"So?"
"Commissioned pirates. Cargo vessels headed for Northern states run the risk of being boarded and having their cargoes seized. That substantially increases the danger for this voyage. I've concluded my business here in London. You need me along for protection, and perhaps I'll meet with some business fellows once we reach New York."
"You could have talked the captain into a separate cabin for yourself or a bunk somewhere, even if you had to share the crew's quarters."
"Pirates will secure crew's quarters first, Rachel. I'd be no use at all there. This is a trading vessel, remember? And this was the only spare cabin. It was empty because Haversham's first mate was hired as master for another line. Haversham picks up a new mate when we dock. And privateers are only part of the problem."
"You're the problem!"
"No matter how decent the crew may outwardly appear, you'll be the only female for a thousand miles. Think about that." He shook his dark head firmly. "I'll be with you to keep you safe. We agreed, no arguments."
She stomped her foot. "You tricked me, Morgan! I'll wait for another ship."
"We had a covenant, did we not? You accepted my help and agreed to abide by my decisions. You were very specific in the terms of your offer. I'm being equally specific about the terms of my protection."
"You know I had no idea this—" she gestured angrily at the bunk, "was what you meant! I never suspected you plotted to have me ensconced with you like this. You're forcing me to become your mistress."
Morgan drew himself up to his full height. "No madam. The captain's marrying us this very afternoon."
She gave his cheek a stinging slap. "You have no idea what you've done! We'll both live to regret this. I swear I'll never forgive you for this!" She buried her face in her hands and broke into choking sobs.
Morgan rubbed his cheek with a bronze knuckle. "Nevertheless, I hold you to your promise. You'll see America, as you so desperately crave, but only by marrying me and sharing this cabin. You'll have my protection, or you'll not go at all. No other ships are bound for the Colonies in the coming weeks. You stressed you'd not delay. This was the only available space, and I had to sell my granary to get it. If you've changed your mind about returning to your ailing father, say the word and I'll have our things put ashore. But decide now. Her cargo's on."
Rachel heard the shouts of the men on deck. Final preparations were underway. She sank into the wooden chair at the battered table, utterly defeated. He knew she couldn't turn back. She'd made a pact, and this was where it had led her. There was no escaping the Bargainer.
"I await your answer," Morgan reminded harshly. "Do I tell the men to remove our things?"
She kept her face averted as she dried her tears. "No. You win, Morgan. But you cheated, and we both know it." She glared up at him. "I just want to know one thing. When did you devise this marvelous scheme? When I foolishly solicited your help in booking passage, or even before you arrived on my aunt's doorstep?"
"I negotiated with the captain for both of us to be aboard from the first, Rachel. For the reasons I just stated. You need me. But to be perfectly frank, you gave me the idea for the marriage at sea."
"I gave you the idea?"
He nodded. "At your aunt's the other evening. You wished to be the last woman I ever kissed." Her eyes widened. "I've wanted you from the day we met. I discovered the means to make both our wishes come true."
He occupied himself elsewhere until after midday, then rapped at the bolted cabin door. "It's Morgan. Open the door, Colonial." She let him in and turned her back. "I know you're angry, but we must understand one another."
"I understand." Her shoulders lifted and fell. "I endured months in a covered wagon and years on the frontier. I'll endure this."
"Must you say 'endure,' as if you'd been sent to the Tower to be stretched upon the rack?" He kicked the chair around and dropped into it. "You claim I deceived you. Perhaps that's true, but what choice did you leave me, Rachel? The whole village saw me on bended knee. Instead of returning home from my business outing to set a date for our marriage, I get a wire from my partner that you're leaving the country. You thought I'd calmly accept that?"
"You know there was good reason."
"Despite what you think, nothing has ever come easily to me. I learned years ago that a man must fight for what he wants and there's a price to be paid. Don't be so quick to claim I've won today. I've also lost a measure of esteem in your eyes. You've vowed never to trust me again."
"I have only myself to blame," she sighed. "I should have known better than to place my faith in you. You bargain for yourself always, Morgan. Deep down I knew that."
"I couldn't dissuade you from this insanity, and I couldn't let you board this vessel alone." She saw there was genuine distress behind his gray eyes. "Why can't you see that I had no choice, even as you claim to have none? Your family needs you. You need me. You're just too stubborn to admit it."
"You may be right, but you shouldn't have handled matters this way. I just wish you'd—"
"You're a fool, Rachel Cordell. Wishing is a waste of energy. You might have come to care for your late husband, if you'd spent half the effort trying to appreciate the man as you did in wishing he'd been a better one." With that he slammed out, leaving her to stare after him in stunned disbelief.
God help her, she had to tell him before it was too late. Before he got entangled in the mess that was her life back in the States. Before he came to hate her for the lies...She couldn't marry him!
Then she groaned, realizing he probably wouldn't believe her. He'd think she'd made up a wild tale to avoid a forced marriage. Or that she'd concocted it out of spite. What had he said? Nothing has ever come easily to me. A man must fight for what he wants...
He wouldn't relent, no matter what she told him. And he might be correct about the crew and her safety. It would be better for her if the men witnessed her taking vows, knew she had a virile husband watching over her. God! She'd have to go through with the marriage at sea and find a way to tell him later.
Later. The word sent both a feeling of dread and a small thrill through her. Tonight would again be her wedding night. But this time it would be with a man she cared for. Tonight Morgan would make love to her. She'd be his wife.
She peered out the cabin window. He was nowhere in sight. She brushed her thick hair and changed into a dress the color of tarnished silver she found at the bottom of her trunk. She'd never worn it in England, thinking the color too closely resembled the perpetually overcast skies. It wasn't black, but it was definitely somber. Considering her situation and the color of her bridegroom's eyes, it seemed a fitting bridal gown.
Morgan agreed when he returned to the cabin. "I don't recall that particular frock, madam, but I heartily approve of your choice. I'll be the envy of every man aboard."
"Thank you. I know you don't want to discuss this, but could you answer one question? I couldn't afford what this passage cost, could I?"
"Not on what I paid you. Which reminds me, you're still due a week's salary." He dug in his coat and handed her several folded notes. Then he unbuttoned the coat and hung it over the back of the chair before sitting on the edge of the bunk. He motioned for her to join him. "We need to discuss a few points."
"Meaning you intend to bully me, and I'm supposed to listen."
"Do listen. You must remain safely locked inside this cabin unless I escort you elsewhere. You're not to set foot outside that door without me. And once we're united in the eyes of God, it's critical that we appear like any other man and wife. That means you must try to look pleased about wedding me. Accept my displays of affection in front of the men. Do nothing to indicate a rift between us. I want your word that you'll heed me in this."
"Why am I always the one making promises? Look what the last one did for me! Morgan, I'm an American," she stressed. "I may never return to England. I really don't know that I'd be willing to give up my life in the States. Had you thought of that?"
She shook her head. "This is part of why I couldn't accept when—actually, you never did come out and ask me to marry you. You still haven't asked me."
"Only a fool plays with knives."
She'd risen to peer out the cabin window. Now she dropped the curtain and turned around. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'd only refuse. I don't need that particular blade in my chest, thank you all the same."
She groaned. "I hadn't the faintest idea you were in London, or when you'd be coming back to Crowshaven. You live at the inn because you travel so much. Am I to be content with a husband who's seldom home?"
"You weren't content with one who always was," he reminded her stiffly. "My trade activities will continue. There will be times when I'm not home to share supper or my bed with you. Doesn't mean I'll be sharing them with anyone else. All that's finished. I intend to honor my vows."
The meaning behind those words fully registered. "So hot-blooded Pamela wasn't enough for you? My God, you must have a string of bastards from Newcastle to Sheffield! Sniping at me for listening to Arnold's warnings. This time I'm being forced to marry a rutting stag. Hardly a step up from the drunken lout."
"You were forced to wed Cletus too?" he scowled. "Do you dislike men?"
"No. My father decided I should marry. At the time I barely knew Cletus. He was one of Papa's employees."
"Had he put you in the family way?"
She was aghast. "I was sixteen years old! I'd no more than kissed a boy before my wedding night!"
He pulled out a clean white shirt. "Well, I'm twice that age. Whatever my prior experience, I'll not apologize for it. What bloody importance is it now? I'm in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, locked in this cabin, about to marry you."
"You could be locked in here with Pamela or Medusa herself, and I'd be rejoicing."
"You didn't rejoice when you thought I'd taken Pamela to bed that afternoon at the inn," he pointed out. He peeled his rumpled shirt off. Rachel's eyes were drawn to his bare torso and his hands working the fastening of his breeches. He noticed and chuckled aloud.
"You're impossibly conceited," she hissed, turning her back to him.
His bare arms immediately wrapped around her shoulders. His breath puffed warm against her cheek. "Look all you like, Rachel. There's no longer any reason to be shy or pretend you don't want me. Tonight I'll love you as a man loves a woman, as I've yearned to do for months."
She drew a breath. "You've defrauded me into marriage to you, Morgan. Consummated or not, I may seek an annulment when we reach America. I hope you'll be decent and won't contest it."
He released her at once. "That's rather extreme."
"I don't think so. I'm giving both of us an out. I'm being forced to marry in haste, exactly what I vowed I'd never do again. I spent years in a miserable life with Cletus that was a mistake from the start. If this doesn't work out between us—"
He scowled and shook his head. "No annulment."
"Morgan, think! My country's torn by war and my father's dying. You won't stay on in America. You're asking me to give up my country and spend the rest of my life in England. You probably want children, too."
"Aye, I hope to pass the signet to a son one day," he answered slowly. She turned away and softly began to cry.
Morgan pondered again the question that had inwardly troubled him more than once. Rachel had been married for years, yet she was alone, childless. He'd been loath to broach the subject, owing to her unnatural reticence about her past. His eyes closed at the painful conclusion he reached now. Either Rachel was barren or didn't want children.
Then he recalled her loan of the almanac to young Nathan Tate. That had been a kind gesture. Surely she didn't dislike children?
"Don't cry, Rachel," he coaxed, pulling her into his arms. "I'm not after breeding stock. What I need most from you is companionship. It has to do with the cottage. I've never told you the true reason I don't reside there. Travel's a plausible excuse, but I have Boyd let out the place because I can't set foot inside without a horrible melancholy taking hold. That is, I couldn't abide the cottage until a little widow came along. She can't light a fire or steep a decent cup of English tea, but she brought warmth and light into a house too long filled with despair. I need you, Rachel."
Now she pulled back and searched his eyes. They were soft as they met hers, almost vulnerable. "Morgan, promise you won't fight me on annulling this union. I'll go through with the ceremony because it's the prudent choice. I don't want to live in sin, and I can't argue the attraction I feel for you. Still, we—"
His lips descended to silence her, the kiss butterfly soft. His lips moved to her throat as his fingers tunneled into her loose tresses. "Rachel, I couldn't let you go. Don't make this something detestable. I'm a man who cares for you, who struggles and fails miserably at times. I dream of many things, knowing more than half will likely never come to pass. All I expect is that you'll listen to me, argue with me, make love to me, grow old with me. Are those things you cannot do?"
"I'll disappoint you, Morgan! You don't understand—"
"Shh, Colonial," he whispered, stroking her hair. His hand froze in midair as a memory came flooding back. The comment she'd made about never having held a babe.
He'd just interrupted her. Mayhap she'd been about to tell him she couldn't bear children, but he couldn't face that just now. He didn't want her blurting it out. He wanted to give her time to find the right words. He owed her that much.
"Rachel, if you love me, we can work the rest out. Conquer problems together." He glanced away, finding the next words the grimmest he'd ever had to utter. "It's not too late to speak to Haversham and call it off."
"You would do that?" He heard the surprise in her voice.
He gazed down into her dark eyes. "I'd look a bloody fool, and maybe I am one for thinking your jealousy and the way you look at me means..." He paused, sighing. "Tell me what you want. If you truly can't abide the thought of living with me, I'll go speak to Haversham and call off plans for the ceremony."
She read the hurt that must have been obvious in his eyes."Don't. I'm not certain of anything just now. Maybe I'm just...unsettled. Nervous."
His heart began to beat once more. Much faster. At least a part of her wanted him, cared for him. "Ah, well! All brides have wedding jitters. Grooms, too. Yours is no different. Let's have some scotch for our nerves."
He went to his smaller trunk and pulled out a bottle, taking a long swig before passing it to her. "Mercy, that's awful!" Rachel sputtered after swallowing the fiery amber liquid.
"An acquired taste," he said as he pulled on his frock coat.
"You're nervous, too?"
He nodded and reached to gather his dark hair in one hand, thong in the other. "Would you mind leaving it down?" she asked softly. "You look so handsome. And not the least bit nervous."
He chuckled. "Shall I tell you another little secret? When I look it least, you may rely on the feeling being at its strongest. I assure you, I'm quite human." He moved to the cabin door. "Come here, love." He waited until she crossed the cabin to join him by the portal. Her eyes were still clouded with worry. He took her hand in his. "Rachel, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"
"Will you promise something before I answer?"
"I won't promise not to block an annulment."
"Would you at least agree to consider it? I have a valid reason for—"
"We'll not discuss it until we reach port. Mayhap by then you'll have changed your mind."
"Or maybe you'll have changed yours." Her voice shook slightly, and Morgan frowned. "What I meant to ask," she clarified," is for a promise you'll be patient with me. I've had no time to compose myself. While we'd spoken of a betrothal, it wasn't a true plan and you know it. I need time to adjust to...well, being your wi
fe."
He used every ounce of control to keep his voice soft. "I'll be patient as I can, but you know it's not my strong suit." When she gave him a shy smile, he pressed his lips to the back of the hand he still held in both of his. "I shall try to be kind and understanding, try with all my heart to make you happy. Now Rachel, will you marry me?"
Cursing her own weakness, she gave the only answer she could. "Yes."
Chapter 12
Rachel stared at her left hand with something akin to awe. A dozen times since the ceremony that afternoon she'd glanced at her ring finger for confirmation she wasn't dreaming.
But she knew better. She'd actually gone through with the shipboard wedding, and now heard drunken sailors cavorting on the decks outside the small cabin she shared with Morgan.
He saw her glance down at her ring. "The gift you wouldn't accept back in London was a necklace. I returned it and commissioned the jeweler to copy my signet. The first time I held you in my arms and kissed you was the night we went back for my ring. Seemed appropriate that same ring should symbolize you sharing my life and name. But if you'd rather I buy you a traditional band or—"
Rachel bestowed a soft kiss on his lips. "It's perfect. You couldn't have chosen anything better."
He smiled, but pressed a finger to his lips as he moved to the bunk. He lifted the mattress and pointed to a slim wooden case. His voice was a low whisper. "My dueling pistols. Always take them along when I travel. You'll sleep against the inner wall. I'll take the outside. If anyone should somehow manage to get inside this cabin, he'll have to get past me and the pistols to reach you."
"You're making me nervous again."
"You were already nervous, for an altogether different reason." Rachel met his knowing gaze and nodded, all at once uncertain what to do or say. The bunk was all she could think about, both with trepidation and a certain measure of excitement. But a woman didn't admit such things.
"Well, 'tis said a new bride must be given a few moments of privacy. Close the curtains 'round the bunk and prepare for bed. I'll check the stove and the bolt on the door."
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