Cerynise stared at him, thinking of that tall, handsome lad with short, loosely curling black locks and jet-lashed green eyes with whom she had always been enamored. She recalled the times when he had lifted her astride his horse in front of him to give her lessons and, over a season, had gently coaxed her out of her fear of riding. Then there was that singular afternoon many years ago when she had been playing by herself near the schoolhouse and several boys, after leaving class, had started pestering her, yanking her pigtails, snapping her with pebbles launched from peashooters, and doing everything they could to make her supremely miserable. Beau had heard her outraged cries upon his departure from school and had come running to box the ears of her tormentors, gaining for himself a harsh reprimand and extra homework as a penalty from her father, who after hearing her story later that evening had traveled to Harthaven to humbly apologize to the lad and thank him for defending his daughter.
Beau was now the one growing impatient for an answer and wondered if the girl had fallen into a daze. He didn’t know what percentage of women swooned after receiving a proposal of marriage, but she had never impressed him as the type. “Blast it, Cerynise, it’s not as if I’m asking you to swear fealty to me or…”
“Oh, but you are,” she pointed out, not unreasonably she thought.
Beau seemed taken aback. “All right, perhaps I am, but we both know it will only be a temporary situation. As soon as the voyage is over, then we can sever the marriage, and that will be the end of it.”
He made it sound so simple, Cerynise mused distantly. A marriage of convenience to be followed by a prompt annulment. A legal technicality. A way out of their situation. Nothing more. Nothing really at all.
But she knew it wasn’t quite that easy, at least not with her. To claim Beau Birmingham as her husband had been a long-held dream born a decade ago in the mind of a child. She smiled wistfully. Strange how enduring that fantasy had been. She still yearned for it even now.
Cerynise looked up into eyes that were a deeper, truer green than a rolling meadow. He was the boy she had once known, and yet he really wasn’t. He was a man full grown, with a mind of his own, and he was offering to give her the protection of his name when she most desperately needed it. His very presence made her feel utterly safe. Yet, at the same time, she was aware of a poignant disquiet growing within her, which made her almost fearful. If she fell more deeply in love with her prince, what would happen to her heart once their marriage was dissolved? Would she be able to bear the abject loneliness that would descend upon her once they were separated? Would he even care what she might suffer when they went their separate ways?
Beau saw nothing in Cerynise’s face that gave any hint of her acceptance of his plan. Indeed, she seemed almost apprehensive, as if fearful of what their marriage might lead to. He could only imagine that with the lack of space aboard ship she might be afraid of sharing his quarters and of what might follow. Making love to her was not something he could promise would never happen; he was too damned aware of his own needs to do an irrational thing like that. Three months could seem like an eternity when one was bound up in oaths of abstinence. He was no monk by any means, nor a gentleman to that degree, nor would he commit himself to her in that way. His mating instincts were too strong to be ignored even now. What torment would he devise for himself if he foolishly spilled such gallant covenants only to regret them later? The way he was feeling presently, later could mean only a matter of moments from now. Still, he relented enough to suggest, “For the time being, think of it as a…a titular arrangement, if you must. Beyond that, I can only pledge that I won’t force you to do anything with which you’re not in complete agreement.”
Cerynise closed her eyes, trying to mentally sort out what he had just said to her. He wasn’t necessary vowing not to touch her…or was he? What else could one possibly imagine about a titular arrangement?
“Is my proposal something you can accept?” Beau pressed after another lengthy wait.
Cerynise opened her eyes and, in a small voice, stated her decision. “It seems to be the only option I have to be free of Alistair.”
Beau had no doubt that any suitor who had hopes of gaining her for a wife either now or in the future would have a hard time calmly accepting what she was agreeing to at this very moment. Since they were destined to be confined aboard a ship for the length of three months, give or take a week or two, any swain would naturally wonder what the two of them had done together to while away so much time in a temporary marriage. No one could predict what their relationship would bear. But when Beau tried to determine what his own reactions would be if some swain pressed him to sign annulment papers after the voyage, an odd sense of vexation rose up within him, as if he’d actually resent being prodded into signing away his rights to a woman who nearly took his breath away. It was uppermost in his mind that he desired her, no doubt more than any woman he had ever known, but he also wanted to be free of the chains that could forever bind him to land.
“I sense that you’re troubled over the necessity of making this decision…”
Cerynise halted his words with a small shake of her head. “I’d prefer not to discuss this matter any further, Beau, if you don’t mind. I’ve made my decision, and I can only urge you to proceed as quickly as possible ere we find our plans set awry.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Beau informed her, slipping a hand beneath her arm and turning her toward the companionway. “But I’m sure before the afternoon is well spent, the nuptials will be concluded.”
He escorted her back to his cabin and, after a short time, sent Billy Todd to her with instructions to be useful in whatever way she deemed fit. Beau had informed the lad what would take place before the day was out, and as a result, Billy was terribly flustered. He was inclined to stare at Cerynise as a ruddy hue ebbed and flowed into his cheeks. Every seaman aboard the Audacious had been aware of the captain’s reluctance to marry for some years now, and to hear that he was giving up his freedom had come as something of a shock to all of them. It didn’t matter that the girl was more winsome than any Billy had personally seen; he was still flabbergasted by the alacrity with which his captain was advancing to make her his own.
“Cap’n says…the two o’ ye—” Billy broke off and simply gaped at her, finding his tongue tied by his awkward attempt to make conversation.
“Said what, Billy?”
He waved a hand in mute apology, but as she continued to await his answer, he hurried to give an excuse. “I forgot, miss.”
“’Tis quite all right, Billy,” Cerynise soothed, subduing a dejected sigh. “I’m not very mindful of anything right now either.” Perhaps it was just as well that she had someone else to reassure. Trying to ease the lad’s abashment diverted her thoughts from what she was actually committing herself to. Marriage with a man whom she all but idolized? What could be so distressing about that?
The years she had spent in England had eventually led her to dismiss her long-savored dream in which she would become Beau’s wife as nothing more than a girlish fantasy. It had definitely not seemed conceivable. Thereafter she had thought about marriage with only passing interest. She had simply assumed that one day she’d marry and, in a vague sort of way, had looked forward to doing so. Yet she had also been content to have the fulfillment of that premise floating off in the distant future somewhere. Painting became the focal point of her attention, and it had taken over her interests so completely that it had left her with little inclination for daydreaming about the faceless, unknown male who would one day become her husband.
Except that he was no longer faceless now, and he really wasn’t going to be her husband, at least not in the way that Lydia had delicately tried to explain shortly after Cerynise had crossed the threshold into budding maturity. Beau would merely be doing her a favor, rather like the parfait, gentil knight of Chaucer would do, she as the damsel in distress and he as a chivalrous knight riding to her rescue.
A vision of Beau ou
tfitted in shining armor and racing to her aid on a gleaming white charger was wonderful to behold in her mind, even if it did seem a bit absurd. She was sure that Beau would absolutely abhor being in armor, preferring as he did the casual comfort of a shirt and finely tailored trousers. He rode remarkably well, as she recalled, but she entertained serious doubts that he’d approve of any horse being festooned with plumes and embroidered reins. Still, she might have found it pleasurable had he consented to kissing her hand.…
Ah, yes, she mused in sublime pleasure. That would be absolutely perfect to start off with. The farfetched idea drew a giggle from her, but she choked it off, realizing that Billy Todd was still in the room, laying out the captain’s clothes.
“Miss?” He looked around nervously. “Are you all right?”
Cerynise gave the cabin boy a bright smile, trying to dispell any notion that she was ailing or afflicted in any manner. “I’m sorry, Billy. My imagination has a tendency to run away with me at times.”
The cabin boy reddened as he realized that she might well be thinking of the evening to come when she and the captain would be alone together in the cabin. “I can see where it might have cause today, miss.”
Scarcely an hour after Billy had taken the captain’s clothes and left her to her solitude, Cerynise was once again interrupted. This time it was Stephen Oaks whom she ushered in. He seemed almost as stunned as Billy and, for a moment, wavered between shock and amusement. The latter finally won out.
“I guess ’tis true what they say,” he mused aloud. “If you sail the seven seas long enough, you’ll eventually see everything.”
“Is this wedding so remarkable, Mr. Oaks?” Cerynise inquired, trying to curb her irritation. She didn’t need to be reminded of how startling the impending nuptials might seem to the crew, but it certainly wasn’t that outlandish for a man and a woman to suddenly decide to wed. “People get married every day.”
“Aye, miss, but they’re not the captain. I’d never have thought that he’d consent to tying himself down to any lady by wedding—” The mate broke off, immediately aware of having gone too far. “I beg your pardon, miss. I didn’t mean…that is, there is nothing wrong with you marrying the captain, not at all. ’Tis a grand idea, in fact. The perfect solution, as it be.”
Cerynise’s brows lifted to a lofty level. “Solution? Do you mean you know—”
Mr. Oaks held up a hand, forestalling her. “All I meant, miss, is that the crew was betting the captain wouldn’t let that sod, Winthrop, take you. We had no doubt that he’d find a way ta keep you safe. The only question we couldn’t answer accurately was just how he was going ta do it.” The mate grinned broadly. “Of course, most of the men didn’t realize he’d go this far. They were thinking perhaps a few shots would be fired, and there’d be a run for the open sea, that sort of thing. Nothing like this, though.”
Cerynise stared at him in amazement. “You thought the captain would set you to flight along the Thames, fighting your way out like…like a band of pirates…all because of me?”
Mr. Oaks responded with a casual shrug. “It happens, miss. From time to time, there’s a difference of opinion that can’t be easily or peaceably settled. Why, in Barcelona last year, we—” The mate caught himself abruptly and changed the subject. “The point is, miss, I know the captain better than anybody on board. It didn’t seem likely he’d do anything to endanger you, so there wasn’t a lot of choices to be had. Besides, he’s not exactly the most ordinary bloke I’ve ever come across. Likes to do the unexpected, he does.” Oaks chortled and patted the purse he wore on his belt. “At least, it was unexpected to most of the lads.”
Cerynise’s jaw sagged as the realization dawned. Then she snapped her mouth closed in an angry huff. “Do you mean, Mr. Oaks, that you actually wagered on the outcome of our set-to with Mr. Winthrop?”
Stephen Oaks looked suddenly sheepish. “Aye, miss.”
“I hope you will enjoy your winnings, Mr. Oaks,” she replied as graciously as she could manage at the moment. Indeed, she was rather surprised at how steady her voice sounded in her own ears. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like a few moments to myself before—”
It was impossible for Oaks to ignore her irritation. “I’m sorry, miss. Sometimes my mouth runs ahead of my wits.”
“’Tis a folly some people must cope with,” she replied pithily. “However, if you’ll excuse me.…”
Mr. Oaks looked acutely repentant as he twisted his cap between his hands. “That’s actually what I came to tell you, miss. ’Tis time.”
She gasped in shock. “Already?”
The mate gave her a nod. “Aye, miss. There’s a rector right here in Southwark who owes the captain a favor or two. He came straightaway when he was sent for. He and the captain are on deck waiting for you now.”
Cerynise was astounded. The time had come upon her in such a rush that she wasn’t at all sure she was mentally prepared to face the nuptials. “Surely there are formalities, permission to be obtained, and other things.…”
“You’ll have to ask the captain about all of that, miss. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve been sent to escort you to the quarterdeck.”
Cerynise meekly followed the mate, once again watching one foot being placed before the other as she ascended the companionway. She could see this thing through, she told herself, and get beyond it without feeling any remorse because it was only a farce. The real difficulty would come later, when she had to sign her name to the annulment papers and watch Beau Birmingham sail out of her life.
The loading of the cargo had stopped, and the entire crew had gathered. Most were on the main deck. Others had climbed into the ratlines for a better view. The men fell silent when she emerged, and their eyes slowly followed as she climbed to the upper deck. She was dimly aware of a slight figure of a man standing beside Beau, but she barely noticed him, for her attention was completely focused on the powerful, compelling individual who was about to become her husband.
Beau was handsomely garbed in a darkly subdued navy-and-gray plaid frock coat, white shirt and cravat, high-buttoned waistcoat that matched the gray in his coat, and darker gray trousers with straps fastened beneath black ankle-boots. The sight of him made her heart flutter nervously, for he was quite distinguished looking in his dapper attire. Looking at him made her wish that she had been forewarned about his decision to dress for the occasion. Smoothing her hair was the best she could do as Mr. Oaks escorted her to the deck.
Beau smiled into her eyes and, reaching out to take her hand, pulled her against him. The unease that Cerynise had felt over her appearance dissipated. It was as if spring had come once more to the land. Her would-be husband slid an arm around her waist and pressed his lips against the hair above her temples. “You look lovelier than any bride I’ve ever seen, my dear.”
Cerynise braced a trembling hand against his waistcoat to keep herself from falling forward against him, for the sturdy arm encompassing her pulled her much too close for what seemed suitable for an in name only arrangement. If Beau didn’t yet realize how susceptible she was to his sweet words, cajoling looks and to his very presence, she most certainly did. She knew exactly why her heart raced out of control above the confines of her corset.
“May I return similar compliments to the groom, sir?” Cerynise breathed, hoping he couldn’t detect the nervous quaver in her voice. “Your appearance has far-exceeded my expectations. Indeed, I feel put out with myself for not having taken more time with my own preparations.”
“Your worries are groundless, my dear.” Beau leaned down to nuzzle her hair again, stirring forth a tantalizing scent that flicked across his senses, awakening him to the realization that she was not only beautiful, but utterly feminine as well. It wasn’t a compliment he casually bestowed upon all women, but it was unquestionably true in this case. “You smell nice, too.”
At the moment, it didn’t matter to Cerynise that she felt wonderfully suffocated by his presence or that her cheeks were
glowing warmly. She could only assume that his wooing was contrived for the rector or perhaps for the pleasure of his crew. She could hear many of them encouraging their captain amid the running banter of their cohorts. That fact didn’t concern her overly much. What really mattered was the astonishing sense of contentment that she felt in his embrace, as if she had always belonged there. But then, she had always dreamed she would.
A thin, gray-haired, middle-aged man with kindly gray eyes stepped near. From the rough appearance of his hands, Cerynise quickly surmised that he had been tilling soil prior to his arrival, no doubt readying it for the winter ahead. Although he had obviously made some effort to wash, his deeply calloused hands still bore traces of dirt in the cracks of his hardened skin and beneath his ragged nails. His frayed waistcoat was only partially fastened, his stock ill tied and askew, and his cheeks bristly from a recent growth of whiskers, all evidence of a man who had hastened to answer an urgent summons and one who had difficulty making ends meet. Yet, in spite of his rather poor and disheveled appearance, Cerynise felt immediately at ease in his presence, for she sensed him to be a gentle and kindhearted man.
“You are Miss Kendall?” he queried with a friendly smile.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are entering into this marriage of your own free will, without coercion of any sort?”
The question was unexpected, and she glanced up at Beau in some surprise. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Mr. Carmichael doesn’t concern himself with formalities overmuch, my dear, but he must confirm, for his own peace of mind, that both parties have come willingly to a decision to marry. Did you of your own free will agree to marry me?”
Though Beau presented the question, Cerynise turned her gaze to the clergyman and answered in a softly hushed tone. “I am consenting, sir.”
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