Much Ado About Marriage

by Karen Hawkins

  “Oh, for the love of—” Thomas strode to the bed, scooped up the dog, and placed him on the floor. “Out!”

  Zeus wagged his tail, shuffled off to a corner, and plopped down with a huge sigh.

  Fia noted how Thomas’s gaze narrowed on the dog, and she hurried to distract him. “I’ll never, ever find it,” she announced loudly.

  Thomas’s gaze immediately turned her way. “Find what?”

  “My writing desk. I think ’tis in this trunk.” She peeped at him through her lashes and noticed the weary lines around his eyes. Poor man, he must be as tired as I am. It’s been an eventful week.

  “Shall I look in the trunk for you?” he asked courteously. “I’m a bit taller and it might help.”

  Her heart flooded with warmth. “Yes, please.”

  He pushed the trunk lid higher and began to search through it, glancing at her as he did so. “Forgive me if I startled you upon entering the cabin. I didn’t expect to see you here; you were to be placed with Mary in the cabin next door.”

  “But Lord Montley said I was to stay here.”

  “He did, did he?” Thomas said grimly. “Montley’s sense of humor is odd.”

  Fia realized she should have known. “He’s quite charming, as well. That always bodes ill when it’s paired with a sense of humor.”

  Thomas’s lips quirked and she felt a stab of longing to feel those lips on hers once more.

  “I don’t see your writing desk in this trunk. Are you certain this is the right one?”

  “No,” she answered truthfully. “I thought ’twas so, but I’m not certain. If ’tis not in these two, then it could be in some of the trunks in the hold.”

  Thomas closed the first trunk and opened the other one. “How many are there?”

  “Too many. Duncan was far too generous; I don’t even know where he found some of these treasures. There are lengths of silks and brocades, spools and spools of silver and gold thread, and boxes of jeweled pomanders and necklets, bracelets and rings. I feel as if I’m a princess.”

  “’Tis obvious he cares about you very much.”

  She smiled almost shyly. “He raised me since I was a child, when my parents died of smallpox.”

  “He was certainly generous with your bride clothes.”

  “Yes.” She looked at the large trunks. “Not all of them would fit in the smaller cabin, so these two were stowed here. Do you wish them moved to the hold?”

  “They may stay here. We can slide them against the far wall and . . .” He continued on, telling her how he’d secure them to the rings bolted to the cabin walls.

  Fia tried to listen, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d been imagining what Thomas might be like away from Duncan’s ominous presence, once he wasn’t being held prisoner, beaten, or having horses fall upon him. She’d imagined that he would be relaxed, talkative, perhaps even charming. More like Lord Montley.

  She eyed her husband. He was more at ease now but talkative? Nay. He answered questions, explained things, but no more. Now that his explanation about her trunks was over, he merely continued his search for her writing desk.

  “I don’t see it in here,” Thomas finally said.

  Partially bent over the trunk, he was at eye level with her. Dark, rich brown, flecked with amber lights, his eyes made her feel warm and shivery at the same time. No man should have such beautiful—

  “Are you well?” His brows quirked down.

  Fia realized that she was holding a bolt of velvet to her like a shield. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she tossed it back into the trunk. It had been a long day, and she was stretched as taut as a bowstring. “I don’t need the writing desk this very moment. I—I’ll just take Zeus and my wee rabbit to my own cabin.”

  He straightened, rubbing his back. “That dog belongs in the hold with Thunder. There’s hay there and he’ll be warm enough.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  “No.” Fia walked past him and pulled a lawn night rail from the trunk, tossing it over her arm. “But I’m too weary to argue.”

  Thomas leaned against the bedpost and crossed his arms over his broad chest, and Fia’s attention was caught by the ripple of muscles under his shirt.

  Her mouth went dry. This is my husband. The thought sang through her mind and washed away some of her tiredness. Why shouldn’t she look at his fine chest? He belonged to her now.

  She eyed him more boldly. His white shirt was unlaced all the way to his breeches, and she was fascinated by the crisp curls of black hair that were sprinkled over his broad chest and then narrowed to a tantalizing trail that pointed straight to his belt. Her breath quickened in her throat.

  “Fia?”

  Fia couldn’t look away from that muscular chest or those beckoning curls. How would they feel beneath her fingertips? Would they feel crisp or soft? Would they be warmed by his skin? Would she?

  “Perhaps I should remove my shirt?” Amusement laced his deep voice and finally drew her gaze to his face.

  His look of arrogant satisfaction told her that he knew what she’d been thinking as clearly as if she’d spoken every thought aloud. Her face heated and she stammered, “Y—your cabin is quite large.” It was a stupid comment but all she could manage at the moment.

  His lips quirked. “Are you certain you’re referring to my cabin, and not my—”

  “Nay!” Her cheeks burned even more, though she couldn’t help but smile a wee bit. “I meant exactly what I said. Your cabin.”

  He looked around as if regarding it for the first time. “’Tis a grand one, for this is my home when I’m away for months at a time.”

  “Och, that must be lonely for you.”

  “No, ’tis far too exciting to be lonely.” His grin turned wolfish. “When I go to sea, ’tis to fetch things for Her Majesty.”

  “Fetch what sorts of things?”

  “Spanish galleons loaded with gold and silver, French merchant ships returning from China with silks and teas, Dutch ships loaded with furs and spices.” His eyes crinkled in the most attractive way. “’Tis amazing what you can find at sea.”

  She leaned forward, mesmerized. “You’re a pirate?” It seemed so at odds with his proper demeanor, and she realized how little she knew about him.

  “Nay, my lady. I’m a privateer, my ventures condoned by the queen’s decree and perfectly legitimate. Pirates are outlaws.”

  “King Philip might disagree with that.”

  Thomas chuckled. “So he might. But since his own ships do the same, it matters not.”

  She shook her head. “You enjoy a dangerous game.”

  His warm brown eyes gleamed. “Aye. My family is known for its luck, and I like to test it.”

  “My family is known for having a short temper, as Duncan has already proven.”

  Thomas’s amusement faded. “So he has.” He paused a moment, then said in a far more serious tone, “Fia, I know you’re tired, for neither of us had any sleep last night, but we should speak about our circumstances while we have the opportunity.”

  Apprehension caught her, but she managed to say, “Aye?” in a steady voice.

  He paused, as if choosing his words with care. “I think you will agree that this marriage cannot stand.”

  Her heart sank, though she forced her lips to smile. Somehow, in her imaginations of their first conversation as man and wife, she hadn’t thought of his explaining why they shouldn’t be.

  But he was right, of course. The marriage couldn’t stand. If not because of the complications it could cause, then because of the determination she saw in Thomas’s gaze.

  She refused to be an unwanted wife. “Of course we cannot allow this union to stand.”

  That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? A life without the fettering bonds of a husband. Still, she was stung by the flicker of relief on his face.

  “As soon as we reach London, I will ask Walsingham to approach the queen for permission to seek an annulment.”


  Hearing him say it aloud pinched her pride, and in some inexplicable way, she felt . . . rejected. Hurt. Dismissed.

  She tossed her head. “I wish we could undo the marriage before then. I dislike waiting so long.”

  His smile faded. “It will take but three weeks, perhaps less, to reach London.”

  “Three weeks?” Three weeks of being on ship with this man, finding out more things about him that fascinated her? Like that he had a streak that craved excitement just as she did? That he had a gentle sense of humor? That his smile crinkled his whiskey brown eyes and made her stomach do the oddest flips? She didn’t know if she could maintain her spirits being around Thomas for such a length of time, only to give him up when they reached shore.

  But I don’t want a husband! I’ve told Duncan so a thousand times before, only . . . somehow, now that I have this one, I don’t wish him to go away. I want— She bit her lip, suddenly beyond exhausted. I don’t know what I want.

  Thomas’s frown deepened. “Trust me, my lady, I am in as much of a hurry as you.”

  She doubted it but managed a stiff nod. “Good.”

  His jaw tightened. “I will do my best to make our trip quicker. You are not the only one anxious to end this farce.”

  She had to look down to keep him from seeing the sudden tears his words had caused. What’s wrong with me? Isn’t this what I want?

  Fia blinked away the tears before she shrugged and said, “Aye, ’tis a pity we were forced to wed, but there’s no discouraging Duncan. Once he sets his mind to a path, he’s like a great rock, rolling over everything and everybody.”

  “I noticed.” Thomas’s gaze narrowed on her and he said in a silken voice, “I find it oddly convenient that your cousin caught us not once but twice, and both times in most compromising positions. I can’t help but think ’twas a bit too convenient.”

  She stiffened, snapping her gaze to his. “Are you accusing me of trapping you into this marriage? For ’twas you, Lord Lackwit, who fell from a window whilst trying to break into the castle. I had no notion you were arriving.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “There is no ‘perhaps’ about it. ’Twas also you who brought such a silly mount that was scared by a poor mite of a dog with no teeth. Had you brought a proper mount, no one would have prevented your departure.”

  His face reddened. “The horse might have been high-strung, but he was also fast.”

  “I am also not the one who decided to run through the castle with my hose falling about my ankles. I hear not coincidences but the decisions of a fool!”

  He shoved himself from the bedpost, his mouth pressed into a forbidding line. “I wouldn’t have been running at all had you not stolen my damned boots!”

  “Look, Sassenach, I wouldn’t have taken your boots except you were threatening to leave without us!”

  “I’m not ‘Sassenach’; I am Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Rotherwood, and you’d do well to remember that.”

  She plopped her hands on her hips. “Whatever your name, you have no right to suggest that your misfortunes were caused by anything more than your own behavior. You’re fortunate that I calmed my cousin when he was calling for your head!”

  “I never asked for your help!”

  Fia’s shoulders tightened and she stomped forward to jab a finger into his chest. “You dolt, if it hadn’t been for me, your body would now be floating out to sea with fish nibbling your toes!”

  His eyes flashed. “If you’d wished it, you could have convinced your cousin to free me without this marriage. Not once did you suggest such a thing.”

  “Which shows how little you know Scottish ways. My cousin is laird first and foremost. You’re fortunate he didn’t determine that your presence was dangerous to the clan, or there would have been nothing I could have done to save you.”

  “Really?” he jeered. “You certainly were quick enough to agree to the ceremony.”

  “Fool! Duncan was determined that I wed, and soon. If it hadn’t been you, I would have had to marry—” She stopped, her face heating.

  “Exactly,” Thomas said in a quiet voice that was more condemning than any shout. “But for me, you would have wed Malcolm Davies.”

  Even to Fia’s ears, Thomas’s reasoning sounded damning.

  He continued, his voice deep and even. “You and I both know that clan Davies would have never allowed you to go to London. You had plenty of reasons to spoil those plans by presenting another suitor, no matter how unwilling he was.”

  “I would never do such a thing!” Fia’s eyes stung with unshed tears. “With you or without you, London is my destiny.”

  “London may well be your destiny, my lady—but I am not.”

  Fia’s pride was stung. “Lord Rotherwood, allow me to explain something. I never thought you were my destiny, which is why I’ll be happy to get an annulment the second our feet touch London soil.”

  The events of the day suddenly seemed more than she could bear. She’d never felt so lonely in all her life, and the bite of it filled her throat with a lump the size of a pillow.

  She lifted her chin. Let Thomas rant and rail. Let him decry our marriage and wish to be free of it. I will not cry in front of him. “I am done here. I will retire to my cabin now, if you’ll show me the way.”

  For a long moment, he merely scowled at her, but then he rubbed his chin, his expression softening. “I’faith, Fia, don’t look so. I’m sorry if I’ve allowed my temper to get the best of me, but this marriage cannot—”

  “I agree. We will do what we can to get an annulment and we’ll both be the happier for it. How do we do that?”

  He hesitated. “I will ask Lord Walsingham to approach the queen.”

  “And?”

  His face reddened. “We cannot—” He looked as if he could not say the word.

  She frowned. “We cannot what?”

  His gaze met hers, and he turned an even deeper red. “You know what I mean but cannot say.”

  She shook her head uncomprehendingly.

  “You must be a maid,” he burst out.

  “Ah. Of course.”

  “Which means you must be willing to vow it before the queen.”

  Ah! So he needed her cooperation, did he? He might try to toss her out like a discarded shoe, but when the time came to leave, it would be on her terms. Good.

  “Which leaves us with one matter to address,” she said.

  “Which is?”

  “Once we are no longer married, I do not wish to return to Scotland. London is where I have always wished to be.”

  His gaze grew suspicious. “So?”

  “So I will need a sponsor for my plays.”

  He shrugged. “I will sponsor your plays.”

  “Nay. I wish someone else to do it.”

  His brows snapped down. “Why?”

  Fia wished his eyes were warm with laughter, as they’d been a few minutes ago. More than that, she wished that the two of them were back beside the fire that first night, before Duncan found them. Thomas had kissed her then, in a way that had left her remembering that moment over and over. What she wouldn’t give to feel his arms about her now.

  God’s wounds, what is wrong with me?

  She’d always yearned to be in love, but only with someone who enjoyed life as she did, someone who loved theater and animals, the thrill of a brisk canter through the moors, and the joy of a good book. These simple things made up her life. Thomas was not that man.

  “Fia, answer. Why can’t I sponsor your plays?”

  Because I want a sponsor who believes in them and me. She shrugged. “’Twould cast suspicion if we continued to have a connection after the annulment.” She straightened to her full height. “The truth is, I’d prefer to find a more artistic sponsor. One who understands the theater.”

  “But I—”

  “Lord Montley said that you don’t enjoy the theater at all. Not even a little.” She fixed her gaze on him. “Do you?”

  He shifted awkwar
dly from one foot to the other. “I occasionally attend a play.”

  “Don’t count the ones that are performed at court; you’re forced to attend those.”

  He grimaced. “Very well, I don’t often attend the theater.”

  “Then you will not do.”

  “But I—”

  “When you look for a sponsor for my plays, not only must he be well funded and trustworthy, but he must possess an artistic nature. Montley mentioned several possibilities: Lord Leicester, Lord Essex—”

  “Essex? That philanderer?”

  “I didn’t ask for moral recommendations, so I don’t know. Let’s see, also Lord Steeleton, Lord Montjoy—”

  “Montjoy!” Thomas snapped the name as if it burned his tongue. “He’s a lecherous old man who has twelve by-blows from twelve different maidservants.”

  “I am not a maidservant and would never allow someone to treat me that way.”

  “You allowed me to kiss you in the forest.”

  Fia’s face heated. “That was different.”

  “Why?”

  For an instant, he thought he caught a glimpse of an answer in her remarkable eyes, but then she lowered her lashes and said in a cool tone, “I had no intention of ever seeing you again after that night, so what was the harm? Besides, I didn’t consider you as a potential sponsor, so there’s no comparison.”

  “Yes, you did. I promised to sponsor you and you thought it was for your plays and you kissed me.” He still warmed to think of that kiss. Had her cousin not arrived when he did—

  She waved her hand through the air. “Och, do not make more of a mere kiss than there was, Sassenach. We Scots are simply a passionate people.”

  Thomas found that he couldn’t swallow. How could he allow a woman so full of passion that she kissed strangers on a whim loose upon the world? And what would happen when he found a patron for her plays and she became grateful to the wretch, or simply found she enjoyed his presence? Would she kiss him, too?

  Thomas’s jaw ached, and his chest felt like an iron band had tightened around it. He gazed down into Fia’s fathomless eyes and wondered why he felt such a strange hollowness at the thought of her kissing another man. All he wanted was his freedom . . . didn’t he?