackenzie swigging from his pocket flask while he waited. Alerted by the pounding of Thunder’s hooves, the Scot quickly replaced the top and slipped the flask into his pocket.
“I was hoping you’d be a wee while longer.” Mackenzie gave a sly wink and then strode over and helped Lillian to the ground. “We’re almost ready. Come, my lady.”
A groom rushed to take Fabian’s horse, eager to tend to the animal so he might partake in the festivities.
Fabian dismounted and brushed the dust from his coat. “I expected to find a carpet of crimson petals awaiting us.”
“And you’d have had one if we had an endless supply of roses.”
Fabian offered Lillian his arm, and she placed a tentative hand in the crook. Whenever she touched him, his heart fluttered about like a wild bird in a cage. Lord, he’d have to get these strange emotions under control.
They followed a grinning Mackenzie into the castle, stopped at the large oak doors and gave a collective gasp at the sight greeting them.
Like a hive in the height of summer, the great hall buzzed with activity.
His men dashed about, brought in platters of meats, bread and cheese, and placed them on the long tables. One table ran along the width of the dais. Two further tables ran the length of the great hall. All the candles glowed in the wall sconces. The fire in the stone hearth roared, the flames dancing in celebration, too.
The women laughed and hummed tunes as they brought in vases of flowers and flagons of wine and ale. Some had a light skip in their step as they went about their work. Excitement thrummed in the air.
Mackenzie stepped forward and gestured to the table on the dais and to the two throne chairs in the centre. “My lord, my lady. Please take your seats for the banquet.”
Fabian stared at his friend and raised a brow. “Are you feeling well, Mackenzie?” He noticed one of his men setting up a music stand near the door while another drew his bow across the strings of a fiddle. The itch to accompany them proved great. “There are a few matrons in London who could use your skill for organising a party.”
Mackenzie chuckled. “Fools make feasts, and wise men eat them. That’s how it works in the Highlands though I fear you have the company of simple folk today.”
“If you can arrange a banquet in less than a day,” Lillian said with some amazement, “what could you achieve if given a week?”
“Allow me to warn my mistress that a Scot will take up any challenge when he’s had a drink.” Mackenzie inclined his head respectfully but tapped his finger to his nose and winked. “I have a few surprises in store for tomorrow.”
Fabian groaned inwardly. “I think you’ve enough to concern yourself with for now.” Catching the thief was the priority. Not because he cared about losing food and provisions. Trust and loyalty mattered more to him than money.
With the tables overladen with platters of food, everyone waited for Fabian and Lillian to take their seats before finding a spot on a bench. Soon the great hall was alive with boisterous chatter, salutes and cheers. Clearly, Mackenzie had given strict orders when it came to dining in front of a lady. His men ate with cutlery. They sipped their ale as opposed to emptying the vessel in one gulp. Freddie wiped his mouth with a napkin and not his shirt sleeves. But Fabian wasn’t the only one impressed with their manners.
“I must say I find your men rather civil.” Lillian placed her wine glass on the table and turned to him. “Where do they live when not at sea? Surely not in the castle.”
Fabian bit back a chuckle. Was that her way of reminding him she needed pistols? “Over a hundred men work for me.”
“A hundred?”
It took fifty men working together to sail a merchant ship and transport cargo. “There are but two dozen here at any one time. Most of them live in the cottages near the dock. The unmarried men share accommodation. Mackenzie is the only one who resides here.” Because he was the only man in the world Fabian trusted.
Lillian glanced at Mackenzie seated at the end of their table. “Your friend is a remarkable man, that is when he’s not kidnapping innocent women from the Pleasure Gardens.”
“He’s old enough to be your father.” Jealousy crawled through Fabian’s veins. Would she ever use the word remarkable to describe him? “What I mean is he takes the role of protector seriously. It was out of loyalty to me that he behaved as he did at Vauxhall.”
A vision of her wearing her pretty lavender dress flashed into his mind, of her laughing and dancing as gentlemen bombarded her with attention. After enjoying the company of high society, now she dined with men who thought salt pork a delicacy.
“I should despise him,” she said. “Drugging a woman is not what one would consider gentlemanly. And yet I cannot help but like him.”
“And what about me? Do you like me, Lillian? Am I forgiven for stealing you away from everything you hold dear?”
A dark sadness settled over her face. She fought back the few tears filling her eyes. The sight cut him deep. By God, he felt like the worst of scoundrels. He had not thought this plan through at all.
“I have always liked you, Fabian. Though I do not always agree with your methods or principles.”
“Believe me when I tell you, I wish there had been some other way of achieving my goal.”
“So you wish you could have saved Estelle without marrying me?” The tremor in her voice revealed an inner pain, and she struggled to hold his gaze. Ironically, he didn’t want to hurt her—he’d never wanted that. From the moment he’d uttered the words I will, the overwhelming need to make her happy consumed him.
“That is not what I said. I mean things might have been different if we had married under the right circumstances.” Part of him wished to eradicate the last eight years, although Vane would never have permitted her to marry a man verging on bankruptcy.
Their conversation was cut short by Mackenzie who’d found a gavel and sound block from somewhere, the thud of the wooden hammer capturing everyone’s attention.
“The men insist on doing something to mark the occasion.” Mackenzie hammered his gavel again when the sailors jeered and taunted their shipmates. “If it pleases my lord and lady, ma
y I present the first of the day’s entertainment.”
Fabian could not prevent the wide grin from forming. Mackenzie was worth more than his hefty weight in gold. He gave a nod of approval and turned to Lillian. “Don’t expect to see skill like that of Madame Pesqui, the tightrope walker. These men are likely to fall off a plank after supping Mackenzie’s ale.”
Lillian’s smile replaced the solemn expression she had worn moments earlier. For that, he owed Mackenzie another debt of gratitude.
“Allow me to present Skinny Malinky.” Mackenzie gestured for the man to come and take the floor as the musicians in the corner of the room struck a few chords on their fiddles.
“Skinny Malinky?” Lillian screwed up her nose. “What an odd name.”
“Apparently it’s a Scottish term. Alfred has extremely long legs as I believe he is about to demonstrate.”
The fellow came forward, bowed to them and performed an odd folk dance that saw him whipping his long limbs up high in the air. His shipmates gasped and ducked for fear of being kicked as Skinny jigged about in the space between the long tables.
Next, came Freddie Fortune, a man known for being sleight of hand. With permission, he approached the dais. Lillian picked a playing card from a dog-eared pack. After sliding the card back into the deck without anyone seeing it, Freddie shuffled and threw some onto the floor before plucking the correct card from behind Lillian’s ear.
With his eyes trained on her every expression, Fabian experienced a sudden rush of warmth to his chest whenever she giggled.
“How on earth did he do that?” In her excitement, she clutched Fabian’s arm and the heat plaguing his body warmed another part of his anatomy.
“He has plenty more tricks up his sleeve if you pardon the pun.”
The festivities continued. Isaac juggled apples, much to Mrs Bell’s annoyance. The women came together and sang an old country tune: a heartrending tale of a sailor separated from his one true love.
Lillian sniffed numerous times, dabbed her eyes and sipped her wine. When the song came to an end, she breathed a sigh of relief, and he couldn’t help but feel she had a lost love somewhere.
