Stranded With The Marquess (Regency Stories Book 1)

by Catherine Mayfair

  “I am here,” he called out to reassure her. When no sound came, he felt a sense of panic. “Miss Browning, are you there?”

  “Yes.” Where her voice had been muted before, now she spoke softly. Something was not right.

  “I am coming!”

  He planted his feet on either side of the corridor to steady himself. Then he pulled the ax over his head and slammed it into the crate, a tinkling sound of breaking porcelain echoing in the hall.

  Who put one of the crates here? he wondered. They should have all been placed in the cargo bay. He did not have time to ponder the laziness of those who had loaded the cargo; his focus needed to be on freeing Miss Browning before The Topaz took on so much water it was pulled under the surface, for if that happened, they would have no chance of survival.

  Hacking away at the crate, the wood gave a deep groan, cracked, and the crate flew down the corridor and crashed into the far wall.

  Matthew threw down the ax. “I am opening the door, so move away.”

  He heard nothing, and his heart skipped a beat as he rammed his shoulder into the door. On the first impact, it did nothing, but on the second, it flew open. The room was dark, and what little light that tried to seep in from the hall did little to illuminate it.

  “Miss Browning, where are you?”

  A groan to his right made him slide his feet in that direction. When his head clanged against something above him, he reached up to find the dark lantern. He had no time to light it, so he inched forward again until his toes touched something. Doubling over, he felt around until his fingers found flesh, which upon investigation turned out to be Miss Browning’s arm.

  After moving his hands over her, he found her neck and legs, where under each he placed a hand. She weighed no more than a newborn foal, and he raised her with little effort—or it would have been little effort if the ship had not been tilting beneath his feet. At that moment, the ship lurched again, and Matthew, Miss Browning in his arms, swung himself around just before losing his balance and slamming into the wall with his back. He pushed himself away from the wall and managed to get to the relatively bright corridor before Miss Browning stirred.

  “Lord Albright?” Amelia asked in a weak voice as her eyes fluttered open.

  “I have you,” he said. “Can you walk?”

  She shifted in his arms. “I-I believe so.”

  He placed her on the floor and it took her several moments to get her bearings, which was even more difficult with the angle of the ship. A dark spot on the back of her head told him she had hit her head, but he made no comment, not at the moment. Where he needed to place his focus was on getting them above deck.

  “We need to get off the boat,” he said as he lightly pushed her forward.

  “My things,” she mumbled and moved as if to return to the cabin.

  “I am sorry,” he said as he forced her to turn back around. “They belong to the sea now.”

  Just as they got to the galley, George stepped out, two burlap sacks tied together with a section of rope hanging from his shoulders. “Miss Browning,” he said with a grin as if they were strolling through a park, “good to see you.” Then he marched in front of them as if nothing of importance was happening around him.

  Matthew and Miss Browning glanced at one another, and if the situation had not been so harrowing, Matthew would have laughed. Unfortunately, the ship gave a loud groan and they rushed to follow the captain.

  “Remember,” George shouted once they reached the deck, “jump into the water and get as far away from the ship as you can. You go first, sir, Miss. It’s enough that I am acting the coward by abandoning my ship—against my will, mind you” he gave Matthew a hard glare, “but I will be the last man to leave it.”

  ***

  When Amelia gained consciousness, she was cradled in the strong arms of the man she had hoped would rescue her. He placed her on the ground, and her legs felt as if the bones had been removed. It took her several tries to regain her balance, and her head pained her no end, her vision causing everything she viewed to lurch. However, once she was upright again—or relatively so with the ship tipped at such an angle—she found it easier to follow Matthew down, or rather up, the corridor.

  Their encounter with the captain was one of utter shock. The man did not seem to have the slightest concern for what was happening, as if what was happening was an everyday occurrence, and she wondered again at the how he had retained his position after so many years. Yet, there was something endearing about the man, and she suspected that it was that which had kept him on for as long as he had.

  Once they reached the deck, the wind whipped at her hair, momentarily blocking her view as it threatened to knock her down at the same time. However, strong hands held her firmly, and she could not help but feel safe in his arms. Or relatively safe, as the case would be, for she was on a sinking ship after all.

  “We are going to have to abandon ship,” Lord Albright shouted to be heard about the howling winds. “We will jump into the sea and swim with all our might.”

  “Remember,” the Captain called out, his voice almost carried away by the wind, “jump into the water and get as far away from the ship as you can. You go first, sir, Miss. It’s enough that I am acting the coward by abandoning my ship—against my will, mind you—but I will be the last man to leave it.”

  If she had not understood the gravity of the situation before, she did so now. “I cannot swim!” she shouted in a near panic. “I will drown!” Then she looked up into the deep blue eyes of the marquess. “Please, if you survive and I do not, tell my parents that I love them. Will you do that for me?”

  He shook his head just as The Topaz heaved, pushing them both into the railing. Her eyes stared into the rolling waters below, and she thought she would sick up her dinner as she waited for her body to be thrown over the railing into those crashing waves. However, once again, strong hands held her tight.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he yelled. “Do not let go. I will protect you.” She did as he bade, and he picked her up as if she weighed nothing. Then, he looked down at her. “Do you trust me?”

  For a moment, the storm disappeared and only she and he were left in the world. In the space of an intake of breath, a thousand images and thoughts went through her mind. She knew little of this man, and yet, for some reason she did not understand, she believed his words. She believed that, in his arms, no matter the storm, she would be safe.

  “Yes! I do trust you!”

  “Do not let go,” he said. “No matter what, do not let go.”

  Before she could respond, The Topaz gave a great moan and there was nothing but air between her and the water below as they both tumbled over the side.

  Chapter Eight

  Amelia’s head ached as a warm, light breeze blew over her body. How strange. Had someone left a window open? Then other questions came to mind. Why was there such pain in the back of her head? Her lids felt as if lead strips had been placed on them, and it made the process of opening them difficult. After several attempts, the effort became too much, and she allowed them to remain closed. She knew not where she was, but she had never felt so relaxed. Her skin felt cool, though a bit scratchy, as if her body had been placed in a vat of brine to be cured, and that light breeze sent a small, but not unpleasant, chill through her body.

  Then she heard her name. “Miss Browning,” came the whispered words of a man’s voice. It took her several moments before she recognized the owner of that voice. It was Lord Albright, the man she had met on a ship on her return journey from Calais, the horrid holiday she and Patricia had taken.

  Then, as if being thrust through time, images swam through her mind. Memories of the storm and then being trapped in her cabin in complete and total darkness, left for dead. But no, Lord Albright had come to save her, vowing to keep her safe as they plunged into the cold and rolling sea. It was beyond the act of a gentleman, it was the act of a hero, and she would thank him in any way she could. For
now, however, she would lull in the comfort of her bed, taking her ease for the day, for she was much too tired to get up.

  “Please, Miss Browning,” that voice urged, now filled with concern. Why did he not leave her be?

  Once again, she struggled to open her eyes, but this time they did as she willed. However, her breath caught in her throat when the man in question looked down at her, a grave look on his face. “It seems we have moved beyond formality,” she whispered. She had not expected her voice to sound so hoarse. “Call me Amelia.”

  He smiled down at her. “Amelia it is, then,” he said in a husky voice. Then he began unbuttoning his shirt, and her eyes grew wider with each button that was released from its hole.

  Did he mean to take advantage of her in her weakened state? How dare he! She placed her hands on his chest and heaved as hard as she could, which was to say not very hard. “Keep your hands off me, you scoundrel!” she croaked as she scrambled away from him.

  “No,” he said in shock. “It is for your head.” He removed the shirt, revealing a broad, muscular chest. “You’re still bleeding.”

  She reached up, gingerly touched the back of her head, and felt a sticky substance, that, when she looked at her hand, did indeed appear to be blood. “Oh.” She supposed she should have apologized, but she did not. Instead she sat in utter mortification that she could have been so foolish.

  “And I am Matthew,” he said as he balled up the shirt and pressed it against her head. “I am very glad you are all right. I must admit that I was worried.”

  “Where are we?” she asked as she attempted to glance around them. The movement made her vision blur and her head to throb, and she dropped her head and closed her eyes to ease the discomfort.

  “An island, it appears,” Matthew replied as he dabbed at her head. “Though we are unsure as to where.”

  “We?” Amelia asked. Then she swallowed. “Did anyone else survive?”

  “George,” Matthew said, though there was a sadness to his voice. “I am afraid the remainder of the crew may have perished. I have not seen anyone else.”

  A stab of anguish pierced her heart as she thought of all the brave men who had lost their lives to the sea. However, her sorrow was nothing when compared to the look of grief on Matthew’s face, for he had known the crew much better than she.

  “Peter was not even twenty years,” he said in a voice near a whisper. “He was to marry Anna at the end of this summer. How will I ever tell her?”

  Amelia reached out and took his hand in hers. “You will tell her that, like you, the man was brave. I assume they did what they could to save the ship?”

  Matthew nodded. “Right until they had to be commanded to abandon it.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “Then that will be your story when you inform their families of their bravery.” She gave him a shy smile. “It was your own bravery that saved my life. I have you to thank for my being here.” Tears came to her eyes. The realization of what this man had done and the burden he had to carry at the loss of the men who manned his ship had to be great.

  He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. “You are alive, and that is very important. And do not worry, I will find a way to get us off this island.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, until water rushed up the sand. The tide was coming back in. She looked out over the sea, the waters much calmer than the night before, though dark clouds still loomed in the distance. Would another storm accost them before they found shelter?

  As if reading her thoughts, Matthew said, “George believes another storm is coming our way, and judging by the wind, I believe he is correct.” He produced a leather canteen and offered it to her. “Drink slowly.”

  She did not even question where he had come to possess such an item, for the cool water felt wonderful on her dry throat. How strange to be surrounded by leagues of water that one could not drink.

  “What happened after we jumped from the ship last night?” she asked as she returned the canteen to him. “I remember us plunging toward the water but nothing after.”

  “Either the shock of hitting the water was too much for you, or perhaps you hit your head on a floating piece of debris. Whatever the reason, you were rendered unconscious. It was a miracle that we were not separated, but somehow you held on.”

  “Or you held on to me,” Amelia said, her cheeks heating significantly.

  Matthew cleared his throat and then offered her a smile. “It does not matter. What does is that we survived. I was able to get to a large piece of wood to keep us afloat as the waves eventually carried us to this beach just before sunrise.” He gave her an earnest stare. “However, fear not, for my debt to you is not yet paid. I will see you off this island and returned to your family. And to your Harold.”

  Amelia made an attempt to rise, and with Matthew’s help, she pulled herself to a standing position. She smiled as she turned to face the man who had rescued her. “You owe me no debt,” she said. “Again, I thank you for saving me. Such a heroic action can never be repaid fully, and now I am forever in your debt.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, and once again the feeling of being in this man’s arms overwhelmed her. Somehow it felt right, yet inside she knew it was not meant to be. He was to marry Elizabeth.

  When she pushed away, he leaned over and collected his coat from the ground. “May I offer you this to wear?” he asked.

  She glanced down in mortification as she realized that she wore only her shift, which clung to her body as if it were another layer of skin. Her large bosom threatened to spill out of the top, and even worse, she had pressed herself against him in that embrace. By all appearances, she must have looked the harlot. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew her concerns to be exaggerated, but she could not shake the shame she felt to be standing before any man, let alone a man to whom she found such an attraction.

  “Thank you,” she said as she pulled the coat from his grasp and wrapped it around her as if as some sort of protective shell against his scrutiny. It was unfair for her to think that he was peering at her in some ungentlemanly fashion, but she could not help but wonder how long his eyes had lingered on her body as she lay on the beach before he attempted to wake her.

  In all honesty, she knew she was being silly to worry. The shift was not all that revealing—at least she had the thin material to cover herself—and once she was able to pull it from her body, it hung loose enough to be relatively proper. It was her shift after all—just knowing that made it uncomfortable to be in his presence—and not a proper dress as would be appropriate while in the company of a person of the opposite sex, but it would have to do. The reality was that she had no other clothes, so unless she thought to wear his coat until they left the island—already she felt overly warm with the heavy garment on her shoulders—she would have to be satisfied that at least she had a shift to wear. She could have been like Eve who had nothing but leaves to cover those parts of her body that would make her die of ultimate embarrassment even if she was there alone.

  As a way to keep her mind from turning circles around the subject of her lack of clothing, she looked around the beach. It was shaped in a half-circle, closing in around them much like a tiny bay. At the edges of the sand was a thick forest with large trees spaced closely together, making it impossible for her to see what lie beyond. The shore on which they had landed could have been worse. They could have perished when their bodies crashed against the rocky cliffs of what made up most of the southern border of England.

  Movement caught her eye and Captain Lawrence walked up to Amelia and Matthew. “I have a plan to get us out of here,” he said with a wide grin. “And I think it’ll work.”

  ***

  “I collected dead wood from the forest,” the captain said as they neared a section of the beach that was cut off from the wind. “And with Lord Albright’s flint and steel, I was able to build us a good fire.”

  Amelia
remembered that first night when she and Matthew had dined together and Matthew had produced those items from his coat in order to light a second lantern. At the time, the idea that the man carried such items on his person seemed odd, but now she was glad he was unconventional, for starting a fire without them would have been difficult indeed.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Amelia said as the man pulled a large log over for her beside the fire.

  “Ah, Miss, just call me plain ole George. I ain’t a captain at the moment, anyway.” A flash of sadness passed over his face, but then the cheerfulness returned. “I figure we can’t be too far from the mainland. Now, there are lots of these tiny islands about, many I never seen but have only heard about.” He pulled another log up for himself and then reached over to grab one of the burlap bags, from which he produced two more water canteens and two bottles of alcohol—one brandy and one wine from what Amelia could see. “Go easy on the water; I don’t know how big this island is or where the nearest fresh water is. But we’ve plenty of food and drink,” he produced yet another bottle of another type of spirits she could not identify by the bottle, “so you should be fine for a while.”

  “Do you believe there are more survivors?” Amelia asked as she unrolled Matthew’s shirt and placed it over her knees as another attempt at modesty.

  The man nodded. “I do, Miss. We can’t be the only ones.” He must have taken note of her anxiety, for he added, “Those men have been on ships since they were youngsters. Don’t you be worrying for them; they can take care of themselves, I assure you that.” He pulled himself up into a standing position. “Now, you and the sir stay here and I’ll set out to go look for them. It’ll give me a chance to look around the island and see what’s about. Who knows, maybe I’ll spot a ship and they’ll get us out of here before the night is through!”

  “How long will you be gone, do you think?” Mathew asked.

  “A day, two at the most, I imagine. When I return, it’ll be with good news and not a moment before.”