He’d taken a seat in the adjacent chair and the wood creaked as he shifted his weight. She kept her gaze from meeting his and forced her breathing to remain even. Whether she liked him or not didn’t matter, but the fact he was honorable and caring did.
“And that brings me to what I need from you, Captain.”
The room remained silent, even after he stated, “Richard.”
Why he was so insistent upon being called “Richard” instead of “Captain” was of little concern, other than that she’d prefer to call him “Captain.” It seemed to provide her an inner barrier. One she needed.
Suddenly realizing her lungs were on fire, she emptied them. “Richard,” she repeated for his benefit only. “My uncle’s health is failing and I’d like you to take him with you when you leave.”
“Your uncle is old.”
“I know his age,” she said, “but he’s grown breathless lately and forgetful. I understand such things happen when people grow older, but I also know he’s not happy here. He does little except sit in the chair, longing for the sea. A sailor yourself, surely you can understand that.”
A certain level of compassion was included in his single nod. It was the doubt she also noted in his eyes that concerned her. He was a smart man and she had to be just as wise in order for him not to see other things. The care he bestowed upon others could include her, too. If things were different, if she was different, she’d cherish that. Any woman would. They’d cherish his handsomeness, too, and his strength and protection, and—
“Why haven’t you contacted one of his sailing friends? He has several. I can assure you of that.”
Pulling her mind back in line, she said, “I’ve suggested that, but he feels responsible for me and claims there is no place for a woman at sea. He also refuses to leave me alone.”
“What makes you think he’ll leave with me?”
She released the air out of her lungs as slowly as possible, using the time to form an answer. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. “I don’t,” she answered honestly. “But I do trust that you could convince him. Make him believe you need his assistance on your ship.”
“Why would I do that?”
Marina ignored how the candlelight softened his features, making him look nothing like the man who’d scared the wits from her mind when she’d opened the door this morning, and she used the only leverage she had. “Because I rescued your daughter, I’d like the same in return. For you to rescue my uncle. Save his life. For he will die if he remains here.”
He frowned. “You expect me to believe you saved Gracie because you were looking for a way to get William back on the water?”
The urge to swallow burned, but she refused even her throat muscles to move as she kept her stare locked with his. Skepticism was evident in his expression. The only hope she had was to stand her ground. That grew harder as her throat started to lock up, trapping air in her lungs.
When Richard was the first to look away, she almost coughed at how swiftly the air rushed out of her lungs. His eyes were back on her instantly, and the makings of a grin sitting on the edges of his lips made her cheeks burn.
He stood. “I’ve admitted I’m indebted to you.” Once again he touched the dress on the table. “And, no doubt, your uncle, as well.”
She stood and bowed her head. “Thank you, Richard.”
The heat of the finger touching the underside of her chin sent shivers down her neck. With slight pressure, he lifted her chin. She had no idea why. Their conversation was over.
“I didn’t say yes, Marina.”
In that instant she understood an intimacy unbeknownst in her life so far. The way he said her name reminded her of how Ole had said “Nessa,” how Hans had said Rachel’s name and how her father had said her mother’s name. Her mouth had gone dry and she licked her lips. At one time she’d imagined she’d hear a man say her name like that, with a whisper that left her ears ringing. A man who would love her and protect her and provide her with children to love. The fact none of that could ever be made her throat burn all over again.
“But I will think about it.”
It took her a moment to comprehend what he’d said. “Think about it? You just—”
“Said I’d think about it.”
The way his finger slid back toward her throat and then down her neck, stopping just above her collar, made responding impossible. He leaned forward and she started to tremble on the inside, having no idea what he was about to do.
When his chin was near her ear, he said, “I suggest you think about something, too.”
He was too close for her to think about anything except the way her heart thudded.
“Next time,” he said softly, “I suggest you tell me the truth.”
Chapter Nine
Richard left Marina standing where she was and walked out the door before he let the air escape from his lungs. He should be mad, furious that she continued to withhold the truth from him, but excitement hummed through his veins. She was one beautiful woman.
Sitting in the dark, with the candlelight glistening on her golden curls, had stolen his ability to think, at least with a clear head. His thoughts had been floating in more directions than a ship without a sail. That had never happened before. He must be under some sort of spell.
Richard shook his head to gather his senses. Or knock loose other thoughts. Those of kissing her.
He huffed out a breath.
Indian attacks were not unusual. The war over the fur trade had cost many lives and created many enemies, but there was more to her story than she’d shared. He’d have to be a simpleton to believe the only reason she’d rescued Gracie was so William could sail again. He was thankful for what she’d done and would repay her, but he still wanted to know why she’d done it.
“Richard.”
He twisted and watched the single flame coming down the hallway. A footstep before she was at his side, and then he said, “I won’t have the wool pulled over my eyes again. It would benefit you to remember that.”
He may not have noticed her slight stumble if the candle flame hadn’t flickered. He also fought a grin at how she pretended it hadn’t happened and took another step to brush past him. She also pinched her lips together and lifted her chin into the defiant little tilt he admired so much.
Without a word, she marched down the steps.
The darkness would hide a grin, so he released it.
John was in the front room, and he bounded from one of the chairs. “William turned in for the night.”
With all the curtains pulled there wasn’t so much as a sliver of moonlight to assist the beeswax candles in lighting the room. The torches on the ships provided light for men to play cards or games or, as he himself liked to do on quiet evenings, read. “It’s too dark for anything else,” Richard stated, although he was far from tired.
A soft clatter echoed from down the hallway. “I cleaned the kitchen,” John said. “Like ye asked.”
“I’ve no doubt you did,” he answered. “Marina’s probably getting things laid out for tomorrow.” She certainly wasn’t an idle woman, or like any other woman he’d met, in several ways, including her stubbornness. He admired that about her yet had a strong inclination that it could be her downfall. “I’m going to take a stroll outside before turning in.”
“I’ll join ye,” John said.
Richard understood why. He’d never met a man who appreciated a chamber pot. They exited through the front door. Although clouds floated in front of the large, yellow full moon, it was far brighter outside than indoors. While John walked around the house to where the outhouse sat beyond the barn near the edge of the brush, Richard went in the other direction, where trees lined the road. He spent several minutes examining the road for places one of Hickman’s men could have hidden. That was doubtful. He imagined they hadn’t stopped running until reaching the village, but there was satisfaction in checking to make sure.
Night sounds on land were far different
from those on the sea, and he gave himself time to listen long enough to recognize the swish of the wind rustling the leaves, the hushed clatter of nighttime critters scurrying about and the silence itself before he turned around to make his way back into the yard to check for stalkers.
From the corner of the house, he watched John enter the back door and heard Marina’s soft voice greet him. Something inside him froze. Was that why she wanted him to leave so badly and take William with him—so she could marry John? Had William forbade the union?
A thud behind the barn pulled his attention off the door. Instincts told him it wasn’t an animal—not one with four legs, anyway. Cautious, he slowly made his way in that direction, but his thoughts were still on Marina. John was too young to handle a woman like her. She was too willful, too stubborn.
The snap of a twig coming from the side of the barn had him easing his way to the corner. Staying well within the shadows, he peered around the edge.
A dark figure wearing a caped overcoat was stealthily making its way to the outhouse. The long but cautious strides said the intruder was a man, and his black clothing said he was up to no good. Richard took a step, ready to call the man out, when the stranger lifted a hand and knocked on the side of the outhouse.
“John-boy, ye still in there?” The man’s whisper was raspy and rushed. “It’s Oscar Pullman. I’ve come for ye, boy.”
Richard stepped around the barn. “Why?”
Terror flashed across the man’s face before he ran for the woods.
Richard took chase, entering the tree line on the man’s heels. Not wanting to lose the stranger in the wooded area, he doubled his speed. The man was just out of reach, and determined to stop him, Richard dived forward, grabbing the man’s cloak as they both fell to the ground.
The heel of a boot jammed into his chest, knocking the air out of him. That angered him more than it pained him. Wheezing to get air into his lungs, Richard pushed himself off the ground and grabbed the man by his shoulders, flipping him onto his back.
Guarding his face with both hands, the man pleaded, “Please, I have no grievance with ye, sir.”
“Who sent you?” Richard demanded, although he had a good idea.
“No one, Captain,” the man muttered, keeping his voice low. “I swear. No one knows I’m here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“F-for John. He and I have a deed to do. Ask him.”
He would, and he’d ask Marina if this man was the reason she wanted to get rid of her uncle. Richard pulled the man off the ground. The long coat made him look larger. In reality he was as scrawny as a pigeon. “What deed?”
The man shook his head.
In no mood for patience, Richard dug his fingers into the man’s lapels and dragged him to the edge of the woods, where the moonlight wasn’t filtered by the trees. It would do the stranger good to see his face, to know he was as serious as a shark smelling blood.
“Please, Captain. I can’t be seen. Please.”
Near the edge of the trees, Richard paused to ask, “By whom?”
“Anyone.”
Moonlight shone on the stranger’s face, and Richard established this man was too old for Marina. “What deed?” he asked one more time. “Tell me.”
“To retrieve the bodies of our dead.” The man’s head fell forward until his chin nearly hit his chest. “My eldest daughter. They hanged her in Salem Towne today. Along with John’s mother.”
Richard released his hold and took a step back. “Retrieve the bodies?”
“Aye, Captain. John heard me tell me other daughter I would bring our Elizabeth home and asked if he could come with me. To get his mama.” The man wheezed heavily and swallowed hard. “Please, I can’t stand the thought of my sweet baby being pushed over the edge of that hill, down onto the rocks.”
* * *
An unfamiliar sound, or at least one she didn’t expect, met Marina as she entered her bedroom. She’d shown John to a room down the hall but knew the voice she heard wasn’t his. It was too deep. On her toes, she crossed the room to the open window.
The soft murmurs came from two voices. Richard’s tall form stood just inside the trees beyond the outhouse, but the barn hid whoever was conversing with him.
Fear rippled her shoulders and she scanned the entire yard, looking for others. There were none that she could see.
The men slipped into the brush and Marina wasted no time in rushing across the room and grabbing her black wool cloak from the hook on the wall. Richard hadn’t been struggling, but the other person could have a weapon.
In the kitchen, she grabbed the poker leaning against the hearth. Quickly but quietly she left the house, flipping up her hood as soon as she’d closed the door behind her.
There was no way to know who else might be lurking about, so she pretended to be making her way to the outhouse, but upon entering the shadow cast by the barn, she scurried toward the woods.
Once among the trees, she grasped a hold of a branch and paused to listen. The pounding of her heart was loud, but beyond that, nothing but silence.
There wasn’t a trail on this side of the property. Not like the one on the other side that led to a few of the other farms outlining Salem Village, but instinct said the men had continued this way. Zigzagging around trees, branches and fallen logs rotting on the ground, she kept pausing to catch her bearings and to listen. Why wasn’t Richard fighting like he had earlier? He wouldn’t willingly go along with one of Hickman’s henchmen. Unless he wanted to get arrested. That made no sense. He cared too much about Gracie to put himself in danger. Unless he didn’t believe he was in danger. He certainly acted fearless, but that didn’t make him immortal. No one was immortal. Not even witches.
The fears inside her doubled. Holding the poker out, she increased her speed.
As she entered the swamp left from when the spring rains had flooded the river, muck squished beneath her feet. The trees became spindly and sparse, leaving her more exposed if anyone was watching, yet she continued forward, even as the muck made lifting her feet close to impossible.
A splash caught her attention. The reeds were almost as tall as she. Trudging forward, she eventually arrived at a large rock. Climbing upon it with wet soles proved difficult and she felt a sense of accomplishment when she finally managed to scale the top. There, on her hands and knees, afraid she’d fall if she attempted to stand, she stretched her neck to see over the reeds.
A man sat in a small boat. One man. Clearly not Richard. This man wore a caped cloak and could be any one of the men from the village.
Stretching as far upward as she dared, Marina scanned the area. The scream that bubbled in her throat was stopped by the hand that slapped over her mouth at the same time a solid arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her off the rock.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Richard whispered.
Thankful in more ways than one, Marina slumped against him for a brief moment. Until ire filled her. Grabbing his hand, she pulled it off her mouth. “What are you doing out here? Who are you with?”
He set her down and picked up the poker—which she hadn’t realized she’d dropped—from where it was stuck in the muck near his feet. “I asked first.” He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
She tried to follow, but her feet wouldn’t budge. “Who is that man?”
Richard didn’t answer but did notice she was stuck. With great ease, he lifted her out of the muck. The mud had released her, but he didn’t. He carried her all the way to solid ground. If her heart hadn’t leaped into her throat, she might have told him to put her down. Then again, maybe not. She almost grinned at that thought. For once, a witch’s way of thinking wasn’t so bad.
Once he set her down, it took her a moment to get her heart and thinking in order before she could ask again, “Who’s that man in the boat?”
“Who is watching Grace?” he asked. “
Did you lock the door behind you? Or did you leave the house open for anyone to enter?”
Marina flinched. In her rush she hadn’t considered that.
“John is exhausted and probably sound asleep,” Richard said, propelling her forward through the trees. “And William is half-deaf. Anyone could enter the house.”
Her heart started racing all over again, this time with genuine fear. She increased her speed, pushing aside brush and ducking beneath branches.
“Slow down before you fall and break your neck.”
“We must hurry,” she said. “I left so fast I didn’t think about leaving the house unlocked.”
“Why’d you follow me?”
Focused on moving forward, she answered, “I thought they were arresting you.”
“And you thought you’d rescue me with a fireplace poker?”
The trek back seemed much shorter, for her next step led her out of the woods behind the barn. Rushing around it, she let out a sigh of relief to see the house dark and quiet and the back door shut. That wasn’t proof no one had entered, but it was a welcome sign, hopefully indicating nothing had happened during her absence.
Richard took a hold of her arm again and led the way across the yard. “You are just brave enough to be dangerous. Do you know that?”
Marina clenched her teeth to keep from responding.
“Or foolish enough.”
“I thought you were in danger,” she pointed out.
“Even if I was, I wouldn’t want you coming to my rescue.”
“You’d rather die?”
He wrenched open the door and thrust her over the threshold. “I’d rather take care of myself than worry about you.”
“There was no reason to worry about me,” she said, spinning around and grabbing the poker from his hand.
“You were perched on that rock like a mermaid.”
Saving Marina Page 11