Surrender the Heart

by Marylu Tyndall

  Moments later, Daniel returned and beckoned her onward. On the other side of the room, seated on the hard floor, his legs in irons hooked to the deck, sat Mr. Heaton, his head reclining on his knees. Beyond him, a marine, musket gripped in his hand, slouched against the bulkhead fast asleep.

  Kneeling beside Luke, Marianne touched his arm, and he jerked his head up, tugging on his chains. The clanking dissipated amidst the snores and creaks.

  He gaped at her, rubbed his eyes, and then blinked. “Miss Denton, what are you doing here?” he whispered.

  “Shhh.” She glanced at the marine. “I brought you some grog and a biscuit.”

  He looked over his shoulder, alarm tightening his features. Stubble peppered his jaw, and his black hair hung limp over his shoulders. Even in the dim lantern light, Marianne could make out a purple bruise circling his swollen eye.

  “Do you know what they’ll do to you if you’re caught?” he whispered, then glanced at Daniel keeping watch not three feet away. “And you, too.”

  “It will be all right.” The assurance in the boy’s voice gave Marianne an odd sense of comfort.

  “Be gone with you, Miss Denton.” Luke dropped his head back onto his knees.

  Ignoring him, she nudged his chin up and lifted the cup to his lips. “Drink this and be quiet, Mr. Heaton.”

  She tipped the mug, and he gulped the liquid, releasing a sigh when he had drained the last drop.

  “I never thought stale water and rum would taste so good.”

  “Here.” She handed him two biscuits. “Don’t leave any crumbs.” She smiled.

  A snort sounded from one from the hammocks. Another man cried out in his sleep. The guard shifted his weight and scratched his nose.

  Marianne froze, her eyes shifting from Mr. Heaton to Daniel.

  Taking the biscuit, he gestured for her to leave. She started to get up.

  He grabbed her arm. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

  Her heart pounding, Marianne dashed between the hammocks and followed Daniel up one deck. She held the bundle containing another two biscuits close to her chest.

  “Thank you, Daniel.” She leaned and kissed him on top of his head. “Now get some sleep.”

  “Where are you going, miss?” He looked at her with concern.

  “I’m going to check on Mr. Brenin.”

  Noah lifted the collar of his coat to shield his neck from the evening wind that despite the summer month carried the bite of the cold north Atlantic. Though he could tell from the stars and sun that they sailed a southwest course, he had no idea where they were heading or what his plan should be once they got to their destination. Struggling to his feet, he stretched his cramped legs and blew into his hands to try to spark some life back into his stiff fingers.

  He scanned the deck. Save for the helmsman, and two lookouts, the rest of the crew was no doubt fast asleep below. Even the poor marine assigned to guard him seemed deep in slumber as he slouched against a railing on the foredeck. Good. That would give Noah a chance to take a respite from his hard labor.

  Off their starboard port, a half moon winked at him as waves frolicked in its glistening light as if they hadn’t a care in the world. He envied them. He hung his head, fighting back a wave of exhaustion. Sorrow and shame followed close on its wake. He had lost his cargo, lost his father’s last ship, and lost all means of providing for his family. Regardless that the fault lay elsewhere, his father would consider it Noah’s responsibility and hence, Noah’s failure. And a failure he was.

  Even if he managed to escape, without his father’s merchant business he would be nothing but an impoverished sailor. No doubt Miss Priscilla would refuse to even see him. Yet it was not her pretty face he found drifting unbidden into his mind of late. It was the face of another woman, not nearly as striking, but a face that shone with its own unique brilliance. Noah stared at the holystones by his feet—the ones he’d been using to scour the deck for the past fifty-two hours. Confound it all, he should be angry at Miss Denton, not dreaming of her like a love-sick schoolboy.

  An invisible weight tugged upon his eyelids as he plodded across the deck trying to get the blood pumping in his legs again. How long could a man live without sleep? Another twenty hours to go. He could make it. He had to make it. To fall asleep meant certain death.

  Noah spun on his heels and headed in the other direction. A lady dressed in a fiery maroon gown glided over the deck. Her brown hair shimmered. He rubbed his eyes. No doubt the lack of sleep caused him to hallucinate. But then he smelled her sweet scent—Marianne—and he opened his eyes to her creamy face awash in moonlight. “Are you real?” he asked.

  “Quite, Mr. Brenin. And I bear gifts.” She held out a biscuit to him. Her sweet smile nearly stole his breath away.

  Despite her kind intentions, Noah’s fear for her safety rose at her foolishness. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, ignoring the offer of food despite his growling stomach.

  “I shouldn’t be many places these days. However, it is on my account you are scrubbing these decks all day and night with no rest in sight.” She avoided his gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Brenin, for trying to help me. Though I can’t imagine why you did after I put you on this ship in the first place.”

  After a quick glance across the deck, Noah took her arm and led her to a more secluded spot behind the ship’s boats. He ran a hand through his hair. “Despite what you may think, I am still a gentleman, and this is no place for a lady.” Is that why he had risked punishment to save her? To appease his gentlemanly duty?

  A breeze stirred the tendrils of her hair circling her face. She brushed them back and studied him. “Why aren’t you angry with me? I’ve ruined your life. I’ve caused you and your friends great harm and loss.”

  “Who says I’m not angry at you?” He folded his arms over his chest.

  She studied him. “Your eyes.”

  “Humph. Then I shall have to speak to them about keeping quiet from now on.” He couldn’t help but smile.

  Her nose pinked and she lowered her gaze. “You mock me, sir.”

  He shook his head and laid a finger beneath her chin, raising her eyes—sparkling brown eyes so full of sincerity and kindness—to his. “I was angry at you, Miss Denton. But what purpose does it serve? You were only trying to get home to your mother.” He sighed. “Perhaps I should have returned you to Baltimore at your request. I was so obsessed with getting my goods to England.” He rubbed the back of his neck and gazed out to sea. “Now I have no goods and no ship.”

  “Thanks to me.” Her voice sank.

  “Egad, but ruining my cargo.” He chuckled. “Quite imaginative. I suppose it is fair recompense for all the pranks I pulled on you as a child.”

  “It was a means to an end.” She gave him a sad smile. “I take no pride in the action.” She held out the biscuit to him again. He took it this time, allowing his fingers to linger over hers. Why, he didn’t know. But her touch had a curious effect upon him, sending tendrils of warmth up his arm. “They are permitting me to eat.”

  “I know.” Her eyes misted with tears. “I thought it would help you stay awake. I brought another one.” She held out her bundle, but he pushed it back, shoving the biscuit into his pocket. He had more important matters on his mind than food. “How are you?”

  The ship rose over a swell. She stumbled and Noah grabbed her waist to steady her, drawing her near. Her alluring scent filled his nostrils and his body quickened. Confusion hammered through his mind. He wasn’t supposed to desire this woman, this woman who had snubbed her nose at him as a child, this woman who was both plain and plump. He was supposed to be convincing her to break off their engagement. Though he wondered if that truly mattered anymore.

  He glanced down at her. Her brown eyes shimmered with surprise, and something else … ardor? Her skin glowed in the moonlight, her lips parted slightly. And in that moment, he saw nothing plain about her. Even the feel of her rounded curves beneath his hands sent heat into his belly. He release
d her and backed away.

  She averted her gaze.

  “How is your head?” He gestured toward the spot where her wound had been, now barely discernable beneath her hair.

  She dabbed her fingers over it. “It heals nicely.” She gave him a curious glance from the corner of her eye. “If not for this wound, none of us would be on this vile ship.”

  “Indeed. And you would still be with your mother.”

  “And you would have made your fortune and be attending soirees with Priscilla and have no need of …” She lifted a hand to her nose.

  “Have no need of what?”

  She waved a hand at him and turned her eyes to the sea.

  Noah shifted his bare feet over the deck. Guilt assailed him and he didn’t know why. He had done nothing wrong. Was she concerned for her mother? “Is your mother ill as you said?”

  She shot fiery eyes his way. “How dare you? I wouldn’t lie about such a thing.”

  He shrugged. “I thought you were exaggerating so I would return you home.”

  She looked back out to sea.

  “I’m truly sorry that you are separated from her.” He wanted to erase the pain from her face and see the sparkle return to her eyes.

  “She’ll die if she doesn’t get her medicines. And without me to care for her …” She inhaled a sob and lowered her gaze. “I tried to explain to the captain that I can’t be here …” She rubbed her hands together in frustration, and Noah noticed that they seemed raw, rough.

  He took one and flipped it over, examining it in the light of the mainmast lantern. Red blotches marred skin that was streaked with cuts and scrapes. “He works you to death.”

  “He is particular about the way things are done.”

  Noah shook his head. In all that she had endured, she never once complained. Without thinking, he placed a light kiss upon the blisters on each hand. She gasped, yet she made no move to take them from his grip. He ran his thumb over her skin. “Does he hurt you?”

  She shifted bewildered eyes between his, then shook her head. “The captain is a lonely, bitter man. Truth be told, I think being at sea so long has befuddled his mind.”

  “He certainly wasn’t open to reason the other night.” Noah continued caressing her fingers, relishing in the feel of her skin. She gazed across the deck, anguish flickering in her eyes.

  Concern for her, for her safety, for her family, flooded Noah like never before. “I will get you off this ship, Miss Denton.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. But I will find a way.” He leaned closer to her. “I promise we will not be here forever.”

  The wind whipped the curls around her face into wisps of glittering cinnamon.

  “Do not promise me anything, Noah. Promises are too easily broken.” Sorrow glazed her eyes.

  And Noah wanted more than anything to prove her wrong. His thoughts shifted to Lieutenant Garrick and the way he had hovered over Marianne on deck, the way he had looked at her. Noah’s muscles tensed. “What does this man Garrick have to say to you?”

  Her hands trembled. She pulled them from his grasp and hugged herself. “He is a cad, of course, but he is harmless.” Her voice lacked conviction.

  “I am not so sure.” Noah caught her eyes with his. “Stay away from him.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Brenin, that is my intention.”

  The deck tilted again. Marianne reached for his hand. The melodious purl of the sea played against the hull, and Noah had the strangest urge to dance with her across the deck.

  “Unless, of course, you plan on charming him as you have the captain?” His tone taunted her. But he meant his words. She possessed a unique charm he could no longer deny.

  “Charm?” She huffed. “Surely you jest. I have not charmed a soul in my life.”

  “I am not so sure.” Noah fingered a silky strand of her hair. What was wrong with him? Surely exhaustion had taken over his reason.

  She stepped away. Her chest heaved. Then she glanced up into the tops. “They work you hard as well.”

  Stunned by the concern in her voice, he nodded. “Ah yes, the top yards.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Safe?” His laugh came out bitter. “It’s not safe anywhere on the ship.”

  She lowered her gaze. Her delicate brows furrowed. “You are frightened of the height?”

  Though the man in him wanted to deny any fear, something about her made him willingly admit it. “How can you tell?”

  “I am not unfamiliar with fear.” She gazed across the molten dark waters and took a deep breath.

  “You seem to handle your fears much better than I.”

  “Don’t let me fool you, Mr. Brenin.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” He smiled.

  He glanced aloft, then back down at her eyes—penetrating eyes full of compassion. And something within them bade him to bare his soul. “My brother fell from the t’gallant yard.”

  Her mouth opened.

  “He was teaching me to sail.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “Oh, Noah.”

  He jerked from her, chiding himself for saying anything, for invoking a sympathy he did not want. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Marianne swallowed the lump in her throat even as her eyes burned with tears. “Of course it matters. It wasn’t your fault, Noah.”

  He turned away. “How do you know?”

  News of young Jacob’s death had spread quickly through Baltimore, but no word followed as to the cause. An accident was all they’d heard. Afterward, Noah never accompanied his father when the man came to visit Marianne’s family.

  “I know you, Noah.”

  “Do you?” Agony burned in his eyes. He ground his teeth together. “I caused him to fall.” He tore his gaze from her. “I challenged him to race up through the ratlines and around the lubber’s hole while I timed him.”

  Marianne stepped toward him, but he raised a hand to stop her. The ship bucked, blasting them with salty spray.

  “It was my idea.” His voice cracked. “He was teasing me because of my fear. It made me angry, so I challenged him to best a time only a seasoned topman could match.” He hung his head.

  A gust of wind whipped over them. Noah’s Adam’s apple leapt as he swallowed. “I held his bloody head in my hands and watched him die.”

  Marianne’s vision blurred. The horror of it. The agony. She could not comprehend. Her throat burned as she tried to gather her thoughts, but they refused to settle on anything rational, on anything comforting. She laid a hand on his arm. This time, he did not resist.

  “You meant him no harm, Noah. It was an accident.” Yet her words seemed to fall empty upon the angry waves thrashing against the hull.

  “Tell that to my father.” Noah frowned. “Jacob the good son, the smart son, the brave son.” He shifted moist eyes her way. “He wished it had been me who’d died.”

  Marianne shook her head, wanting to comfort him, but not finding the words.

  “And I’ve spent a lifetime trying to make it up to him.” He gripped the railing and stared out to sea. “But nothing I do will ever be enough.”

  The weight of his guilt pressed down on Marianne. How could anyone live with this kind of pain, this burden? No wonder Noah was driven to succeed. It wasn’t for the money, for the prestige, it was in payment for the death of his brother.

  And his father had encouraged it, fostered it. It was, no doubt, why Noah had agreed to marry her—a woman he didn’t love.

  “I miss him.” He rubbed his eyes again then straightened his shoulders. “Forgive me, Miss Denton. It seems exhaustion has loosened my tongue.”

  “There is no need for apologies.” Marianne longed to comfort him but, as in most things, she felt woefully inadequate to the task. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “No one can bear the weight of this, Noah. You must let it go.” A tear slid down her cheek.

  He stared at her curiously. Lifting his hand, he wiped her tear with his thumb then ca
ressed her cheek. His touch sent a wave of heat across her skin that made her thoughts swirl and her body reel.