“Then I can bunk here in this cabin,” Oaks offered, turning a boyish grin upon Cerynise again.
“Your kindness is appreciated, Mr. Oaks,” she assured him graciously. “But I couldn’t possibly put you out of your own quarters.”
The mate sighed as if disappointed. “A pity my cabin will go unused then,” he rejoined. “You see, I’m quite resolved on the matter, Mrs. Birmingham, and until we see the port of Charleston, I’ll not set foot across the threshold except to remove my belongings…should you have a change of heart, that is. ’Tis entirely up to you whether you use it or not, but it shall be available.”
“Damnation!” Beau growled.
Cerynise glanced up at her husband to find a glowering scowl the likes of which might have come nigh to frightening the devil himself. Of a sudden her lips curved upward winsomely in a delightfully triumphant smile, and with an elegant nod, she accepted the mate’s offer. “Well, seeing as how your cabin will go vacant, Mr. Oaks, I can hardly refuse.” And then, because her husband folded his arms across his chest in an overt display of agitation, she sweetly praised the mate. “’Tis rare to find a gentleman gallant enough to give up his own quarters for a lady. If I had my way, your chivalry would serve as a standard for other officers of your rank, but alas, few are inclined to put themselves out on another’s behalf.”
Beau cleared his throat sharply, knowing full well that his wife was directing her barbs toward him. Even as a child, she had always had a skill for stinging ripostes that, like a whip, could flay a boy’s hide. They were both older now, but behind that sweet, beautiful exterior of a genteel woman lurked an impish vixen who was every bit a match for the beast in him.
“My cabin is this way, Mrs. Birmingham,” Mr. Oaks readily informed her, sweeping his hand outward.
Upon passing Beau, Cerynise set the spurs firmly by displaying a brightly buoyant smile and evidencing her elation by a little skipping dance. What was left for Beau to do but follow in her wake? He did so mutely, watching her skirts swaying jauntily ahead of him.
Oaks led the procession down the passageway toward the captain’s cabin, but prior to reaching it, he paused beside the door that led to his own. Suddenly remembering the cluttered state in which he had left his quarters, he reddened in chagrin and begged, “If you’d give me a few moments to tidy up.…”
“By all means,” Cerynise responded, reluctantly stepping back in the corridor with Beau.
“If you can tear yourself away from your champion, madam,” her husband said broodingly, “I’ll take you up on deck, where we can perhaps discuss this matter in some semblance of mutual courtesy.” It didn’t seem at all likely that she’d yield to any of his demands to return to his cabin for a talk.
The offer sounded far too grudging to suit Cerynise. Deliberately lending the wall her undivided attention, she moved her slender shoulders upward in an abbreviated shrug. “I would be loathed to inconvenience you, sir.”
Beau’s breath hissed outward in a cynical snort. “I fear you’ve inconvenienced me more than you can possibly imagine, madam.”
“Then I shan’t trouble you any further, Captain. I’m perfectly willing to wait here.” And then, because she simply could not help herself, she added loftily, “Perhaps Mr. Oaks will be kind enough to escort me on deck later should I find myself inclined to take a breath of fresh air.”
Beau leaned a shoulder against the paneled wall buttressing her rigid back and pointedly questioned, “Do you enjoy deliberately provoking me or does it come naturally?”
Cerynise lifted an astonished stare to meet his. “Me? Provoking?” She laughed lightly, banishing the idea with a fluttering sweep of dainty fingers. “I could take lessons from you, Captain, have no doubt.”
Focusing her gaze on the far wall again, Cerynise promised herself that she would ignore that tall, powerful figure standing so close beside her. It proved far more difficult than she had imagined. She couldn’t breathe without feeling his presence with every heightened sense of womanly perception in her possession. If she allowed herself, she’d yield herself to those provocatively stirring memories that he had created when his large hands had moved boldly over her naked body, rousing sensations that even now sent a hotness gushing into her cheeks. If silence was the only way to quell the turbulent emotions he had unleashed within her, then by heavens, she would never utter another word.
Beau could hardly harness his longing to trace a finger around a dainty ear and the stubborn set of her jaw. The temptation was far too potent for him to pass off lightly. He bent near, indulging himself in her delicate fragrance, and considered the wisdom of using a different tactic. “Did I tell you, Cerynise, how utterly beautiful you are when you’re lying all warm with desire in my arms?” he whispered. “You’re like a strong wine that has gone to my head, and despite my attempts to subdue such tantalizing visions, I cannot thrust them from my mind. I’ve never wanted another woman as much as I want you.”
Cerynise released a quivering sigh as his words flicked across her senses, awakening her own visions of her hard-muscled, bronze-skinned husband.
“Your breasts are so soft and fair,” he breathed, yearning to cup a swelling mound in his hand, “they’re like delicate pink rosebuds on a dewy morn, opening up to a rosy aurora of light. Their nectar is as sweet on my tongue as—”
The door across the hall opened without warning, startling them. Oaks looked from one to the other of them in sudden bemusement, sensing their unease. “Is anything wrong?”
“No!” they both denied simultaneously.
“There is nothing—” Cerynise began, hardly able to breathe. Even in the presence of the mate her breasts tingled as she recalled the warm bliss that her husband’s mouth had evoked within her.
“We were just talking—” Beau began.
Looking very guilty, they glanced at each other. Oaks cleared his throat and stepped away from the cabin door. “I think you’ll find everything you need, Mrs. Birmingham, but if there should be anything…”
“She’ll manage,” Beau informed him dryly. “You do have duties elsewhere, don’t you? Or have I been lax in assigning them?”
“I do indeed have duties, sir,” Stephen assured him hastily. “And I’ll get about them this very moment.” Giving Cerynise another smile, he hurried toward the companionway.
“I really do regret putting him out of his quarters,” Cerynise murmured.
“He put himself out,” Beau stated bluntly. “I’ll send Billy down to help you get settled in your new accommodations.”
Cerynise inclined her head stiffly. It seemed they were on opposite ends of the fray again. “That would be appreciated, Captain.”
It gave her a measure of security to shut the cabin door quickly behind her. Only then would she be safe from his heady cajoling.
When Billy Todd knocked on Cerynise’s door some time later, he bashfully delivered the announcement that her husband desired her presence at dinner later that evening. “He’ll be entertainin’ some English gentlemen tonight, mum, so’s ye’re ta dress special for the occasion since he’ll be presentin’ ye as his wife. An’ ye’re ta be there afore his guests arrive, ’bout six if’n ye’re able.”
The delicate chimes of the clock in the captain’s cabin were just tolling the sixth hour when Cerynise rapped lightly on the portal. At a call from Beau, she swept inward and found him standing before his shaving stand trying to tie his cravat. He looked extremely handsome in a dark gray double-breasted tailcoat, large-lapeled silver-hued waistcoat, which truly ended at the waist, and slender, thinly striped pale gray trousers that were secured by straps beneath polished ankle-length boots. Her eyes warmly devoured his admirable form until he turned to her in some distress.
“Can you help me straighten this damn thing?” he growled, still struggling with the cravat. As his eyes lit on her, he forgot his exasperation with the neckpiece and slowly lowered his arms to his sides as his eyes skimmed the entire length of her. Her hair was dress
ed high on her head in an intricately coiled and looped coiffure that staggered his imagination as to the length of time it might have taken her to coif such elegance. She wore a pale pink creation that shimmered like tiny diamonds in the candlelight. The bodice was cut straight across her breasts, displaying an enticing cleavage while molding the ripe fullness divinely. Around her slender neck she wore a stiff, dainty ruff of a translucent fabric sewn with the same beading that bejeweled her gown. No costly necklace could have added such a charming accent to her evening attire. Her wide, gossamer sleeves were gathered in narrow, beaded bands at her wrists, yet they seemed to flow around her like a thin veil. The skirt swayed in undulating waves about her long, shapely limbs, and Beau could only admire the effect. Indeed, he found his tongue far too weighty to express his full appreciation of her unparalleled beauty.
Subjecting herself to his heated gaze, Cerynise floated enticingly near and began to repair his cravat. Beau didn’t know what to do with his hands, and although the temptation to spread them over her buttocks was nigh to overpowering, he shoved them into the pockets of his trousers instead, deeming it safer by far to keep them to himself rather than cause another war between them. To be sure, the desire to indulge in a little husbandly familiarity at that particular moment caused him to have definite doubts about his wisdom in ever mentioning the word annulment.
“Billy said you’re having guests for dinner tonight,” Cerynise murmured, rising on tiptoes to search out the front portion of the cravat and sweep it forward over the knot near his neck.
Beau stretched his chin upward, submitting himself completely into her care. “Aye, some of the young gentry of the city. We were hunting the other day, and we bagged some partridge, which Philippe has been keeping on ice for this occasion. I thought they might enjoy his exceptional flare with food. I actually invited them before I realized this would be our wedding night.”
“You have acquaintances here in London?” she asked in amazement. “I thought that with the way you sail about the world and flit from port to port, friendships would be hard to foster.”
“Aye, ’tis difficult,” he admitted, “but I’ve managed to garner a few.”
“I’m surprised that you’ve managed to socialize at all. You seem far too busy when you’re in port to fraternize with the local inhabitants.”
Beau cast a gaze down his lean nose at her and promptly became enthralled with the enticing gap which permitted him to see into her gown as she worked on his cravat. It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a corset, for her breasts had a more natural fullness to them that seemed to flow into the shallow top of her camisole. He was sure he had never surveyed anything quite so delectable in all of his mature years. His palms itched to caress those creamy orbs, and it took an effort of will to keep his hands where they were. Not wishing to disturb his view, he casually lifted his shoulders before she decided to glance up at him. “What’s the sense in working hard, my sweet, if you can’t enjoy the benefits?”
Cerynise laughed, warmed by his blandishment and equally approving of his wisdom. “Oh, I agree, sir. Most heartily, in fact.”
“My guests are unaware that this is my wedding night, and if you’re at all in agreement, my dear, I’d rather let them assume that we’ve been married for a while, although as young as you are, I doubt they’d believe we’ve been wed longer than a year or two.”
Cerynise lifted her eyes in wonder, sending his own chasing upward to meet her gaze. “And if they ask?”
His dark brows flicked upward in a tiny shrug. “No help for it. We’ll have to confess.”
“May I be allowed to know your reasoning, sir?”
Beau couldn’t resist the urge any longer and slipped his arms carefully around her waist. He felt her stiffen momentarily, and then smiled when she yielded to his embrace without a quarrel. She even relaxed back against his arms. “Because I don’t want them to get the impression that you’d marry a man without a lengthy courtship.”
“Because I might seem a fickle sort?” she dared.
“Because I don’t want them to get the idea they can steal you away from me,” he corrected with a rankled sigh. “I’ve heard them boasting of some of their conquests, and I don’t want them to think you’re susceptible.”
“Have you, in turn, boasted of your conquests in their company?” she asked carefully. “If you have, I doubt ’twould shed a good light on our marriage.”
“My father taught me long ago ’tis unseemly for a gentleman to talk about such things in the presence of others. Those who do usually are seeking to puff up their own image. I’ve never felt inclined to do so.”
Pleased with his answer, she twined her own arms around his neck and gave him a light peck upon the lips. Then she slipped quickly out of his grasp, leaving him groaning in frustration.
“I think you’re an unsympathetic tease, madam, but you’d best be wary,” he warned. “I cannot tolerate the torture of holding you one moment and letting you skip out of my grasp in the next. If you play with fire, ’twill eventually burn you.”
Cerynise pouted prettily, daring a flirtatious flick of long, silky lashes as she cast him a coy glance. Just because he had said that he would have their marriage annulled once they reached Charleston didn’t entirely prevent him from having a change of heart before then. Nor did she feel constrained to dutifully concur with their separation without putting into play some guileful temptations that would perhaps spur him into accepting her as his wife on a permanent basis. Since she had been in love with him for most of her life, she couldn’t imagine herself ever desiring another man as her husband. “I don’t mean to tease you, Beau, but I do enjoy the idea of being able to kiss you now and then. If that’s too much for you to bear, then I’ll limit my attentions to nothing more than a gentle pat on the hand.”
“Bah!” His frustration came down to the simple matter of being damned if he did and damned if he didn’t!
Cerynise squelched a grin as he glared at her playfully. They were on safe ground again, and she could play his wife to her heart’s content while his guests were there. Then she would retreat to her lonely bed and spend a wakeful night yearning for his consuming kisses and stirring caresses.
The three gentlemen ranged in age from a score and three to six years more. Their eyes gleamed with delight when Cerynise came into view, but they maintained a respectful reserve after Beau presented her as his wife and, in gallant manner, briefly kissed her hand. Their titles were readily dismissed as they bade Cerynise to call them by their first names, and the group soon entered into a relaxed and amiable conversation.
The partridge was excellent served with a delicate sauce, and after tasting it, the guests begged an introduction to the chef. With unquenchable humor they offered the grinning Philippe outlandish fees if he would but come and cook for them. He waved away their pleas, assuring them that he had much to teach his captain about the French and that it would probably take years before he came to the end of his instructions, seeing as how his pupil was reluctant to learn. His teasing banter was met by hearty laughter, even from the one whom he playfully harassed.
Before the evening was out, all four of the men were chortling and vying for Cerynise’s witty repartee on a variety of subjects. Upon making their departure, each of the three gallantly bestowed a kiss upon her fingertips again, albeit under the watchful eyes of her husband, and happily waved farewell, assuring the couple that it had been a delightful evening.
Soon after their departure, Beau became lost in thought, so much so that Cerynise dared to ask him, “Are you still angry with me?”
He heaved a sigh and leaned back in the chair behind his desk. “I expect Alistair will be coming back to the ship tomorrow, possibly with the magistrate.”
Cerynise traced a finger around the cover of the pewter inkwell residing on the massive desk. “You said our marriage would supersede any claim Alistair might present as my legal guardian,” she reminded her husband. “Have you changed your mind?�
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“If our marriage was one in fact as well as deed, madam, then I’d have no qualms about the strength of it holding up in any court of law. Unfortunately, Alistair will be inclined to question its authenticity and encourage the magistrate to accept it as nothing more than a sham since our vows were spoken right after his visit. And frankly, madam, I don’t think you’re a very talented liar.”
Cerynise became apprehensive. “You’re not suggesting that we consummate our marriage just so we can convince that toad we’re married?” Her tone became skeptical. “Come now, Beau.…”
“I’m not,” he snapped, and then repented of his caustic anger. Reaching across the desk, he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. The evening has been so pleasant, I’ve no desire to see us end it in sour discord.”
“What do you think we should do?” she asked contritely, regretting her suspicions. “They can’t very well have me subjected to an inquisition—” She gulped at the thought that intruded quickly on the heels of that idea, but she could not bring herself to say it.
Beau read the repugnance in her face and tried to put her at ease. “They wouldn’t dare subject you to anything more than an interrogation, but if they have serious doubts about it, they might simply assume the marriage is a farce, have the vows annulled and give you over into Alistair’s care.”
“Care is hardly the word for it,” Cerynise replied with a noticeable shiver. “If there was a dungeon in the depths of Lydia’s house, I’d have cause to fear. I’m sure Alistair would outfit it with gruesome implements to wring whatever he wants from me. Truly, I cannot believe he has any desire to become my guardian. He wants…or needs…something from me that is beyond my ken to understand at present.”
“If you can listen for a moment, Cerynise, without getting up in arms about what I may be wanting from you, perhaps we can work this out together and come to a proper solution.”
Elusive Flame Page 17