Carefully, he refolded the letter and put it back in the case. Perhaps Rebecca had not changed that much. It would have been characteristic of the young girl who had aided him to treasure the letters sent to her by her husband who was a stranger. He recalled she had said she anxiously had waited for a year to hear from him. When he had asked her to be his wife, he had not given any thought to the sorrow she would suffer if he died. He was sure there was no one else who would have waited so patiently and mourned so deeply for him.
As Rebecca slumbered, he walked over to gaze down into her face. She was incredibly lovely. From the second she had walked into the church on her brother’s arm, he had known no man would convince him to release her from their marriage. When she had turned to look into his eyes as she went to marry another man, he had seen the fiery spirit of Rebecca North Wythe was unchanged. At that moment, he had known he must have her as his own. In sleep, her face had softened to the sweetness which had been on her features that morning.
If anything had altered Rebecca, it had been his interruption of her wedding. In that moment, the gentle child had been shoved aside to enable her to become hard to deal with her broken heart. Yet he knew the gentleness remained. On the trip, he had seen her talking sweetly to everyone but him. When she thought he did not see, she had gone to admire wildflowers by the side of the road while their horses were exchanged for fresh ones. She had charmed their coach driver so much that the drab man had unbent enough to smile at her whenever she spoke to him.
Only to her husband was she cold. He wondered if she would ever forgive him for taking her away from what she saw as the realization of her dreams. If she did not learn on the trip, she would learn after their arrival at Foxbridge Cloister that she would need an ally to help her face what awaited her there. It would not be easy for Rebecca Wythe to become Lady Foxbridge, and there would be some eager to see her fail.
With a smile, he bent to kiss her forehead. His happy expression faded as he placed his palm where his lips had been. He cursed under his breath. Rebecca was not seasick. She was ill with a fever. After he had tucked the blankets around her, he went to the door. Although he did not think he would wake her, he closed it quietly.
“Jake!” he called to a youngster he recognized as the cabin boy of the Prize. “Go to Captain Jennings, and tell him Lord Foxbridge requires his presence immediately. It’s an emergency, but speak to no one but the captain about this. Understand?”
Shaken by the urgency in the man’s voice, the boy said, “Aye, m’lord.” He spun and raced up the steps to the upper deck.
Nicholas went back into the small room. There was only one window, but he opened it wider to freshen the room. The stagnant smell of sickness would hurt Rebecca in her recovery. After a second hesitation, he went to the bed. He loosened the collar of her gown. Pushing aside the blankets, he removed her high shoes and heavy stockings. With a sharp tug, he ripped her cumbersome petticoats from under her dress. He did not want to disturb her by trying to untie them. In her plain gown, she would be as comfortable as in her nightgown.
She did not acknowledge his actions, except to moan softly as he put the blankets over her again. He knew she was lost in agony. There was no medical man on the ship, so she would have to fight whatever was making her ill with her own resources.
A knock on the door cut through his reverie. He opened it. “Come in, Drew. I thought you would want to know about this.”
The shorter man took one look at her and said, “What is it?”
“A fever. Whether it is contagious or not, I don’t know. I noticed she was exceptionally quiet today, and you yourself said she looked pale. If I had known she was ill, I wouldn’t have brought her aboard.”
Jennings frowned. “I wish you hadn’t. If she was not your wife, my friend, I would put her in the hold until she died, so the rest of us would not be contaminated.”
His voice tight with anger, Nicholas retorted, “Drew, I don’t want to hear of that even in joking. Rebecca cannot be moved. The man who tries such will have to get by me first.” The threat of violence marred his worried voice. “I’ll stay here to tend her. I just wanted to let you know of your possible danger, for you are the only one she has had contact with other than me.”
“We will leave your meals in the passageway. If you need anything, give us a note on the dirtied dishes. If she dies, we can’t take her corpse all the way to—” He paused as he saw the murderous look on the other’s face.
“You needn’t worry about that, Captain. She will survive. I shall inform you when she’s better. I bid you good day.”
Briefly, rage raced through Jennings. The Prize was his ship, and he was not used to being dismissed by a lord of the realm as if he was the lowest cabin boy. Then he sighed. He could not blame Nicholas for his uneven temper when the man’s wife could be on her deathbed. Lord Foxbridge seemingly was besotted with his newly rediscovered bride. “If you need anything, let us know,” he said in a much calmer tone.
The black-haired man sighed. “I will.”
Even before the door had closed, he had returned to the bed to wet another cloth and lay it on her forehead to try to cool her heated skin. As he had not done for years, he prayed. She must survive. He had waited almost five years for Rebecca. He did not want to lose her again so quickly.
“Aunt Dena?” came the whisper from the bed.
A soft masculine chuckle filled the small room. “No, my dear. Your Aunt Dena isn’t here. How are you feeling?”
Rebecca’s eyes blinked open to see the darkness lit by a single taper. She had no idea where she was. This was not her room, for her room did not sway with a gentle motion as if she was a babe in its cradle. When a shadowed face came into her view, she raised trembling fingers to touch it. “Keith?” she murmured, sleepily.
“I’m afraid not.” Nicholas knelt on the floor next to the bunk. Slipping his arm beneath her shoulders, he tilted her toward him. “I hope I will do, Rebecca.”
His mouth descended hungrily onto hers. Still floundering in her world of delirium, she was not quite aware of her own actions as her arm slid along his to wrap around his shoulders, and she answered his kiss with her own fervor. In her clouded mind, a burst of light cleared away some of the cobwebs. She was suffused with a yearning to be close to this man who brought such delight to her with a single kiss.
When his lips tasted the skin along her neck, she gave a gasp of undisguised pleasure. Her weak fingers tangled in the untied thickness of his hair. His heated breath against her skin sent waves of ecstasy through her in rhythm with the ones rocking the ship.
She felt herself being lifted, but she was placed again on the bed. Only when the man stretched out next to her did she understand why she had been moved. His eager kiss wiped all other thoughts from her mind. Her lips welcomed his. As his legs entwined with hers, he pulled her close to the sturdy line of his body. He rolled her onto her back so she could feel all of him pressed to her.
Unsteadily, she wavered between consciousness and sleep. The touch of his hands as he stroked her enticingly began to vanish into senselessness. Her body became lighter than a piece of fluff floating on the breeze, and the one above her disappeared. Every bit of herself was washed away into bliss.
Nicholas smiled as he saw her fade into sleep. He had thought she was not fully awake when she had gathered him to her. Still, this was a sample of the passion he had expected from his wife. Although he was sure she had not been cognizant of his identity, her reactions to his kisses were unfaked. Having sampled her lusciousness, he wondered how long he could wait for her to invite him to share her bed. It would not be long. He wanted Rebecca, as he had since that moment he had seen her in the church and had known that this beautiful woman was his.
Getting himself comfortable on the hard bed, he drew her close to him. Her head rested on his shoulders, and her body reformed along his in sleep. Through the thinness of her frock, he could feel the lithe lines of her body. A lightning-hot bolt of desi
re raced through him as he longed to make love with her. Soon, he promised himself. Now he simply would enjoy her lying in his arms. With her warmth next to him, he dozed also.
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About the Author
Jo Ann Ferguson is a lifelong storyteller and the author of numerous romantic novels. She also writes as Jo Ann Brown and Mary Jo Kim. A former US Army officer, she has served as the president of the national board of the Romance Writers of America and taught creative writing at Brown University. She currently lives in Nevada with her family, which includes one very spoiled cat.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author᾿s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1988 by Jo Ann Ferguson
Cover design by Julianna Lee
ISBN: 978-1-4532-4844-7
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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THE FOXBRIDGE LEGACY
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