She shook her head. “I’ve made my decision.” She took a long shaky breath. “Being a Duchess can’t be all that bad.”
“Are you certain, because you don’t look at all the blushing bride to be?”
“’Twill be fine.” Kay gave him a tremendous, quavering smile. “With Wallshire’s connections I can finally breed my Arabs. Besides, if it proves too much, I can always run home to Butterfield Hall.”
The Duke stood on the deck, legs braced, watching them board, appearing as mysterious and unapproachable as he always did. The sight of his glossy raven hair curling at his collar and his perfectly chiseled lips send a spark blazing down her torso straight to her womanhood.
When they reached the end of the gangplank, he strode forward to gallantly offer his arm.
Kay went hot, then cold, then hot again, making her yearn for a dip in the icy blue water surrounding them.
The crew ceased their tasks to stare as she stepped aboard. Their curious looks made her wonder if they’d never seen a woman before. She wished now she’d worn a cloak instead of the flimsy white silk shawl linked through her arms. Thankfully, she’d chosen a simple, pale pink gown with a square modest neckline and short capped sleeves.
“Welcome aboard the Isabella.”
Kay chanced a glance upward at the Duke’s warm tone, then hastily looked away, gritting her teeth at his satisfied smile. It would be just like him to gloat—the arrogant beast. Thankfully he had no idea how he affected her—how the liquid gold of his eyes made her melt, turning her into a quivering drooling mess.
How could she survive marriage to such a man?
There would be no wrapping him around her finger as she had her twin uncles.
“Looks a fine vessel,” Fabian declared, craning and swiveling his head in wonder.
Kay hastily disentangled herself from the Duke’s arm, then took a step away. She pushed a stray tendril of hair from her cheek, tucking it back within her straw bonnet, then turned her curious gaze toward the short, dark-haired gentleman striding toward them.
“Captain Pike, may I introduce my betrothed, Lady Katherine Hamilton, and her uncle, Lord Hamilton.”
Kay accepted the captain’s hand with a smile.
‘’Tis a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” The captain extended a brisk greeting to Fabian, then turned to the Duke. “The carriage is waiting, Your Grace. We’ll be ready to get under way when you return. Mind there’s no lingering salutes to the bride. I’ve my own ship to catch up with when we dock in Naples.”
“Naples?” Kay’s voice rose in panic. “I’d assumed we’d be returning to Plymouth immediately after the ceremony.” She had no desire to be trapped aboard a ship with Wallshire any longer than necessary. She certainly couldn’t abide an extended trip abroad.
The Duke regarded her dispassionately. “As you can see the Isabella is a trading vessel.” He nodded toward the large crate being hoisted up with a thick rope slung from a stout beam crossing the mast. “This cargo is already late. Any further delays will eat into my profits.” There was no apology in his tone only the patient courtesy a child might expect.
His off-handed manner challenged her patience, bringing to the surface all the resentment building over the past month. It bubbled and boiled in her breast like a tempest at sea. But she made no comment, deciding it was better to speak to him in private after Fabian had left.
She accepted the Duke’s arm, allowing him to lead her down the gang-plank to the waiting carriage.
Fabian chatted amicably to the Duke during the short journey to the chapel where the vows were to be exchanged.
Kay sat frozen in her seat.
When they arrived at the little church, she was still wrapped in her protective trance. While the priest performed the brief ceremony, she stared straight ahead never once looking at the Duke. The odd word registered, but for the most part her mind remained adrift, distanced from the trauma of the life-altering event. The only thing keeping her from fleeing was the thought of a noose.
But when he slipped the emerald ring on her finger to seal the vows, her heart began to pound and the world around her began to recede. She felt the feather light pressure of his lips on hers just as her eyes went dark and her ears began to ring. Voices seemed to come from a long way off as she was swept down a long dark tunnel to a black pool below that swiftly swallowed her up.
***
Kay blinked, attempting to focus on Fabian’s anxious face. Blonde curls stood high over his forehead like fiddle heads, as though he’d been running his fingers through them.
“Kay, thank God! You gave me such a fright. What are you doing swooning like that? I’ve never known you to swoon. Oh, I’m so sorry, Puss. This is all my fault for rushing you into this.”
She raised herself up on one elbow in the bunk, feeling a tad fuzzy and confused. “I’m fine, really Uncle Fabian, really.” Her voice sounded distant even to her own ears, but she managed a small reassuring smile.
“My wife needs rest now,” the Duke said in clipped tones.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Fabian pressed a kiss to her cheek, then rose from the side of the bunk. “I’ll leave her in your capable hands. I must rush if I’m to catch the next packet for Calais. I’ll be home in a few months to visit you, and Fergus will be coming down from London to see how you’re settling in.”
The Duke ushered Fabian out of the cabin. Before she was fully aware of his leave taking it was too late.
The cabin door closed.
He was gone.
She collapsed on the bed with groan of despair. Whether from relief or the exhaustion that comes from so much anticipation, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke the cabin was dark, save for the lantern swinging from the ceiling overhead. The gentle motion beneath her told her she’d missed her chance to demand he leave her behind at Butterfield Hall. Her heart sank. Now she was trapped aboard his ship with nowhere to run.
She struggled to an upright position in the narrow bunk to study her surroundings.
The room appeared rich and well furnished even in the gloom. Taking in the mahogany wardrobes, the lush green and gold Persian carpet, the velvet curtains, it struck her who’d she married. She was now a Duchess, and a rich one at that. This hardly brought a smile to her lips, since the man who’d made it possible was the last one on earth she’d ever wish to marry.
A rustling of papers drew her attention to a sturdy oak desk with claw and ball feet. Her husband sat with a document in one hand, a quill poised in the other. Kay observed him discreetly through her lashes, noting the restrained strength of his posture, the furrow of concentration on his brow.
He looked like any other man taking care of daily business, except for the dangerous magnetism surrounding him. He wore no jacket or waistcoat, only a white lawn shirt opened at the throat to reveal his golden tan and the smattering of black curls springing from his chest. She supposed if she had to have a husband not of her choosing, she was fortunate he was such a handsome devil.
“Since you’re awake, perhaps you’d like something to eat?”
Her cheeks fired at being caught watching him. She shook her head, then came to an upright position to sit on the edge of the bunk. Her gaze strayed to the cabin door. She felt bereft and alone, and most of all, terrified for her future.
If only she’d had the nerve to marry the Count. Even exile would be better than relinquishing her freedom to a man like this—with such a scandalous past. But it was too late to think about that. It was too late to think about anything, except enduring this sham of a marriage.
“If you’re not hungry, I suggest you drink a glass of wine. It will fortify you until our supper arrives.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but rose from his chair to stride to the table to pour her a glass of burgundy wine from a silver decanter.
She accepted it mutely, avoiding his gaze.
He swaggered to the desk, then seated himself on the edge with his long legs splayed ou
t before him.
Though her heart raced under his intense regard, she felt compelled to ask what had long been on her mind. “How long must this last?”
He lifted one dark brow. “You wound me. Only a few short hours as my wife, and already you’re pining to be separated from me?” His deep chuckle snapped her gaze upward to meet the humor in his tawny eyes.
Her voice came soft but firm. “The time will pass quicker and be more agreeable, if I know when my obligation will end.”
He considered her for a long moment. “We will separate when a reasonable amount of time has elapsed. Until then, I’ll expect you to be the model wife. Don’t worry, your dowry won’t be touched, nor will the rest of your inheritance. When this is over, you’ll be free to live your life in any way you see fit.”
“What if you wish to marry again?”
“I won’t.”
“But if you do, will you divorce me?”
“Divorce is not an option.”
“Why not?”
“Apparently, you aren’t aware of the stigma attached to a divorced woman or the barbarous treatment you could expect in court. Besides, a divorce is almost impossible to attain, unless I accuse you of adultery.” He smiled wolfishly. “Of course, you could accuse me of intolerable cruelty, but that would be difficult to prove.”
Kay attempted to swallow down her bitterness with the rest of her wine. Then she rose from the bunk to walk to the table to set down her glass. She turned back to face him, her chin raised a notch, unable to hide her vexation. “When you say a reasonable amount of time, are we speaking months or years? I’m not at all certain I can be the model wife for that long.”
He smiled ruefully.
She sensed he didn’t like her question. Could it be that he actually felt guilty?
“Your sentence, as you put it, is a damn sight milder than it could have been. Suffice it to say, our arrangement won’t last any longer than absolutely necessary. A year should do the trick.”
“A year?” Her heart seemed to slide to the pit of her belly. A year seemed an eternity to be trapped with him—a man who despised her. And then all she could look forward to was the ostracism of separation after.
“Don’t worry, I won’t force my company on you anymore than I have too. You’ll have the run of the manor while we’re in the country. Of course, I expect you to sleep there each night, for the sake of appearances, and accompany me to all necessary functions.”
Her heart gave a leap of hope. Was it possible he’d abandoned the idea of consummating their marriage? She had a burning desire to know, but fearing the answer, she dared not ask. “I assume I’ll be free to cultivate and maintain the society I’m accustomed to?”
His lips curled in a half smile, but his eyes held a cold warning. “I won’t tolerate having my name dragged through the mud, so I’ll expect you to keep your distance from the Galloways. But other than that, I trust your discretion.”
Anger sparked in her chest. “But Charlie is a dear friend. I can’t simply cut him off—not know him. What will he think?”
“He’ll think that you’ve given into the same social climbing inclinations that drive his own tribe. Under the circumstances, he’ll hardly be shocked.”
Mention of the scandal and his love affair with Phelia made her cheeks fire again. It reminded her of the danger she was in. She was his wife and under his power for the next year, whether she liked it or not. A shiver passed over her. Her gaze strayed to the door. “I need some air.”
Without waiting for a reply, she bolted for the door like a fox at the sound of a horn. Having reached the companionway, she hastened her steps. Up the stairs she flew, and did not stop until her hands touched the rail on the deck of the ship.
It took several deep breaths, leaning against it before she’d regained her composure. She didn’t care that the salt spray dampened her gown or the wind tossed her hair. She just knew she had to get away from him.
Staring at the pink and gold horizon where the sun had set, she let the heaving of the ship lull her senses.
It was only a year—one small year in a long lifetime. She could do that. It wasn’t forever. And then she could breed her horses—do whatever she liked.
But, forever was lost to her, and so were her dreams of love at first sight. A lump caught in her throat. Her Grandmere’s stories seemed like distant fairy tales, for that’s all they were—dreams that could never come true.
It was hard to say how long she’d been there when she felt his presence, heard his deep voice. “Come. Dinner is ready. I’ll escort you back to the cabin.”
Her startled gaze met his gold-flecked eyes before turning back to the dark seas beyond. She wanted to say she wasn’t hungry, couldn’t bear to eat a morsel, and probably wouldn’t be hungry again for a very long time, but she didn’t want him to see her weakness. She didn’t want him to know how terrified and desperate she felt—how the sight of him unnerved her—turned her inside out.
It would give him too much power.
And if she ever needed an edge, it was now.
Chapter Nine
As Kay sat across from her husband at the small table partaking of the generous feast, her gaze ever strayed to the bunk anchored to the floor against the wall. She wanted to ask where she would be sleeping, but feared the answer so greatly, the question remained lodged in her throat.
The wine tasted good. Its warmth soothed her frayed nerves better than the lamb-chops swimming in their rich sauce. She picked away at her food, too tense to speak, making green beans travel with her fork only to later relocate them on the other side of her plate.
When the Duke’s voice broke into the hollow silence of the cabin, her heart gave a jump. “So, what became of the Count? Did you break the news of our forthcoming marriage gently, or did you turn tail and run as is your habit, crushing his noble French heart?”
Anger sparked in her breast at mention of her lost opportunity for happiness, but she managed to look him straight in the eye, saying smoothly, “Thanks to you reneging on our bargain, I was unable to offer a proper farewell.”
He replied just as smoothly. “Perhaps you should’ve considered my reaction before you started playing your little games. Did you really think I’d allow you to run off with him right under my nose?”
Despite her efforts to quell it, her voice shook with a simmering rage. “I wish I had! I wish I’d told him of your unscrupulous blackmail.”
“Oh ho!” he threw his head back, giving an incredulous bark of laughter. “Don’t play the innocent with me. We both know what you’re guilty of.”
“Yes, I’d forgotten. You have it all figured out. I’m in league with the Galloways and bent on your destruction.” Her bosom heaved as her anger rose, that he should accuse her with no proof. “Please enlighten me as to why anyone would wish to degrade your character when you’ve done such good job of that yourself.”
The tightening of his jaw told her she’d hit home. His gold eyes glowed with an unnatural light in the dimness of the lantern-lit cabin. “’Twas your friends, the Galloways, who degraded my character, Madam. But never fear, I’m well on my way to settling that score.”
She pushed her chair away from the table, then came to her feet. “Have you no conscience, no thought of what your plans for revenge have done to my life!” She paced cabin, her voice rising with every step. “You are the most despicable, selfish man I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I hate you for what you’ve done, and I shall hate you for the rest of my life!”
He rose from his chair. In two long strides he stood directly before her. He took her firmly by the shoulders. “Keep your voice down,” he warned through gritted teeth, “Unless you want your character just as publicly announced. Should I go up on the deck and tell them what a liar and a thief you are?” He gave her a little shake to punctuate his threat. “Well! Should I?”
“No!” The unholy gleam in his eyes caused her to quiver. She twisted in his grasp, feeling panic rise
up inside her.
He released her, taking a step back. “Good. Now if you’ve quite finished with your bout of hysterics, I’ll leave you to prepare yourself for bed.”
Her gaze fitted to the bunk, heart clutching like a pugilist’s fist before a fight. “Must I sleep here?”
He lifted one brow. “Unless you’d prefer to sleep with my men.” Before she could open her mouth to respond, he held up his hand. “Of course you’ll sleep here. Where else would a happily married bride spend her wedding night?” He chuckled softly. “When I return, I hope to find you abed, preferably with your claws sheathed.”
She watched him with a jaundiced eye, as he strode from the cabin, her temper barely held in check by his presence. When the door closed behind him, she stalked to the table, snatched up her wine glass, and threw it against the door. It landed with a splintering crash on the floor.
There. She wiped her hands together in satisfaction. With any luck, he’d step in it when he returned, break his neck, and she’d be rid of him for good—the arrogant braying ass!
***
At the sound of the cabin door closing, Kay edged her backside closer to the wall, thankful that her night gown was of the heaviest linen and buttoned tightly to her throat. She was also thankful that she’d succumbed to guilt and picked up the broken shards of glass before climbing into the narrow bunk. No use bringing more of his wrath down upon her head.
She watched him covertly through the silky curtain of her hair as he strode to the desk and poured himself a brandy. After taking a long drink, he strode to one of the large wardrobes to retrieve a towel, to rub the sea mist from his hair and face. Then he applied the cloth briskly to his arms up to his elbows where his white lawn shirt was rolled.
There was something strangely intimate in observing him at this task. It set her innards all aflutter.
He tossed back the last of his brandy, then sat down to pull off his boots. Her heart quickened at the thought of him disrobing in front of her. Her flesh suffused with heat, but she did not close her eyes, no, no, no, her curiosity was too great.
The Thief and the Rogue Page 11
