Alec nodded, ever the diplomat. "Merci, beaucoups."
"Perhaps you will join me for supper after you have had time to settle in," Teyssier gestured behind him, grandly inviting them on board. Except he was gesturing at a pair of large, scary looking men holding harpoons, so Sarah didn't feel very welcomed.
"I doubt it," Alec said without the slightest infliction to his tone.
Someone prodded Sarah in the back to get moving. She started to turn around to give a good scathing admonishment, but Alec was already moving. He grabbed whoever had done the prodding and simply threw him overboard. Sailors everywhere started to move toward Alec. Teyssier raised a hand, and all motion ceased.
"The lady is not to be touched, n'cest pas?" he asked.
Alec adjusted his jacket and nodded.
Teyssier inclined his head in acknowledgement.
It seemed words were too volatile at the moment.
Sarah stepped forward and slipped her arm through Alec's before he started their own private war on this French ship in the English Channel. After all, the odds were deplorable.
Alec slipped his hand into hers, holding her more tightly against him, and despite how the wind bit at her skin through her tattered dress, despite the steady gazes of the menacing men with the harpoons, despite the fact that their only hope depended on an American's ability to get to the Duke of Lofton in time, despite all that, she felt safe when Alec held her hand.
The captain turned away, and Alec pulled her along after the departing man.
"Are you all right?" Alec whispered, his breath brushing against her ear.
She nodded, no longer feeling capable of speaking.
Watching the man she loved toss another overboard simply because the other had been touching her did things to her insides. Why must he always have this affect on her? Just once, she wished she would keep her composure long enough to show him just how good a spy she really was. Except it never seemed to happen.
Soon they were led below decks. The space was tight and smelled too much like feet. She caught a glimpse of the sailors' hammocks, swinging slightly with the rocking of the ship. A few of them were occupied, and the men eyed her like a Christmas Day goose. Her grip on Alec's hand tightened. His other hand came up to cover hers, smoothing away the sudden tension.
They were led down two decks, and the air grew squalid and stank. Sarah swallowed, trying to keep the bile from rising in her throat. The captain must have stopped because Alec stopped, and she nearly ran into him. She pressed tightly to her husband's back, as the passage required them to walk in a single line. She could barely see through the dimness and looked behind her as the hair on her neck suddenly stood up. There was no one there. The ship just stretched into blackness, but she still huddled closer to Alec.
Sarah tried to move her head around the small space between Alec's shoulder and the wall of the passage. She was reminded once again of how broad his shoulders were when she tried to see the captain in front of him. Alec adjusted some, and she finally saw the captain sifting through keys on a long chain attached to his waist.
The metallic pinging ricocheted harshly down the passage. Teyssier apparently came to the one he wanted for he stopped sifting and stuck one into a door Sarah had not realized was there. The panel was flush with the rest of the wall, and the poor lighting prevented her from seeing it.
"There you are, the best accommodations on the ship. Except for mine, of course." The captain turned so Alec and Sarah could squeeze by him in the passage, but Alec stopped moving before Sarah thought he should have. She turned about in the small room and nearly ran into the open door. She looked up, down, and side to side.
"These are the best accommodations on the ship?" she blurted out before she thought about it.
The captain shrugged his shoulders, adjusting once more so one of the frightening harpoon men could wedge into the passage in front of the door. Sarah didn't know where the man had come from and found herself unconsciously backing up into Alec.
"At least the room has a door," Teyssier said and closed that door in their faces.
The sound of the lock sliding into place might as well have been a canon going off as the sound exemplified their current situation like nothing else could.
Sarah spun around and pushed her husband away from her. He moved maybe a couple of inches because of the space, but it was the act of pushing that Sarah needed to remove some of the emotion that was building up in her.
"You had to leave!" she spit and instantly checked herself.
There were things she did to push Alec away from her. She yelled at him. She degraded him. She had even called him names. But there were some things that could be misconstrued as unbecoming of a lady. Behavior that was more apt to be seen on the spawn of whores. And Sarah tried hard to never exhibit such behavior. So now, she reigned in her emotions, so turbulent inside of her she doubted she could ever truly control them. And this she took as clear evidence of her origins. A lady would be naturally capable of controlling herself whereas Sarah clearly was not.
"Yes, I just had to leave," Alec said, much too weakly for her tastes.
She looked at him then, watching the shadows shift over his face, and for the first time in days, Alec looked tired. Sarah reached up and laid her hand against his face, hoping to draw some of the aching weariness out of him. Alec's eyes flared with sudden heat, and Sarah realized what she'd done. She pulled her hand away and looked for a place to hide. Which obviously there wasn't such a place, so she sat on the only bunk in the room, ducked her head, and pretended she was invisible.
Alec sat down next to her, and she noticed how he was careful not to touch her. His efforts were exaggerated by the closeness of the space. Now Sarah really wished she were invisible.
Or at least not a prostitute's accident.
If she were a real lady, there wouldn't be a problem. But she wasn't a real lady, and when people said Countess she didn't know they were speaking to her. It had been four years, and she still couldn't respond to my lady. Yet Alec had been responding to my lord his entire life.
God, why did she have to fall in love with a damn earl?
The lantern's swinging light drew her gaze, and she became fixated on it. Neither of them spoke, and she doubted Alec wanted to say anything to her. She didn't want to say anything to herself, even if she could think of something to say.
She didn't know how long she had been staring at the light when the lock suddenly turned in the door, making her jump.
Alec stood up, sloshing over the grime on the floor, and stepped in front of her, shielding her from whatever was coming in the door. But instead of Harpoon Man it was a short, stooped black man carrying a tray of food. Sarah's stomach reacted violently, growling at the sudden possibility of being filled. She covered her stomach with her hand as if that would stop the sound from emerging. Alec backed up to let the man in. The stooped man carried the tray over to the bunk and set it down next to Sarah.
Sarah smiled at him and said, "Thank you."
The man stopped and appeared startled. Sarah didn't know if her words or her nearness had upset him. But the man seemed to straighten, even though his back remained bent and his head hung at an awkward angle.
"You're welcome, my lady," he said in a gravelly voice before shuffling out.
The door slammed quickly shut behind him, the lock banging into place.
Sarah stared at the food, not sure if it was really there or not.
"Can we eat it?" she asked, not looking away from the bread, cheese and fruit.
Why she asked such a ridiculous question, she did not know. There was something about Alec's nearness that turned off the simple mechanisms in her brain that would have allowed her to function as a normal human being.
"If it's edible," Alec answered, picking up the tray to sit down on the bunk. He placed the tray on his lap and studied the food. "I've heard the fare isn't that marvelous on this vessel."
He smirked at her, and the awkwardnes
s from the time before the door had opened suddenly disappeared.
Alec picked up the loaf of bread and ripped it apart. He raised an eyebrow at it, and Sarah laughed. She caught herself on it though, and the sound turned into a hiccup. Alec raised that eyebrow at her now, but she didn't care. She snatched a part of the bread and ripped a chunk off with her teeth. The food hit her stomach with a thud, and she felt the vibration clear to her toes.
Alec stared at her.
"What?" she asked around another mouthful of the sinfully soft bread.
Alec shook his head. "I'm just waiting to see if it's poisoned."
Sarah stopped chewing so quickly she bit her tongue.
"Poisoned?" she managed around the wad of bread in her mouth.
Alec nodded, his expression grave.
Sarah swallowed, feeling the bread scrape all the way down.
"How do you feel?" Alec asked.
How did she feel? How did she feel? He had just let her poison herself, and he was asking how she felt?
"My lord, I believe I'm-"
Alec ripped off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth. He watched her while he chewed and then swallowed hugely as if mocking her with it.
"It's good," he said, "Amazingly fresh. They must have just brought on a new load of food stuffs." He eyed the loaf of bread as if it might come alive.
Sarah hit him. She smacked his shoulder as hard as she could given the small space didn't allow much room to swing.
"Ow," Alec said without feeling, ripping off another piece of the bread.
"Why did you do that? Why did you make me think it was poisoned?" she asked.
Alec shrugged. "I don't know. It just popped into my head."
"Popped into your head?"
Alec shrugged. "It's not like it's actually poisoned. I really didn't think you'd believe me, and it would all just be a bit of fun to ease the..." he gestured around them, "Tension."
Sarah watched his face as his eyes settled on hers, and she felt the heat rise into her cheeks.
"How are you so sure it's not poisoned?" she asked.
"They need us alive, Sarah." His voice had lost its humorous lilt.
Of course, they needed them alive. Of course, they did.
Of course.
Alec watched her much too closely, and Sarah discovered a new interest in her hunk of bread. Alec went back to the tray of food as well, and Sarah could let her body absorb the food more easily. She chewed carefully, not rushing. She didn't want to fill herself up too quickly.
But then Alec held up a single grape between his fingers.
"Grape?" he asked playfully.
Sarah leaned forward and sucked the grape out from between his fingers.
It wasn't until she noticed the stricken look on Alec's face that she realized what she'd done. The grape seemed to lodge in her throat halfway down, and her bread became terribly interesting again.
"Sarah-" Alec began.
"May I have some cheese, please, my lord?" Sarah asked, pitching her voice at the most aristocratic tone she knew.
Alec sighed, and Sarah looked at him. His entire body had seemed to deflate with that one sigh, and Sarah's chest felt painfully constricted. What did that sigh mean? Was she even qualified to say what it meant? Wouldn't she construe it to mean what she wanted it to mean?
Would she think it meant he loved her, too, and was frustrated with all this dancing around they did when it really meant that he was tired of being married to such a nobody and couldn't wait until something could be done about it?
Sarah raised her chin higher.
"Cheese, my lord?"
CHAPTER TWO
On a ship bound for France
April 1815
Sarah came awake slowly, her muscles wakening with every breath she drew. Someone was blissfully rubbing the muscles in her back. She arched into the hand and purred.
And then her eyes flew open, and she saw...
Nothing.
Her face was pressed against her husband's shirt, and all she saw was the contorted images of buttons and pleats. She tried to drag her arms up to push him away, but he was holding her much too tightly to move.
"Easy, love," he said against her ear. "I'm tired of all your fighting."
Sarah stilled instantly.
He was tired of all the fighting? What about her? If he was tired, she was exhausted. It took all her energy to stay mad at him every hour of every day, so he wouldn't figure out how much she loved him.
So why was he tired of all the fighting?
And why the hell did her head hurt so badly?
Then she realized she was back on the bunk, intimately entwined with her husband. Every muscle in her body responded, tightening in defense.
No, no, no, no.
She didn't want to remember how this felt. She didn't want to remember how any of this felt.
"It's all right, Sarah," Alec whispered, his hand continuing it's sensual stroke up and down her back, "I'm not going anywhere."
What?
What did he say?
He wasn't going anywhere?
What was he talking about?
"I don't know why you're so afraid I'm going to leave you. I'm not, Sarah. I never was, and I never will," he said, bringing her closer to him if that was possible.
Something that felt suspiciously like tears burned her eyes. That was ridiculous. She didn't cry. Of course, she didn't cry.
Of course.
But he kept talking, and he wouldn't stop, and she was afraid he was going to say the one thing she didn't want to hear, didn't want to know, because until she knew it, she could still pretend. Pretend anything.
But he did say it, and it wasn't at all what she had expected him to say.
"I've been in love with you since the first moment we met."
She burrowed her face into his chest.
The first moment they met had been a disaster.
~
The first moment they met
Four years, five months, eight days and some hours ago
She just wanted to get this whole bloody thing over with.
Sarah scratched her arms under the itchy fabric of her dress. She could understand why the War Office wanted her to get married, and she could even understand why it had to be done so quickly. But really, was such a grand affair necessary?
She stood at the back of Christ Church Greyfriars, surveying the domain. Her side of the church was pitifully empty, but what had she been expecting? Her tutors were there. Her voice and piano instructor. And her governess. Five people attending one's wedding was better than no people.
However, the Earl of Stryden more than made up for the dearth of wedding guests. She wondered if they wouldn't have to pop over to St. Paul's to pack them all in. The wreath of orange blossoms on her head tilted again, and she shoved them back into place, pushing the lacy fabric of the veil off of her neck. She scratched where the material had irritated her skin.
"Excuse me," said a soft voice behind her.
Sarah whipped around, nearly sending the wreath of orange blossoms catapulting off of her head and beheld the most beautifully exquisite man she had ever laid eyes on. His visage instantly made her want to smooth her hair and check to see if the sash of her dress was straight. Her gaze traveled down the length of him and back up, seeing but not really understanding what she was seeing. She had never seen a more perfect man in her life. He was tall and broad shouldered certainly, but his blue eyes were intense and his smile only flickered on his face, begging attention in case one would miss when it would blossom into a full, all out smile. His face was all angles, shadows and light, intoxicating in their make up. She wanted to run her fingers along his jaw line just to feel the stubble there.
"Yes?" Sarah asked, although it really didn't come out entirely. "Yes?" she tried again.
"I thought we should perhaps meet before...the, uh, the ceremony," he said, his voice smooth even with the apparent stalls in his sentence.
She could forgive him the stutters in his speech not only on account of his handsome qualities but also on account of the fact that he, too, was being forced to wed a complete stranger at a moment's notice.
"Of course," Sarah said, automatically extending her hand, "Sarah Beckham. I'm pleased to meet you, my lord."
The earl seemed to hesitate, but Sarah wasn't fully perceiving her surroundings correctly, so she brushed off the hesitation, thinking it only the tension of the moment that had also stuttered his speech.
"My lord?" he asked.
Or perhaps maybe he was just simple. In which case, Sarah would be mightily disappointed that such a visage was wasted on someone such as this.
"Yes, my lord. You are the Earl of Stryden, aren't you?" she asked.
The man hesitated again, but then that flickering smile spread into a full one, and Sarah had to gulp in breath to remain upright.
"Yes, I am the Earl of Stryden, but please, call me, Alec. I'm sure I would want you to," he said, his voice washing over her in a lovely caress.
There was something about his sentence that Sarah thought she should think odd, but his hand slipped into hers before she could fully process it. His grip was firm and gentle all at once, and her brain scrambled in her head to keep up.
"And the pleasure is all mine," he whispered, bringing her hand up to his lips.
All coherent thought fled Sarah's mind. The heat of his lips burned clear through the satin of her gloves. Her stomach clenched, and she almost swallowed her tongue when she tried to speak. Perhaps she should leave the speaking to the earl.
"I hope this hasty affair does not offend you," the earl was saying.
Sarah shook her head negatively.
"I know the War Office can be quite abrupt in their intentions."
Sarah only nodded.
"Are you sure you're all right, Miss Beckham?"
The earl's face had taken on a charming concerned expression. Sarah felt herself leaning into it, felt her head tipping back, raising her lips to just the right level to-
For Love of the Earl Page 2
