Stranded With The Marquess (Regency Stories Book 1)

by Catherine Mayfair

  Her bed was not all that comfortable, to be sure, but it certainly was much better than sleeping on the hard ground, the sand making a nice pallet beneath her. She had never had many opportunities to sleep outside—not that she ever anticipated such sleeping arrangements at any time in her life—and she was certain that she was even less likely to have it happen again. An inn and a bed were more appealing in every way than lying with sand sticking to one’s skin and hair.

  The wind created a light whistle between the branches and the sand here Matthew had not spent as much time filling in holes as he did on the rest of the structure. Despite the whistling, not much wind made its way inside, but if it had been any season other than summer, even the tiny amount of draft that did get inside would have half-frozen them where they lay. Perhaps she would not wish to remain here forever after all. Winter would not be as pleasant as summer, to be sure.

  “Are you comfortable?” Matthew asked from the other side of the coat he had hung between them, one of the sleeves trailing on the ground. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  Amelia giggled, too tired—and possibly too inebriated—to cover her mouth in that demure fashion women found themselves using while in the company of men. Not that the man could see her, of course, but that did not matter. Even if the coat had not been there, it was much too dark to make out anything.

  “A new pillow and a fresh cup of tea would be lovely,” she said, giggling even more. What could have possessed her to find any of this humorous was beyond her, but she could not stop the words from falling off her tongue and the laughter from boiling up from inside her. “Oh, and a scone while you are at it.”

  He roared with laughter, and Amelia enjoyed the sound. It was as if he was accustomed to laughing, which should not have surprised her with the comedic side she had seen in him during the earlier days of their journey. Then his voice moved to a place in front of the small doorway. “I believe the rain has stopped. Perhaps I should make up a small fire to give us a bit of light if not a bit of warmth, as well.”

  “If you can find dry wood,” she said with that laugh she could not control.

  “Not to worry. I moved most of the kindling and logs to a place beneath a pile of branches to keep it dry. I imagine I will find more than enough to use for the time being.”

  And as promised, he soon had a blaze in the fire ring she had created earlier. The opening to the shelter let in just enough light to allow her to see the coat hanging between them.

  Matthew scrambled back inside, but in doing so, his elbow caught the dangling sleeve, bringing down the coat on top of him.

  For some reason, Amelia found this hilarious, and she doubled over in laughter until tears streamed down her face.

  Matthew, however, did not seem to find it has humorous and shot her a glare.

  “Oh, do not take my laughter so personally,” she said through gasps as she playfully slapped at his arm. She immediately regretted doing so, for as soon as her hand touched his skin, she pulled it away as if burned.

  Matthew ignored the slap and lay down on his side, his arm bent so his head balanced on his hand. Amelia could just make out his features, and she found she could not look away.

  “I suppose you are right,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I fear that my clumsiness and my pride are my two greatest downfalls. For whatever reason, I have been destined to be here with you to remind me of these weaknesses at every turn.”

  The downtrodden look he gave Amelia made her regretful, though she was unsure what she had done exactly. “You are not clumsy,” she said earnestly. Then she saw the corner of his mouth twitch and the realization of what he had done hit her. He had once again caught her with one of her attempts at humor. Well, she could be as devious as he. “I must admit, however,” she said as if she had not noticed his stifled grin, “that I do see that pride you carry. If I did not know any better, I would say it is most assuredly your greatest flaw.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, though his smile told her he did not believe what she said.

  “Oh, yes,” came her reply without hesitation.

  “Can you give me an example?”

  “Hmm, let me see,” she said, tapping her chin with a finger. “Your refusal to allow me to help build our home, for instance. Even if I had been involved with the construction of the grandest buildings of the world, you would not have allowed me to help you.”

  He snorted. “That is not true. I would have let you carry a few sticks for me.”

  She raised a single eyebrow at him. “You see? You may as well admit it outright. You are too full of pride to allow a woman to help, even if she is the only other person in your company.”

  He sighed. “Very well, I cannot lie. I am stubborn as well as prideful.”

  This made her laugh once again. “Now, that I can agree is an accurate description of you, at least from what I have seen in the short time I have known you.”

  The smile he gave her had her heart fluttering. He truly was a handsome man, and if the situation had been different—if they were not stranded on this island and he did not have a woman awaiting his return so they could be married—she might have allowed him to pursue her. Yet, that was not the case, and regardless of how long it would take for them to be rescued, reality would settle in on them once that happened. Anything they felt for one another would be whisked away in an instant, much like a leaf caught on a rock in a stream only to be swept away again by the current.

  “Since we are being honest with one another,” he said, a seriousness to his features, “I believe it imperative I tell you the truth about what I see in you.”

  “Oh?” she asked, finding it difficult to keep her tone grave. “I must warn you…”

  “That you have a fiery temper?” he asked with raised brows in an attempt to appear innocent. “That you have a stubborn refusal to admit when you are wrong? Oh, I assure you, I am well aware of those particular characteristics in you.”

  Amelia gasped and moved to rebuke him, but then she realized his words were truthful, regardless of how much they hurt. Yet, despite the truth and hurt, she could not allow him the upper hand. “Well, Lord Albright,” she said haughtily, “I will not argue.” She sighed heavily as she made to smooth out her shift as if it were the best gown ever made. “You have succeeded in pointing out my faults, and now I must bear the shame of being seen in such light.” She glanced at him through her lashes, studying what little she could make out of his features as she waited for his reaction. It took all she could handle to not laugh outright.

  He pushed himself back up into a sitting position. “Amelia, I am sorry. I meant the words only in jest.”

  She heaved another heavy sigh and stared down at her hands, frowning. However, she could hold back no longer and she let out a boisterous laugh. “As did I.”

  He stared at her for several moments before her meaning hit him. Then he belted out a loud guffaw. “We make quite the pair, do we not?”

  “Indeed,” she replied, still chuckling. Then she covered a yawn. “I believe it is time for me to get some sleep. Good night, Matthew.”

  He gave her a smile. “Good night, Amelia.” He knelt and disappeared behind the coat he hung back in its place between them.

  Amelia lay on her back, staring at the rustic ceiling once again. It was strange to know she slept so near a man who was only in his breeches and she only in her shift. She had been forced to acclimate herself to the fact that she had no other choice and that she should be happy that at least her shift was still in one piece. It easily could have been torn to shreds when she washed up on the shore. There were small blessings to be sure.

  The flames of the fire flickered, creating shadows in the shelter as the winds picked up once again. With the wind came the whistling in the walls, but the sound no longer brought her a sense of panic.

  Then a new noise came to her ears, a bestial sound, and Amelia sat up in alarm. Matthew had mentioned the possibility of animals living in the forest bey
ond the beach, but she had not considered what types of animals could be watching and waiting. Perhaps they had decided that, now the sun had gone and darkness had taken over, she and Matthew would make a great feast. What if they had already attacked poor George and now that they had had the taste of human flesh, they wanted more? Fear coursed through her as her imagination ran as wild as the animals that stalked her outside the branch home.

  That is until she brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. No beast had come to attack and eat them, but rather it was Matthew snoring on the other side of the coat.

  With relief, she once again lay down on her back wondering how she was going to sleep with the stentorian sound beside her. However, her wonder was replaced by first a scream and then laughter as the walls and ceiling of the shelter collapsed on top of them.

  ***

  Amelia woke to the sound of gentle waves on the beach and birds chirping wondrous melodies in the forest. The sand beneath her was soft and silky and she reached out to a lovely patch beside her, even smoother than that on which she lay. As a matter of fact, the sand was so packed, it left a smooth surface she had not noticed the night before.

  Her eyes still closed, she remembered the original shelter falling in on top of them. They had had to rebuild it as the storm raged around them, which was not at all an easy task, and what they ended up with at the end was a structure much smaller than the first with much less space inside. Unfortunately, the shelter was not strong enough the second time around to hold up the heavy coat between them as they had done in the original hut, so they draped it over the top of the home as added protection from the rain.

  Thus, once the new home was ready, and with great reluctance, Amelia had crawled inside and was soon fast asleep. In all honesty, she could not have stayed awake if she had tried. Too much wine and excitement for one day would never have allowed it.

  As she lay there now, her hand moving across that patch of sand beside her, she enjoyed the relative quiet around her. How strange that just the night before a storm had blown through with raging winds carrying heavy rain. Yet now, the air was calm though a bit chilly, yet not enough to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the sand under her, but she felt warm and cozy as her nails scraped lightly over the sand, which she found quite exhilarating. It was firm and tight and brought about a pleasing sensation to her fingertips as she trailed them back and forth.

  “Amelia,” Matthew’s whispered voice said in her ear.

  Her eyes flew open and her heart raced as she glanced down at the shirtless man who lay beside her, the man whose stomach now lay beneath her hand. Sometime during the night, she had somehow slid over to lie beside him.

  Mortified, she snapped her hand back, uttering an apology, and crawled through the small opening out onto the beach. She barely noticed the light gray clouds that covered a majority of the sky, her mind still thinking of how rubbing Matthew’s stomach had been such a pleasant feeling. What horrified her even more was that she would not have minded feeling it again.

  Then, once again, she reminded herself why such thoughts were wrong. How could she be thinking such a thing about a man who was in love? She felt quite the strumpet in so many ways this morning: running around in her shift with a man who was not her husband or even intended husband, drinking wine until she was lightheaded—oh, very well, if she had to admit it, she had been drunk with wine—and sleeping in the same room as said man. Room? They had shared a bed!

  “A beautiful morning,” Matthew said as he crawled through the opening to their tiny shelter and stretched his arms above his head.

  He stood beside her and gazed over the waves, but she did not look at him but instead crossed her arms over her breasts in some sort of attempt to cover herself. The idea was silly, of course. She had only been wearing her shift since the sinking of The Topaz. What she hoped was that he did not tease her about how she had woken, for she did not believe she could have borne the shame. “I do believe our home will need to be remade today,” he continued. “This time, I believe you should be the one in charge.”

  She looked up at him, and was surprised to find that his eyes did not hold any sign of mockery, nor did his smile. Feeling relieved, she nodded. “I will begin at once. Shall we eat first?”

  He shook his head. “I will need to find just the right branch that I can sharpen to a point to use as a spear before I can catch our first meal. However, I suspect it should not take too long.”

  Amelia sighed but said nothing as she watched Matthew walk toward the forest, thankful that the awkwardness had now passed and that he was gentleman enough to not mentioned her caressing of his stomach first thing in the morning.

  Placing her hands on her hips, she pushed her concerns to the back of her mind and studied the mound of sticks, branches, and leaves that lay before her. It was time for her to build a home.

  “Our home,” she whispered with a small giggle. Just saying that made her cheeks heat up and for some reason made her feel happy. Or perhaps it was simply so ridiculous to view their situation in such a way that it was humorous. Whatever it was, she had no time to consider it, for she had much to do.

  Reaching into the makeshift shelter, she pulled out what was left of Matthew’s shirt just as he returned hoisting a fat limb high in the air.

  “I found the perfect spear!” he said, his excitement that of a child. In the opposite hand he held a large stone, and he carried it and the stick to a place beside the now empty fire ring. “One must only rub the stone against the end of the limb to make a sharp point.”

  She smiled at his enthusiasm. “I will need to use your shirt for the construction of our home. Do you mind?”

  He shook his head without looking up from the task before him. “Please, do what you must. I doubt I will ever be able to wear it again anyway.”

  She tore the shirt into strips, which she used to tie together the ends of two branches. Then she lifted a third. “Matthew, would you mind helping for a moment?”

  He walked over and she instructed him to hold the two ends as she leaned the third in to form a tripod. “Excellent,” she said. ”Now, hold them there.” With quick hands, she wound the fabric around the ends of the three branches, and giving it a firm pull, knotted them together.

  “I…had been planning on doing that next but did not want to waste a good shirt,” Matthew said with a mischievous grin.

  She snorted. “I am sure you were,” she said. Then she lifted another branch. “We need to do another just like this.”

  They repeated the process and then placed each tripod about six feet from one another. She took a long, straight branch and placed it crosswise to form what resembled a spit, the tripods on each end forming the holders, and tied it into place.

  Amelia tested the stability and was pleased with her handiwork. She was so focused on her task at hand, it was not until Matthew cleared his throat that she realized he was still awaiting her instructions.

  “If my help is no longer needed, I will return to my spear,” he said.

  She nodded and immediately forgot about him as she laid branches against the structure to form a peaked wall, and within a short time, she had completed the first side. Pleased at what she had accomplished thus far, she wiped at her brow as the sun poked its head from behind the clouds.

  “It may not be the finest of spears,” Matthew said as he rose from his seat and showed her the weapon he had created, “but it will do.”

  She stifled a laugh. There was no need to hurt his feelings for his heart was in the right place, but unless the fish he wished to spear was the size of a pig, the point would easily tear any fish in two. The staff itself was as thick as her ankle.

  Rather than speaking her mind, she said, “I am sure it will. I will finish here and then collect more wood for the fire while you fish.

  He lifted the spear in farewell and ran toward the water.

  Amelia shook her head before returning to her task. In no time she completed the other side o
f the shelter, and she took a step back to admire her work. The home, though small, was sturdy, and she could not help but feel a great accomplishment at what she was able to do.

  She glanced at the waves, her hand shading her eyes, and her legs grew weak. Matthew stood, his back to her and the spear raised above his head. The muscles rippling across his back glistened under the sun’s rays, and Amelia had to reach out to steady herself to keep from falling over. Her mind drifted to their conversation of what it would be like to stay on the island, and she could not halt the images of what that could mean as they spent more and more time together.

  Under the moonlight, the two would exchange vows of marriage and love. Together as one, they would live here on this island, with a larger house they would build together to make room for the many children she would bear for him. In the morning, he would pick her up in his strong arms and plant kisses on her lips. She would return those kisses as her hands explored his strong arms before he set her down. The children would remain sleeping, and like now, she would watch as her husband, a strong warrior, used his spear to feed his family.

  With a sigh, Amelia brought her focus back to Matthew. He let out a cry and thrust his spear into the water, only to topple over behind it. She cringed in embarrassment for him and realized that, although the dream was sweet after a fashion, if it were to come true, they would more than likely starve.

  With a smile, she turned to gather more wood. Perhaps she could find some sort of nuts or berries in the forest they could add to the dwindling food pile they had taken from the sacks George had rescued from the ship. There was certainly plenty of time before the poor man caught anything worthy of cooking.

  Chapter Eleven

  Much to his frustration and ever-growing embarrassment, Matthew returned with his spear to the fire Amelia had already built. However, there were no fish to fry over the fire, for he had failed to spear even one for the last two hours. Not only could he not provide food for them but the shelter he had built collapsed in last night’s storm, and thought of such failure made him want to crack the spear over his knee in exasperation.