One Perfect Flower

by Roberta C. D. DeCaprio

  She forced her voice to remain calm, steadying her gaze. “Bentley…Kaylena Bentley of Bentwood Manor in Brighton, England.” She raised a defiant chin and counter challenged. “Do you know of her, sir?”

  Langley’s face suddenly went grim. “Aye, my lady, I do.”

  Braiton cleared his throat and made his way to the desk. “I know you are a busy man, Captain, shall we carry on with our business?”

  “You are a most fortunate man, Lord Shannon, to have such a beautiful, well-bred wife,” Langley managed to reply through stiff lips.

  “Thank you, Captain, I quite agree.” Braiton handed the papers over and turned to her with a smile. “My lady, would you please pour each of these men a glass of whiskey?”

  I would not mind dumping it over their heads. She forced a polite smile. “I would be happy to.” Desperate to keep her hands from trembling, she went about the task, filling each man a glass as well as one for her husband. She served their guests first, Langley letting his fingers slip over hers as she handed him the glass. She met his bold stare with an indignant glare.

  “May this warm you for the journey home.”

  She served Braiton last, smiling up into his eyes.

  He returned the smile, reaching out to take her hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze, sending her pulses racing.

  Langley sipped his whiskey while scanning the papers. Finally he admitted, “I see nothing that concerns me.” Dragging his eyes from the documents he glared over at Braiton. “I’d like to check the cargo now, my lord.”

  “Certainly,” Braiton agreed, placing his glass upon the desk. “Everything is below deck.”

  Langley and the other two men set their glasses down on the table.

  She was about to ask Braiton if he wanted her to join them when he answered the question for her. “You remain here, my lady. ’Tis much warmer.” Turning to Langley Braiton explained, “My wife is not yet accustomed to the dampness of the sea.”

  “I understand.” Langley bowed to her. “It has been a pleasure, my lady, one I assure you I shan’t forget.”

  She inclined her head. “I am sure of that as well, Captain. And would you be so kind, should by chance you meet my Aunt Kaylena, to please give her my love?”

  Langley gave her a taut nod. “Most definitely.”

  Braiton stifled a smile and gestured to the portal. “After you, gentlemen.”

  As soon as the door closed behind them, she sighed with relief and made her way to one of the stuffed chairs. She eased her body down into the soft cushion, and then leaned forward to free her aching feet from the tightly bound shoes. She unlaced the torturous leather binds and kicked them aside. Reaching beneath her skirt, she unhooked each stocking from its stay and slipped them down her legs, off her feet, and wiggled her bare toes. Next, she unpinned her hair from atop her head, letting the braid fall to her shoulders. Then she rested her head against the high-back of the chair and closed her eyes.

  ****

  “Will you be wanting dinner, my lady?”

  She opened her eyes to find Braiton looking down at her. She stifled a yawn. “Have those horrible men gone?”

  He arched a brow. “Aye, well over an hour ago. And they won’t be back, you are safe now.”

  And who will keep me safe from you? She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Why did you not wake me sooner?”

  Braiton took a seat opposite her. “You looked like you needed the rest.” He reached for the clay pipe on a nearby table and lit the end, puffing on the mouthpiece. The smoke swirled in circles above his head. “Besides, I enjoyed the ramblings of your dreams.”

  The blush crept into her cheeks. “And what did I say so amusing?”

  He cast a glance at her bare toes. “You were raving on about your shoes.”

  She pulled her feet back, hiding them beneath the hemline of her dress.

  Braiton chuckled. “When we get home I’ll buy you a pair that fit.”

  Home…not my home. With the memory of her village flooding her thoughts, she blurted, “Nothing could be as comfortable as wearing a pair of moccasins. They are light and easy to kick off before running into the river. You cannot imagine how wonderful it feels to have the mud squeeze between your toes, the cool water rush against your legs.”

  He stopped puffing on his pipe and leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me more about your people.”

  “Well, they dress in tunics, skirts, or dresses made of soft buckskin.” She looked down at her full skirt and wrinkled her nose. “It is much easier to work dressed in clothes coming only to your knees, then like this.”

  He placed the pipe aside. “I take it you’re not pleased with your new apparel?”

  She shrugged, folding her hands in her lap. “It is pretty at times, but for the most part it is bothersome… way too much goes on underneath.”

  His interest awakened. “And what goes on beneath the buckskin?”

  Her cheeks warmed. “Nothing,” she murmured, casting her eyes down to the hands she held clasped in her lap.

  Braiton’s hearty laughter brought her eyes up to meet his. “Then I beg you, lass, to make an honest effort to conform to our ways.” He gestured to the neckline of her dress. “Should you have decided this evening not to garb yourself appropriately beneath that garment, all that you’re about would have surely been in full view.” Touches of humor remained around his eyes and mouth. “Langley and I would have definitely come to using our fists.” He arched a brow. “He was quite enthralled with your beauty, talked of nothing else while we were below.”

  She frowned. “That man reminded me of a sly baya, coyote.”

  “Aye, I agree. And if it was discovered you lacked for proper passage, that sly coyote would have you aboard his ship, stripped and bedded by now.”

  For a moment she studied him intently. Is that not what you wish to do? She stood and made her way to the desk, keeping her back to him.

  He came to stand beside her. “What is it, lass?”

  She cleared her throat. “What happens now? What do you expect to happen between us?”

  His voice was velvet-edged and strong. “I married you only to save you from those miscreants. You have nothing to fear from me, nor has our agreement changed. Is that clear?”

  She turned to face him, the heat emanating from his body. “Yes, it is very clear.”

  The muscles quivered at his jaw. “This marriage is one of convenience only and shall always remain as such.” His lips thinned with displeasure. “Throughout your illness I cared for you, and not once did I compromise your virtue.” A probing query came into his eyes. “How could you believe I would start now?”

  She moistened her lips. “I have come to learn that no one gives something without wanting something in return. And you would have every right, now that we are married, to—to…” she stammered.

  His expression was one of pained tolerance. “Aye, you’re correct, lass, ’tis my right to take you to my bed,” he interjected. “But ’tis one I won’t be acting on, now or anytime in the future. ’Twas necessary to keep you aboard this ship, and that’s the only reason I married you.” His burning eyes held her still. “Make no mistake about it, my lady.”

  “Then our agreement stands?” she managed to reply through stiff lips. “When we reach Ireland, you will keep your word…send me to join my family in England?”

  Braiton leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Aye lass, I will. Like you, I always keep my word.”

  “Then we have nothing further to discuss,” she said, stepping aside to find her shoes and stockings. Once she had her belongings, she made her way to the portal.

  Braiton sighed in exasperation. “Where are you going now, lass?”

  She turned to face him. Tired lines appeared around his eyes. “To my bed.”

  “Nay, you’ll sleep here,” he said, blocking her way. “I will share Terry’s quarters.”

  She frowned. “His cabin is way too crowded for the two of you.”
/>
  “There will be no more discussion on the matter, my lady.” He turned the knob and opened the door. “Molly will bring you up your dinner momentarily.” He motioned to the built-in wardrobe in the corner. “You’ll find a nightshirt in the drawer. Sleep well, Lady Shannon,” he said, shutting the door behind him.

  ****

  Raven tossed all night in the soft, roomy bed, more than The Sweet Maureen did upon the sea. The sharp pain of remorse consumed her as she mentally rehashed her conversation with Braiton. The man was a life saver on three occasions, always presenting himself the gentleman. His kindness and generosity surpassed any she’d ever known. What possessed her to doubt his intentions?

  She sat up in the bed annoyed with herself. Braiton was not like agent Hall, Baxter in Silver City, or Captain Langley. He was different, and she needed to start seeing him in a better light, believe him, trust him to keep his word, as Molly said.

  He did assure me the marriage was in name only, and he would never touch me.

  Appeased, she snuggled beneath the quilt in a last attempt to get some sleep. While doing her best to relax another realization struck her. Sitting up again, a gasp escaped her. I have nothing to fear because I am soiled goods. This bitter reflection slapped her hard, crushed her esteem, and tears welled in her eyes. Braiton would never touch her because she was tainted—damaged merchandise. What man would want a used woman? Especially a man as rich and handsome as the Lord of Limerick who could have any woman he chose?

  She swallowed hard, fighting the humiliation that burned her flesh, remembering his words. “What happened to you was not your fault and is not your shame.”

  Were they said just to comfort her? She groaned. An easy statement to profess because you never imagined you would marry me. A mixture of humiliation and rage swept through her veins. Covering her face with her hands, she wept. She hated being on this ship and wished she was with Gabriel and Sunny. How she missed them. How she missed her mother and father. Seeing them in her mind; sitting together by the fire-pit, laughing and singing in spite of their sorrows, made her long for them even more than ever. Then she heard her father’s words, so clear were they that she expected to look up and find him in the cabin with her.

  “Never allow anyone to make you feel badly about yourself. Remember, you are born of proud blood.”

  New found courage and pride flowed through her veins. She dried her eyes with the backs of her hands and squared her shoulders. “I will remember, my father,” she whispered. “I will remember.”

  ****

  Braiton found it impossible to sleep, especially with the scene playing over in his mind of Raven running to the river scantly dressed in buckskin, ebony tresses flowing freely behind her, and long bronzed limbs shimmering with moisture.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bunk he’d taken from Terry and sat upon the edge, combing his fingers through his hair. The thought of her tormented him. Easily, he could get lost in her deep sapphire eyes. Every time his gaze met hers, his heart turned over in response. When she entwined her delicate fingers with his, heat surged through his entire being. Full, lush lips tantalized him, begging to be kissed.

  He clenched his jaw, fighting desire. The curse he was destined to live with denied him such pleasure, and Raven’s presence made it all the harder to bear. He grabbed for the robe tossed over the bottom of the bunk and lit the lantern beside the bed. She had no right to occupy his thoughts in such a way. Nay, ’twas not her fault, I am wrong to let her. He paced the tiny quarters.

  “Does somethin’ ail you, m’lord?”

  Not something, someone to be exact. He turned to find the tolerant Dr. Murphy, who slept on a cot in the corner, watching him. Braiton chuckled sardonically. “Bad enough I keep you from your bed, now I interrupt your dreams.”

  Terrance rose up on his elbows. “They weren’t much to speak of anyway.” He arched a brow. “What o’ yours, m’lord, could they possibly be about a certain young lass I know?”

  “They dare not be,” he grumbled.

  “All the mates on this ship vision her in their sleep and you, the only man aboard who can do more than dream, spend the night with me,” Terrance teased.

  He frowned, uncomfortable to learn his men were mentally ravaging Raven. The fact only added to his aggravation. “You know very well why I am not in her bed. My bed,” he corrected.

  Terrance swung aside the blanket and stood, reaching for his own robe. Taking a seat on a nearby chair, he folded his arms in front of him. “Oh, aye, I remember, she is your wife in name only.”

  He gave the doctor a narrowed, glinting glance. “Besides you, Raven, and myself, only Molly and Captain Kirby are privileged to that information and ’tis the way I want it to stay.”

  Terrance sighed, leaning back in his seat and crossing one leg over the other. “I think ’tis best no one else knows as well, so have no fear, me lips are sealed. But…”

  Braiton’s frown deepened. “I don’t like the sound of that but.”

  “Well, I was just thinkin’, m’lord, if ’tis your hope this marriage appears genuine, would it not be better for you to be in your own cabin?”

  The teasing glint in Terrance’s eyes changed his troubled mood to one of irritation. “Now, how do you think I can manage that?” Frustration rose to choke him. “The last thing either of us wants is to share a bed.”

  Terrance’s smile was smug. “You’re in me cabin, and we’re not sharin’ a bed.”

  He tightened the robe’s sash around his waist. “If you can’t see the difference, I feel sorry for you man!”

  “I’m perfectly aware of the difference, but I think ’tis important to keep tongues from waggin’.”

  “What’s the difference if they wag now or later, when she leaves for England?” he countered.

  “Time has a way of smoothin’ a situation over, m’lord.” He leaned forward in his seat. “You’ve helped the lass above and beyond your duty, now ’tis time you ask somethin’ in return for your graciousness.”

  “Nay, I won’t. ’Tis what she expects, she said it to me herself. No one gives something without getting something in return.” He shook his head. “I won’t have her thinking I’m just another rogue.”

  Terrance’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “I’m not sayin’ you should ravage the lass. Just that she allow you to share your cabin. Sleepin’ arrangements as ’tis here.”

  “Not much on privacy,” he snapped, “hers or my own.”

  “M’lord,” Terrance began impatiently, “you are a figurehead in Limerick, a prominent business man. Every move you make is scrutinized. Grant you, ’tis hard to live like a fish in a glass bowl, but that’s how ’tis for a man with a title.”

  “Terrance Murphy, what you’re suggesting is—"

  Terrance held up a hand. “Let me finish, m’lord.”

  Braiton gave a taut nod.

  “Explain your status and position to the lass.” He smiled. “She’s good-hearted, a bit spirited, but always eager to please. I saw how accommodatin’ she was when she helped Molly in the galley. I know she’ll work with you on this matter as well.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bunk to ponder the idea.

  “Tell her you will send her to England within a year’s time,” Terrance advised further. “By then all eyes won’t be gapin’ so much at the two o’ you. And should anyone question her departure, by then you’ll be safe in sayin’ she’s simply gone to visit her family in England for a few months.”

  Braiton frowned. “And what do I say when she never returns?”

  Terrance shrugged. “Circumstances happen in a marriage, ’tis not uncommon for a husband and wife to drift apart, to live separately.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Aye, sadly enough I know many who do. One in a townhouse in the city, the other at the summer home. ’Twouldn’t be how I’d want to be married, if I truly could be, that is, but it seems to be fine for others.” He sighed. “Then the lass can go on with her life and
so can I.” For some reason the thought of never seeing her again bothered him.

  “As far as all are concerned,” Terrance added, “you’re a married man who has a wife spending time with her family. Raven will never have to know the truth about what physically ails you, and you will never have to worry about bein’ available.”

  His good friend and physician had a valid point. With everyone believing he was already wed, he’d never again have to endure the matrons of society trying to introduce him to their daughters, sisters, or nieces in the hopes he’d take one for a wife. “It all seems to work out perfectly for all of us, doesn’t it Terry,” Braiton admitted.

  “It can if…”

  He arched a brow. “If what?”

  A mischievous twinkle gleamed in the doctor’s eyes. “If you’re able to guard against your manly desires, m’lord. The lass is quite tempting.”

  Aye, that she is. But I would never inflict my hell on her or curse a child of my own, as I have been cursed. “I haven’t a choice, Terry, but to keep my feelings at bay.”

  “I’m sorry, m’lord.”

  He turned his gaze toward his friend. “So am I, Terry, so am I.”

  Chapter Six

  Molly stared at Raven when she entered the cabin bright and early the next morning carrying a wash basin filled with warm water, toiletries, and fresh clothes.

  Her gray-green eyes shone with motherly concern. “And so what is this?” Molly pushed aside a strand of hair from Raven's forehead. “M’lady’s eyes are all red and swollen, and on the morn after her weddin’ night, too?” She clicked her tongue in reprimand. “’Tis bad luck, lass.”

  Raven cast her gaze to the hands she held clasped in her lap. “It is what it is, Molly.”

  Molly arched a brow. “And who says it has to stay that way?”

  She was too tired to argue differently.

  “Lord Shannon wishes for you to join him in the doctor’s cabin for breakfast, m’lady,” Molly said, laying out the clothes she brought at the foot of the bed.

  She watched the elderly woman’s short, stubby fingers place the grooming items on a nearby table. Molly did everything with such love. “Do you have family, Molly?”