The Beauty of the Mist

by May McGoldrick

  “Well, you’re quite good at it.” She smiled, trying to not think of the irony of what he’d just said. His fingers brushed against her lips. As a shudder raced through her, Maria felt the urge to press her face against his chest and close her eyes to the world–and to everyone and everything in it. Everyone but him.

  As if reading her mind, he took her arm in his and pressed it tightly to his side. She gave her arm willingly, but as she did, she glimpsed the tall blonde woman striding toward the door leading below decks. Even from this distance Maria could see the look of disdain Caroline Maule was directing toward them. “I think we might be putting on a scene for our fellow travelers.”

  “Fellow travelers be damned!” John growled huskily. As he eyed the white patch of skin beneath her ear, it occurred to him that nothing would please him more right now than to place a kiss there. But sensing her hesitation, he drew back and leaned against the railing, stretching his arm protectively behind her. “I don’t stand around all day gawking at what they do. Why should they? You have nothing to do with them, so they can keep to their own business.”

  Maria couldn’t help but agree. She was none of their business, and she never would be, if Fortune would smile on her, for once. God willing, never again would she let her life be directed by men like her brother Charles. She tucked a wayward wisp of hair behind her ear. Perhaps if she had shown enough courage and confronted her brother early on, her life might have taken a better path. But then, if she had, would she have ever met John Macpherson? The melancholy that the thought caused her was sharp and sudden.

  Maria peered hesitantly about her. The men perched amid the sails aloft were busy at their tasks, and Caroline had disappeared below. There were no other eyes on them. A few of the ship’s officers could be seen moving along the decks, calling up to the men above and overseeing the tasks of those working on deck, but they were far too busy to pay any attention to the two of them. None of the Scottish nobles seemed to show much interest in being above decks, and there wasn’t a solitary soul enjoying the bright sunshine now. Except one. A solitary, thick-bodied man, standing with his back to them. He was leaning heavily on his hands and staring out to sea.

  “Sir Thomas Maule,” John said, having followed the direction of her gaze. “I don’t think you’ve ever been formally introduced to him, have you?”

  “Nay, I haven’t,” she replied. “Someday, perhaps–but not now–I’d like to thank him in person.”

  “Thank him?” John asked curiously. “For what?”

  “For breaking in on us as he did two nights ago.” She turned her bright, green eyes back to him for a moment before laying her hands on the railing and looking out at the shimmering sea. “If it wasn’t for him showing up at your cabin when he did the other night, you would never have kissed me. We would never have...”

  Maria paused, flushed and self-conscious in her thoughts of the previous night. Of what he’d done to her, standing in the dark, here on this same deck. The recollection was heavenly, but still too embarrassing to speak of aloud.

  John laid his great paw gently on her slender hands. “With or without Sir Thomas and his felicitous sense of timing, it was only matter of the time before I would have kissed you, Maria. I know that, from the time I set eyes on you, I looked forward to tasting your lips.”

  She shuddered at the feel of his warm fingers caressing her cold and bloodless hands. She gazed up into his face and smiled wryly.

  “Is this the standard treatment you give all of the women you find drifting at sea?”

  “You know, it’s quite odd, lass,” the Highlander responded, smiling back at her. “I have sailed the seas for more than half of my life, and you are the very first woman I’ve ever found floating in the sea.” Her eyes were a bewitching color, mesmerizing. They drew him in, stealing his breath away with their depth and vibrancy. And now the glow in her face only added to her incomparable charms. She was obviously pleased of the answer he’d given her.

  “I am glad,” she whispered. “I am glad to be the first one.”

  His hand tightened around her fingers.

  “And you...” she continued. “...you are the first...as well.”

  “The first?” he asked questioningly.

  “The first,” she said haltingly. “Well...to treat me...as a woman. The first to desire me...to cherish me. You gave me such pleasure that I felt fires exploding within me. I thought I’d been lifted among the stars.”

  John’s fingers tightened around her shoulders. He didn’t care that others were around. That they were standing in the open, in the daylight. “Your husband? Didn’t he ever...”

  She shook her head. “What you did to me last night,” she paused, trying to build her courage. “I never felt such...I never thought it could be possible...”

  He could wait no longer. Taking her hand roughly in his own, he started for the steps.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, hurrying to keep up with his long strides.

  “To my cabin.”

  “But you said last night....” she hushed her tone, looking cautiously around her. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

  He didn’t break stride. He neither turned to answer nor even acknowledge her question. Feeling her excitement grow as she moved quickly beside him, Maria found herself hoping desperately that he had changed his mind. For too long she had accepted the child’s role in her life. She would live the life of a woman, now. Whatever he had in mind for her in his cabin was more than acceptable to her. There was only one thing that mattered now and that was being with him.

  Just him.

  “Come, come, come, tell me, girl. Who is he? What is his name? Does your family approve of him?” Seeing the deep blush on Janet Maule’s face, Isabel kept up the gentle assault. “Perhaps I should ask, does your family know of him?”

  Very little went unnoticed with Isabel. Holding onto the younger woman’s arm, she had led the way up and back the length of the room a number of times. The physician, visiting Isabel earlier, had seen nothing wrong with her wish to get up and move about more. Her shoulder wound was healing nicely and, with the exception of some stiffness in her joints, Isabel was feeling more herself every day.

  “Silence is a very becoming trait in young women, but when it is accompanied by flickers of smiles and then deep blushes, an experienced woman always knows...” Isabel stopped pacing and turned her full attention on Janet. The older woman watched with a keen eye as the sandy-haired girl’s complexion took on the hue of a harvest sunset while her gaze locked on her hands.

  Janet peered hesitantly up into the older woman’s face, unable to untie the knot in her tongue.

  “Your mother–she has passed away, hasn’t she?”

  “Aye,” Janet replied simply.

  “Maria likes you. She talks about you quite a bit. She is the one who told me of your family and your new stepmother. It must be difficult not having anyone you can confide in. Let me tell you something; Maria has had much the same problem for most of her life. I think that’s one reason why she has really taken to you.”

  “Did her mother pass away, as well?” Janet asked quietly.

  “Nay, she is alive,” Isabel replied, shaking her head. “My sister is still alive, but she might as well be dead. She has an illness, and that, together with some rather difficult family circumstances, has kept her from her children since they were babies. Maria wasn’t even a year old when her mother was taken away. Bah, I don’t know how I got started on that. This is not the time for sad stories.”

  “I am sorry,” Janet responded. “It must be very sad for Maria...and for your sister.”

  “It does no good to talk of my sister’s woes, child. Let’s talk about your problems. Things we can mend.” Isabel started for the group of table and chairs placed by the small, open window. Janet followed in her wake. The cool breeze flowing in the opening was fresh and clean.

  After seating herself in the chair, Isabel gestured for the y
ounger woman to do the same. “Now tell me, child, what is troubling you this morning. I have been watching you since you came in here. You seem cheerful enough on the surface, but I see those looks. There is something weighing on you, now isn’t there?”

  Janet lifted her eyes to meet Isabel’s. It had been only a few short days since she had first lain eyes on the elder woman, but there was something in her manner, in the firmness and authority that one could hear in her words. One perceived the sense of caring, of promised friendship, that had made a new acquaintance want to trust her, to share with her troubles–and heartaches.

  What Isabel said was true. Janet had no one. No one to turn to for counsel, for advice. And right now, with all she was feeling for David and after all he felt for her, the young woman needed good counsel. Someone devoid of malice. Someone with a sense of balance, of compassion and reason.

  “Let me guess, your distress has to do with a man. You have done something you think is wrong or you are about to do something you think your father might think is wrong.” Isabel paused. “Am I close?”

  Janet nodded, blurting out her words. “Aye. It’s true. I am in love. But my father...my father, never...”

  “Let’s forget about your father for now. Tell me again about this love of yours. Do you think you are in love or...”

  “Nay, I am in love. I am certain of it. He is all that I think of. He is all that matters. And we haven’t done anything wrong. But...but the way we feel for each other, I am afraid...”

  “You are afraid that it’s simply matter of time before you do something wrong. Is that it?”

  Janet just stared. She had been ready to give herself to him the night before, but he’d somehow put a stop to their passion. David had said they could not make love. Not until the time when she could stand in his arms with no guilt and sorrow over whatever consequences might follow.

  “Does he love you, as well?” Isabel asked gently.

  “Aye, much more than I deserve.” Her hands entwined in her lap. “He is a good man, and an honorable one. He is a hard working man, and he has earned his place in the world by dint of his own talent and not by any title or wealth passed on from his ancestors.”

  “Then he has the means to support you. But will he marry you? Provide you with a home and, more importantly, the happiness to furnish that home?”

  She nodded tearfully. “Aye, all of that...and more.”

  Isabel placed her hand on the young woman’s arm. “Then what is holding you back?”

  Janet wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. Turning her gaze toward the open window, a corner of her mind cleared, and all of the torment, all of the confusion suddenly came into focus. Life at court amid her father’s noble friends meant nothing to her. Never in her life had she coveted–or even longed for–the finery that accompanied her family’s rank. Perhaps David couldn’t provide those things for her, but she didn’t care. Those were things she’d never sought.

  There was one thing, though, that did matter.

  “My father’s blessing,” Janet said quietly. Her gaze was steady and her voice calm as she looked back at Isabel. “I wish I could have his blessing.”

  Isabel had first thought–for the briefest of moments–that perhaps she shouldn’t open her big mouth. Without question, she had already single-handedly uprooted her own niece and destroyed any chance of continued respectability within the courts of the Holy Roman Empire. But then, recalling the sight of Maria–bright and happy as she’d left their cabin this morning, Isabel knew that it was all worthwhile. In her twenty three years of life, Maria had never looked more beautiful or more at ease than she had looked today.

  Oh, forgive me, Virgin Mother, Isabel prayed as she returned Janet Maule’s gaze. This young woman needs happiness as well.

  Isabel nodded. She would do everything in her power to make sure Janet received her father’s blessing.

  Chapter 13

  Honorable intentions be damned, John thought.

  Nay, he argued, continuing the silent debate. You can’t just take her, after giving your word. Though that injured aunt of hers was certainly no one’s keeper, still–John reminded himself–he had given his word. And Isabel, in return, had kept her end of the bargain by arranging their little dinner. He would not be standing here–looking at Maria–if it had not been for the trust Isabel had bestowed on him.

  “Perhaps you’d care to let me in on the argument,” Maria suggested with a wry smile. She sat with her back straight in the chair, her eyes studying every detail of the handsome commander pacing before her in the room. The changing expressions of his face, especially around his eyes, showed the internal battle being waged. “Perhaps I can help.”

  John stopped his restless pacing and, leaning back against the open window casing, he gazed at her. Her hair was now tied loosely in a black, silken knot at the nape of her neck. The skin of her throat cried out for his touch, his lips. It only took one look at her and John’s blood was again roaring in his veins.

  This was going to be difficult. Very difficult.

  When they’d left the upper deck, John Macpherson had every intention of taking Maria to his bed at the first moment they reached his cabin. She was willing, he knew, and when she’d told of how she’d felt the night before–how he’d made her feel–his loins had caught fire. He wanted her.

  But their journey below had been interrupted by fifty...no, a hundred trivial matters as his officers, the whole of the noble delegation, even the drunken sot of a physician had found it absolutely essential to waylay them, carrying on endlessly. Frustrated, he finally had pushed past the last of them, storming below with Maria in his wake.

  Now, thinking a bit more clearly, John Macpherson thanked God for the interruptions. If there hadn’t been for those delays, he decided, his promise to Maria’s aunt would have been honored more in the breach...in a manner of speaking.

  Maria continued to watch him as he folded his arms over his broad chest.

  Though awkward at first, it had immediately become quite interesting to stand behind John and watch him attend to his duties as master of the Great Michael. She knew he was impatient to go below–as was she–but the manner in which he dealt with his men, and with the Scottish noblemen was fascinating for her. This was a world of men, a gruff and plain speaking world in which the pleasantries of courtly language and manners held little weight.

  John Macpherson ran his ship with a firm hand and a mind so obviously well skilled in the art of the seafarer. He was so competent, so clear-thinking in everything he said. She’d seen the looks in the men’s eyes. The looks of conviction, the looks of belief in the man that stood before them. Just accompanying him, she herself had felt the strength, the power that surrounded him. Maria knew why his men followed him.

  There was something about the life at sea that infected a person with a sense of independence. Perhaps, she thought as she’d watched him give his orders with such confidence, it was the knowledge that the only thing standing between life and death, between safety and the danger inherent in the sea, was a person’s own ability. If you were a competent sailor, then you had good reason to be proud and confident. And you had good reason to feel lucky. Moving behind John through the ship, Maria too had felt strong and confident, even happy with herself. She knew she was living for today. And the sense of freedom she was feeling sent her spirits soaring.

  But now they were alone, and she felt as if her heart was in her throat. She had tried a bit of humor to dispel the intensity that surrounded them, but that had apparently failed. Every time he directed her a look, she could feel the heat of his gaze, and her chest pounded with anticipation. The expectation of what was to come, the tension, the undeniable need that burned within her body, causing her brain to whirl.

  Maria paused and gazed at the chart that lay open on the work table. She didn’t know how it had happened or even when, but she knew somewhere in the past twelve hours, a new threshold had been crossed. She was no longer sim
ply attracted to him. No longer could she think of him simply as the most handsome man she’d ever met in her life. Now, her heart now swelled for him. At the very center of her being, Maria ached for him. There was enchantment, anticipation, passion. Maria looked down into her healing hands. There was love.

  John walked over and came to a stop before her.

  She looked up into his face. His deep blue eyes were boring into hers. He hadn’t said a word since they’d entered the cabin, but she knew he was ready to now.

  “Maria, you don’t know me.”

  She could hear the strain in his voice. His furrowed brow made her heart tighten in her chest. He was going to end this, she thought with a start. That was it. They were finished. What else would he be trying to do? Virgin Mother, Maria thought, panic stricken, what did I say on deck? What did I do?

  She stood up and faced him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You don’t know enough about me. Who I am.”

  “I know more about you than you know of me.”

  “That’s so. But I’m talking of different things now,” he protested. “What I know of you is sufficient, for the moment.”

  “How so?” she argued softly. “How is it that the little I’ve told you of myself is ‘sufficient,’ but all that I’ve seen in you is somehow lacking?”

  John glared at Maria, at the stubborn set to her jaw, at the flash in her eyes. He had wanted to speak his mind and just be done with it. To tell her the things that lay heavily on his heart and his conscience. He had no patience with deceit or trickery. He wanted her to see him for who he was before she gave in to their hot-blooded passion he knew lay in store.

  “I am waiting for your answer,” she challenged, facing the Highlander, her chin raised in the air. For a moment she wondered how well her bravado would hold up. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know if disappointment lay ahead, but this new Maria would not allow defeat without a fight.