She still could not understand how Marcus had reached Bridgwater before her, but then it seemed that there was a lot that she had overlooked. It was apparent now that Marcus had intended to sail for Fairhaven right from the start, either with or without her, for he had had a boat and a crew waiting. Beth stared miserably into the meagre fire. He had told her only that morning that he intended to escort her to the island, but she had only half-believed him. Yet perhaps his intentions had been honourable all along. She had already begun to regret her impetuous flight and particularly her lack of trust, and now she felt ashamed. But the damage was done. Marcus was deeply angered by her behaviour, and with good reason.
Beth shivered miserably. If Marcus had been acting honourably all along, her lack of trust would have been particularly wounding to him. Locking him up would hurt his dignity but distrusting him went deeper, much deeper. And just at the moment he was so angry he would not even let her apologise.
The fire had burned out and Beth slowly prepared for bed by the light of the one candle. The bedding looked none too clean and she was almost certain that she saw a flea jump from the mattress when she turned the sheets down, so she decided to lie under the bedspread and try to keep warm as best she could. This proved none too satisfactory; even fully dressed she was cold and uncomfortable, and had only drifted into a light doze when the door opened and Marcus came in.
‘Lady Allerton? Are you awake?’
Beth opened her eyes and tried to discern whether or not Marcus was drunk. Certainly a strong scent of spirits had entered the room with him, but when the candle flame flickered briefly on the expression in his eyes, she saw that he was frowning and looked sober enough. His tone of voice was as abrupt as when he had gone out hours previously and Beth’s heart sank as she realised that his temper had not improved. She struggled to sit up as Marcus sat down on the edge of the bed and started to pull off his boots.
‘Oh, what are you doing—?’
Marcus shot her an irritated look. ‘What does it look as though I am doing? I am coming to bed!’
Beth clutched the bedspread to her. ‘Here? But what will people think?’
This time the look that Marcus gave her combined exasperation and a certain grim amusement. ‘Believe me, Lady Allerton, none of the occupants of this alehouse care a jot for your reputation! They already believe that I have ravished you thoroughly and have been pressing me for the details!’ He threw his boots into the corner of the room and started to unbutton his jacket. ‘Besides, it seems a little late for you to be worrying about such things! A hoyden who dashes about the countryside barely chaperoned, who tries to run away in the middle of the night, locks gentlemen in wine cellars and wanders about a port alone after dark clearly has no consideration for propriety!’ His frown deepened. ‘Just tell me one thing—do you have so little faith in me that you disbelieve everything I say to you? I had thought that there was more trust between us than that!’
Beth stared at him in the candlelight. His face was set in hard, angry lines, but behind that she thought she glimpsed another emotion: hurt perhaps, or disappointment. It made her feel wretched, doubly so for mistrusting him and for causing him hurt. A big lump came into her throat and she looked at him, unable to speak. For what seemed like a long moment they stared at each other, then Marcus turned away with a sigh.
‘Just why are you fully dressed and why are you on the bed rather than in it?’
Beth let out her breath on a sigh. Marcus was evidently so cross with her that he would find fault with anything.
‘It is cold and there are fleas in the bed! Not that it is any concern of yours, Lord Trevithick! Why do you not sleep on your ship?’
Marcus laughed abruptly. ‘What, would you have me leave you here all night unprotected? Is that the lesser of two evils?’
Beth turned away from him. ‘Well, if you must stay, I am persuaded that you will find the chair comfortable enough.’
Marcus made a rude and derisive noise. ‘Do not be ridiculous! And kindly move over! You are taking up all the space!’
Beth squeaked and rolled away quickly as the mattress sank under his weight. He was still in shirt and pantaloons, but he suddenly seemed too big and far too close. He was even closer once he had put out a lazy hand and pulled her back to his side. The treacherous mattress tumbled her into his arms.
‘Why, you are cold…’ Marcus’s voice had softened as he felt the chill in her body and tucked it closer to his. He pulled the bedspread over the two of them. ‘There, we shall warm up soon enough and be asleep…’
Beth was warming up far too quickly. Her head was on his shoulder and she could feel the heat of his skin through the thin shirt where the palm of one hand rested against his chest. His breath stirred her hair. The prospect of sleep now receded as she became acutely aware of every line and curve of Marcus’s body against hers and felt the beat of his heart strong and steady against her ear. She had never gone to sleep in such a position before. Frank had never shared her bedroom and seldom her bed. On the infrequent occasions he had troubled her for his marital dues, he had left immediately afterwards.
Beth lay still, torn between arousal and comfort. She was keenly aware of Marcus’s arm about her, his hand resting just below her breast. The awareness kept her awake whilst the corners of her mind started to cloud with warmth and drowsiness and comfort. Marcus turned his head a little and spoke drily.
‘Try to breathe a little, Lady Allerton, or you may find yourself in difficulties. Unless…’ his voice changed subtly ‘…your clothing is too tight to allow ease of breathing? If you wish to take anything off—’
Beth gave a protesting squeak and tried to pull away, but he held her tightly. ‘Never fear. I do but tease you. But you should try to get some sleep, for the voyage tomorrow will take the best part of the day.’
Beth’s eyes flew open. ‘Tomorrow? So we do sail for Fairhaven?’
‘Of course.’ Marcus sounded sleepy. ‘I said we would and so we shall.’
‘But—’
‘No buts…’ He shifted slightly so that Beth’s head was more comfortably pillowed on his shoulder. ‘And no more discussion. I am exhausted, even if you are not. Talking can wait until tomorrow.’
Beth heard his breathing deepen almost immediately and realised that he had fallen asleep. Part of her, a very small part, was affronted that he could so easily ignore the fact that she was in his arms. Evidently he was used to being in such a situation, whereas she was tormented by his proximity. Another part of her mind was grappling with the implications of sailing for Fairhaven in Marcus’s company the following day. She tried to think about it, but she was so weary with the events of the day that drowsiness overcame all resistance. At last she was warm, comfortable and safe, and she soon fell asleep.
Marcus awoke as the grey dawn light started to filter in through the bedroom window. The quay below was already noisy with the business of the new day. He opened his eyes and saw that they had both moved in the night; Beth was now tucked in front of him and they were lying very close and snug, like spoons. Her silky black hair was spread out on the pillow and in sleep her face was as clear and untroubled as a child’s. Marcus smiled to himself. He had to admit that he had treated her very badly indeed.
When he had first seen Beth on the quay he had been so angry that he had not cared a jot about her feelings. As soon as she had tricked him and run away from Ashlyn he had known immediately what she intended and at first could not believe that she could be so foolhardy. He had thought that he had made it clear that he would take her to Fairhaven, yet clearly she had either disbelieved him or simply not wanted his company. Either way he was hurt and angry, but he was also worried. Very worried. A woman alone wandering around the quay at Bridgwater would soon find herself receiving several offers, none of which would be passage to Fairhaven. Passage to the nearest whorehouse, perhaps, and the invitation would be phrased in a way to brook no refusal.
He looked down at Beth’s sleep
ing face. He wondered if she had even considered such a possibility or whether her obsession with reaching Fairhaven had blinded her to all good sense. She was no child to be unaware of the perils of journeying alone, though perhaps she had been so sheltered that she did not truly know what could so easily have happened to her. He had known it, and he had had men on every corner, in every inn, looking for her. He had been terrified that he would not find her in time, or that some accident had already befallen her on the way to Bridgwater.
Then he had seen her and his anger had increased tenfold because she was so obviously unharmed and still unaware of the danger she was in. He had wanted to take her and shake her hard, to force her to recognise her own folly, to punish her for the fear and misery she had made him suffer. He had wanted to kiss her and make love to her despite the hurt of her betrayal. So he had locked her in and left her until his anger had subsided, and then he had come back and seen her and wanted her all over again…
Marcus shifted uncomfortably. Beth was pressed against him, very soft and sweet, the curve of her buttocks resting tantalisingly against his thighs. Marcus was already half-aroused and now felt himself harden further as he considered their relative positions. He reminded himself sternly that there were several layers of clothing between them but this did not help as it simply made him think of removing them all. Then there were the fleas…That was better. His tense body relaxed slightly. He had locked Lady Allerton in a flea-ridden room in a rough alehouse on the quay in Bridgwater and had spent the night with her there. He smiled a little to think of the reaction of the society gossips to such a story.
He smoothed the hair away from Beth’s face with gentle fingers and she turned her head slightly, snuggling closer to him. Marcus obligingly adapted the curve of his body to hers. He knew there could only be one ending to Beth’s adventure now, now that she was so thoroughly disgraced. It did not disturb him, since it was what he had intended almost from the first moment he had met her. How Beth would react to his proposal was a different matter, however. Marcus frowned. He was not at all sure if she would accept him. Most importantly, she was still obsessed with Fairhaven and he did not want to have to contend with such a rival. So they had to go to the island and Beth had to find out the truth about her grandfather and then perhaps she could put the whole matter behind her and concentrate on the future. A future with him. Marcus sighed. It should have been easy but he had the deepest suspicion that it would not be. Where Beth Allerton was concerned, nothing was that simple.
Chapter Seven
B eth sat in the shelter of the wheel-house, out of the wind, a blanket tucked about her legs. Marcus had suggested that she stay below in one of the cabins and at first she had complied, but once they were clear of the land the wind had picked up and the boat had started to pitch alarmingly. Beth had soon started to feel nauseous and had moved out into the fresh air, where one of the crew had taken pity on her and arranged the makeshift seat from a few wooden crates. Now, although the horizon still dipped and soared with sickening regularity, Beth could at least feel the refreshing spray on her face and breathe deeply of the salty air.
She had quickly noted that Marcus seemed quite unaffected by the movement of the boat. He had been in the wheel-house for quite some time talking to the helmsman and he had also taken his turn at doing whatever job was required; casting off, trimming the sails or simply giving a hand to the other members of the crew. And she saw that the men appreciated it. There had been a quick compliment for his skill from one of the hands, and at least one glance between the crew that showed their approval. It was a side of Marcus that Beth had not seen before.
Unfortunately his attitude towards her was in stark contrast. She and Marcus had barely spoken that morning, except for one humiliating conversation over the stale bread and porridge that had constituted their breakfast in the inn. Beth had requested to be taken back to Ashlyn. Marcus had looked at her stonily and said that she could return there if she wished, but that he was travelling to Fairhaven and she might as well accompany him since she had gone to such an unconscionable amount of trouble to get there. That had been the end of the conversation and Beth did not dare question him further about the trip. His face had assumed the same forbidding expression that it had worn the previous night and she knew that she was still in deep trouble. When the meagre breakfast was over she had gone with him out on to the quay where the boat was waiting. They had cast off and now turning back was impossible.
Beth shivered a little within her fur-lined cloak. Ahead of them there was nothing to see but the grey of the ocean, and on the port side the land was slipping away, the hills of Devon growing smaller all the time. Marcus had said that it would take them the best part of the day to reach Fairhaven. To Beth that seemed as nothing after so many years of waiting.
After an hour or so she fell into an uneasy doze and woke feeling queasy and a little befuddled. The sun was peeping through thin cloud overhead and the wind was strong. A rich smell of stew filled Beth’s nostrils and her stomach lurched. She turned away as Marcus appeared before her, his bare feet braced on the wooden deck, a plate of food held in one hand. He took one look at her face and smothered a smile. Beth glared at him.
‘Oh, dear, you look distinctly sickly, Lady Allerton…’
Beth tried to ignore the persistent smell of the stew but was forced to resort to holding her nose. She spoke with a distinct lack of dignity.
‘Lord Trevithick, I would be obliged if you would go away! Now! And take that repellent plate of food with you!’
Marcus sauntered away, grinning. ‘Pray call me if you require a bowl, ma’am!’
Within a half-hour Beth was too chilled to sit still any longer. She was tempted to go down to a cabin and try to sleep, but the thought of the enclosed stuffiness below decks made her feel even more seasick. Instead she wandered over to the rail and leant against it, staring into the flying spray below. She felt cold, sick and lonely, and it was a far cry from the way she had imagined arriving on Fairhaven Island.
Now that she thought about it, she realised that she had given very little thought to the practicalities of the journey. Her imagination had flown ahead of her, skipping over the difficult bits like a rough sea crossing, and had pictured some triumphant return to her grandfather’s castle. She felt a little foolish. It did not help that Marcus had ignored her for the best part of the day and that his crew, apart from a few sympathetic glances, had left her to her own devices.
As much to occupy her mind as to keep warm, Beth wrapped her cloak closer and strolled around the deck, watching the seabirds that whirled and screamed in the ship’s wake, scanning the horizon for land or for any other passing ships out of Bristol. The afternoon dragged by.
‘Land ahoy!’
Beth had been staring at the sea for so long that she felt almost mesmerised by the time the call came. She swung round. Marcus was strolling towards her across the deck, a telescope in his hand. ‘Fairhaven is visible from the starboard bow, Lady Allerton. Would you care to see?’
Beth went with him across to the rail, took the spyglass a little gingerly in her hand and searched the horizon. Sure enough, the great granite cliffs of the island were visible above the tossing of the waves. Everything looked grey: sea, sky, land. The clouds were lowering and clung to the island like a veil. But it was beautiful.
‘Oh!’ Beth handed the telescope back to Marcus, her eyes shining. ‘I can scarce believe it! It looks very beautiful, my lord!’
There was a strange expression on Marcus’s face, part amused, part rueful. ‘If you think that, Lady Allerton, you must love Fairhaven very much indeed! To my mind it looks a damnably lonely place!’
He turned away to issue some instruction to the helmsman about avoiding the shoals around Rat Island and anchoring in Fairhaven Roads. Beth hardly paid attention. She was clinging to the rail as the island slowly grew bigger in front of her. Within minutes she was soaked by the spray and the drizzle that was falling from the grey sky,
but she barely noticed. She was so close to achieving her dream of reaching Fairhaven that she had no thought for anything else at all.
As they grew closer the island took on a clearer shape and Beth could even distinguish the chimneys of the castle and the roofs of the houses in the tiny village that huddled at the top of the cliff. The whole of the eastern side of the island was now spread out before them and Beth could see what Marcus meant—there were no trees, no shelter, only the plunging cliffs and the screaming seabirds.
‘There are no trees…’ she murmured, when he came back to her side. ‘Does nothing grow here?’
‘Colin tells me that the crops grow well enough,’ Marcus said, nodding in the direction of Colin McCrae, ‘and my aunt tends a small garden in the shelter of the castle walls. She always complains that the sheep take the greenest shoots!’
Beth frowned. ‘Your aunt?’
‘Why, yes.’ There was a mocking smile curling Marcus’s mouth. ‘Did you imagine Fairhaven quite uninhabited, Lady Allerton? My uncle, St John Trevithick, has been the vicar of Fairhaven for donkey’s years and his sister Salome keeps house for him at Saintonge Castle.’ He gave Beth an old-fashioned look. ‘Did you imagine that I was bringing you to a place quite beyond the pale? The truth is rather more prosaic, I fear!’
Beth looked away. She was not entirely sure what she had imagined, but her thoughts had not encompassed meeting any of Marcus’s relations. She doubted that they would be pleased to see her. Certainly she had not supposed that she would be evicting a vicar who had served the community for decades, nor supplanting his spinster sister. It looked as though her image of Fairhaven as a bleak and neglected place had been embarrassingly at fault.
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