by Lena Dowling
‘I admire you enormously. You are a woman of rare intellect and beauty.’
‘Are you on or off, sir? Captain’s given the order to pull anchor,’ the sailor interrupted.
Thea glanced nervously towards the seaman, worried the offensive salt would eject her from the gangplank before James could answer her properly.
‘Yes, but do you love me?’ she repeated. The trembling had dissipated. She was resolute now. She would have an answer and face the consequences that either eventuality of his possible responses might bring. She couldn’t imagine a life without James, but if he didn’t feel the same, she would bear it bravely and insist on spinsterhood. There could be no one else for her. Of that she was certain.
The sailor’s vile breath assaulted them again but not, as she feared, to chase her off, this time out of curiosity.
‘Come on, let’s be having you, squire, do you love the woman or not?’
James’s face pressed into a grave expression that quickly gave way to realisation, but what the realisation was, she couldn’t tell. Thea stood, unable to move, her heart tapping out a staccato beat, waiting for James’s response, her life suspended in the balance of the silence between them.
‘Yes. Yes, I believe I do,’ James said finally, directing the answer to her, ignoring the sailor, capturing her eyes with his.
Thea let out the breath she been unaware she was holding, as warm hazy light reilluminated the world. The stench, the noise, and activity around them evaporated. For a few seconds, time stopped and only she and James stood on the docks, his eyes locked on hers, the tension in his weathered face briefly relaxing to an almost unlined countenance, but the moment was fleeting, cut intolerably short by the irksome sailor who interrupted them again.
‘Well, look sharp, sir, before we all end up in the drink,’ the seaman said, rattling one handle of her trunk, forcing James to break eye contact to help haul her luggage on deck.
‘Lucky she’s your wife, sir.’
‘How’s that, sailor?’
‘No cabins spare on this voyage, or a vicar among the passengers for that matter, but you’ll doubtless find a minister when we put in at the Cape.’
The seaman held out his hand.
James looked confused at first, and then grasping his meaning, reached into his pocket. There was the clink of metal and he handed the man a few coins.
‘Much obliged to you, Mr Hunter. Lady Hunter, your secret’s safe with me.’
The sailor tipped his cap in Thea’s direction, then wrenching the trunk up by one handle, dragged her luggage away, down the deck.
James grasped her hands.
‘Will you marry me, Thea, as soon as we can arrange the service?’
‘Yes, of course, James.’
‘There’s just one thing.’
His face drew into a frown.
‘What?’
Thea’s heart dipped. What could possibly, be wrong now? Surely she wasn’t going to lose James after all?
‘When I thought you weren’t coming, I traded my double cabin in for a single.’
Relief burst through her as if until that moment it had been held back by a dam, and she giggled.
‘So you are saying we’ll have to budge up and make the best of the situation until we can wed?’ she said, giving him a look of mock disappointment.
‘Afraid so,’ he responded, pulling her into his arms, ‘Do you think your Mrs Wollstonecraft would have approved?’
Thea didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she stepped up on to her tiptoes, grasped him about the neck and put her lips to a far better purpose.
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ISBN: 9780857990327
Title: The Convict’s Bounty Bride
Copyright © 2013 by Lena Dowling
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