The Merchant's Yield

by Lorri Dudley

  Nathan slowed the horses as they crossed over a section of washed out road.

  “I’d like to prevent other run-ins like the one you had the other day with McCurdy.”

  She smoothed her skirt. “Julia told you about that?”

  “Captain Fielding, but Julia sent him.”

  “I don’t know if Mr. McCurdy meant us any real harm. We were, after all, in an open room well within hearing range of the rest of the inn, which is how Julia became alerted. Most people on the island have been very kind and mostly curious about my…” She pointed to her red hair.

  Nathan exhaled. “Most islanders are well-intentioned, but emotions run high in St. Kitts. Men are starved for a woman’s”—he glanced at her, and his neck flushed—“affections. Add to it that rum is easier to obtain than a cup of tea. And, with the land not producing, islanders are on edge. We’re under constant pressure to bring in a good crop to put food on the table, not only for us but also for our workers and slaves. Many slaves have threatened to revolt, and they grow bolder by the day.”

  She eyed some slaves wielding their machetes in a nearby field. Were they dangerous? What would they do in an uprising, attack their owners and burn down the houses? Would they then move into the town and burn it to the ground?

  He must have read the fear in her expression. “I don’t mean to scare you. I merely want you to understand how a friendly encounter can turn on you when you least expect it.” He locked eyes with her. “You should never go out unescorted. Take Paul or send for me, but one of us should be with you at all times if you venture outside the inn.”

  “Send for you?” Despite the open air, a tight band constricted her chest as if her stays had been pulled too tight. It was the same sensation she’d had as a child whenever her mother was around. Had she sought her freedom an entire ocean away only to have it ripped from her hands? She would no longer stand and watch from the window. It was time to live. Didn’t making it this far prove she wasn’t weak? If he desired a strong woman like Julia, she would give him strong.

  “As if you would come.” Lottie rounded on him. “And I hardly think it is possible for me to always be accompanied. You’re busy with the work at Calico Manor, and Paul has duties at the inn. Am I supposed to remain a prisoner in my room?”

  His jaw tensed. “You don’t understand the dangers. There’s no sense of honor when a man is in his cups.” His grip tightened on the reins. “I am trying to protect you.”

  “How can you protect me when you’re not around?”

  “There are others who depend upon me. I’ve been overseeing my fields.”

  Unshed tears burned in her throat. “Indeed, too busy to remember you have a wife.”

  A muscle in the side of his face twitched. “I can’t be traipsing about assisting you on shopping trips when there are mouths to feed. I have responsibilities beyond you.”

  His words hung in the air as Julia’s remarks echoed in her mind. Because of his efforts, not one of his slaves went hungry.

  She understood the weight of his burden. He was a good man, of that she had no doubt. The wounds from the deaths of his family members were still fresh. He protected his heart by keeping others at a distance, including her. She was sorry for his pain, sorry for all he had endured. Sorry that he was stuck married to her.

  She started to apologize. It was what he expected, and hadn’t she always done what was expected? The words stuck in her throat. She wouldn’t let him off the hook for this. If he could be responsible for all his workers and their families, how much trouble could one more woman be?

  The sea breeze rustled the coarse grasses.

  She could remain the timid little mouse he’d met back in England, or she could find freedom and, for the first time, discover who Charlotte Winthrop really was. Did she walk with her red hair held high? Did she laugh and put people at ease? Or, did she confront problems with a pistol in hand? Maybe she would do all three.

  If he didn’t want the new her, then she’d survive or die. But in the process—for the first time—she’d truly live.

  Nathan stiffened and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

  The weight of her silence blared between them.

  He exhaled a long breath and his shoulders sagged. “No. You’re right. Your ire is well deserved. I should make myself more available to you.”

  Lottie blinked. Her lips parted, but she was too stunned to speak.

  “I’ll endeavor to come around more often. You have my word.”

  “Thank you.” She worked to keep herself from stammering. Never in her life had her mother apologized. She might be congenial the day following an unkindness, but never would she admit to any wrong.

  “I don’t mean to add to your burden.” Lottie dropped her gaze and fiddled with her glove. “It’s simply that I cannot stay cooped up at the inn. I spent most of my childhood watching the world go on without me. While other children laughed and played, I read, perfected my embroidery stitch, or practiced the pianoforte. Mama was too worried that I would be injured or become ill again.”

  “She wanted to protect you.” Nathan snorted. “Maybe your mother was wise.”

  Lottie swallowed her initial reaction. If Nathan started behaving like her mother, they were in for some trouble. “I understand your concern, but I didn’t travel across the Atlantic to a distant island to watch the world pass me by again. I could very well become sick. I could very well suffer an injury, but watching the world through a window isn’t living.”

  “And it’s not that I’m not scared. I’m frightened that I could die tomorrow, but it would be a true tragedy if I died without ever having lived.” She removed her bonnet and tilted her face to the dazzling sun. “The night we danced was the first night I started living. I might have gone about it all wrong, but I don’t regret it.”

  The gig slowed to a stop.

  She opened her eyes to find his locked on her. She swallowed her fear and spoke the truth. “I will never regret marrying you.”

  “Lottie, I—”

  “You don’t have to say anything. I’ve been an unexpected intrusion in your life. I merely hope that maybe someday, we might be able to…” Love one another. She couldn’t say the words. Not out loud. “To become friends.”

  His eyes clouded as they searched hers. For an endless moment, all she could hear was the thudding of her own heart and the chatter of the birds in the underbrush.

  He gently ran the back of his fingers down the side of her face. He opened his mouth to speak, but one of the horses snorted. He briefly closed his eyes and gave his head a tiny shake. “Just promise me you’ll not go out alone. The sooner we teach you to shoot, the better.”

  Silence returned between them. He continued to stare as if seeking some form of agreement.

  She finally nodded. She could only pray she wouldn’t regret it later.

  Chapter 17

  Remind me never to challenge anyone to a duel. Not merely because it’s improper, but more importantly, because I am a terrible shot.

  ~ From Lottie to Miss Priscilla Middleton

  I will never regret marrying you.

  Lottie’s words pervaded Nathan’s thoughts as she smiled at him during their drive. Her expressive blue eyes wondered at each new sight. He summoned every ounce of his strength to abstain from pulling her into his arms and kissing her as a husband should.

  He shouldn’t think these thoughts. He should remember the feeling of desperate hopelessness he’d experienced as Katherine had expelled her last breath. But it was hard to focus on death when Lottie found such excitement over the smallest things. Things he’d taken for granted, like the little geckos climbing on tree trunks and the graceful egrets roosting among the mangrove trees. At the sight of a large iguana sunning itself on a rock, she dug her nails into his arm, yet leaned out for a closer glimpse.

  Finally, they arrived at Frigate Bay away from the military forts. Best to avoid any chance of the militia mistaking their practice for the island being u
nder attack. Nathan grabbed his satchel resting on the floorboards and tied the team to a hitching post.

  He aided her down from the carriage and unbound the straps of an empty barrel he’d fastened to the back of the gig.

  “Follow me.” He carried the barrel down the sandy path, but stopped when he noticed Lottie wasn’t behind him. He glanced back to find her balancing precariously on one foot with her kid boots in her hand. She pulled off her stocking with the other.

  “What are you doing?”

  She stuffed her stockings into her boots and ran to catch up with him. “I wanted to see how the sand felt under my feet.”

  He bit back a smile. “And?”

  She beamed at him. “It feels lovely.” She lifted her skirt the tiniest bit and wriggled her toes in the sand.

  Nathan stared at her slender feet and trim ankles, and his mouth grew dry. He closed his eyes. Lord, take these feelings from me. I cannot go through the pain of losing someone else.

  He opened his eyes and found Lottie had shut hers.

  “The sand is so smooth and warm.”

  Her long lashes lifted, and he yearned to be part of the childish delight that sparkled in the depths of those crystal blue eyes.

  “You really must try it.”

  He snorted. “I grew up walking barefoot in the sand.”

  “But you’ve not stepped on this very sand in this very spot before.”

  He didn’t know whether her rosy skin glowed with excitement, or if that was simply the reflected sunlight off the sand. The sight of her stirred a whimsy he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he and his siblings played in the surf and created stories about mythical creatures.

  But he couldn’t let himself be bogged down in fancies. They had to get started. The boiling room still needed draining, and the north field must be inspected.

  She sighed as if sand between her toes were pure ecstasy. Her eyes dared him to comply.

  Just this once. He set down the barrel and tugged off his boots.

  The sand cradled his instep with its soft warmth.

  Lottie stared at his feet.

  His were large and tanned. Hers slender and pale. The intimacy of the moment jarred him into stepping back.

  She blushed a pink that rivaled an island sunset. “How does it feel?” She lifted her blue eyes to meet his.

  Soft, warm, but not as delightful as you feel in my arms. Nathan cleared his throat, along with his thoughts. “Sandy. It feels sandy.” Leaving his shoes, he lifted the barrel and headed for the shoreline.

  The sand squeaked beneath her feet as she scurried to catch up with him.

  “You can stay right there. I’m going to set this down and come back.”

  In a bit of shade provided by a cluster of mangrove trees, he set down the empty barrel. Tiny monkeys babbled in the canopy as they munched on the fruit the trees produced.

  Lottie wandered over and stared at their playing. Why did it not surprise him she disobeyed his order to stay put? She raised up on her toes to observe one sitting on a nearby branch.

  “Careful, they bite.”

  The monkey chose that moment to open its mouth and screech at Lottie.

  She jumped back, tripped over the hem of her gown, and landed on her backside in the sand.

  Nathan threw back his head and laughed. He couldn’t help himself.

  “Do they? Truly, do they bite?”

  He strode over and helped her up.

  She backed away from the creature a few more steps.

  “They’ve been known to on occasion, if you get too close.”

  He waved her back to the copse of trees. “The mangrove will provide shade.”

  She inched toward him, keeping a leery eye on the monkey.

  He removed his flintlock pistol from his satchel. “Have you ever used a pistol before?”

  She shook her head.

  “This is a Queen Ann flintlock.” He displayed the weapon, which was only slightly larger than his hand. “It’s small enough for you to keep on your person. However, you only have one shot before reloading, so you must make it count.” He removed a small sack of powder and a slug. “To load the weapon, you’re going to unscrew the barrel like so.” He twisted the end off of the pocket pistol. He pulled the tie on the small sack of gun powder with his teeth and poured the black power into the opening. “Place the round slug on top and screw back on the barrel.”

  She stood so close, the scent of lilacs enveloped him.

  He leaned in closer until their arms brushed.

  Her pink lips parted.

  He forced himself to concentrate. “Cock the weapon by pulling back on the hammer until it goes no further. To aim, hold your arm out.” He pointed the weapon toward the barrel. “Position your body like so.” He turned sideways with his head facing the same direction as his arm. He widened his stance. Brace yourself for the recoil and pull the trigger.”

  The gun exploded with a bang, startling a gasp out of Lottie.

  The monkeys bolted off, running down the beach.

  He lowered the weapon. “See how it shot straight through the center of the wooden barrel?” He raised his voice to compensate for the ringing in their ears.

  She rubbed her ear and stared at the target.

  “Don't fret. The ringing will cease shortly. Now it’s your turn.” He unscrewed the barrel of the gun gingerly, for he hadn’t allowed much time for it to cool. He handed her the powder bag, and she poured in the black substance until he told her to stop. “Now the slug.”

  Her delicate fingers placed the tiny ball on top, and he screwed the barrel back on.

  “Now, cock the weapon.”

  She pulled back on the hammer.

  “Aim the pistol by looking straight down the barrel at the target.”

  She lifted her arm to eye level.

  “Position your body.”

  He hesitated before resting his hands on her slender waist and turning her body to the side. Just this once, he allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her in his arms.

  Just this once. For practical purposes.

  His hand shifted to the flat of her belly, and he leaned in closer to see her line of vision.

  By Jove, she fit nicely in his arms.

  A tremor ran through her. She swayed, leaning back against his chest.

  His heart thundered. Could Lottie feel its thumping? Could she hear its pounding in her own ears? Did it move in rhythm with her own?

  His head tilted down until the tendrils of her hair tickled his lips. His tenuous hold on his self-control was slipping. He longed to lean in, to kiss the skin behind her ear, to nuzzle the sensitive skin on her neck. He needed to focus, but his whole body felt as if it were on… “Fire,” he whispered.

  Her finger squeezed the trigger. The blast jolted and she yelped. Her arms flew back and her elbow hit him in the gut.

  He grunted and stepped aside.

  Her eyes sprung open.

  “Were your eyes closed?”

  “No… Well, maybe.” She peered up at him from under her long lashes with a contrite frown. “Yes…but it was an accident.”

  He chuckled and shook his head, thankful for the distraction. “Rule number one—keep your eyes open when you shoot.”

  He loaded the weapon again and handed it to her. This time, he stood back a bit. “Brace, now aim. Fire.”

  She pulled the trigger, and the recoil knocked her backward into his chest.

  He steadied her with his hands. “Keep a wider stance. It’s a small weapon, but it has a big kick.”

  “Did I hit the barrel?”

  They stepped up to the target and inspected its surface, but there were no holes other than Nathan’s initial one.

  Lottie frowned. “Let me try again.”

  She attempted several more shots, but left no marks in the barrel.

  “You’re trailing a little to the left.” He positioned her body and arm. “See if this helps.”

  Still no holes.


  Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. Three more shots. Still no holes.

  “Try moving closer.”

  She stepped toward the barrel.

  “Take your time.”

  Her chest rose as she inhaled a deep breath. She released it and fired. This time, only her forearm raised from the recoil. She peered over her shoulder at him, and a brilliant smile lit up her face. “I think I did it that time.” She passed him the gun and scurried to examine the target.

  Nathan didn’t move. Her hopeful expression set the pit of his stomach tingling. Beyond their target, something surfaced in the water. Its scales flashed in the sun.

  “I thought for certain I’d hit the target that time.” She frowned at the barrel.

  “You hit something.” He strode past her and waded into the surf. The water splashed up onto his breeches, soaking him up to his mid-thigh. He scooped up a dead sunfish. Sure enough, a hole bored straight through the fish’s middle.

  He waded back to the beach and held it up for her to see. “Brilliant shot. The fish didn’t know what hit him.”

  She paled, and her lips parted, but slowly they curved into a smile. She pinched her lips to keep from laughing, but merriment leaked out her nose in snorts. She covered her mouth with her hand to no avail. The giggles overwhelmed her, and she leaned against the barrel.

  He peered at the fish and burst with laughter.

  It was all the encouragement she needed. She stopped fighting and allowed her glee to overtake her.

  Her laugh was musical, light and warm. Katherine would have adored her.

  The thought sobered him, and he tossed the fish back into the surf. He inhaled a deep breath, but a smile lingered on his lips.