by J. E. Clymer
The ocean's water was like ice as it engulfed her falling form. She had closed her eyes, but she could feel the light on her face above her. She kicked as hard as she could, but with each kick her skirt-trousers fought her. She had just managed to break the surface and gasp a breath before she was pulled back down.
Belladonna's legs burned and she knew she couldn't keep up the fight. She was losing. Suddenly, arms locked around her middle. She was being pulled against the waves. Finally, the cool ocean air blew against her face for longer than a few seconds at a time. She forced herself to take deep slow breaths.
She opened her eyes, but her rescuer was securely behind her. His grip tightened and he spoke in her ear, “Hold on, they'll be pulling us up now.”
The next thing she knew she was on her knees on a heap on the deck of the ship coughing up sea water. “Thank you, sir,” she got out between coughs. Once she got a good look at the man who had saved her, she could have kicked herself. The look in his eyes told her that George was furious.
“Think nothing of it, Miss Loomcroft.” He said. Then he scooped her up in his arms and started carrying her towards a door on the upper deck.
“I will be fine in but a moment, Mr. Livery. I do not need carried.” She coughed out.
“Miss Loomcroft, keep your flam to yourself.” He growled.
Her green eyes widened for a moment, the decorative patch long lost to the sea. She kept quiet and didn't struggle. He turned the latch to the door with one hand and then kicked the door open. He set her on her feet and told her, “Take those wet clothes off.”
He turned and locked he door, but did not leave. When she did move quickly enough he walked over and started undoing her buttons. “Mr. Livery, I do not need help.” She choked out thru a sore throat.
He ignored her and had her waistcoat off quickly. He started on her top. “George, please stop.” She squeaked.
“No.” He said with a finality that scared her. Soon all the buttons on the back of her top and the ties on the underlying chemise were undone. He pulled it off her without a moment's hesitation.
He smiled as he worked the button of the back of her skirt-trousers. They dropped easily. “I owe your modiste, Miss Loomcroft.” Only then, did she realize he as shaking from cold almost as badly as herself.
George did his best not to take her in as he turned her around. He went over and pulled back the covers on the small bed in his chambers. He then scooped her up and dropped her into the clean sheets. Finally, he pulled the covers up to her chin. “Stay there.” He told her.
George considered changing his clothes and leaving, but he was as cold as Belladonna was. His fingers were already starting to go numb. He opened the wardrobe in the room and stood behind the door as he stripped out of his wet clothes and slipped on a clean pair of trousers.
Belladonna held her breath as he changed. George seized every chance he could to ignite her temper, so why did the thought of him without a stitch on leave her warm? Swallowing she burrowed deep into the covers and tried not to look at his bare legs that she could see under the door.
Once he was changed he slipped under the covers beside her. Belladonna's eyes widened and she licked her dry lips. “Mr. Livery...”
“George,” he interrupted.
She nodded. “George. Perhaps you have a dress I could borrow. This...this is not proper.”
George raised an eyebrow. “This is not proper? I think your care of propriety ended the moment you stepped on to the blasted ship, Miss Loomcroft. In fact, I daresay you are the most entirely improper woman I have ever met.”
“Mr. Livery, I...still...I...” She stuttered, looking for words.
George sighed in annoyance. “You have got good men and I am quite sure they will be discreet, as my own are. You are entirely right. This is not proper, but it is what is. We will make do and I will find you something to wear once we are both warm.”
To prove his point he pulled her into his arms. The moment he did it George knew that he made a mistake. Her generous breasts pressed against his bare skin. The soft heat that flowed out from the touch left him in desperate need of a woman who would do more than allow him to hold her.
Belladonna laid tense and still for a long time before eventually falling into slumber. Once she was well and truly asleep he laid a tender kiss on her forehead. He had never met a woman like her and he was fairly sure he never would again.
In truth, George had acted rashly, but not without thought. The moment that the door had shut behind them their fate was sealed. Belladonna would be his wife; even if he had to black mail her to the alter. He had always thought society ladies were a dreadfully stiff lot, and they were.
Belladonna pretended to be one of those boring ninnies. She even played the role far better than the ladies who were actually as exciting as a handkerchief, but she wasn't. A truly boring lady would not have even attempted something as unheard of as captaining a ship and she certainly wouldn't evacuate the crew while staying on board to sacrifice the ship.
Perhaps that was the cause. The moment that she had turned the ship away from his own and the gang plank dropped a sense of loss enveloped him down to his core. George hadn't felt such a feeling of desolation since his mother had died. He had to find the reason. In the interim he knew that no matter what the cause was, he would not risk losing her ever again.
Chapter 4
As awareness returned to her, Belladonna was aware only of the feel of hard arms around her. She tingled where he touched her and an unpleasant heaviness settle in her lower stomach. She glanced up at his face and expected him to still be fast asleep.
George flashed a relaxed smile down at her. “Good morning, lay about.”
She still didn't move, but her voice was quiet but steady when she replied. “It can not have been that long.”
He intentionally rubbed her back and was pleased to note the coloring of her cheeks as he did so. “It has been a full day. I have been out about deck, found you a dress...well, a dress of a sort, and we will pull into the harbor of my island anytime. You, my dear Miss Loomcroft, have slept thru it all.”
Her mind worked thru the information. When she finally spoke her eyes betrayed a flash of emotion. George couldn't help but think it was anger, but he hoped it was excitement. “So...is it so very cold out on deck?”
He couldn't help but laugh. “I must say, Miss Loomcroft. You are the only woman who wounds my masculine prowess so. I fear you dislike my company.”
There was something different. Belladonna couldn't fathom as to what it was, but she was quite sure something was off. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Mr. Livery, you seem rather...rather content. What has changed?”
His hands slid lower with each stroke back and forth. “Nothing has changed.”
She sighed. “I have nothing with me at present, but I'm willing to make a trade for the answer to that question, Mr. Livery. I don't even know why it bothers me so, but I know something has changed.”
He smiled. “I do love a bargain, but one is not necessary. Many things have changed, Miss Loomcroft. Not the least of which is that I have decided to marry.”
George had thought about how he would break the news to her for a full day while she had slept. He expected a smile, a laugh, even a kiss was not far from his mind. He didn't expect Belladonna to stand up from the bed without a stitch on, grab the dress on the foot of the bed and stalk behind the open door of the wardrobe.
Her face bore the disguise of indifference that she often let her features take while socializing in the ton. “Please, do tell, Mr. Livery. Who will be the woman to whom you are engaged?”
He leaned back on the bed and watched as the dress slid over her head. “I expect a short engagement.” He said. George was not going to tolerate her pretending not to have emotions. His answer was a calculated move to spark her anger.
Belladonna looked down at the dress that flowed out around her. It was so large that the billowing shoulders of the billow
ing sleeves slid down to her mid-arm. She had to hold the bronze fabric up at her chest in order to keep the immeasurable amount of fabric from falling to the floor. Her other hand gripped the skirt of the monstrosity and lifted it up high so she wouldn't trip. She walked out from behind the wardrobe with her head held high. “Mr. Livery, I would not count on your betrothed being happy with a woman in your room.” Sighing she let a bit of frustration creep into her voice. “What she must think of me...”
He got out of the bed and walked up to Belladonna. He tenderly pushed a stray curl out of her eye and behind her ear. “I hope she realizes how beautiful you are once we get you to my home and out of the horrible dress.”
Her eye twitched and Belladonna straightened her shoulders, willing her pride to stay in place. “I will not be made a fool of, Mr. Livery. I most certainly will not be meeting your fiance.”
George almost snapped at her. She said it as if she were merely discussing the weather. He turned her so she faced the mirror in his room. Belladonna tried to turn her head, so she could see him behind her. He gently reached from behind her head and turned her head towards the mirrors. “Miss Belladonna Loomcroft, may I please introduce the future Mrs. George Livery.”
The color drained from her face and Belladonna could barely breathe. “No.” She said flatly.
George stepped back and met her eyes in the mirror. “No, Bella?”
“I will never marry.” She said with conviction. She had never said it before aloud before, but she said it now.
“Why?” He asked with apparent interest. George wasn't condescending in his tone, merely curious.
A deep rosy tinge filled her cheeks. “I do not want children.” She looked away from the mirror unable to meet his gaze.
George gently turned touched her shoulders and turned her around. Belladonna's eyes widened as he bent down and tenderly laid a chaste kiss on her lips. “Then my brothers' children can be our heirs.”
He wasn't counting on that, but he'd have her either way. George suspected that she would welcome a child or two if she knew no more were expected of her. Even at one and twenty she could wait a year or two and still be able to have a few children.
She met his eyes, then. She looked thoroughly confused and even a bit hopeful. “You mean that?” Her voice catching as she whispered the phrase.
“I mean it.” He said simply before he pulled her closer and kissed her again. It was a kiss that would set a person to flame. It started by a mere touch, then was further kindled with an exploration of her mouth, and finally it exploded when she returned the exploration in kind. When they finally stepped away from each other they were both breathing hard.
Her dress had started to slip and she quickly pulled it back up into place. “Why would you throw away your chance for a family, Mr. Livery?”
George rubbed the back of his head. Every step forward was accompanied with two steps back. He was back to being Mr. Livery. “Would you believe that I want you more?”
Belladonna bit her lip. Then she started laughing. “You do not look as if you are in need of blunt, Mr. Livery.”
He shook his head. She still didn't understand. “I do not want your dowry, Belladonna. Your father can use it on one of the others in his brood. I want you.”
She had a blessedly blank look on her face. Just then the ship shook as it stopped. He held out his hand to her. “You do not have to decide this instant, Bella. Come, you need a dress that actually fits and I, for one, am quite looking forward to having my feet on solid ground again.”
Belladonna could not help but have the same look in her eyes as a hare losing the ground to the fox. Still, she put her hand in his slowly. “Alright.”
By the time that they opened the door out onto the deck the gang planks were already in place at the docks. George slipped his waist coat off the moment they were out the door and draped it protectively across her shoulders. His hand naturally hovered near her back as they walked off the ship.
A small carriage was already waiting on the pier for them. Belladonna looked to George. “Were we expected?”
George shook his head no. “No, but my servants must have seen the ship off shore.”
She settled herself in the carriage seat as best she could while holding up the sagging dress. George looked at the picture that Belladonna made in the cream colored seats of the carriage. He didn't laugh, but it did try his patience not to. The dress had billowed out around her like a fallen tent.
Belladonna gripped the edge of the seat as the carriage started moving. She gazed out the windows at the waves crashing against the sandy beach. “This is a really beautiful place. Is it one of your family's holdings, Mr. Livery?”
George was surprised at such a mundane question. He cleared his throat and answered with pride in his voice. “No. It's solely mine. I'd like to say I worked hard and bought it with my incalculable riches, but in truth I won it in a card game.”
She shifted in her seat so she could change the hand holding up her dress. She tried to smile, but George noticed it didn't make it to her eyes. “Do you gamble often, Mr. Livery?”
He leaned back in his seat and followed he gaze out the window. “Not since I was a lad. I won this place when I was barely six and ten; I haven't gambled since. I would rather work for what I have.”
Belladonna's interest seemed to perk up. “What kind of work do you do, Mr. Livery?”
He grinned like a child who had just been given a gift. “I enjoy shipping, but my favorite venture involves the number of lumber yards I own.”
She couldn't help but laugh. “So...the man that is known as a terrible flirt...”
He smiled and interrupted. “I seem to recall you told me I have the reputation of a rake.”
She cleared her throat and her smile went all the way to her eyes. He knew in that moment he had to buy her a set of emeralds to match those eyes. “I may have exaggerated your reputation in our first meeting, Mr. Livery. As I was saying, the man who has a reputation for being a tremendous flirt spends his day working in a lumber yard?”
He straightened his coat a little bit, then he faked indignation. “What would be wrong with working in a lumber yard, Miss Loomcroft? Except I manage them from afar, quite well I might add.” Then he winked at her. “Perhaps you can now tell me exactly what they mean when they say I'm a flirt.”
She licked her lips and returned her gaze out the window. “You have a tendency, Mr. Livery, to lead young girls of the ton on and then stop short just after the first kiss.”
He nodded. “I do that.” He looked out the window. “Here comes the estate now.”
Belladonna gazed out a fine home of gray stone with finely crafted windows. It was larger than the town houses in London, but also smaller than the homes found on the common country estate. Roses trellised up the front of the building to the sides and above the entrances.
In short, it looked like a home that she thought she would find in a fairy tale. “It's beautiful.”
As the carriage came to a halt, she grabbed her hands and kissed the their backs. “Just wait until you see the inside, Bella. You will be truly taken with it.”
###
Belladonna changed into the gown that the maid found for her. The woman's aunt worked with the local modiste. In a few hours she had no less than five dresses that fit her to perfection. They were not a style she would have normally chosen, but they fit and that was not more than she could ask for.
The dresses were a bit less modest than those she was accustomed to, but they were in no way too revealing even for the ton. She wore a gown of burgundy that hugged her curves to the waist where it then let out to a smooth line. It was a fine day dress, even if it was a bit snug. Belladonna had a feeling her maid was of French descent, or was matchmaking, or both.
She almost felt light as she walked down the stairs. She had misjudged George and she knew it. It came as a bit of surprise to her to realize she hoped he would like the dress. She softly padded down the wide
white stairs because a pair of shoes had still not been found for her.
Voices echoed from the study just right of the stair case. George was angry, but it was a different type of angry. It was not the protective kind of angry he had projected towards her a few days ago. It was more of an anger born out of annoyance.
“Father, you are not to interfere. Brother, do what you do best. Go back to London and gamble or bed one of your mistresses.” George bellowed.
Belladonna hugged the outside wall, so none of them could see her. Her breaths were shallow as not to make any noise.
“George, be reasonable. You have no need of an heiress with so much. I see that now that I have been here. Your brother needs her as a wife. Help him, son.” His father chided gently, but there was an undercurrent of anger in his voice.
