by Kimberly Nee
“So soon?”
“I’d like to finish and return as quickly as I can. And since I’m not exactly sure what awaits me when we arrive, it’s best to get down there.”
She sighed. They’d be leaving a lot sooner than she thought. She wouldn’t even have a chance to go over and see Rose before it was time to leave, wanted to apologize for upstaging her the way she did. So she took out her stationery and pen and dashed off a quick note to Rose, saying all those things she didn’t have time to say in person.
But still, she nodded. “Yes.”
Amanda glanced at her, and then at Julian, and then made her way to the door. “I will go see if breakfast is laid out.”
Julian gently bumped the door closed. “I thought you might need a bit of assistance this morning. When we return, you will, of course, be free to hire any maids you need.”
“With a house of this size, we’d only need one, maybe two—” Emma cut herself off, bringing a hand to her mouth as she realized she was actually insulting him. “What I meant was—”
“I know what you mean, and you’re right.” He crossed over to her, curving his hands on her shoulders. “And I’m not in the least bit offended. If all goes well with Percival, perhaps we can see about a larger house.”
As the space between them vanished, a sudden shyness gripped her. Looking at him wasn’t any easier, either. She didn’t know what she expected. He was the same man he’d been the day before, the same man he’d been a year ago. But considering the passion they’d shared the night before, the way he’d kissed her, how he touched her—maybe he wasn’t the one who changed. Maybe it was she who’d changed?
And with that, Julian caught her beneath the chin, tilting her face up to his. His gaze never wavered, no flush colored his cheeks, but a slight grin came to his lips. “You can look at me, you know. Neither of us will turn to stone.”
She did, and even if she couldn’t feel it, she would know she was blushing by the way Julian’s eyes crinkled at their outer corners as his smile widened. His fingertips brushed over her cheek in a way that sent a delicious ripple through her.
“See? No stone.”
She smiled. “No stone.” Although her knees did threaten to go to mush on her. It was too bad it was morning. The way his thumb moved over her skin was enough to bring a hum of desire rushing through her.
“Did you sleep well?” he murmured, his thumb still sweeping back and forth.
“I did.” It took her a bit to acclimate herself to sharing a bed with another body, and it took longer still to acclimate herself to the low, even rumble of his snores. But once she managed that, sleep came easily and was deeply peaceful.
“Good.” He bent toward her, brushing her lips with a light kiss. That light kiss deepened as he caught her face in both hands, his fingers splayed to hold her still as he slowly explored her mouth.
Her heart quickened, her hands curling about his wrists on their own, and when he broke the kiss, she found her breath was a little more difficult to catch.
“That is the sort of good morning you should have had,” he murmured, his lips almost touching hers.
“I think I’d have preferred this one.”
A chuckle rose to his lips and he stepped back. “If I hadn’t had so much to do this morning, you would have. And now, since I still have much to do and you’ve not eaten—” he offered her his arm “—shall we go below, Mrs. McCallister?”
Slipping her arm through his, she replied, “I wonder how long it will take for me to not wonder who Mrs. McCallister is.”
She glanced up at him as she said it and thought she saw darkness flash through his eyes. But it happened so quickly, and his eyes were back to their tranquil slate color before she could ascertain what she’d seen.
The day passed so quickly, it seemed she’d just come down for breakfast and then it was time to leave for the harbor.
As she emerged from the carriage, she stared at the myriad of ships, both in berths and moored out in the bay. A frigid wind blew in off the water, and she shivered as she burrowed deeper into her cloak.
Eagleton Imports, her family’s shipping company, was housed not far from where she stood, on the northern end of the harbor. She smiled at the weathered warehouse, wondering which of her brothers was there now. Surely her family would come to see her off.
Julian stood beside her, the wind ruffling his hair into peaks, his cheeks already ruddy from the cold. He offered her his arm and steered her along the boards until they came to a three-masted ship with mottled blue-gray sails.
“The Amelia,” he explained, gesturing to the ship. “The first ship I ever designed. My father had it built for me, just before—”
She turned her gaze from the Amelia’s elegant lines to the tight lines of Julian’s jaw. “Before he died,” she murmured.
He nodded and then cleared his throat. “Come. I sent Amanda to Stonebridge to let your family know we were leaving. I expect they will be here shortly.”
And with that, he led her on board the Amelia. All around, the crew was busy, loading supplies and whatever else it was they would be bringing to the West Indies. She smiled at the curious looks she received, but they didn’t stop to speak to anyone. Julian owned the ship, but he wasn’t the captain, and she wondered if they’d meet the man at the helm any time soon.
Julian led her down below, to a cabin that reminded her of his house—small but cozy, and surprisingly well-appointed. Her sea chest was there, standing alongside the one she assumed was Julian’s, at the foot of the narrow bed.
She frowned. The bed, bolted to the wall, was half the size of the one they’d shared last night. Was it even possible for two people to sleep in that bed? And if it was possible, would either one of them be comfortable?
The door closed with a soft click, and Julian shrugged out of his greatcoat to drape it over the back of one of the chairs around the small rectangular table along the far wall. Rubbing his hands together, he moved to the stove in the middle of the room and smiled. “Good. Mr. Marsters remembered to light it.”
As he warmed his hands by it, she stood there, still bundled in her cloak. “Where am I to sleep?” she blurted.
He looked up from his hand-warming, his brow wrinkling. “Did you just ask me where you’re going to sleep?” Without waiting for her response, he then gestured to the bed. “There.”
“With you?”
“That was the plan. Unless you rather I slept somewhere else.”
She unfastened the frogs to whisk the cloak from her shoulders. “Are you certain we’ll both fit?”
He grinned. “I can only hope so. I’ve never shared it with anyone, so it’ll be interesting to see.” He moved to the bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress, then scooted back and stretched out. Patting the mattress beside him, he said, “Come and we’ll see.”
Her belly fluttered as she draped her cloak atop his coat and crossed over to him. Was he telling the truth about never sharing this bed with anyone else? And did it matter now?
With a playful growl, Julian grabbed her to pull her down beside him. Wrapping his arms about her, he said, “It’s a bit of a tight fit, but I think we’ll make do.”
The fluttering stopped as she tucked her head beneath his chin. This felt so perfect, and he didn’t seem quite so troubled by having to marry her. If anything, he seemed as content as she felt. Perhaps there was hope for them.
He pressed a gentle kiss into the top of her head. “I wish I knew where everyone was. I’d hate to have something interrupted by a poorly timed goodbye.”
“Julian! It’s the middle of the day!” She pulled out of his arms and rose up onto an elbow to gape at him.
“So? We’re newlyweds, sweetheart. No one expects to see much of us, daylight hours or not.”
His endearment sent a shiver through her, and when he capped his proclamation by leaning over and covering her mouth with his, she melted into him. What was the harm in indulging now? Who was going to bother the
m?
“Mr. McCallister?”
A solid rap accompanied the unfamiliar voice, and Emma bit back a sigh as Julian broke the kiss to call, “What is it, Thomas?”
“Captain Reynolds said Mrs. McCallister’s family is here.”
Disappointment pricked at her when Julian pulled away completely and muttered, “How did I know?”
He climbed over her then caught her by the wrist to help her up. She rose, smoothing her skirts as Julian opened the door and stepped out of the cabin. She couldn’t hear what they discussed, but it didn’t matter as Julian poked his head back in. “Would you prefer I bring them down here?”
It was sweet of him to ask, as she didn’t relish the thought of tearful farewells in front of a gaggle of men she didn’t know. She wouldn’t like tearful farewells in front of men she did know. “Down here, please. If it isn’t any trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” The door closed, and when it opened again, a lump leaped into her throat as her mother and father came into the cabin, followed by her brothers and sister.
When she met her mother’s gaze, Emma’s eyes flooded with tears and her throat hurt, which made swallowing her rising sob impossible. And making it harder still were her mother’s shiny, red eyes. Emma threw herself into Momma’s arms, dissolving into a puddle as Momma wrapped her arms about her and held her tight.
“There, there,” Momma whispered, smoothing one hand over the back of Emma’s hair. “No need for tears, love. You aren’t leaving forever.”
Words stuck in Emma’s throat, refusing to come out, so she nodded, burying her face in Momma’s neck. She couldn’t remember the last time she clung to her mother, but she didn’t want to ever let go. Momma gave her a gentle squeeze and then stepped back. “You will be fine, Emma. Everything will be fine.”
Emma sniffled, and without a word, Julian pressed his handkerchief into her hand. Dabbing at her eyes, Emma managed to croak, “I know, Momma.”
“It will.” Momma’s hands were warm as they caught her face gently. “Everything will be fine.”
Emma nodded and managed a watery smile as she faced Papa. “Safe voyage and Godspeed,” he murmured, his voice gruff as he pulled her into his arms. He pressed a kiss into the top of her head and stepped back.
She held her breath as he turned to Julian, who cleared his throat. “Captain McKenzie, Mrs. McKenzie, thank you for everything.”
To her surprise, Papa held out a hand, clasping Julian’s. “We’ll sit down when you return and work out the final details over brandy and cigars.”
His words made no sense to Emma, but apparently they did to Julian, who nodded. “Of course. I’ll send word once I have a chance to look over the ledgers at Windemere.”
Papa nodded and stepped back. Momma stared hard at Julian, but her eyes didn’t seem angry. Instead, concern seemed to flood their aqua depths. “You’d better take care of my daughter, Julian. Good care of her.”
“I intend to.” Julian’s voice was low and serious, and to Emma’s surprise, Momma hugged him. And then, after more hugs and tears, Emma found herself alone in the cabin with Julian again. And it was his turn to embrace her as she dissolved into sobs once more.
Chapter Eighteen
BEING ON BOARD the Amelia was a strange experience for Emma. When she sailed on one of Eagleton’s ships, she knew just about every man on the crew. But this time, she didn’t know any of them, and it was just as well, as she had no desire to even be anywhere near the deck. Her stomach tossed and roiled so much that she spent the first two days lying curled up on the bed, alternating between sleep and sick.
On the third day at sea, she finally adjusted to the ship’s movement. The water grew calmer, and she held her breath as she rose from the bed onto shaky legs. Julian, sitting at his desk in the corner across the room from the bed, pushed back his chair. “Em?”
“I’m fine,” she told him with a smile.
“Do you need the bucket?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Her smile widened at his look of relief. For those two days, he’d had the decidedly unpleasant job of emptying the bucket kept at her bedside. “My stomach feels a bit more settled.”
He still crossed to her, his hand hovering at her elbow. “Are you certain?”
She nodded. “I think I’d like to change my clothes and go up and take in some air. It’s rather stuffy in here and, truth be told, it smells a bit in here.”
“Are you feeling up to it?”
“Please.”
“Of course. Turn around.”
She did, and when he unbuttoned her wrinkled dress, a surprising shiver ran down along her spine. It felt odd, having him undress her, as the only other time he’d done so was on their wedding night. But at the same time, there was no way he could have anything on his mind other than helping her into fresh clothes, and she certainly couldn’t fault him.
When she was bundled into a fresh chemise and corset and simple gown of pale peach muslin, Julian fetched her cloak from the wardrobe and eased it around her shoulders. “Ready?”
She took his arm and once they were topside, squinted in the bright sunlight. The air was warmer than it had been in Brunswick, the ocean now more blue than green, and when she breathed deeply, the salty tang of the sea had a soothing effect on her. As much as she hated those first few days of sailing, when her seasickness was always at its worst, she loved the water, and her favorite part was always discovering they were entering the warmer clime.
A gentle breeze stirred, ruffling Julian’s hair into peaks, and as she glanced up at him, she noticed he’d left his greatcoat behind. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows, and a dark shadow of beard darkened his jaw. He looked tired. Then it dawned on her, where had he slept while she was so sick? He couldn’t have gotten much rest with her throwing up.
Her legs felt a little shaky, no doubt from the lack of food, although the ship’s cook had sent down broth for each meal. She hadn’t managed more than a few mouthfuls and now felt the effects. Her stomach rumbled, but she wasn’t going to be sick. She was hungry.
Food could wait, however. She wanted to stay exactly where she was, with the sun on her face and the sea breeze touching her skin. Without thinking, she hugged Julian’s arm against her.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Little by little, the last remnants of her seasickness faded away. She smiled as she turned her face into the breeze. “Where are we?”
“Only a few days from the coast of Bermuda.”
“Already?”
“Good winds. Have you ever been?”
“To Bermuda? No.” She shook her head. “I’ve always wanted to stop, but there just never seemed to be time.”
“We should stop on the return voyage. Did you know the sand there is pink?” He gestured off the port side of the ship.
She squinted to the east, where she thought she could just make out the silhouette of the island. “Pink?”
He nodded, reaching up to catch a handful of her hair that’d pulled free from the braid and pushed it away from her face. “In Southampton Parish, where the water washes up on the sand, that sand is pink. Because of coral and shells and other dead things I can’t name. But I do know the sand is pink. I’ve seen it myself.”
“Perhaps we can stop on our way back. I think I’d like to see pink sand.”
He nodded. “I think we might be able to. I think you’d like it. You’ll find yourself wishing Windemere was on Bermuda instead of St. Kitts.”
“There are times now when I wish it was anywhere other than St. Kitts.”
They strolled along toward the bow of the ship, and at the foremost part of the railing, Emma leaned against the polished wood. Julian slid his arm free and moved to stand beside her. “Is St. Kitts so terrible?”
“No, not really, I guess. I think it’s because Momma’s time there wasn’t a happy one. My grandfather wasn’t a warm soul, and we went there on rare occasions.” She sighed as she gazed out over the
water. “It’s a pretty place, but the main house is like a museum. And my grandfather collected these terrible masks—” she shivered despite the sun’s warmth “—and they frighten me to this day.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Tell me about it.” She tapped her forefinger against the wood then shrugged. “Maybe it’s changed since he’s been gone. Maybe one of the housekeepers took them down. I can’t imagine anyone really liked them. I don’t know why Grandfather did.”
Julian clasped his hands together, resting his wrists on the railing. “Maybe he liked that they scared everyone.”
“Oh, they were horrible. Like monsters. I used to hide under his desk and peek at them to scare myself. And when Mary was old enough, I used to scare her with them.”
“See? They couldn’t have been so terrible then.”
“Oh, they were. But scaring Mary was far too much fun to give up.”
He let out a deep laugh, and she realized that she hadn’t heard him laugh like that in years. It was the most beautiful sound she’d heard in a long time.
And it reminded her of why she’d fallen in love with him so long ago.
She slipped her arm through his again, and this time let her fingers graze against the dark hair shadowing his forearm. She felt a crackle of electricity, as her skin met his, and he must have felt it as well, for he turned to gaze down at her. There was something in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat, something that made her blood swirl faster in her veins, and she wanted to touch him. Not just on the forearm, not just on his bristly cheek, but somewhere more intimate, like the patch of flesh at the back of his neck. He shivered when her fingers danced over it.
She rose up onto her tiptoes and impulsively brushed her lips against his cheek. She wobbled and placed a hand against his chest to steady herself. Then he surprised her again by covering that hand with his and pressing hers into his chest.
His fingers curled over hers, and he pulled her hand free to turn it palm up. When he bent over and pressed a delicate kiss in to the middle of her palm, she wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to see her hand go up in flames.