Captain Corcoran's Hoyden Bride

by Annie Burrows

  Men! They were all so untrustworthy. No wonder she had not recognised his meanderings about the glowing future he could provide as an honest proposal of marriage.

  ‘Marriage,’ she groaned, pressing the heels of her hand to her eyes. If she had not been so suspicious, so very frightened of the man, she might be an engaged woman by now. Not that marriage necessarily meant safety for a woman. Her mother’s marriage had been a mistake of monumental proportions.

  But Captain Corcoran was not a penniless charmer like her father had been in his youth. He was not attempting to get his hands on her fortune, for she hadn’t one. Quite the reverse. He was offering to provide for her in a style she had hitherto only dreamed of.

  ‘Jewels and servants,’ she moaned.

  Not that she was tempted by them, as such. If they were all she cared about, she could have become some man’s mistress years ago! Or thrown in her lot with Hincksey.

  It was just … what would it have been like to never have to worry about where the next meal was coming from? Or what means she might have to employ to procure it?

  What would it have been like to have had a home of her own? Somewhere she could put down roots? To be able to make friends with neighbours, rather than keeping everyone at arm’s length lest they see through the latest story her father had fabricated to explain their current mode of life?

  Above all, to have become respectable.

  No, more than that. The Captain had told her she might have been a Countess. She could have screamed with frustration. Her mother had always insisted she should set her sights on that kind of rank, should she ever consider matrimony.

  She groaned again. She could not believe she had thrown away such a golden opportunity!

  Not that the marriage would have been a great success. He thought she was too plain. Too thin and ragged to rouse his desire. She brushed a tear from her cheek.

  What was she to do?

  As ever, when faced with a dilemma, Aimée wondered how her mother would have reacted in similar circumstances.

  Well, to start with, her mother would not have panicked, and run from the house without a bonnet and coat. She would have remained calm and dignified. Lifted her chin, and told Captain Corcoran to his face that he was a cad who ought to be ashamed of himself.

  Instead of which, it was Aimée who felt ashamed of herself. She curled into a ball and wrapped her arms round her waist, burying her face in the sodden pillow. She might have had everything she had ever wished for. Instead of which, tomorrow, she would end up right back where she had started. No, she would be even worse off, because she would not even have the hope of being on her way to a decent job!

  Oh, how she wished she had never met Captain Corcoran!

  Chapter Four

  Damn the woman!

  Captain Corcoran slammed his bedroom door behind him with satisfying force. Give him cannon fire or a howling tempest any day in preference to crossing swords with a woman!

  It was no use telling himself that he was still in charge of the situation. That she was in his domain, guarded by his devoted crew. That, beyond that, he was rich and she was poor. He had felt anything but victorious when he had felt her shivering in his arms as he carried her back to the house. It had been one of the lowest moments of his life, because she was injured and it was all his fault.

  But, dammit, how could he have guessed she would do something as crazy as run away in the middle of the night, without so much as a coat to keep the rain off her?

  He rubbed one hand wearily over his face, his fingers snagging on the eyepatch.

  He tore it from his face, hurled it at the mirror and glared at his reflection.

  Was it any wonder she’d fled, screaming, into the woods, rather than ally herself to that?

  He turned from the sight that, truth be told, made his own stomach heave every time he looked at it, went to a side table where he kept a bottle of good brandy and poured himself a generous measure. Of late, he had begun to think the scarring was less revolting than it had been when he had first lost his eye and the suppuration and swelling had made him look truly monstrous.

  But back then, he had never thought he would be contemplating matrimony again! Matrimony. He shuddered. Very soon after coming into the title, he had learned that one of his primary duties was to marry and produce an heir. And he was a firm believer in doing his duty. As a naval officer, he had often expected to die in the performance of his duty.

  He emptied a second glass and slammed it down on the side table.

  The kind of battle he was used to was child’s play, in comparison to tangling with the woman upstairs.

  Aimée was up and dressed by the time Nelson brought her breakfast tray to her room. There had been no point lying in bed any longer. Not when she had scarcely slept all night anyway.

  She had dressed for travel as far as she was able, though she could not yet bear to lace her walking boots up over her swollen ankle. Instead, she had slipped her feet back into the shoes she had worn to dinner the night before. They were still a bit damp, even though she had got up at some point during her restless night, stuffed them with paper and propped them up against the fender. Her ruined dress was too wet to pack, so she had left that draped over the clothes airer. What would become of it, she could not begin to guess.

  Nelson slapped the tray down on a table just inside the door.

  ‘When you’ve eaten, the Captain wants a word with you,’ he said curtly.

  ‘He … he does?’ Aimée’s heart began to thud unevenly. She did not know what on earth he could want to speak to her about. Last night he had made it quite plain he never wanted to clap eyes on her again!

  ‘Please, miss,’ said the burly servant, ‘just listen to what he has to say, will yer?’ He took a step towards her, his face creasing anxiously. ‘Don’t go hurting him no more. You might not like the look of him much, but you won’t find a decenter gent. Got a heart of gold, he has. I served the Crown for years, I did, after being pressed into the service. Fought during campaigns that made many of the officers on the ships I served in into national heroes. Then got cast adrift when we beat France to flinders. And what with stoppages and one thing and another, I washed up ashore homeless and penniless. Would’ve ended up at the end of a rope, if the Captain hadn’t sprung me from jail and given me this job.’

  Aimée was somewhat taken aback by the man’s passionate plea on behalf of his captain. ‘Well, of course I will listen to whatever it is he wishes to say to me. And as for hurting him—’ she frowned, a little puzzled, for she could not see how that might be possible ‘—I have never deliberately hurt anyone in my life. But I shall offer him an apology for my behaviour.’ She had misjudged him terribly. And from what he had said, made him think she had fled from him because she found him repulsive.

  Nelson’s face cleared. ‘You could marry him, then, couldn’t yer? Now you’ve had a chance to mull it over? He wouldn’t never hurt a lady. Not a man what’s done all he’s done for me.’

  ‘I know.’ She had already worked that out for herself. The care he had taken of her, in spite of being so angry, had told her more about his character than he probably realised. So it was with great sadness that she shook her head, and said, ‘But he does not intend to renew his offer.’

  The man’s face fell. Without another word, he turned and left the room.

  Aimée did not waste a moment wondering what reason the Captain might have for wishing to speak to her before sending her away. All night, her thoughts had been running round and round like a dog chasing its tail. She had not reached any sensible conclusions about anything. All she had done was wear herself out, worrying about the hopelessness of it all. Instead, she went to the table and pulled up a chair. By the time Nelson returned, she had demolished every scrap of food on the breakfast tray, and regained at least an outward semblance of composure.

  The brawny servant stood for a moment in the doorway, tears in his eyes, before heaving a sentimental sigh and offer
ing her his arm to help her hobble along the landing and down the stairs.

  Captain Corcoran was sitting behind his desk when Nelson ushered her into his study, but he got to his feet and waited until she was seated before sitting back down.

  Though it was a little late for him to be playing the gentleman, considering how rudely he had spoken to her the night before, she appreciated the gesture.

  He cleared his throat.

  ‘How is your ankle this morning?’ he asked gruffly. It was not weakness to want to see her one last time, before bidding her farewell for ever. He could not just let her leave, without ensuring she came to no lasting harm from this encounter. ‘Do you think you are fit enough to travel?’

  For one wild moment, Aimée considered telling him she was in such pain that she could not endure the prospect of a lengthy journey by public stage. But it would only postpone the inevitable for perhaps a day, at most. All he would have to do would be to examine her to see that the swelling had gone down considerably. And he would discover she was a liar, on top of everything else.

  ‘I shall manage,’ she said stiffly.

  He frowned. ‘I have no doubt of that.’ Mr Jago had told him she was a plucky little thing. And he had no sooner clapped eyes on her than he had seen his former bosun was right. Nothing would break this woman. Not the most humiliating of ordeals.

  Even last night, soaking wet, clothing torn and hair tumbling from its moorings, she had somehow managed to maintain her dignity.

  ‘Do you have any family to take care of you?’ No, Jago had told him she had nobody, which was why she was obliged to seek work to support herself. He had thought this was a point in her favour. But now it appeared he might be totally responsible for her, even though it was clearly the last thing she wanted. ‘Or is there anyone you will need to contact, to inform them of your imminent return?’

  She barely repressed a shudder as she thought of her father, from whom she had gone to such lengths to escape. ‘Nobody,’ she said grimly.

  ‘Then I should be happier if you stayed here and rested, until you are no longer in any pain at all.’

  He could not quite believe he had made her that offer. Especially since happy was the last thing he would feel while he knew she was somewhere in the same house as him! She had only to turn those lustrous green eyes on him, or utter one softly spoken phrase, to provoke the kind of yearning that had him believing in the legend of the siren’s song. Though it would be fatal to let her know the power she could have over him, should she decide to deploy it.

  He deliberately hardened his face, hoping she would interpret a stony silence as a sign of strength, not debilitating uncertainty. He had no intention of opening his mouth and stuttering and stammering, making himself look a bigger fool than he already felt.

  Aimée twisted her hands together in her lap. The way he was glaring at her made her feel like a butterfly skewered on a pin. He was clearly waiting for her to thank him for the kind offer and leave him alone. Which she would do, of course, once she had apologised. Though it was not going to be easy. He was already angry with her. How much more angry would he be when she explained what she had thought?

  Yet she could not let him carry on thinking she had fled into the night in response to a proposal of marriage from him. That would be even more insulting.

  ‘To be honest,’ she said, blushing hotly, ‘I am glad you sent for me. Before I leave, there was something I wanted to say to you. Well, no, actually, I do not want to say it. But I must. Oh, heavens,’ she said, darting a nervous glance at him, ‘I feel like such a fool!’

  He blinked, and sat up straight. It was the very last thing he might have expected her to say.

  ‘In what way do you think you are a fool, Miss Peters?’

  Her eyes skittered away from his face, before returning to him with renewed resolve.

  He wondered what game she was playing now. If this was all an act, to rouse his curiosity and make him feel protective of her, it was a damn fine one. It was giving him the uncomfortable feeling that it was not her, caught in his nets and hauled ashore, but he that was slowly becoming more and more deeply entangled by her.

  Then she took a deep breath and plunged right in.

  ‘Just … well, to be truthful, I was not aware you had asked me to marry you.’

  ‘Not aware I had asked you to marry me? What nonsense is this?’

  ‘I know now that this must sound rather insulting.’ Her blush deepened and her eyes skittered away once more. ‘But at the time, I really, truly thought you were offering me, well … carte blanche.’

  ‘You thought I what?’ He leapt to his feet. ‘What the hell kind of mind have you got to suppose that I, an officer in his Majesty’s navy, would stoop to such … such …?’

  He shook his head in disbelief. Why on earth would she say such a thing? Women were so unpredictable. More unpredictable than the sea. At least the sea could not help but give warnings that a storm was brewing. The glass dropped. Clouds gathered. But women? He knew from bitter experience that there was no telling what a woman might do or say next!

  He had been quite frank with her last night. Had told her far more than he had intended to at this stage. He had explained that he was new to the ways of society, and did not think he would fare well trying to get himself a wife the way other nobly born men did—by going to London, and doing the rounds of the marriage mart. He had also confided in her that he did not want to have the kind of marriage he’d had as a young man, either. One based on fleeting emotions. That had been a disastrous mistake. Far better, this time round, to recruit a woman fit for the role she had to play. Besides, persons of his rank nearly always chose wives with their heads, not their hearts.

  Though, naturally, he had paid her a few compliments, too. Told her he admired her perspicacity, as well as her looks.

  He had then pointed out the advantages to her of being his wife, rather than a governess, which is what she had come here expecting to be.

  So how could she have so misunderstood him? She needed a job. And he needed a wife. It was all perfectly straightforward!

  She was sitting with her head bowed, twisting her fingers together in her lap. He had assumed she had run, in disgust, from the prospect of marrying him. But what if she was telling him the truth this morning?

  Now he came to think of it, it had not been revulsion he had seen on her face when he had stooped to pick her up off the woodland floor, but terror.

  Stark, abject terror. My God … He ran his fingers through his hair, ploughing great furrows through it. The moment he had said, point blank, that he had no intention of ravishing a defenceless woman, a guest under his roof, she had calmed down considerably. She really had thought that he …

  ‘Although, try as I might,’ she suddenly said, lifting her head and looking straight at him with a mutinous glint in her eyes, ‘I cannot recollect you ever mentioning the word marriage. And after the way you went about getting me to The Lady’s Bower,’ she said truculently, ‘which, you have to admit, was downright underhanded, surely you can see that you yourself laid a groundwork of suspicion!’

  All of a sudden, he wanted to laugh. The little minx could not quite stop herself from pointing out that though she acknowledged she had been in error, she held him entirely to blame! Just as, last night, she had referred to the blistering rebuke she had delivered when she’d thought he was just a coach driver as being somewhat impolite. Twice in as many days she had made him want to laugh out loud, when he could not remember even having anything to smile about for the last few years.

  ‘I do not think,’ he said, finding it hard to keep his face straight, ‘I have ever heard anybody apologising in one breath, and taking it back with the next.’ Whereupon she looked so anxious that, after maintaining a stony expression for only a few more seconds, he relented and said, ‘But I accept it. Such as it is.’ For he could see now that she’d had such a profound effect on him, he had obviously made a total mull of his proposal.


  She sighed with relief.

  He sat down.

  ‘What do you expect from me now?’

  She must have delivered that apology for a reason. She could have just left, and let him think she simply could not face marrying him. But, no, she had forced herself to apologise, even though she had found it highly embarrassing to admit to her mistake.

  ‘Expect?’ For a second she looked surprised. But then a cynical look swept across her pretty face. ‘Nothing,’ she said crisply. ‘You have already made it quite plain that you have changed your mind about my suitability as a wife. Although if you had only explained things properly—’

  She broke off, looking so aggrieved that he felt hope surge through him. If she had understood he was proposing marriage, she was implying, she might have reacted completely differently. He swivelled his chair round, so that he was staring out of the window and not at her.

  He wanted her. By God, how he wanted her! The very first time he had seen her for himself, dripping wet and leaning into the wind as though she scorned the elements, something inside him had leapt with a kind of recognition. If ever there was a woman destined to be the wife of a sea captain, he had thought, then this was that woman. Within minutes of crossing his threshold he had seen that not only did she appeal to him as a man, but that she had that indefinable something that would convince anyone she ever met that she was every inch a lady. In short, she was not just suitable, she was perfect.

  Which made her dangerous. When she had fled from him, it had been like Miranda, all over again. When you cared too much about a woman, every word, every gesture had the power to cause unbelievable pain.

  But only if you let yourself care too much in the first place.

  ‘Are you saying that now you have calmed down,’ he said, turning his chair towards her again, ‘and have realised that my proposal was one of marriage, you wish me to renew it?’