Surrender the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  Marianne grew weary of everyone’s approval of the man. Even though she’d seen little of him these past eleven years, she’d observed nothing about his recent behavior to indicate he’d changed from the churlish imp he had been as a young boy.

  “I’m sorry he pained you, miss. Noah lives under a heavy burden these days. Lord knows, I’ve been praying for him t’ let it go.”

  Marianne bit back a snide remark. What burden could the man possibly have that compared to hers? He worried about pleasing his father, about making money, while she worried about saving her mother’s life.

  Agnes studied Marianne’s expression, obviously mistaking it for one of curiosity. “As his wife, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  The thought brought Marianne no comfort, neither the marrying, nor the discovering of Noah’s burden. For now all she needed him to do was turn the ship around and return to Baltimore.

  Beads of perspiration lined Agnes’s forehead, and she dabbed them away. “He’s a good man. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

  Marianne swallowed. “I do not seek happiness. Why should anyone expect happiness in this life? Doesn’t God’s Word portend of trials and troubles and tribulation?” The cheese turned to stone in her stomach, and she pressed a hand over it. In these past years, Marianne had come to believe those verses more than the ones promising joy and peace and abundance.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Agnes gave Marianne a motherly look of concern. “Life has its struggles, t’ be sure, but there are also many fine moments as well—right fine moments.”

  “Perhaps, but if I do not look for them, then I shall not be disappointed.” Marianne stood, pressing down the folds of her gown. “I am not the sort of person who is destined for greatness. I am an ordinary girl who will live an ordinary life.”

  “Such a glum outlook, my dear.” Agnes took Marianne’s hands in hers. “And you are far from ordinary.”

  Marianne warmed at the affection brimming from her friend’s eyes. But then Agnes’s face blanched, and she pressed a hand upon her rounded belly.

  Marianne grabbed her arm. “Are you ill?”

  “Just out o’ sorts a bit.” Agnes batted the air. “I’ll be all right. Now”—she turned and grabbed her satchel—“let me redress your wound and then I’ll let you retire.”

  “Thank you, Agnes, but I haven’t been sleeping very well since I boarded.”

  “The captain neither.” Agnes grabbed the bowl of water and plucked a fresh bandage from her bag. “I saw him on deck just a bit ago, staring off into the dark sky as he often does during the night.”

  Excitement tingled Marianne’s veins, and she hardly noticed as Agnes redressed her wound. Hopefully Noah’s night time stroll would give her plenty of time to slip into his cabin and steal his navigational instruments.

  “Thank you, Agnes,” Marianne gave her a peck on the cheek as Agnes opened the door to leave.

  “I’ll leave you to your rest, dear. God bless you.”

  Marianne watched until the woman faded into the shadows, thinking of what she was about to do. God had not blessed her in many years, and He certainly would not bestow any blessing on her current task. But something had to be done to convince Noah to head the ship back to Baltimore. She was on her own.

  Easing into the hallway, she inched her way to the captain’s cabin. With a click that seemed to echo like a gong through the corridor, she opened the door and slipped inside. Moonlight poured in through the stern windows in a waterfall of silver that dusted across Noah’s desk. The spicy scents of a supper long since consumed swirled around her.

  After listening for any sounds coming from the sleeping chamber or the hallway, Marianne made her way to the desk and scanned its contents. Spotting the sextant, protractor, and gunner’s scale, she quickly grabbed them and turned to leave. But her eyes latched onto a bottle of ink, and a devilishly naughty idea made her lips curve upward. Setting the instruments back down, she picked up the ink bottle and uncorked it. She studied the map for the best location then slowly turned the bottle over. Thick, black liquid oozed from the lid and spread on the area beside the coast of England into a burgeoning puddle of pitch that covered the sea like lava from a volcano. She smiled and set the bottle on its side, hoping to make it appear as though it tipped over on its own.

  Placing her hands on her hips, she studied her artwork with satisfaction.

  “Now to find a place to hide you,” she whispered to the implements as she picked them back up.

  Thud. Thud. Thud. Boot steps echoed in the hallway

  Muffled voices and laughter jarred her nerves and strung them tight.

  Marianne froze. Her heart thundered in her chest. The mad dash of the sea against the hull seemed to be laughing at her.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “I daresay, you’ll be the death of me, Luke.” The captain’s voice grew louder.

  Marianne’s eyes darted around the room. Nowhere to hide. Beneath the desk? No. She whirled around. The sleeping cabin.

  Dashing across the room, she dove into the tiny room no bigger than a wardrobe and stubbed her toe on the bed frame. She bit her lip against the groan rising in her throat. The cabin door creaked open and in stomped Noah, and from the sound of the other voice, Mr. Heaton. Lantern light peeked around the corner of the chamber door as if trying to expose her. She folded into the deepest shadows and leaned against the wall. Her chest heaved. Her blood pounded like drums in her ears.

  “Confound it all! What’s this?” Noah yelled.

  Boot steps thundered.

  “My chart is ruined!” A foul word spewed from his mouth, stinging Marianne’s ears.

  “What a mess,” Mr. Heaton exclaimed. The rustling of paper filled the room. “How will you chart our course?”

  Noah snorted. “I have another one.”

  Marianne’s heart sank. Perspiration trickled down her back.

  Drawers opened and scuffling sounded as no doubt the men sopped up the spilt ink.

  “Have a drink with me, Noah. You look as though you could use one.” Mr. Heaton said.

  The sound of a chair scraping over the wooden planks met Marianne’s ears. “Very well. A small glass, if you please.”

  Chink. Glass rang on glass.

  “To a safe voyage,” Luke said.

  “A safe voyage,” Noah replied.

  Marianne’s heart refused to stop thumping against her ribs. Oh Lord, please get me out of this. Silence ensued. After several long minutes, curiosity overcame her fear. Keeping to the shadows, she inched beside the bed and crept into the far corner which gave her a narrow view of the other room. Noah sat on a chair, his legs stretched out before him. Seafoam sprawled in his lap. He ran his fingers through her fur with one hand while he sipped his drink with the other.

  “I believe this long voyage will be far more interesting with Miss Denton aboard.” Mr. Heaton leaned back against the top of Noah’s desk, drink in hand.

  Marianne flung a hand to her mouth. Her mind whirled at the man’s remark. Interesting? She had always thought herself rather dull.

  Noah eyed his friend. “She has a bit of pluck, doesn’t she?”

  The cat nestled against his chin. Noah smiled and scratched her head. Marianne shook her head at the tender way he caressed the animal—so at odds with his ruthless character.

  Mr. Heaton rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Very entertaining, indeed. I look forward to your banter with her.”

  “My torment of her is not for your entertainment. And it pains me to treat her so.”

  Noah’s expression remained stoic. Not a trace of humor could be found either in his voice or on his face. Marianne could make no sense of his statement. If it pained him to insult her, why did he continue?

  Mr. Heaton laughed. “And the easy way in which she went to the aid of Rupert. I thought you said she was a highbrow used to a life of ease, surrounded by servants.”

  Noah shrugged. “It must be a ploy of some kind.”

 
A ploy, indeed. Marianne gritted her teeth.

  “Come now, Noah. I know you all too well. The woman enchants you.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “She’s not at all like Miss Priscilla.”

  Marianne’s ears perked.

  “No. She is not.” Noah set the cat down and the feline swept her almond shaped eyes toward Marianne where they remained for several seconds. The blasted cat knows where I am. Marianne stiffened, barely allowing a breath to escape her lips. She gave the cat a pleading look that she hoped conveyed in cat language what her heart screamed. Please, from one woman to another, do not betray me. Finally, Seafoam lost interest and leapt upon Noah’s desk.

  “The two women are quite the opposites.” Noah stared into space.

  “Will you call on her in South Hampton?”

  But he’s engaged to me! Anger stole Marianne’s fear. What a swaggering, lecherous cur!

  “Though I would love to, no. It would not be right. I am engaged, after all.”

  “But if you have your wish, that may not last long.”

  “Perhaps, but while I am bound thus, I will honor my commitment.”

  Honor his commitment? Admiration sparked within Marianne. It felt oddly out of place in regard to Noah. Yet the fact that he would even so much as entertain interest in another woman while he was engaged to her doused it immediately.

  Noah slapped the remainder of the drink to the back of his throat. “Leave me to my rest, Luke.”

  Mr. Heaton finished his drink and set his glass down. “Very well.” He headed for the door.

  Noah stopped him. “Before you retire, check on the watch and ensure the next one will be awakened on time. I will not tolerate further laggardness on this ship.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap.” Luke grinned as he stepped backward through the door and closed it.

  Panic turned Marianne’s legs to wobbly ropes. This was it. He wasn’t leaving his cabin. What would he do to her when he caught her? Remembering the instruments in her hands, she quickly stuffed them beneath his mattress and backed up as far as she could against the wall, awaiting her fate.

  Noah shrugged off his coat then began unbuttoning his waistcoat. He tore it off, tossing it to the chair then tugged the cravat from his throat.

  Oh no, Lord. Please don’t allow him to disrobe. Marianne squeezed her eyes shut, but they refused to close completely, leaving a small slit beneath her lashes. Should she alert him to her presence? No. Perhaps he would still decide to leave for some reason.

  Lord, make him remember some command to issue or some ship detail to attend to.

  He slipped the shirt over his head then sat down to remove his boots. The sculpted muscles in his chest and arms glistened in the lantern light. Marianne could not tear her eyes from him. She’d never seen a man’s chest before, and it both fascinated her and caused an odd feeling in her belly.

  He stood and began fumbling with the buttons of his breeches. The ship canted and Marianne darted into the other corner where she could not see him. Perhaps he would fall into his bed and take no note of her.

  “Meow.” Something warm and furry rubbed against her leg.

  Opening her eyes, she saw Seafoam’s white shadow lingering by her feet. Silently, she gestured for the stupid cat to go away, but it continued circling the hem of her skirt. “Meow.”

  Footsteps stomped. Marianne held her breath.

  A half circle of light advanced upon her shoes, then crept up her legs.

  “What have we here?”

  Chapter 7

  A pair of wide brown eyes, streaked with terror, stared up at Noah. He shook his head. The woman amazed him. The last place he would have expected to find Miss Denton was hiding in his sleeping cabin. And for the life of him, he could find no reason for it, save one, which would be an impossibility.

  “Pardon me, Noah. I seem to have gotten lost.” The fear fled her eyes, replaced by her usual lofty manner as she attempted to brush past him.

  “A condition you seem to be making a habit of aboard my ship.” He moved to block her. A chuckled erupted from his throat.

  She planted her hands on her waist. “I fail to see what is so amusing.”

  Seafoam jumped onto Noah’s bed and plopped down, eyeing them both.

  Noah set the lantern down and leaned on the door frame. A grin overtook his lips as he realized he could have some fun with this awkward situation. “On the contrary, finding you so close to my bed in the middle of the night is quite amusing, or should I say, rather pleasing.” He winked.

  Her chest heaved. Her gaze flitted about the tiny room, avoiding him entirely. A red hue crept up her neck onto her face like a rising tide.

  She lifted a hand as if she were going to push him, but when her eyes met his bare chest, she seemed to think better of it. “If you please, Noah, I need some air.”

  He stepped aside before she swooned. Then grabbing the lantern, he followed her out into his cabin and placed it atop his desk. He faced her, searching his memory of his conversation with Mr. Heaton for anything the lady should not have overheard.

  “Good night, Noah.” She kept her head lowered and headed for the door, but he darted in front of her. “Not just yet, Miss Denton.”

  She backed away. “I am tired and wish to retire now.” The scent of her lavender soap swirled around him

  “Then why are you in my cabin?” Noah lowered his head to peer into her face, but she kept her gaze upon the deck.

  “If you insist on keeping me here, would you at least do me the honor of donning your shirt?”

  He chuckled. That she was an innocent did not surprise him. That his unclad chest affected her, he found oddly pleasing.

  “Are you quite sure, Miss Denton?” He quirked a brow.

  She raised her chin, her face twisting in disdain as another flood of crimson blossomed over it. “How dare you?”

  “Perhaps you cannot wait for our wedding night?”

  Her brown eyes simmered. “Why you insufferable cad” She raised her hand to slap him.

  He caught it and lifted it to his lips for a kiss, eyeing her with delight.

  She studied him then released a sigh. “You tease me, sir.” Snatching her hand from his, she stepped back. “But what would I expect from you?”

  Moving to the chair he grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. His glance fanned over his desk where his chart had been and he spun around. “You. You ruined my chart.”

  She averted her gaze and began twisting her ring. “Why would I do that?”

  Brown curls swayed in disarray around a fresh bandage devoid of blood. Her lips pressed in their usual petulant manner, and her petite nose pinked as it always did when she was distraught.

  “To force me to return to Baltimore, perhaps?” He took a step toward her. She retreated.

  Then squaring her shoulders, she placed her hands atop her rounded hips. “Who is Priscilla?”

  Noah couldn’t help but grin. So she had heard their conversation. Shame settled over him, but he shrugged it off. He had done nothing wrong. “A friend.”

  “How dare you toss your affections to another when you are engaged to me.”

  “I can assure you, miss. I never toss my affections anywhere.”

  ♦♦♦

  Marianne studied him. A word of truth at last, for she doubted the man cared for anyone but himself. Then why was she behaving the jealous shrew? His thick chest peeked out from within his open shirt. The sight of it befuddled her mind. How could she think clearly with his firm muscles staring her in the face?

  Yet something else caused unease to clamp over her nerves. Why wasn’t Noah furious with her for ruining his map? Instead of chastising her and tossing her from his cabin, he seemed to find the incident amusing.

  Which only further infuriated her.

  He sat back against his desk and released a ragged sigh, then rubbed the back of his neck as if he had the weight of the world sitting upon it. Agnes’s words regarding his burden resu
rfaced in Marianne’s thoughts and she wondered for a moment what was troubling him.

  She should leave. She knew she should leave. Especially now that he no longer blocked her way, but perhaps she could garner some useful information.

  “Why do you work so hard for your father?”

  His eyes widened. Finally he said, “Unlike you, I wasn’t born to privilege. I must work to survive.”

  “I cannot help the situation of my birth.” She huffed. “But you can cease holding it against me.”

  He tilted his head and examined her as if he could not fathom what she said. “Fair enough,” he conceded with a semblance of a grin.

  Marianne glanced at the closed door and realized how improper it was for her to be alone with him in his cabin. Yet aside from her reputation—which she doubted any one on board would care to sully with gossip—the only thing in danger was her pride from his continual insults.

  The ship rose over a wave, and she raised a hand to the wall to keep from stumbling. “I don’t know how you tolerate this constant teetering. If not for these walls, we would all be thrashed to and fro with each wave.”

  “Bulkheads.”

  “Oh, who cares?” She huffed. Releasing the wall, she balanced her way to one of the chairs closest to the door and sat down. “I’ve seen little of you for eleven years. Your father would visit quite often before my father died, but you were never with him.”

  “I was at sea.”

  Marianne nodded, remembering the event that had sent him there. “I was sorry to hear about your brother.”

  He snapped his gaze away and stood, turning his back to her. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Unlike you, he was always kind to me.”

  Noah’s back stiffened and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, Jacob was kind to everyone. Generous, wise and. . .” He faced her and shrugged. “Well, everything I am not.”

  Though she could not argue with his statement, Marianne’s heart sank at the look of agony on his face. Word around town was that Jacob had died in an accident aboard a ship. Though she longed to know the details of his death, the anger and despair etched on Noah’s countenance silenced her.