One Perfect Flower

by Roberta C. D. DeCaprio

  She gazed upon his face; a generous mouth, aquiline nose and a straight forehead. With a light touch, she fingered the bandage shielding his wound. What would I have done if your injury had been fatal? She shuddered to think and covered him with the quilt. The ship settled to a lulling rock, the storm’s rage now quiet. The waters calm.

  Her own eyelids grew heavy. She climbed over her husband to the other side of the bunk and slipped beneath the quilt, listening to him breath evenly beside her. Thank you, Lord, for getting us through the storm, she silently prayed before she fell asleep.

  ****

  Braiton woke to find Raven’s warm, soft body cradled in his arms. Delicate, slender fingers rested on his chest, a golden brown cheek familiarly nuzzled against his shoulder. He turned to look into her sleeping face, taking in the fine sculptured details of her full mouth, nose, and cheekbones. Even in sleep the slant of her eyes was prominent. Wisps of shiny black hair curled around her face, cascaded down her shoulder and across his chest. He reached for a lock of hair. Twirling a curl around a finger, he brought it to his face, inhaling her scent. Sweet and clean. Everything about her was feminine, yet firm. Aye, firm. Like her breasts. He smiled remembering their fullness erupting from the neckline of the dress she wore the night they were wed. How is it you feel so right in my arms, lass, warm against my naked flesh?

  He froze.

  What am I doing here, lying naked beside her? He removed her hand from his chest and slipped out of bed. The room spun. Reaching for the bedpost, he took a moment to steady himself before stepping over the debris. He found his breeches amongst the wreckage littering the floor and dressed in a corner.

  “How are you feeling, my shikaa?”

  He turned to find her watching him, her eyes dewy in the morning light. “I’ve a wee bit of a headache.”

  She arched a brow. “Just a wee one,” she coined his phrase.

  He frowned and made his way back to the bed, sitting at the edge. “What happened last night?”

  She sat up against the pillow. “You do not remember?”

  “Nay, lass, ’tis all a blur.”

  Raven motioned to his forehead. “You were knocked unconscious from a falling beam.”

  He brought a hand up to his forehead and touched the bandage.

  “Terrance and Riley carried you to the cabin.” She cleared her throat. “Your clothes were soaked, so they had to be removed.”

  His frown deepened, not quite sure he really wanted to hear the answer to his next question. “Who removed them?”

  Raven’s cheeks turned a deep crimson. “Terrance. And I helped.” She cast a glance away.

  The blood drained from his face, a sickening horror vised his heart. “Did I do…did anything happen?”

  Her eyes met his. “You need not worry; all is still in order with our agreement.” She tugged at the sleeve of her dress. “As you can see, I am still fully clothed.”

  He reached for her hand. “You don’t understand, lass—”

  She pulled free from his grasp. “I understand only too well,” she interjected, raising a defiant chin. “I know my place; make sure you do the same.”

  “As I’ve said before, I always keep my word.” He stood to fetch his boots. Pulling them on was a chore in his condition. He reached for his jacket, anxious to leave the cabin, and remove himself from her surveying gaze. With awkward steps he made his way to the portal. “I’d better check on the damage done from the storm.” With a quick sweep of his eyes, he made an inventory of the room. “I’ll send Molly up to tidy the cabin; bring you up clean clothes and a bit of breakfast.”

  With that said he shut the portal behind him and made his way to Terrance’s cabin. Entering the room without knocking, Braiton found the good doctor sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea.

  At the sudden intrusion, Terrance arched a brow. “And a good morn to you, too, m’lord.”

  He studied Terrance intensely. “What the hell are you up to, Terry?”

  Terrance’s wide eyes feigned innocence. “I can’t imagin’ what you mean, m’lord.”

  “Oh, can’t you now?” He moved closer to the table, wrestling the anger rising to get the best of him. “Was it just not yesterday you cautioned me to keep my manly desires at bay?”

  “Aye,” Terrance agreed, stifling a grin. “I remember somethin’ was said to that nature.”

  He failed to see the humor of the situation, the rage he harbored nearing eruption. “And yet you left me, unclothed, in her presence. You’re not helping me here, Terry,” he admonished.

  The doctor leaned back in his chair. “I brought you to your cabin, m’lord. Where you belonged.” He frowned. “Was I to kick your wife out?”

  He ground out the words. “Aye, Terry, ’tis exactly what you should have done. Long enough to remove my wet clothes and put on dry ones.”

  Terrance replied with staid calmness, “You wanted the marriage to look genuine.” He shrugged. “I thought this would be a good way to do that, and what did it hurt for her to look a wee bit? It seemed only fair, since you got a good look at what she’s about.”

  His cheeks burned with the remembrance of how he cooled Raven’s feverish, naked flesh. The memory stirred his very core, left him aching for her from deep within.

  “With you unconscious, m’lord, I didn’t think ’twould go much farther.”

  “And there lies the crux of it. You didn’t think.” He chuckled sardonically. “Or didn’t you count on me ever waking up?”

  Terrance arched a brow. “Well, of course, I knew you’d awaken, the beam merely grazed you.”

  His frustration mounted. “And what then, Terry my friend…if at this point I can still call you a friend…was there not one thought in your head as to what might happen when I did open my eyes?” His irritation became a scalding fury. “I am only human, by God! Didn’t you realize lying naked beside her in bed would be disturbing?”

  “I-I…” Terrance stammered.

  He cast Terrance a wary glance. “Aha, I thought I’d never see the day when the good Dr. Murphy was at a loss for words.” He narrowed his eyes “Listen to me, and listen well, so we never again have to have this conversation. My reasons for deciding never to marry have not been by choice…Lord knows I’ve had my share of lonely nights…but out of necessity. You of all people, my personal physician, understand better than anyone the penalty at hand. This prank you pulled could have led to dire consequences. For the lass especially.” He combed a hand through his hair. “If you haven’t a care for my feelings, Terry, at least think of hers. She doesn’t deserve to be caught up in my hell.”

  Terrance’s expression stilled and became serious, his tone apologetic. “I beg your pardon, m’lord, truly, I do.”

  He gave a tight nod. “I thank you for that.”

  Terrance motioned to the seat opposite him. “Now, that all is well between us, won’t you join me for a wee bit o’ breakfast?”

  “Nay, I need to find Captain Kirby, and see what other havoc that beam caused.”

  To his relief The Sweet Maureen suffered only minor damage. For the remainder of the voyage he lent a hand with the repairs, a good excuse to keep his mind on something other than Raven and the morning after the storm. He felt awkward in her presence; the large ship became very small.

  How good ’twill be to finally be home.

  ****

  Three days after the storm, Braiton stood at the rail using the scope to verify Captain Kirby’s sighting of land. He sent for Raven, wanting her to experience the moment with him, but didn’t blame her if she decided not to show. He purposely avoided her, harboring himself in the Captain’s quarters with the excuse of paper work.

  The light tap of her heels on the deck’s floor surprised him. Turning to face her, he smiled and handed her the scope. “Peer through the glass, my lady, and behold the glorious sight of home.”

  Raven raised the viewing instrument to her right eye. She held her chin high, shoulders straight, slende
r fingers adjusting the position of the scope.

  His admiration grew as he studied her further; full, firm breasts erupted teasingly from the lace neckline of the violet dress she wore, slim waist, and well-rounded hips.

  Aye, a tempting lass she is.

  When she turned to hand him the scope, his face warmed with embarrassment at being caught.

  “You must be pleased to finally be home.”

  He smiled again. “Aye, that I am.”

  She dragged her lips into a reluctant smile, quick to fade. “Then I am happy for you.” She looked deep into his eyes. “Since we did not have the opportunity to get to know each other as we said we would, this might be a good time to tell me about your village.”

  Well, I had that one coming, since I intentionally made myself scarce. He searched her face. She looked exhausted. He felt a mixture of pride and pity for the lass. Being at sea was hard enough on a veteran sailor, what was it like for her?

  Did I take enough into consideration the fact this woman never stepped foot on a ship before this? Not to mention helping Molly in the galley, being forced into marriage to escape the Sea Patrol and weathering a storm, all while missing her family.

  “It is quite all right if you would rather not tell me,” she said, breaking through his thoughts.

  “Nay, lass, I want to share Limerick with you.” He cleared his throat and began to recite. “The Sweet Maureen will dock in Shannon Harbour, the port built in 1830 for the use as a transshipping center. Over two hundred and fifty thousand people use the canal, many of them to emigrate from Limerick and Cobh, to America, Canada, and Australia.”

  Raven’s giggle was soft and light, infectious enough to lift a person’s spirits.

  “Your words sound like a page from a history book Reverend Newcomb brought to the reservation when I was younger.”

  “Aye, ’tis where it came from,” he admitted. “When I was a lad my father thought a good prerequisite to sailing was to learn facts about the harbour.”

  “Well, why not tell me about your village in your own words,” she suggested.

  “There are many shops in Limerick, a few taverns, some nice…some not so nice. Christopher O’Donnel runs the smithy and livery, families live in the cottages and there’s a Grand Hotel. The warehouses are bonded, along with a customs and excise post and the Royal Irish Constable barracks are filled with holding cells.”

  Raven’s bemused expression caught him off guard. “All that?” She arched a brow. “Then your village is quite large.”

  He nodded.

  “I will look forward to seeing all of it during my stay,” she concluded.

  “And I’ll look forward to showing you around.” He reached out and took her hand. “Welcome to Ireland, Lady Shannon.”

  She entwined her fingers with his. “Ashoge, thank you, my shikaa.”

  Together they turned to watch the approaching shore.

  Chapter Eight

  Raven stumbled when she got off the ship, her legs the consistency of the molasses her mother made and her father loved to eat.

  Braiton caught her before she hit the ground, helping her reclaim balance. “You haven’t yet gotten your land legs, lass.”

  Sea legs, land legs…it does not matter… either way they are taking me where I do not belong. Where then did she belong? She was alienated in her own village by the white agents, was sent to an aunt she never met, and ended up marrying a stranger.

  “This is Limerick, my lady,” her new husband exclaimed with pride, interrupting her thoughts. “Welcome to the bustling village of Shannon Harbour.”

  She remained silent, taking in the grandeur of the beautiful stone buildings populating the waterfront. Inhaling deeply, she filled her lungs with the crisp air.

  She cast him a glance and discovered he was smiling down at her, green eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “This place is such a part of my heritage, my lady.”

  “You own all this?”

  “Well, not exactly, but Limerick has been governed by the Shannons for centuries.” He pointed to a horse drawn carriage. “Our bian awaits, my lady.” After helping her into the carriage, he climbed in beside her, and then rapping on the roof he called to the driver. “Home, Patrick.”

  The carriage drove over brick and cobblestone paved roads, bringing her closer to her new life. There was nothing more she could do but get comfortable, sit back against the fine velvet seat, and take in the sights they passed. A bunch of noisy baby birds trying to take flight from a stone wall caught her attention.

  “Those fledglings come from Bullock Island,” he explained. “Here they’re called callows.”

  “They seem to have much to say.”

  He chuckled. “Aye, they do at that.”

  She craned her neck to look at the tiny shops lining each side of the street, their windows displaying all sorts of wonderful items.

  “All those shops will be at your disposal.”

  Astonished, she turned to look at him, finding he kept a close watch on her. “I can buy things?”

  Braiton nodded. “I will take you there myself, after you’ve nestled in a wee bit at Shannonbrook.” He settled back in his seat. “The new Lady of Limerick must have the best there is to have. Anything you desire is yours for the asking.”

  She gasped. “But why, my shikaa?”

  He shrugged. “Why not, my lady?”

  “Do not worry, I do not need much to keep me happy,” she offered.

  “’Tis not so much what you need as ’tis what’s expected of you.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “In my position ’twould not be appropriate for my wife to be arrayed in anything but the best.”

  Her mouth tightened. “Then I am to dress for the sake of others?”

  He sighed. “I don’t like to think of it in that way, but aye. There are too many troublemakers and gossip seekers waiting for a chance to ruin or bring disgrace down upon my good name.”

  “It must be hard living for all others to see,” she reflected.

  His voice was shadowed. “Doesn’t your father, as the chief, have to set an example for his people?”

  “Well, yes…” she hesitated, thinking of the times her father wore the full-feathered headdress for ceremonial events. “But mostly his duty is to provide for the tribe, make sure all the families have food.”

  He gestured toward the window. “Look out there, lass.”

  She cast a glance in the direction he indicated.

  “All the area you see is known as the Townland of Cluain Uaine Beag, Gaelic meaning the small enclosed meadow area of the one intended for deputy,” he translated. “My ancestors had great adversaries in those times, acquiring their land and holdings after many conflicts. They stood courageously against those who tried to take their wealth. Many lost their lives in the process.”

  Her shoulders tensed. “My people lost the land they inherited from their ancestors and many died trying to take it back.”

  His face grew solemn. “My forbearers faced many sorrows, as well, my lady. Fortunately, they pulled through, becoming respected and even prosperous in spite of it all. Truth be told, lass, they never let their tenants starve and worked along with them to make the land thrive. As leaders though, they were constantly in the public eye, and their position made them vulnerable to scandals and lies.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Not much has changed, that’s why I go along on my business voyages. Sometimes I need to get away to a place where no one knows who I am or cares what I do; a place where I don’t have to maintain the stand of a leader. If I want to fling off my boots and high step in the river, I can.”

  She giggled.

  His face broke into a puzzled frown. “What amuses you, lass?”

  “The thought of you flinging off your boots and dancing in the water. It is something I would do, but not—”

  “Someone like me,” he finished her sentence.

  “I only meant-
that you are—are so—” she stammered.

  He laughed. “I know what you meant, my lady.” His eyes danced mischievously. “I have to take on the appearance of what is expected of the Lord of Limerick. But by no means is it what Braiton Shannon, the man, is really all about.”

  The gleam in his eyes stirred her heart. “Then I will enjoy getting to know the real man behind the title.”

  He returned her smile, his mustache rising at one corner of his mouth. “You sound confident you’ll accomplish your mission.”

  “We’re home, m’lord,” the driver called from his seat atop the carriage.

  Braiton leaned forward. “There she be, lass. Shannonbrook.”

  Her jaw dropped open as she scanned the beautifully landscaped bushes and trees that surrounded a great mansion. She could not even begin to count the number of large windows gracing the front of the building, looking like many watchful eyes.

  The front double doors, made to accommodate a giant, stood the entire length of the front veranda and reached almost to the second floor.

  “And she’s all yours to run,” he added.

  “Me?”

  “Aye, she needs a woman’s touch. Perhaps you could wake her up a wee bit.”

  She turned to look at him. “You would trust me with the task?”

  He shrugged. “Who else should I trust?”

  She licked her dry lips. “But, my shikaa, I do not know the first thing about—”

  “You know colors,” he broke in. “And what makes you feel warm and comfortable, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I—but…” Why was she finding it so hard to make her tongue work today?

  “That’s all that’s needed. I trust you fully with the endeavor.”

  “I know nothing of cost or quality.” The whole idea frustrated her down to her hair roots.

  “Cost is not a problem, and as far as quality, well, Molly or Anna can advise you there.”