With a shrug, he said reasonably, “It could be several things. Morning sickness, for example. You have been looking very pale since morning.”
“It can’t be morning sickness!” She put the back of her hand on her forehead as she fought to breathe without irritating the pain in her stomach. She struggled to keep from moaning in the unrelenting distress of her middle. “I cannot be pregnant!”
“No?” His eyes glowed with the fire she knew was smouldering directly behind his courteous exterior. He had never made any efforts to hide it. “So your wonderful Keith Bennett never bedded you to be sure that you were worth what your brother owed him?” He caressed her cheek. “I’m surprised, but delighted that you are as untouched as the day we wed.”
She started to retort but only groaned as her stomach revolted again. As he had before, Nicholas held her while she was sick and aided her back onto the bunk. She shook with the strength of the nausea ravaging her. For that reason alone, she clung to him. “Don’t be cruel to me now, Nicholas,” she murmured. “I can’t fight both you and this sickness inside me. If you must be mean to me, do it later.”
He replaced the damp cloth on her forehead. “I don’t want to be cruel to you ever. I would far rather be kind to you, but you make it impossible.”
Her eyes creaked open as she looked up into his blurred features. “Damn you, Nicholas Wythe. All you care about is the fact that you can be the first to bed me. You don’t care one bit that I am so miserable I wish I was dead. I wish I had not come out to the barn to discover you that day until you were beyond help.”
“Rebecca, that’s enough!” he retorted sternly.
“What?” she asked in a sharp voice that cracked on the single word. “Does his high and mighty lordship dislike hearing the truth?” Her words faded into a moan of torment. She turned her back on him to face the wall.
He did not dare to touch her to bring her to face him so that he could force her to see the reality she continued to disbelieve. If she was moved, she could become ill again. He hoped she would recover quickly. Although he had never suffered from seasickness, he had seen its debilitating effects. Such a long voyage as the one ahead could be fatal to someone who was ill before they had left behind them the land visible on the horizon as a low, grey cloud.
As he saw her shoulders shake, he knew that in the weakness of her tortured body she had lost the strong will to hide her tears from him. Except for the one time she had cried in the carriage, he had not seen her shed a tear, although too often he had seen them gleaming in her eyes. He had expected her to be unhappy to leave her familiar world, but she was trying to hold it all inside her. With no one was she sharing her sorrow.
He put his hands on her arms to stroke her softly through the coarse material of her shirt. Soon he would have her dressed in the satins and silk that her loveliness demanded. If she could believe that he longed to make her happy, she might be able to see past her sorrow.
“Leave me alone!” she pleaded through her sobs. “I know I will have to endure sleeping in your bed, but can’t you have the decency to leave me alone now?”
Wounded by the loathing in her voice when he had only been trying to comfort her, he stood and walked away from the bunk. He wondered if this could be the same woman he had remembered with such fondness from their last meeting. Then Rebecca had been a delightful child, more interested in his well-being than her own life—which could have been forfeit for harboring the last surviving man of a mission that had turned into a suicide assignment. He had been one of the despised English soldiers who represented the overlord upon whom these proud, independent yeomen had turned their backs in derision.
He sat in the chair by the table and was silent. Rebecca did not want his sympathy, but he could not leave her alone in her misery. Whether she could accept the fact or not, she needed him as he had depended on her so long ago. As she could not have left him to die, he could not abandon her.
When she was asleep, Nicholas opened her bag to search for a clean nightdress for her to redress in when she awoke. As he pulled one out, a piece of paper floated to the floor. He bent to pick up it and could not contain his curiosity as he unfolded the time-yellowed paper. His eyes widened in shock as he saw it was a letter dated “July 1777.”
Dear Rebecca,
The hour is late, but I wanted you to know that I am doing better every day. My recovery is mostly because of you. The doctor says by next week, I will be able to resume my command. Although that is good news, it means going back to fight this war which seems so endless. I am tired of the war, but I will have to do as I have vowed when I became a captain in service to the king you despise so deeply.
I hope you are well, little wife. Have you kept the promise that you would tell no one of our wedding? Be brave, Rebecca. If I survive this conflict, I will set this whole thing right for you. I know it would not be easy for you to be married to a man you do not know. If it is meant that I should come back to you, we will work it out as you want. I just did not want to die without thanking you for your sweet compassion for a wounded stranger.
The candle burns low, so I will stop now. As I fall asleep, I am thinking of a little lass with long, dark braids and a laugh that teases starlight from the sky to twinkle merrily in her eyes. Take care, Rebecca. I wish I could hear how you and your family are doing, but I have no address I can give you to write to me. Somehow, I will find a way to get this to you. You know that I am thinking of you with fondness and gratitude.
I remain your devoted friend and
Your husband,
Captain Nicholas Wythe
Nicholas looked from the letter to the pale face of the woman. When he had written that note, it had been a scant two weeks before the battle where his commander had surrendered their unit to the Continentals. He had given the letter to one of their scouts to post secretly so it would reach Rebecca. After his capture, he had been unable to write for fear of compromising Rebecca and her family. At the height of the conflict, it would have been dangerous to be known to have a friend on the wrong side.
All these years, she had kept his letters. She even had planned to take them with her to Bennett’s house. He wondered how she would have explained to her second husband about her first marriage. Bennett would have never believed that it had been a totally platonic relationship. If he had discovered these letters or their marriage lines, he would have made her suffer.
Carefully, he refolded the letter and put it back in the case. Perhaps Rebecca had not changed that much. It would have been characteristic of the young girl who had aided him to treasure the letters sent to her by her husband who was a stranger. He recalled she had said she anxiously had waited for a year to hear from him. When he had asked her to be his wife, he had not given any thought to the sorrow she would suffer if he died. He was sure there was no one else who would have waited so patiently and mourned so deeply for him.
As Rebecca slumbered, he walked over to gaze down into her face. She was incredibly lovely. From the second she had walked into the church on her brother’s arm, he had known no man would convince him to release her from their marriage. When she had turned to look into his eyes as she went to marry another man, he had seen the fiery spirit of Rebecca North Wythe was unchanged. At that moment, he had known he must have her as his own. In sleep, her face had softened to the sweetness which had been on her features that morning.
If anything had altered Rebecca, it had been his interruption of her wedding. In that moment, the gentle child had been shoved aside to enable her to become hard to deal with her broken heart. Yet he knew the gentleness remained. On the trip, he had seen her talking sweetly to everyone but him. When she thought he did not see, she had gone to admire wildflowers by the side of the road while their horses were exchanged for fresh ones. She had charmed their coach driver so much that the drab man had unbent enough to smile at her whenever she spoke to him.
Only to her husband was she cold. He wondered if she would ever forgive him for t
aking her away from what she saw as the realization of her dreams. If she did not learn on the trip, she would learn after their arrival at Foxbridge Cloister that she would need an ally to help her face what awaited her there. It would not be easy for Rebecca Wythe to become Lady Foxbridge, and there would be some eager to see her fail.
With a smile, he bent to kiss her forehead. His happy expression faded as he placed his palm where his lips had been. He cursed under his breath. Rebecca was not seasick. She was ill with a fever. After he had tucked the blankets around her, he went to the door. Although he did not think he would wake her, he closed it quietly.
“Jake!” he called to a youngster he recognized as the cabin boy of the Prize. “Go to Captain Jennings, and tell him Lord Foxbridge requires his presence immediately. It’s an emergency, but speak to no one but the captain about this. Understand?”
Shaken by the urgency in the man’s voice, the boy said, “Aye, m’lord.” He spun and raced up the steps to the upper deck.
Nicholas went back into the small room. There was only one window, but he opened it wider to freshen the room. The stagnant smell of sickness would hurt Rebecca in her recovery. After a second hesitation, he went to the bed. He loosened the collar of her gown. Pushing aside the blankets, he removed her high shoes and heavy stockings. With a sharp tug, he ripped her cumbersome petticoats from under her dress. He did not want to disturb her by trying to untie them. In her plain gown, she would be as comfortable as in her nightgown.
She did not acknowledge his actions, except to moan softly as he put the blankets over her again. He knew she was lost in agony. There was no medical man on the ship, so she would have to fight whatever was making her ill with her own resources.
A knock on the door cut through his reverie. He opened it. “Come in, Drew. I thought you would want to know about this.”
The shorter man took one look at her and said, “What is it?”
“A fever. Whether it is contagious or not, I don’t know. I noticed she was exceptionally quiet today, and you yourself said she looked pale. If I had known she was ill, I wouldn’t have brought her aboard.”
Jennings frowned. “I wish you hadn’t. If she was not your wife, my friend, I would put her in the hold until she died, so the rest of us would not be contaminated.”
His voice tight with anger, Nicholas retorted, “Drew, I don’t want to hear of that even in joking. Rebecca cannot be moved. The man who tries such will have to get by me first.” The threat of violence marred his worried voice. “I’ll stay here to tend her. I just wanted to let you know of your possible danger, for you are the only one she has had contact with other than me.”
“We will leave your meals in the passageway. If you need anything, give us a note on the dirtied dishes. If she dies, we can’t take her corpse all the way to—” He paused as he saw the murderous look on the other’s face.
“You needn’t worry about that, Captain. She will survive. I shall inform you when she’s better. I bid you good day.”
Briefly, rage raced through Jennings. The Prize was his ship, and he was not used to being dismissed by a lord of the realm as if he was the lowest cabin boy. Then he sighed. He could not blame Nicholas for his uneven temper when the man’s wife could be on her deathbed. Lord Foxbridge seemingly was besotted with his newly rediscovered bride. “If you need anything, let us know,” he said in a much calmer tone.
The black-haired man sighed. “I will.”
Even before the door had closed, he had returned to the bed to wet another cloth and lay it on her forehead to try to cool her heated skin. As he had not done for years, he prayed. She must survive. He had waited almost five years for Rebecca. He did not want to lose her again so quickly.
“Aunt Dena?” came the whisper from the bed.
A soft masculine chuckle filled the small room. “No, my dear. Your Aunt Dena isn’t here. How are you feeling?”
Rebecca’s eyes blinked open to see the darkness lit by a single taper. She had no idea where she was. This was not her room, for her room did not sway with a gentle motion as if she was a babe in its cradle. When a shadowed face came into her view, she raised trembling fingers to touch it. “Keith?” she murmured, sleepily.
“I’m afraid not.” Nicholas knelt on the floor next to the bunk. Slipping his arm beneath her shoulders, he tilted her toward him. “I hope I will do, Rebecca.”
His mouth descended hungrily onto hers. Still floundering in her world of delirium, she was not quite aware of her own actions as her arm slid along his to wrap around his shoulders, and she answered his kiss with her own fervor. In her clouded mind, a burst of light cleared away some of the cobwebs. She was suffused with a yearning to be close to this man who brought such delight to her with a single kiss.
When his lips tasted the skin along her neck, she gave a gasp of undisguised pleasure. Her weak fingers tangled in the untied thickness of his hair. His heated breath against her skin sent waves of ecstasy through her in rhythm with the ones rocking the ship.
She felt herself being lifted, but she was placed again on the bed. Only when the man stretched out next to her did she understand why she had been moved. His eager kiss wiped all other thoughts from her mind. Her lips welcomed his. As his legs entwined with hers, he pulled her close to the sturdy line of his body. He rolled her onto her back so she could feel all of him pressed to her.
Unsteadily, she wavered between consciousness and sleep. The touch of his hands as he stroked her enticingly began to vanish into senselessness. Her body became lighter than a piece of fluff floating on the breeze, and the one above her disappeared. Every bit of herself was washed away into bliss.
Nicholas smiled as he saw her fade into sleep. He had thought she was not fully awake when she had gathered him to her. Still, this was a sample of the passion he had expected from his wife. Although he was sure she had not been cognizant of his identity, her reactions to his kisses were unfaked. Having sampled her lusciousness, he wondered how long he could wait for her to invite him to share her bed. It would not be long. He wanted Rebecca, as he had since that moment he had seen her in the church and had known that this beautiful woman was his.
Getting himself comfortable on the hard bed, he drew her close to him. Her head rested on his shoulders, and her body reformed along his in sleep. Through the thinness of her frock, he could feel the lithe lines of her body. A lightning-hot bolt of desire raced through him as he longed to make love with her. Soon, he promised himself. Now he simply would enjoy her lying in his arms. With her warmth next to him, he dozed also.
Chapter Four
Rebecca woke with memories of anguish and a ravenous hunger which seemed insatiable. Her brow furrowed as she looked around in confusion. It took several seconds for her to remember that she was on a ship bound for England. She wondered what had happened. Although she could recall coming aboard the ship whose name she could not remember, everything else was a bizarre collage of what was fact and the fantasy of a fevered mind.
“Nicholas?” she whispered. She needed someone. It did not matter that he was the man who had wrecked her dreams.
Instantly, he appeared in front of her eyes as if he had materialized from thin air. His hand rested momentarily on her forehead. He smiled as he felt how cool her skin was. Quickly he bent to place a light kiss where his hand had touched. “How are you feeling, Rebecca? You have been quite ill.”
“Ill?” she questioned weakly. “Is that what has been happening? I can’t remember anything but bits and pieces of things I don’t think were real.”
He slid his arm under her shoulders and raised her to take a drink of cold broth. For days, he had had a cup waiting for her when she finally awoke long enough to be hungry. Greedily, she swallowed the soup. She closed her eyes as he placed her against the pillows again. She was so grateful to him that she did not object when he sat next to her on the bed. Gazing up at him, she saw that his face was shadowed with the scruffy beginnings of a beard. It told her that he had b
een devoting himself to her care for several days.
“How long, Nicholas?”
“Five days, sweetheart. I don’t know what it was that you contracted, but it nearly killed you.” He put out his hand to stroke her tangled hair. “You are getting well, and that is all that matters.”
In a whisper, she said, “Thank you for saving my life. I guess that makes us even, doesn’t it?”
“My dear Rebecca, do not think of my crude nursing as an effort to even the balance of debts between us. I did not enjoy seeing you suffer in the depths of your fever. I did not like the idea of putting you in the stuffy darkness of the hold to die like some unwanted animal.” His eyes narrowed in the expression he wore when he was trying to delve deeply into a quandary. “Or is this your latest bid to convince me to release you from our marriage?”
Shocked by his abrupt fury, she stated quietly, “I don’t care a whit about our marriage. What kind of marriage is it when a simple thank-you is twisted and thrown back into my face? Nor do I care a bit whether you helped me get well for kindness’s sake or simply so you could have me to abuse longer. I’m very fatigued. I would be grateful if you simply would leave me alone so I can sleep.”
Her eyes closed. When Nicholas started to speak, he saw that she intended to pretend he did not exist. For a moment, he stared at her. It was useless to argue when she could use her sickness as an excuse to push him away. Suddenly anger filled him. He had devoted nearly a week to her care. The only time she had seemed grateful was when she had been in the flush of her sickness and had let him hold her close. As soon as she began to get better, she showed how much she hated him.
Rising, he went to the door. It slammed loudly as he went out for his first fresh air in days. Let Rebecca take care of herself. He could enjoy himself playing cards with the crew and captain of the Prize. He did not need to spend his time acting as a nursemaid to an ungrateful wench.
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