Heir To The Sea

by Danelle Harmon

  Captain Kieran Merrick might be a New Englander, but he had passed the initial test with flying colors.

  And so, it appeared, had Liam Doherty.

  * * *

  Terrapin stew…wild turkey with oyster stuffing…sweetbreads, creamed rice, peas and carrots. Kieran barely tasted any of it, though he heard himself complementing his hostess on the food. Across the table, he felt the curious gaze of Rosalie’s younger sister, a freckled waif with huge blue eyes, as she not-so-discreetly studied him. He made conversation, was grateful for the breeze wafting in through the open windows, noted the raw mutual interest between Liam and the widow, Mrs. Annis Cutter, and wondered if they needed cooling as much as he did. Rosalie beside him, her thigh so close to his own. The buoyant laughter and sharp eyes of Rosalie’s mother, her Scottish father exclaiming over each course that was brought out and served, the foxhounds that had wandered into the room and now lay at his feet, one on each side, panting in the heat and waiting for him to slip them something under the table.

  He tried to think of something other than the proximity of Rosalie’s leg to his own. Of the dining room’s elegant white wainscoting and tall windows framed in rose damask hangings, the glittering silver, crystal and fine china, the conversation around him. Of Liam turning on the charm and rendering Mrs. Cutter all but helpless as she blushed and giggled like a young girl; of the shared, secretly triumphant glances between Rosalie’s parents, of a servant offering him wine before he held up a hand in refusal, of birdsong outside and the salty smell of the sea. None of it helped. None of it took his mind off the very real fact that he had grown savagely, uncomfortably hard at the nearness of the beautiful woman beside him; her scent of sweet floral meadows, her lively violet eyes, the way her curls had been arranged to frame her face, the shadowy cleft of her bosom, a tantalizing swell of white flesh rising above her neckline and accented by the sea shell that invited his gaze down, down, down, into that sweetly forbidden valley.

  She must be equally aware of him for in that moment, she deliberately pressed her leg against his.

  Kieran couldn’t help it. Subtly, he reached under the tablecloth and laid his hand on her thigh.

  “Kieran!” she whispered, but made no move to pull her leg away, instead blushing beneath her spray of freckles.

  “What’s with you two?” Susannah asked sharply, looking from her daughter to her sister-in-law. “Is it that hot in here?”

  “Yes,” both Annis and Rosalie said in unison, exchanging glances.

  Susannah frowned and Kieran, trying to maintain a straight face, quietly removed his hand. What had come over him? He was not the sort to ever compromise a woman in such a way…but oh, he couldn’t resist and damn it all, he didn’t regret it, either—

  And suddenly he felt her hand on his thigh.

  The room was suddenly stifling and he reached for his glass, letting the cool water slide down his throat. He wondered if steam was rising from his pores.

  “You too, Captain?” asked Susannah, her frown deepening.

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

  “You look as flushed as my daughter and sister-in-law. Shall we open more windows?”

  “That might be wise,” he managed, clandestinely sliding his own hand over Rosalie’s and holding it there against his thigh, perilously close to his arousal.

  Marry her.

  The words came from nowhere. Somewhere. Faintly heard but powerfully suggested, all but shouted into his heart until he forgot everything but her, could think of nothing but her, and a sense of urgency fisted his ribcage and squeezed until it was all he could do to draw breath. He was barely aware of a servant setting a dish in front of him.

  Marry her.

  She was warm and lovely and brave, spirited and pretty and loyal. He wanted to lose himself in her, lose himself to her, and he knew right then and there that he had never wanted anything in his life as much as he did her.

  Mar—

  “So, Captain,” Susannah McCormack was saying, digging a spoon into her own dish, “is the ice cream not to your liking? You’d best eat it quickly or it’ll be soup.”

  He moved, trying to ease his erection—and his leg bumped again into Rosalie’s beside him. Her hand was still on him beneath the table cloth, her fingers impishly rubbing his thigh, and he suddenly couldn’t think.

  “Ice cream? Oh, yes, of course.” He looked down at the confection before him, garnished with peaches and beginning to sink into its own puddle of melt, and all but grabbed for the spoon. The confection slid down his parched throat, cooled his skin and delighted his senses but did nothing, absolutely nothing, to relieve the swelling between his legs that was, thank God, hidden by the drape of the tablecloth. A swelling that only grew harder and more uncomfortable as Rosalie kept her hand right there on his thigh with nobody at the table any the wiser, as the heat of the day pulled the scent of flowers from her skin, as his gaze kept drifting to the devilishly seductive shadow between those full and generous breasts that he ached to hold in his hand, to bury his face against and into, to suckle—

  “I must commend you for getting past the blockade so neatly, Captain Merrick,” Susannah was saying, chasing a slice of peach around her dish. “Baltimore has been absolutely choked by it. It’s not easy to do. I hope you have no plans to leave us soon and try to make your way past it back out to sea.”

  “We aren’t goin’ anywhere for a time, are we, Kieran?” asked Liam across the table, with a subtle wink at Mrs. Cutter.

  “What?”

  “We’re not leaving just yet, right, lad?” Liam repeated, smirking.

  Kieran couldn’t think; Rosalie’s fingers had drifted around and were now against the inside of his thigh.

  “Captain Merrick, are you quite all right?” Susannah was asking.

  “I’m sorry, I uh, did not hear the question.”

  Liam’s grin was spreading. “For the third time, Kieran, we’re not leaving Baltimore anytime soon, are we?”

  “Uh…no, Liam, no, we’re not.”

  “Well! I must say, that’s a relief!” This, from Mrs. Cutter, whose eyes were bright and merry as she leaned close to Liam. “We’re just getting to know you both!”

  Susannah, frowning, leaned sideways and began to lift the tablecloth to peer beneath.

  Rosalie withdrew her hand, and out of the corner of his eye Kieran could see her impish little grin, her sparkling eyes full of devilry.

  “I think Mr. Doherty and I are both happy to stay in Baltimore for a bit, ma’am,” he said dutifully. “I have a crew to replenish, and that will take some time. And as my family is in the shipbuilding business, I’d like to visit your shipyards and compare your ways of doing things to ours back in New England.”

  “Oh, that is very good to hear, Captain. We should hate to see you leave so soon.”

  Kieran looked deliberately at Rosalie, his thigh still on fire from the touch of her fingers. “Indeed, ma’am, I’m in no hurry to go.”

  “Ye can’t go, ye’re courtin’ the lassie,” Angus said, scraping at the last bits of his ice cream with his spoon. “And we might have other things t’ discuss as well, eh?”

  Marry her, came that little voice again…a voice that almost sounded like his father’s.

  Kieran smiled. “Indeed, sir. We very well might.”

  And so the dinner ended, the men withdrew to the library for cards and claret and the ladies went off to the salon for tea. Angus talked about Scotland, his business ventures that included everything from the ships he owned to the privateers he financed to the shops he ran to sell his imports, while not-so-subtly quizzing Kieran on his own family as well as how he planned to support himself once the war ended. Liam eventually excused himself and sought his room (and perhaps Mrs. Cutter, Kieran thought privately), Stephen followed shortly thereafter, and Kieran was finally left alone with the man he hoped would be his future father-in-law.

  “So now that ye’ve met my kin, ye still want to court my daughter, Cap
tain?” asked the Scotsman, filling his pipe. “I hope we haven’t put ye off.”

  “Your family reminds me of my own,” Kieran said. “And one truth became apparent to me tonight, sir. That truth being, that I am in love with your daughter, and that I have neither the patience nor the inclination to engage in a lengthy courtship.”

  Angus pushed the stem of the pipe into his mouth. “What’re ye saying there, Captain?”

  “It’s not what I’m saying, it’s what I’m asking. That is, for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Angus took a long, long draw on the pipe and regarded him thoughtfully. “Ye’ve only just met each other.”

  “I know that. But in that short time, we’ve gone through a life-or-death experience that has forever made us a part of each other’s lives. I have seen the best of her and she has, I believe, seen the worst of me. We’d have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

  “She’s a handful, ye know.”

  “I know. And I love her for it.”

  “She’ll be tellin’ ye how to run yer ship.”

  “And I will respect and consider her input.”

  “She’s chatty and likely to talk yer ear off.”

  “Should she do so, I’ll still have the other one.”

  “Eh?”

  Kieran smiled and shook his head. “I think she’s delightful, sir. And as you’ve probably noticed, I’m not a man of many words, so her liveliness infuses me, makes me happy.” He looked down into the glass of buttermilk he’d been nursing. “Not so long ago, I lost my parents under tragic circumstances. Because of that loss, happiness has eluded me these past few months, but your daughter…she is a balm to my soul, joy to my spirit, a friend who has come to my aid, a comfort to me in ways she might never imagine.”

  “And what d’ye think ye might give her in return for all that, eh?”

  Kieran met the other man’s eyes. “My steadfast and undying loyalty. My unfailing protection of both her honor, her person, and her name, to the death if need be. A secure future, a life of devotion, and the entirety of my heart for however long the good Lord allows it to beat.”

  “Will ye let her sail with ye?”

  “I’d have it no other way.”

  “Good. Because she’s got the salt water in her veins, y’ know. Should’ve been born a lad so she could master a vessel.”

  “I am quite glad she was not born a lad. And I see no reason why her gender should have any bearing whatsoever on her seamanship, nor her ability to command a ship.”

  Angus guffawed.

  Kieran shrugged, and regarded the other man with quiet, unflinching eyes.

  “So ye’re set on her.”

  “Aye, sir. I am.”

  “She comes with a dowry, of course. A substantial one. But, ye got finances of yer own, Captain?”

  “I’ve been a successful privateer. And while I’ve not been home yet for the official reading of his will, I expect that I’m heir to one-third of my father’s estate which includes, amongst other things, half-ownership of a successful shipbuilding business shared with my uncle as well as various holdings, land, and investments.” Kieran looked down into his buttermilk. “My father died a very wealthy man, though he was content to live rather below his means.”

  “And where will ye take my Rosalie? Will ye stay here in Baltimore?”

  “That, sir, is something I would discuss with her. The decision as to where we make our home would be a mutual one.”

  Angus nodded, pulled the pipe from his mouth, and pretended to study it. “Ye seem a solid, dependable sort with a good head on yer shoulders and an unflappable temper. I like that in a mon, and I like it even more in a mon who wants to be my son-in-law.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Kieran stood up. “I take it, then, that I have your consent?”

  “Aye, lad, ’tis yers. Welcome to the family. Now go do yer courtin’, take her for a stroll, and put the question to her.”

  Chapter 24

  There was impromptu dancing after dinner, with Liam at his fiddle until he had everyone out on the floor laughing, breathless and enjoying themselves. Annis found a spot near his right shoulder and added voice to his Irish ballads and rollicking sea chanteys, most of which lent themselves quite nicely to a Maryland dance floor. Drink flowed and spirits were high. Kieran claimed Rosalie for the first dance and despite his earlier self-deprecation of his mastery of the art, proved to be a competent partner, much to Rosalie’s delight. They swept around the room, happy and laughing, and when the dance was over Kieran took up Liam’s fiddle himself so that his old friend could take a few turns with Mrs. Cutter. Then, catching Rosalie’s eye, he invited her to join him in the garden for some air.

  “I thought you would never ask,” she said, tucking her hand into his elbow.

  “Hot in there, was it?”

  She caught the teasing glint in his eye and playfully swatted his arm with her fan. “You rogue. I can’t believe what you did under the table cloth!”

  “I can’t believe what you did either—and I enjoyed every second of it.”

  She laughed, thinking of Mother’s confusion and suspicion.

  Outside, the night was heavy and warm, the air scented by blooming roses and stirred by a mild breeze that rustled the magnolia trees above their heads. The earlier showers had swept away the oppressive humidity, leaving everything fresh and sweet-smelling. It was a pleasant night. Lanterns had been hung around the perimeter of this small garden, and spying a bench placed invitingly under a tree, Kieran indicated it with an outstretched hand. Rosalie sat first, and he took a seat beside her. She wondered if they were being watched by anyone from a darkened upstairs windows. Wondered if her parents were exchanging excited observations of their absence. One thing was for certain: Their departure from the gathering inside had not gone unnoticed.

  Kieran reached out and found her hand.

  Rosalie moved closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. They sat together listening to the crickets and night insects, the wind through the trees, a carriage passing in the street as overhead, the stars twinkled through the branches.

  Neither one spoke for a long time, just happy to be in each other’s presence.

  “Nice night,” Rosalie finally said at last.

  “Made all the nicer by the fact that we’re enjoying it together.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes playful. “I hope you really didn’t think me too bold at dinner, tonight.”

  “I thought you delightfully bold.” At her raised brow, he added, “And I’d have you no other way.”

  “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Probably the same thing that came over me.” He tightened his arm around her. “After all, I started it.”

  She laughed and nestled closer to him. “When we first met, I never dreamed that we could sit together like this and have a civil conversation, let alone like each other.”

  “I more than like you, Rosalie. Surely, you must know that.”

  She met his gaze and swallowed the suddenly dry spot in her throat.

  “I had a talk with your father,” Kieran continued, turning so he could take both of her hands in his own as he looked solemnly down into her eyes. “He gave me his consent.”

  “To court me?”

  “No, dearest. To marry you.”

  Her eyes widened. “To marry me?”

  “Well, yes, if you’ll have me.”

  Rosalie opened her mouth and for a moment no sound came out and a thousand emotions assailed her. We’ve only known each other for a short time…he’s still grieving, this is too fast… I’m in love with him and oh, my God, I just want to throw myself into his arms and shout out my joy to the world…he makes me laugh, he makes me feel safe, he makes me feel loved and I just want to make him laugh, to make him feel safe, to make him feel loved in return. But… I’ll have to tell him about James…that will ruin everything….

  “Will you have me, Rosalie?”

&
nbsp; “I—I, uh….”

  “Well?”

  “I—I am honored, more than any woman on earth has the right to be, but…but… I am not worthy of you, Kieran.”

  He frowned, his eyes darkening with confusion. “No, dearest. It is I who am not worthy of you.”

  “You don’t know me, Kieran. You don’t know anything, really, about me.”

  “We have our entire lives to get to know each other. I’m asking you to spend yours with me.”

  “I don’t even know your middle name, except that it begins with a ‘T’!”

  “It’s Trevor, after my grandfather. He was an admiral in the Royal Navy. I never met him. What else would you like to know?”

  “I—oh, this is too fast, I’m not sure I’m ready to…to even think of marriage.”

  “Why not?”

  “I—I have to think about this, there are things about me you don’t know, things about which I’m ashamed, and—”

  “Rosalie.” He stood up, still holding her hands, and came around in front of her; there, he went down on one knee, gazed into her eyes, and squeezed her hands before pulling them up against his heart. “I love you. Can you not understand that? I’m not a worldly man, and I’m not very good at this. I’m not a fellow who gives his heart or affections freely. I’m not confident around women, you already know that, and it has taken more courage to kneel here and ask you to marry me than it did for me to fight off Escobar’s pirates which, I must confess, was child’s play compared to the waters I now find myself negotiating. Your hesitation and protests are giving me cause to wonder if perhaps I’ve misread you, and you don’t return my affections; if that is the case tell me now, and this will be the end of it.”

  “But I’m… I just broke off a betrothal, and to jump this quickly into another….”

  “Rosalie.” He looked pained. “I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, to feel your lips, your skin, your very heart beating against mine. I go to sleep and I dream of you, I wake up and you’re the first image in my mind. I fantasize about you, I can’t stop thinking about you and I am miserable when I’m not with you. I am utterly undone for wanting you, Rosalie.” He reached into his pocket. “Here. I wrote this for you after we finished supper tonight. I had a feeling you might not be quick to accept my proposal so I wanted you to…to see my…uh, creative side.” His mouth tilted in a smile. “Read it.”