“At any rate”—she bounded to her feet and twirled around the cabin—“it feels absolutely delightful to wear these again.”
He grinned at her antics. “Before you get too involved in enjoying your bit of forbidden freedom, suppose we talk about this gold business, shall we? It seems to me Egypt is a mighty big place.”
Sabrina whirled to a stop and grabbed the table to keep her balance. The childish gesture was just what she’d needed to restore her excitement about the search for the gold, the adventure awaiting them.
“Oh, I doubt if it will be too difficult.” She breezed over to her portmanteau and knelt before it. Flipping open the case, she dug beneath the layers of clothes. Triumphantly she pulled out the letter and waved it before him. “We have a map.”
She crossed to his side and slapped the letter on the table. “Look at this; it’s all in here, every detail, every direction.”
He glanced at the paper before him and frowned. “It’s in French.”
“Of course it’s in French. It was written by one of the officers who hid the gold.” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Can’t you read this? I thought your mother was French?”
“Of course I can read it,” he said loftily. “I’m just a little out of practice, that’s all. Besides, I’ve always been able to get my point across without having to depend on writing it down.” He favored her with a wicked grin. “Especially in French. I’ve always found even the most innocent comment sounds so much more … intimate, when it’s spoken in French.”
“Matt, would you kindly try to remain serious and keep your mind on the matter at hand.”
“If that’s what you want.” He sighed in resignation. “But I can think of a number of things we could be doing together that would be far more interesting than studying an old letter.”
“Interesting perhaps,” she murmured, ignoring, as she always had, the suggestive nature of his comment, her gaze scanning the page before her, her mind firmly centered on the scrawled handwriting, “but not nearly as profitable.”
Still standing, she bent low over the letter, her head next to Matt’s. The two studied the words long and carefully, one occasionally drawing the other’s attention to a particular point. Matt concurred with Sabrina’s conclusion as to the approximate location of the gold. The ship creaked around them, the noise a constant, blurry background to their conversation. She no longer paid notice to even the loudest squeaks. After several moments, she straightened and stretched. Matt glanced up at her.
“You say you don’t know where the first page of this is?”
“I have no idea. This is all I found.”
“Well,” he said slowly, “looking at this, I don’t think we need it.” He grinned. “I think we’ve got ourselves real good directions to a king’s ransom in gold.”
Sabrina laughed with delight. “Matt, I haven’t been so excited in years. A fortune in gold, just think of it.”
A wry voice sounded from the doorway.
“I find, my dear, I can think of little else.”
Chapter 10
“Don’t you ever knock?” Sabrina snapped.
Nicholas smiled grimly from the doorway. “I thought we had thoroughly discussed that. Remember, this is my cabin.”
“Yes, I know.” She shot him a scathing glare. “Your cabin, your table, your chairs, your bed—”
“My wife.” His icy tone shivered through her but he directed his smoldering gaze at Matt. Matt leaned back in his chair, his attitude issuing a casual challenge.
“I think we are all well aware of that relationship,” she said sharply.
“Excellent. I feared you had forgotten it.” He raked his angry gaze over her. “Would you care to explain why you are here with Madison? Alone?”
Sabrina glared, exasperated and more than a little annoyed. Surely the man could not believe there was anything improper in her being alone with Matt? She had given him absolutely no reason to distrust her. And jealousy was no longer an acceptable excuse for his maddening and insulting suspicions.
“No, I would not care to explain. I do not believe an explanation is necessary.” She nodded toward Matt. “I believe I made my relationship with Matt perfectly clear earlier.”
“Oh?” Matt tossed her a knowing grin. “What did you tell him?”
Sabrina drew her brows together in an irritated frown and cast him a quelling glance. She turned to Nicholas. “I told you exactly how I feel about him. Therefore, there is no reason for you to storm in here like an avenging angel or a—”
“Betrayed husband?” Matt said innocently.
Nicholas’s anger was almost palpable. Fury sparked in his eyes. Sabrina had never seen him this irate and sensed he was hard-pressed to contain himself. His voice came as hard as the set of his jaw, and a trickle of foreboding lodged in her midsection. “Yes, my dear, you have more than explained your feelings for this man. However, I am not aware of his feelings for you. Furthermore, I suspect he is not to be trusted when it comes to such matters.”
Sabrina’s gaze shot from Nicholas to Matt. He couldn’t possibly take Nicholas’s insults seriously, could he? Matt lounged in the chair.
“That sounds suspiciously as if you’re accusing me of lacking honor.” His indolent drawl belied the steely glint in his eye.
Nicholas raised a scornful brow. “I must say, you surprise me. I didn’t expect you to be perceptive enough to comprehend my meaning.”
“Nicholas!” His comments appalled her. In spite of their longtime affection, she feared Matt would not allow this insult to pass. The knot in her stomach tightened. Friend or no friend, Matt could be a very dangerous man.
Matt unfolded his long frame from the chair and rose to his feet, his nonchalant manner in stark contrast to his eyes, dark and stormy and dangerous.
“I will explain this to you once, Wyldewood.” Matt’s voice came surprisingly cool and controlled. Hope flickered within Sabrina of diffusing the rapidly escalating confrontation. “Bree and I have known each other for many years. At one time, we enjoyed a business relationship. We share a certain amount of affection. I care for her as if—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Nicholas interrupted impatiently. “As if she were your sister.”
“Exactly.” Matt nodded firmly.
Nicholas snorted with derision. “That should give Sabrina scant comfort considering you could not properly care for your own sister.”
Confusion colored Matt’s face. “My sister?”
“His sister?” Sabrina echoed.
“Yes, his sister!” Nicholas snapped, glaring at them as if they had both lost their minds. Sabrina and Matt exchanged puzzled glances.
“What sister would that be?” Matt said cautiously.
“The one who was cut down in the prime of life. The one who couldn’t cope with all the problems she had to face. The one Simon told us about.”
“Simon?” Matt was obviously still baffled by Nicholas’s words.
Sabrina’s bewilderment equaled Matt’s. What on earth was Nicholas talking about?
“He told us everything.” Frustration at their blatant incomprehension sounded in Nicholas’s words. “About your sister.” He huffed in exasperation. “The one who became a nun.”
Realization struck Sabrina. Nicholas’s rantings dealt with that ridiculous story Simon had fabricated about the name of the ship.
“What nun?” Matt’s forehead furrowed in bewilderment.
“The nun,” Sabrina jumped in. “Your sister, the nun.”
Matt had the look of a man struggling to decipher an unintelligible code. “What sister?”
“How many sisters do you have that are nuns?” Nicholas roared.
“The sister you named the Lady B for!” Sabrina said, her voice sharp with rising panic.
“The Lady B?” Matt floundered for understanding. “But I named the Lady B for—”
“For your sister,” Sabrina cut in desperately, her gaze trapping his, praying he could somehow u
nderstand her silent plea.
“Bree, I…” Matt stared straight in her eyes. His widened slightly, and he finally grasped the full meaning of the conversation. “Named the ship for my sister, of course.” He turned to Nicholas and shrugged. “It’s been such a long time and we were never really close.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I had the impression you were extremely close.”
“Well, yes.” Matt shook his head. “We were close once, but … then we weren’t.” He laughed awkwardly and cast a withering glance at Sabrina. “When she had her, um, problems, we drifted apart. She would never accept anyone’s help, you see. Stubborn little wench.”
Sabrina clenched her teeth against an angry retort. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”
Matt sighed in resignation. “Just pride and sheer mulishness. The woman never did know what was best for her. Especially when it came to men. Always made the wrong choices and found herself stuck in extremely difficult circumstances.”
“Very likely nothing she could not handle,” Sabrina snapped.
“What are you two talking about?” Nicholas exploded. “Nun or not, I don’t give a damn about your sister!”
“You’ll go to hell for that,” Matt said under his breath.
Nicholas ignored him. “Sabrina is my only concern. And whether you think of her as a sister or whether you think of her as a blasted nun, I want you to stay away from her!” He turned toward her. “And I want you to stay away from him.”
“I shall do as I please.” Sabrina resisted the childish impulse to stamp her foot for emphasis. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Oh yes, I can!”
She shot him an angry glare. “No one has told me what to do for thirteen years! If you think you, of all people, are going to start telling me now what I may or may not do, how I shall and shall not conduct myself, you are in for a rude awakening.” She whirled to face Matt. “Tell him, Matt. Tell him he cannot order me around like a servant. Tell him he cannot run my life.”
“Bree.” Matt looked down at her with an apologetic expression. “Annoying as it may well be, the man is your husband and has certain rights.”
Nicholas smirked triumphantly. It was all Sabrina could do to still the urge to smack him and Matt too.
“Although”—Matt’s gaze shifted from Sabrina to her husband, his voice quiet—“he certainly has no such rights when it comes to telling me what to do.”
Nicholas’s voice was as measured as Matt’s. “You shall stay away from her, Madison.”
“I will do as I please. This is my ship, and Bree is a very dear friend.”
“And there you have it.” Nicholas’s hooded eyes and icy tones stilled Sabrina’s heart. “She is not my friend at all; she is my wife. As such, I will not look favorably upon a repeat of the cozy scene I witnessed here.”
Matt crossed his arms over his chest. “It seems to me you’re demanding quite a lot in the name of husbandly rights. Particularly for someone who has yet to establish his claim on that title.”
“Explain yourself, Madison,” Nicholas said coldly.
Matt shrugged idly. “It is my understanding there has yet to be a wedding night.”
Only the creaking of the ship’s timbers cut through the stark silence that fell like a blow. Tension in the cabin lay thick and stifling, and Sabrina gasped for breath. The two men traded icy glares from across the cabin, each sizing up the mettle of the other, judging strengths and talent, weakness and faults. Any attempt on Sabrina’s part to avoid a direct confrontation now seemed effort wasted. Nicholas’s hands by his side clenched into fists and relaxed so quickly, Sabrina thought she was mistaken.
Nicholas’s black eyes gleamed. “I believe you have pushed me too far, Madison. Although, I must say, I expected nothing better from an American. In my experience, Americans are coarse, crude, and ill-bred.” He fairly spat the words, and Sabrina groaned to herself.
Matt registered little outward reaction to the insult. Only the throb of an angry vein in his neck gave any hint that he was as enraged as Nicholas. “Well, at least when an American marries, the wife in question knows she’s been good and truly wed.”
“Matt!” Sabrina snapped. “That is quite enough! As for you.” She turned to Nicholas. “He doesn’t like Englishmen any better than you like Americans. So both of you, stop this ridiculous arguing at once.” Sabrina glared at first one, then the other. Both were too stubborn and too irate to pay her any mind. She feared the inevitable outcome of their rage.
“I must demand satisfaction, you know,” Nicholas said, his manner cool and formal.
“I expected no less,” Matt replied, his voice equally controlled.
Sabrina stared at the two in disbelief. It was almost as if, having exchanged their challenges, rational thought returned. Both were calm and composed. Only the light in their eyes revealed their true feelings. An eager light that told her they were actually looking forward to their battle. It made absolutely no sense at all.
“I hope you both understand, there will not be a duel of any kind.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “I shall not permit it.”
Surprise reflected on the faces of both men, and she wondered if they’d forgotten her presence.
“Tell your wife she cannot tell you what to do, Wyldewood.”
“Sabrina, this is none of your affair.”
“Of course it’s my affair.”
Nicholas raised a dark brow. “You’ve known her far longer than I have. Has she always intruded where she did not belong?”
“Always,” Matt confirmed.
“Would you cease discussing me as if I were not here,” Sabrina demanded. “I will not have you killing each other.”
Nicholas smiled indulgently. “Oh, I daresay we would not both be killed. Typically one is left standing.”
Matt nodded sagely. “That’s the usual outcome.” He studied Nicholas. “Since it was your demand for satisfaction, I assume I may choose weapons?”
Nicholas shrugged his acknowledgment.
“In deference to Bree”—Matt inclined his head in her direction—“I won’t kill you. But I’d like nothing better than to beat you to a pulp with my bare hands.”
Nicholas’s eyes gleamed darkly in contrast to his pleasant smile. “And I have an abiding desire to batter you senseless.”
“Shall we go up on deck?” Matt strode to the door and swung it open.
“By all means.” Nicholas strode through the exit, Matt one step behind. Sabrina stared openmouthed in the center of the cabin. By their manner, one would have thought they were off to an outing in the country.
“Bloody hell,” she muttered, and scrambled after them.
Moments later, the two were stripping off their shirts on the main deck. The crew gathered in a loose circle around them.
This can’t be happening, Sabrina thought, gripped by a tight hand of panic. She wanted neither of these men hurt. Sabrina spotted Simon, wagering with several sailors on the outcome of the match. She caught his gaze, and he crossed the deck to join her. He too appeared excited by the promise of the fight.
“Can’t you do something?” She waved at the preparing combatants. “Stop this!”
Genuine surprise showed on Simon’s face. “Why in the name of all that’s holy would I want to do that? This will do them both a world of good and provide a bit of entertainment for the men as well. I doubt if I could stop it anyway. This has been brewing since the moment those two met.”
“That was scarcely an hour ago! I can’t believe this much animosity has built in so short a time.”
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten their meeting?” Simon bent low and spoke softly in her ear. “When His Lordship there first saw the cap’n, he was giving you a greeting no husband wants to see his wife getting from another man.”
“I explained that to Nicholas.”
Simon snorted. “And he understood?”
“Well no,” she hedged, “not entirely.�
� She gestured toward her husband and her old friend. “But I still don’t see the need for all this.”
“That’s ’cause you’re not a man, lass.” Simon nodded wisely.
She stared at him in amazement. “If that’s the way men’s minds work, then I count myself lucky.” Fear for the harm Nicholas and Matt could do to each other vanished with her words, replaced by an irritating sense of frustration.
“If none of you men are going to do something about this, I am,” she muttered, pushing her way through the circle.
Nicholas and Matt stood in the center, feet squared, ready to do battle. Sabrina glared at them both. “Are you two determined to go through with this?”
Nicholas’s grim smile did not reach his eyes. “I am.”
Matt nodded. “Looking forward to it, in fact.”
Sabrina wondered if she shouldn’t simply beat them both herself and be done with it. Annoyance rapidly turned to anger, and she thought, at this moment, she was enraged enough to do just that. Sheer stupidity always incensed her, nearly as much as arrogance. Here she was face to face with both. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm. For just a moment, the serene Lady Stanford returned.
“Very well.” She bestowed a tranquil smile on them and looked around curiously. “Where then would you propose I sit? To get the best view, of course.”
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “You plan on watching?”
Even Matt appeared uncomfortable. “It’s really not suitable for a woman, Bree.”
“Nonetheless,” she said airily, “I have no intention of leaving.” She moved to a water barrel and perched comfortably on the edge. Like a queen granting her favors upon a knight before a tournament, she gestured for them to begin. “Whenever you are ready, gentlemen.”
Nicholas cast her one last considering glance and, as if dismissing her from his thoughts, turned his attention to his opponent.
The men circled each other warily. They were well matched, these two, each of an equal height and breadth. Gladiators cut of the same mold, forged in the same fire. If not for Nicholas’s dark hair and eyes and Matt’s fair coloring, Sabrina thought they could have passed for brothers. And she had to admit, their bared, muscular chests were not at all unpleasant to gaze upon, perhaps a shade unsettling, but definitely not unpleasant.
The Perfect Wife Page 13