by Cheryl Holt
She didn’t want to be a nun, didn’t want to resume her quiet life of toil and service. She wanted to live freely, out in the open, as the daughter of the rich merchant she’d been born to be.
She wanted Chase Hubbard! There, she’d admitted it!
He did things to her she couldn’t describe. He delivered excruciating pleasure. He’d shoved her into a new world, and she was struggling to find her place in it—for clearly she didn’t belong where she’d previously been.
As was proper, she was dressed in her nun’s habit, her wimple firmly attached. She was extremely hot and anxious to get out on the water where the temperature would be cooler.
Her hair in particular was bothersome. Under her wimple, it was heavy and bulky in a fashion she hadn’t noted before. She kept remembering how it had floated in the waves when she’d been in the ocean with Chase. She kept remembering how he’d pressed his face into it, how he’d stroked his palm across it.
The convent never required women to cut their hair. It was up to each individual, but she imagined—once she was home—she’d shave it off. It reminded her too much of who she could have been if she’d made other choices.
It reminded her of Chase Hubbard and how he’d caressed it with such awe and affection. It would be impossible to ever forget that poignant, erotic memory.
Already he seemed very far away from her.
A few nights earlier, when she’d told him not to visit her room, she’d actually expected he would. But he hadn’t. Over the ensuing days, he’d been occupied with planning their departure, and she’d seen so little of him that she’d convinced herself he was deliberately avoiding her.
She couldn’t figure out why. From the start, he’d been determined to rattle her, to release her from the cage where she’d been imprisoned. She’d refused to come out, but he’d prodded and pushed until she’d behaved precisely as she shouldn’t. Then he’d decided to ignore her.
Cursed man!
Just as she was mentally denigrating him, he slipped next to her. They were mostly shielded from view. Her hand was resting on the rail, and he rested his hand there too, lightly brushing her fingers.
“Hello, Sister Faithful. Fancy meeting you here.”
She peeked up at him. “Yes, fancy that.”
“You don’t seem very happy.”
“I’m not. I’m just…just…”
She broke off her comment, not sure how to finish it. He was standing so close, and he looked and smelled so wonderful. She could barely keep from throwing herself into his arms and weeping.
“What’s wrong?’ he asked. His voice was warm and inviting, urging confidences they’d been able to share on the beach, but on the deck of the ship everything was skewed.
“I’m hot and weary and afraid. My last sea voyage didn’t turn out that well.”
“Neither did mine.”
“Aren’t you terrified?”
“No. Are you?”
“I’m trying not to be, but if a black sail suddenly appears on the horizon, I can’t predict how I’ll react. Is this vessel safe? What if we encounter pirates?”
“The captain has loaded cannons.”
He pointed to the right and the left where they were discreetly tucked under the rail. She hadn’t noticed them previously.
“That’s good news, isn’t it?” she said.
“It’s very good, which is why I purchased passage with him. It wouldn’t be easy to attack us. Pirates are criminals so they’re generally lazy. They’ll find simpler prey.”
“Praise be,” she muttered. “What if people grow ill? What if a plague strikes? What if the girls or Rowena…ah…”
He stepped nearer and furtively gave her hand a supportive squeeze.
“I won’t let anything happen. I swore it to the girls, and I swear it to you.”
“You were marvelous with them.”
He shrugged. “At the moment, I’m their hero, but I’m certain they’ll get over it.”
“I doubt it. They’re smitten by you.” Boldly she added, “So am I.”
“You are? It’s nice to know.” His indolent gaze wandered down her torso. “You look like a nun today.”
“I don’t have any other clothes.”
He scowled. “I intended to buy you some, but I’ve been so busy that I forgot.”
“You were planning to buy me…me…clothes?” she stammered.
“Yes. I hate seeing you in those old rags.”
She batted her lashes. “If you keep complimenting me like that, I’ll get a big head.”
He chuckled, and she tamped down a dangerous surge of emotion. She’d love to have some different attire, to shed her nun’s habit and announce to the world that she’d forsaken her vows. But she couldn’t, could she?
If she fled the convent, she had to have somewhere to go, and her only choice was to her father’s house or to Chase’s, but he was adamantly insistent they couldn’t be together.
Was it true?
He was a bachelor and scapegrace, and he’d spent so many years claiming he was an unreliable heel that he’d started to believe it. He constantly bragged that he was awful until it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Could she convince him otherwise? They’d be at sea for several weeks. There was no law to prevent her from trying.
He stepped even closer and murmured, “Do you ever ponder our afternoon on the beach?”
“All the time.”
“I almost changed my mind about departing, just so I could dally there with you again.”
It was such a sweet remark, and it tantalized her feminine sensibilities. It made her desperate to linger in his presence, to hear more pretty words flow from his delicious mouth. For even though she always informed him she didn’t like flattery, she craved it and hungered for more.
She pulled away and studied the shoreline, the vanishing town. A breeze caught the sails, and they snapped overhead, the ship quickly picking up speed. The longboat of rowers was cast off, the ship moving of its own accord.
The bow dipped and smacked into a wave, sending sea spray cascading over them. They laughed and attempted to dodge it, but got wet anyway. She lost her balance, and he grabbed and steadied her.
They gripped the rail again, both peering out.
“Goodbye, Africa,” he said. “Be damned to you.”
“Mr. Hubbard,” she scolded. “Such language!”
“The blasted place nearly killed me a dozen times over. I won’t ever be back. I guarantee it.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he resolutely stated. He turned and smiled at her. “How about you? Would you come back?”
“I’ll never have the chance.”
“But if you could, would you?”
She grinned. “I might—if I could swim with you again on that beach.”
“You wicked wanton! Don’t say such things. You’re conjuring up too many mental pictures I’m trying to forget.” He bent down and whispered, “I have a cabin to myself.”
“How lucky you are.” Everyone else was crammed in rooms that were too tiny to be called rooms.
“If you get lonely some night, sneak in and join me. My door doesn’t have a lock.”
“Sneak in?”
“Yes.”
“And do what?” she asked like the naïve ninny she was.
“I’ll show you once you arrive.”
She yanked her gaze from his, being unable to think clearly when he assessed her as he was. He left her feeling unique and special, had her contemplating conduct she never would have if she hadn’t met him.
Yet she’d seen him with that slave girl and knew he looked at other females with the same heat in his eye. When he focused it on her, was it real? Could she trust it?
She had no idea, and she was so unschooled in amour that she couldn’t figure out how to learn what she needed to discover. She simply couldn’t imagine him staring like that unless he possessed heightened affection. Or was she being hideously gu
llible, hoping to observe emotions that weren’t really there?
“The moon will be up later,” he said. “Walk with me on the deck. Leave your wimple in your cabin so your hair is flowing down your back.”
With that request temptingly offered, he moved away, and when she peeked over at him, he appeared innocent as a choirboy in church.
They stood together, their hands on the rail, their fingers touching, watching Africa grow smaller and smaller until the land vanished and they were completely surrounded by the blue water of the Mediterranean.
He actually shuddered, as if casting off the tragedies that had befallen him during his travels, and she wished she could slip an arm around his waist and tell him everything would be fine from this point on.
She intended to make it fine. She intended to make it perfect.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Come quickly!”
Ralston gestured to Rowena, and he held the door as they stumbled into Chase’s cabin. Chase had gone to walk on the deck. So had Sister Faithful. The girls were asleep, and Ralston was desperate to spend a few private minutes with Rowena.
They were giggling like schoolchildren, aware they were misbehaving and terrified they’d be caught.
He was determined not to besmirch Rowena’s reputation, but honestly, how could he be expected to keep his hands off her for the duration of the voyage? He was only human and didn’t have the strength.
She plopped down on Chase’s bunk and pulled Ralston down too. The bunk was very narrow, so there wasn’t space to lie side by side. He had to stretch out on top of her. With it being his first and only experience at finding himself in such a location, he was completely bowled over by sensation.
Her body was crushed to his all the way down, and her intimate woman’s area was most riveting. At school, boys had bragged about what it looked like and what a fellow did down there. Ralston had even seen naughty paintings so he had the general idea, and just that moment he’d have cut off his right arm to take a peek. Which stunned him.
He viewed himself as being very moral and proper, his father’s teachings deeply ingrained in his character. He’d always told himself he’d never be swept away by passion, but apparently he understood very little about himself or male ardor. There was an almost feral urge beating in his breast, goading him to rip off her clothes, to perpetrate conduct he couldn’t quite picture or define.
They began kissing wildly, clawing and biting, acting as if it was the very last time they’d ever be together. Finally she broke off and put a finger to her lips, shushing him. They listened as footsteps approached—was it Chase?—then passed on.
The incident frightened them, reminding them of the dangers of dallying on the ship, of being discovered. He sat up and drew her up too. They tarried on the edge of the bunk, their feet on the floor.
“I don’t want to be a nun,” she said. “I never wanted to be one.”
“I don’t want you to be a nun either.”
“Can you save me?”
“I can’t imagine how I would.”
“Marry me,” she blurted out.
“Marry you?” he gasped.
He hadn’t considered it for a single second, but once she’d voiced the prospect it seemed to sizzle around the room.
“Isn’t that rather abrupt?” he weakly asked.
“I’m not the sort to dither and debate. When I see something I crave, I reach out and grab for it. It’s my greatest failing—according to my parents. It’s why I was locked away.”
“I think the man is supposed to propose.”
“So propose! I’ll say yes, I swear.”
“I don’t know, Rowena,” he said.
“Please?” she begged. “It’s the only way I can be with you forever. Don’t tell me you could part with me in London. If you tell me that, I’ll just die.”
“I couldn’t bear to part with you,” he admitted, “but I haven’t the means to support a wife.”
“We’ll figure it out. We’re smart people, and I’m a hard worker.”
He didn’t want life to be hard though. If he wed, he wanted to be able to provide for his spouse, to give her a home of her own. She’d moved from her parents to the convent, so she’d always been housed and fed. She had no notion of how difficult it was to find a good post and earn a stable income.
He’d landed his job with Mr. Fitzwilliam through his father’s connections, but he was sure his employer had drowned during the pirate attack. Ralston’s position had likely evaporated with that drowning. He’d probably wind up residing in the country with his widowed mother! He loved her dearly, but it wasn’t a circumstance conducive for a new husband.
“I can’t offer you anything,” he said.
“I don’t need anything. I just need you.”
“My situation is too precarious. I have no idea where I’ll end up.”
“Are you certain? I can’t return to the convent. Don’t make me. Take a chance on me. Take a chance on us.”
“I will take a chance, but you’ll have to return to the convent and stay there until I send for you. It won’t occur immediately.”
“Oh, that will absolutely kill me. How long will it be?”
“Months?”
“I’ll expire in months!”
“Well, I have to have a home for you and money in the bank. Just promise me you won’t grow annoyed with the delay and take your vows. Don’t you dare become a nun.”
“I don’t intend to ever speak my vows. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll still be a novitiate.”
“Good.”
He nodded, his thoughts awhirl with how they could pull it off. When they’d stepped into the cabin, marriage hadn’t wedged itself into his mind. Now the exciting possibility was front and center.
If she was his wife, he could do the things he was so desperate to do. As opposed to Chase, he wouldn’t ruin her without the benefit of matrimony. He’d make her his bride. He’d proceed in the correct way.
He’d bring her to meet his family, and he’d visit her parents and ask their permission. Even if they wouldn’t give it, he’d wed her anyway. He’d rescue her from the convent, and once she was his own, he’d be the happiest man in the world.
“It’s my turn to say something,” he told her.
“What is it?”
“Will you marry me, Rowena?”
“Yes, yes, oh yes, Ralston.”
This set off a furious flurry of kissing, and as it dwindled, he said, “You’ll have to be patient.”
“I’ll try.”
“And we have to keep our betrothal a secret for a bit.”
“Why? I’m eager to shout the news to everyone.”
“Because until I can provide you with a stable situation, you’re a novitiate with the Sisters of Mercy. I can’t have your reputation tarnished. Not until I can remove you from there in an honorable manner.”
“You’re too decent, Ralston.”
“I know. Chase claims it’s my worst flaw.”
“I disagree. With all the horrid men I’ve met in my life, I’ll take decent any day of the week.”
“Is it a deal, Rowena?”
“It’s a deal, Ralston.”
“We’re engaged, and it remains a secret?”
“Yes, if you’re sure it’s for the best.”
“I’m sure. Now let’s get out of here before Chase comes back. If he discovers us, we’ll never be able to explain ourselves.”
“I don’t care about Mr. Hubbard.”
“I do. I’d hate to have him think less of me.”
He was also afraid that Chase might tell him he was mad to consider marriage, mad to be lusting after a near-nun. Ralston had such affection for Chase, and Chase could easily dissuade him. Ralston couldn’t allow that to happen.
They kissed again, their passion powerfully addicting and when they finally yanked apart, she said, “I won’t let you renege or cry off.”
“I never will.”
There was an
odd sound in the air, as if the universe had concurred, as if they were bound with some type of invisible chain for all eternity.
While a confirmed bachelor like Chase might have quailed at the sensation, Ralston enjoyed it very, very much. He’d been born to be a husband and father. He couldn’t wait.
He went to the door, peeked out, and they tiptoed into the hall.
* * * *
Faith gazed around the supper table, and she experienced a rush of pleasure. The evening repast had become a merry ritual that helped to break up the tedium of days at sea where little transpired to enliven their routines.
She felt as if she was a member of a large and boisterous family. As a woman who’d been raised without a mother, without siblings, and a father who was never home, she’d grown up eating by herself most of the time. Meals had been quiet and boring, with servants hovering and her nanny scolding.
At the convent, the meals were no better. There were plenty of other people in the room, but it was deemed to be a devotional period so conversation wasn’t permitted. And of course extensive prayers were held before anyone could dig into the food.
Rowena was seated next to Ralston, the girls seated across. They were talking, laughing. The table was small, situated by the galley and they were crammed together, with Faith sitting by Chase, which was always thrilling.
He constantly tried to fluster her by tangling his foot with hers or reaching down to furtively stroke her thigh or squeeze her hand. She shouldn’t have played such a dangerous game with him, but she hadn’t the fortitude to order him to desist.
They were almost to England, the captain having announced that he expected them to arrive shortly. All afternoon, she and the girls had climbed up to the deck hoping to see land on the horizon, but it hadn’t appeared. Yet it would very soon, and at the prospect she was beginning to panic.
Throughout the journey, Chase had been charming and flirtatious, but had made no genuine amorous overtures.
There were only three private cabins on the ship. One belonged to Faith, Rowena, and the girls, one belonged to the captain, and one belonged to Chase. At the commencement of the voyage, he’d invited her to sneak in some night, but she hadn’t had the temerity to visit him.
