by Toombs, Jane
She lay next to him, wide-eyed, waiting apprehensively. But, although his arm stretched across her stomach, he did nothing more. She heard him begin to breathe deeply, and carefully lifted his arm from her, then turned away from him, squeezing as close to the wall as she could get.
He'd said he meant her no harm, yet here he was sleeping in her bed! Even with her back to him, every fiber of her body remained aware of his nearness. How gallant he'd been, saving her from John Burnet. Still, that didn't excuse him now. Romell knew she must jostle him awake, force him to leave the cabin, cry out for help if he would not, but she didn't move. Was it the brandy muddling her mind? Or her head injury? Or was it that she wanted him there next to her? Certainly that was the wrong way for a maid to feel—she needed no Sir Thomas to tell her that.
Tears came to Romell's eyes at the thought of Sir Thomas. If Adrien hadn't helped her escape, would she, too, be dead now? She had no friend other than Adrien. But she couldn’t stay in bed with him.
It wouldn’t do, even if he slept through the night. He shouldn’t be in her cabin at all. Still, like as not he’d been awake the whole night, bringing her to London and taking her to the ship. A shame to wake him.
She was feeling better, so she ought to be the one to leave the cabin. Surely the captain would be able to find her other accommodations.
Cautiously, Romell sat up. Her head ached only a little now. Perhaps she should try another drink of brandy once she was on her feet. It was clearly impossible to get out of the bunk without climbing over Adrien, but if she was very careful she might not rouse him.
She pulled up her skirts to get on her hands and knees, then eased one leg across Adrien, trying not to touch him as she felt for the edge of the bed.
Romell was beginning to shift her weight when her foot slid off the edge and, unable to prevent it, she fell astraddle of Adrien.
His arms came up to clutch her as she struggled to slide off his body onto the floor.
"No," she half whispered, "let me go. I didn't mean to wake you."
"What? Turn down such an invitation?" he asked drowsily, pressing his lips to her neck as his hands slid down to cup her buttocks.
Romell felt a tingle where his lips met her bare skin and warmth grew inside her, as though his touch were as fiery as the brandy.
"No," she said, louder. "No, I mean to leave the bed. What are you thinking of? Let me go."
"I've wanted you from the first," he murmured. "Lovely, my lovely brave girl." He tumbled her back onto her side of the bed and slid her gown from her shoulders, freeing her breasts. In the dim light his gaze caught hers for a moment, and his look frightened her.
"Let me go!" she cried, squirming away from him, but he caught her before she was off the bed and pinned her body under his.
"You woke me," he said. "Enough of this coyness, it serves no purpose." As he spoke, his hand fondled her breasts. Despite her alarm, she knew pleasure from the caress. What was the matter with her?
"What better way to pass the voyage to Amsterdam?" he asked.
"You must stop," she said, trying unsuccessfully to push his hand from her breasts. "Please don't do that."
He covered her mouth with his. Romell relaxed into the kiss for a long endless moment, almost drowning in 'the flood of sensation he evoked in her until, with an effort, she turned her face from his.
"Oh, let me go," she whispered, attempting to wiggle out from under him.
He trailed his tongue along her neck, lower and lower, until his lips were at her breasts. A wonderful sweetness stabbed her through and through. His hand slipped under her skirts and along her thigh. She stiffened and pushed his head away. "You must not!" she gasped.
He paid her no mind. Romell, desperate now, afraid of both him and herself, bit his ear hard, as she had John Burnet's. Adrien cried out and let her go momentarily. She got one foot on the floor before he yanked her back onto the bed.
"You are a little vixen," he told her angrily, pulling at her clothes while she clawed at him. She opened her mouth to scream for help.
Suddenly cloth was over her face, around her head, muffling her cry and half smothering her. She tried to pluck it away, but Adrien grabbed her wrists in one hand. Moments later, he pushed her legs apart, and then she felt his bareness against her.
Romell moaned in pain as he thrust hard into her. What he did hurt terribly and yet, as the pain eased, she felt the shameful pleasure again--warming her, turning her to flame. Adrien let her wrists go free and pulled the cloth from her face and over her head, and she realized he'd stripped her naked. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest and she brought her arms down to hold him closer to her, her body taking on a will of its own so that she moved as he moved, arching to him.
She tossed on a crest of excitement, of surging pleasure, higher and higher, until at last she exploded into fragments, like the spray from a breaking wave. She heard herself cry out, heard Adrien gasp in response, but the sounds were apart from her, for she floated far away.
Adrien shattered her trance by pulling away from her. She murmured in protest as he got entirely out of the bed. She opened her eyes to look at him and saw him staring down at the tangled covers on the bunk. She raised up to see why and noticed dark blotches on the coarse sheet, then she saw her blood-stained thighs and understood that she'd bled when he'd entered her.
"I—I'm all right," she whispered shyly, blushing at her nakedness. She fumbled among the covers and found her wrinkled gown, which she held in front of her.
"All right?" he echoed blankly, grabbing for his breeches. "But, damn it, if you were a virgin, what were you doing at Three Oaks?"
She blinked in surprise. "Why wouldn't I be there? I'm Romell Wellsley. Sir Thomas was my uncle."
Adrien closed his eyes briefly. "Oh my God," he muttered.
Chapter 3
Romell stared at the closed door for a long moment before she got to her feet and began to dress. Adrien had slammed out of the cabin, shirt and boots in his hand, without saying another word. As she pulled her petticoat over her chemise, she tried to understand.
Why had Adrien seemed so upset when she told him who she was? Surely he'd known. During the struggle at Three Oaks, John Burnet had called her Sir Thomas's doxie, but Adrien couldn't have believed she really was!
Romell tried to smooth the wrinkles from her satin gown. Certainly she looked far from respectable now, but at Three Oaks…
Tears came to her eyes and she sat down on the edge of the bunk. Her father and uncle were dead. She had no one but Adrien. What was wrong? Where had he gone? Unable to find her handkerchief, Romell dabbed her eyes with a corner of the bed coverlet, took a deep breath and stood up again to look for her slippers. She mustn't shed foolish tears. Adrien would be back.
Her face grew hot as she remembered what had passed between them. Never mind that he'd forced her—he hadn't forced her to take pleasure in it. Romell hugged herself. She'd enjoyed lying with him.
While pleasure wasn't wrong between a man and a woman—hadn't her father told her so? Romell had never thought to experience such a thing before marriage.
Someone tapped on the door. She crossed to open it and blushed again. Adrien stepped into the cabin. Although she couldn't meet his eyes, she saw he was now fully clothed.
"Miss Wellsley," he said stiffly.
Romell forgot her embarrassment. Miss Wellsley? "My name is Romell," she said, wondering at his set jaw, the coldness in his eyes.
He paid her no mind. "Miss Wellsley," he repeated, "in the absence of your guardian, I must put my question to you: Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
She blinked in surprise. Marry Adrien?
"My prospects are not of the best," he said, gazing over her head. "William, my half brother, has the title, and I have no money. In any case, I am now out of favor at court. I'm afraid I've little to offer you except my name. The Montgomerys are an old and respected family."
Is this how Englishmen proposed marriage? Adrien wa
s so formal, so distant, as though they were strangers. She hadn't known him long, true, but after what they'd been through together, she felt she'd known him for years.
Or had felt that. She'd never seen this Adrien. "I—I must think on it," she managed to say. She held out her hand, but either he didn't see the gesture or he chose to ignore it. Romell drew back.
"I have no money, you understand," she said, "My uncle spoke of a dowry but now—"
"You can count on nothing from your uncle's estate."
"Sir Thomas was to pay me the monies from the sale of my father's lands in Virginia," she said.
Adrien shook his head. "King Charles will allow no crumbs to escape. All Sir Thomas's assets, including anything due you, will be confiscated by the crown. But I expect no dowry. I should consider it an honor to protect you as my wife."
What should I say? Romell thought wildly. I have no way to return to Virginia. I can seek sanctuary with these Dutch cousins my father didn't care for, but will they welcome me? Do they even know I exist?
Her only other choice was to marry Adrien Montgomery. He wanted her as his wife, or he wouldn't have asked for her hand. And she admired him as well as— Romell felt herself flush again.
"I—I will be proud to be your wife," she stammered. "But how shall we live if neither of us has any money?"
"I'll find a way. They always need mercenaries on the continent."
Romell frowned. "A soldier for hire? Would you care to do such a thing?"
Adrien turned his gaze on her then and she saw anger smoldering in his eyes. "Necessity provides a keen goad."
She bit her lip, then brightened, reaching out to touch his sleeve. "I know—we could go to Virginia! My father emigrated to the colonies with no money and did very well before he died. Why shouldn't we do as well? Oh, Adrien, Virginia is a lovely land! I miss it so. You can't help but be charmed by—"
Romell's hand dropped from his arm. Why was he so angry? She hadn't been the one to propose marriage.
"There is no money for our passage. Even if there were, I don't care to live in a raw land, among savages." His words were clipped.
She stared down at her clasped hands.
"I'll arrange for food to be sent to you," Adrien said. "Naturally, I shan't remain in your cabin, under the circumstances. Once we're in Amsterdam, I'll find a dominie to say the vows."
Romell fought down the urge to beg him not to leave her alone. She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. "I shall be glad of victuals, thank you."
He nodded curtly and left the cabin.
Romell sat on the bunk again, her head in a whirl. She was to be Adrien's wife in a matter of hours. Is that what she wanted? Her lips curved into a wistful smile.
She'd always thought to wed for love. Was that what, on seeing Adrien, the leap in her breast meant? The tingling when she touched him? This tiny fire deep inside her that flared when she recalled what had happened between them?
Lines from a poem by Ben Jonson, which she had read at Three Oaks, came to her; she remembered Sir Thomas telling her the poet had been a favorite of King Charles's father, James:
The thing they here call love, is blind Desire,
Armed with bow, shafts and fire,
Inconstant like the sea, of whence 'tis borne,
Rough, swelling, like a storm . . .
Ah, then, but might not desire lead to love? Adrien was so handsome and he was certainly brave. She'd never known any man like him. Did he love her? Romell frowned. She took a deep breath and got to her feet. She must find Adrien and talk to him. They'd marry--he'd asked and she'd accepted. This being apart until they disembarked in Amsterdam was ridiculous. And, as she recalled now, hadn't he spoken of her as his "wife" to the ship's captain?
As she reached for the door, someone knocked. She threw it open, expecting Adrien, but it was a young sailor with a bowl of food. Very well, then, she'd eat first. The ship had begun to pitch and roll markedly--this North Sea crossing seemed every bit as rough as her trip across the Atlantic to England. She'd be the better for food in her stomach.
When Romell finally ventured from her cabin, she decided that Adrien was probably with the captain. She wished she had a less pungent cloak than the one she'd taken from Three Oaks, which now smelled of onions as well as its former owner. Wrapping the garment about her as protection against the cold sea wind, she sought out the captain.
The captain peered into her face curiously as he answered her question about Adrien.
"Why, ma'am, he did ask if I had a quill and ink he might use to write a letter. I had the boy show him to my cabin."
"I must see him."
"I'll take you there meself," the captain said gallantly, offering his arm. If he wondered at her urgency, he held his tongue.
Adrien was not in the captain's quarters. A piece of paper lay on a table, and Romell couldn't help but read the words scrawled halfway down the sheet. It was addressed to William, Adrien's half brother.
"... unhappy circumstances have forced me into an unexpected marriage. I would not otherwise need money, nor would I request of you that ..."
Romell turned quickly, bumping into the captain as she made for the door.
"Thank you," she managed to say to him. "I'll seek elsewhere."
She hurried to her own cabin, Adrien's words circling in her head. "Unhappy circumstance-- forced." Adrien didn't want to marry her. Adrien didn't love her, didn't want her, felt obligated to offer marriage because of what had happened. The lovemaking. Nothing of love in it. "Blind Desire." She should have known.
Romell's eyes swam with tears. She stumbled toward her bunk, threw herself across it and sobbed until she fell into an exhausted doze.
"Are you ill?" A man's voice. Adrien.
Romell sat up abruptly. A lantern flame glowed in the darkness of the cabin.
"I haven't been feeling so very well myself," Adrien said. "A rough crossing."
Romell stood up. She shivered in the chill as her cloak dropped to the floor, but when she stared into Adrien's blue eyes, anger kindled to warm her.
"There will be no need to send a letter to your brother," she said. "I have decided I don't care to marry you."
"You've decided--what are you talking about?"
"I won't marry you! Is that clear enough?"
He half smiled. "You have little choice, under the circumstances."
"I have all the choice I care to make. I refuse to be your wife. If it were possible, I'd wish never to see your face again." Romell put up her chin proudly. "Unfortunately, I must ask your help in finding my cousins since I don't know the Dutch language. Once I join them your 'unhappy circumstances' will be done with."
He stared a moment, then took a step toward her. "You had no right to read what I wrote to William."
She crossed her arms. "It was unintentional. I'm not a puss-pry. Perhaps you shouldn't have left the letter exposed to all eyes in a cabin not your own."
"Damn! I was taken ill. Do you dare to justify—?"
"Don't you swear at me! Please leave my cabin. We have nothing more to discuss."
He glared at her, the lantern glow shadowing his face so that he suddenly seemed truly a stranger. He reached out to grasp her shoulders. She shrank away but came up against the bunk.
"You're naught but a damn little fool," he told her, shaking her as he spoke.
Romell twisted under his hands, struggled to strike back at him, but he pulled her close to him, holding her so she couldn't move, her head against his chest. She heard the rapid beat of his heart and, for a second, she melted against him.
No!
Romell jerked away. "Don't touch me!" she cried. "I despise you!"
They stared at one another for a long moment until Adrien deliberately lowered his head and kissed her. She fought her impulse to respond, keeping herself stiff and unyielding. He raised his head to look at her.
"I memorized lines from a poem by John Donne that fit you," she told him in a low, intense v
oice.
"If you were good, your good doth soon decay;
And you are rare, that takes the good away."
She raised her chin defiantly.
He elevated an eyebrow and stepped back. "Is there no end to your talents?"
"Please leave." Her voice shook Adrien bowed. "As you wish, Miss Wellsley." He turned on his heel and left the cabin.
Romell didn't see Adrien again until the ship was at anchor off Amsterdam and they were ready to disembark. He behaved very formally as he assisted her into the boat, then onto the dock, where she waited while he asked questions of passing Hollanders. The men he spoke to listened, then shook their heads. Finally, Adrien shrugged and approached a dock worker who was hefting a cask onto his shoulder. Romell heard the name "Jacob."
Adrien walked back to her side. "No one I've met so far knows your cousins, or if they live in Amsterdam. This man, though, remembers Jacob, who used to work on the docks here before he went to London. Jacob has relatives on Bree Straat—Broad Street. Perhaps they'll take you in."
"Take me in?"
"I must not compromise you further by seeking shelter for you in a common hostelry," Adrien said stiffly. "It may take days to locate your cousins."
"So, I am to ask charity from complete strangers?"
He frowned. "What would you have me do?"
Romell bit her lip. What, indeed? Where was she to go?
"Do whatever you must," she told him.
He escorted her to a carriage and, after consulting with the driver, got in beside her. The driver turned away from the harbor along a cobbled street that ran between tall brick houses, turned into another street that ran along a canal bordered by tall elms.
Romell twisted her fingers together in her lap as she made a pretense of looking out the window. Finally, the driver called out: "Bree Straat." As the driver halted the horses, Adrien leaned forward to stare at the houses. "It seems Jacob has prosperous relations," he said.
Romell didn't recognize the language Adrien used, speaking to the stout woman who seemed to be mistress of the house. Although Romell didn't know Dutch, she could recognize many Dutch words since they sounded almost the same in English. Whatever Adrien and the woman spoke, it was not Dutch.