The Merchant's Yield

by Lorri Dudley

His bold gaze raked over her from head to foot and slowly back up again. A glint of satisfaction lit his eyes, and a slow smile spread across his lips.

  Her fears melted as he strolled over and lifted his hand. She placed hers in his. Even though his touch was light, the firmness of his grasp hinted at the reserve of harnessed power.

  He bowed and brushed a kiss on the top of her satin glove. His gaze bathed her in admiration. “You are a vision.”

  His words flowed through her, tingling from her scalp all the way to her extremities.

  Quiet settled over the adjoining taproom as the constant din of laughter and drunken joviality died. Lottie glanced over her shoulder to discover all the patrons of the tavern staring unabashedly at her and Nathan. She gripped his hand and tried to hide behind his large form, but he shifted out of the way so she faced the room of dram drinkers.

  He lifted her hand. “May I present Lady Charlotte Amelia Winthrop, my wife.”

  He said the last words with such vehemence that cheers rose from the room, and the men lifted their glasses in salute. One man’s voice shouted over the rest. “Sign me up to be a sea rover if it means I can share in those sort of spoils.”

  Lottie’s cheeks burned hotter than the tropical midday sun.

  Nathan ignored the man’s comment and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. Captain Fielding, dressed in his formal captain’s garb, led his wife down the hall. Julia wore a dark indigo gown trimmed in lace that set off her exquisite form perfectly. Together, the couples exited the building.

  The sun hovered over the ocean in a blaze of color when they stopped to await the carriage. Nathan glanced at the horizon, then at her. He leaned in until his lips brushed the tiny curls dangling near her temple. “Look, the sun is attempting to emulate the rich color of your hair. I believe nature is jealous.”

  Her stomach flipped, not merely from his remark but from the intimacy of the moment.

  The footman brought around a barouche open carriage, and the gentlemen aided the ladies up. All the while, Lottie’s heart thumped in her chest. She licked her lips and mentally thanked God. It seemed she’d been granted a prompt answer to her prayer.

  As Nathan settled in next to Lottie, his clean fresh-air aroma billowed around her. Captain and Mrs. Fielding sat across from them, then Paul assumed the reigns and drove the team through the narrow streets.

  “You are in for a treat, Lady Winthrop.” Captain Fielding draped his arm over the backrest and ran his thumb down Julia’s arm. “These dinner parties used to be frequent on the island, but alas, have become fewer as of late.”

  “And why is that?” Lottie asked.

  “Absentee planters.” Nathan shifted in his seat and tugged on the knees of his breeches. “Very few planters live here anymore. Most made their fortunes and returned to England, leaving their holdings in the hands of attorneys and overseers.”

  Captain Fielding crossed one leg over the other. “The Carltons returned after they discovered both their attorney and their overseer were pocketing more than their share.”

  “Good help is hard to find on the island.” Julia pursed her lips. “But tonight, we shall forget about island politics and enjoy ourselves.” She patted her husband’s leg. “Right, my love?”

  “Sim, meu amor.” A jaunty smile lit the Captain’s lips, and his hooded eyes slid a sensual gaze over his wife.

  Nathan scratched his nose. “Portuguese?”

  Captain Fielding nodded.

  Deep in her heart, Lottie sighed. Would she ever experience a love like Julia and the captain’s? She stared at her folded hands, afraid that if Nathan glanced her way, he’d see the yearning in her eyes and either become more reserved or scoff at her childishness.

  Julia arched a brow at Lottie. “Are you ready for all eyes to be on you?”

  Lottie stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “The island is small and word travels quickly. Everyone is going to be buzzing about the redheaded Englishwoman Nathaniel Winthrop has made his wife.” She eyed Nathan. “There will be plenty of questions asked and unasked. I hope you are prepared.”

  Lottie could sense the coil inside Nathan tighten. Was Julia trying to get a rise out of him?

  He merely shrugged. “As always, my affairs are none of their concern.”

  His affairs? Was he speaking of their marriage? His words seemed laced with secrecy. They had only been recently married, but what else could he be referring to? The voices of the men in the market echoed in her mind. I heard dat he may be chummy wit da pirate king, Jean Lafitte.

  Julia nodded towards the water. “Look, the sun is setting.” A gentle breeze off the ocean ruffled their gowns.

  The foursome watched as the yellow ball melted into the ocean, changing the sky from orange to a pinkish-coral. The captain nestled Julia closer to his side. Their closeness made the hand’s width gap separating Nathan and Lottie feel like the size of a British frigate.

  A glow among the jungle trees caught Lottie’s eye. The carriage turned toward the mountain, and Lottie gripped her seat tighter due to the sharp incline. The light dwindled as the jungle canopy blocked the remainder of the sunset.

  In the dimness of dusk, Lottie could barely make out Nathan’s silhouette next to her. Paul steered the team to the left. The canopy opened, returning the light, and the ground leveled off. Tall palm trees lined either side of the lane leading to a large plantation house with its windows aglow. Violins serenaded, and the sound of laughter drifted across the grass. As the carriage pulled in front of the house, Lottie could hear her mother’s voice ticking off a list of commands. Instead of smoothing her skirts, checking her hair for any loose tendrils, and straightening her shoulders to appease her mother, she did so because she was a lady.

  Nathan stepped down and turned to aid Lottie out of the carriage.

  Despite the heat, her hands felt ice cold. He placed one on his arm and strolled through the entrance of the Carlton’s plantation as proudly as a duke gracing the home of the peerage.

  He passed his card to a footman, who didn’t read it before announcing, “Mister and Lady Nathaniel Winthrop of Calico Manor.”

  Lottie might have walked into any house in the English countryside. The Carltons’ plantation house was decked with the finest wood moldings, fabrics, furniture, and paintings. Twenty or so people milled about in their finery as footmen passed out drinks and finger sandwiches.

  Julia’s prediction had been correct. Many a gaze traveled their way. Some groups stopped their conversations. Others leaned in to begin speaking.

  Nathan ushered her straight to their hosts. “Lord and Lady Carlton, thank you for the honor of being your guest this evening.” He bowed his head. “Please let me introduce you to my wife, Lady Charlotte Winthrop.”

  Lottie curtsied.

  Lord and Lady Carlton dipped their heads in return. “Delightful to finally meet you, Lady Winthrop.” Mama would have approved of Lady Carlton’s decorum. The woman held herself in a regal manner. Tiny lines creasing the sides of her eyes made her appear of a similar age to Julia. “I must admit I have been curious to meet the woman who returned with Mr. Winthrop on the Katherine. He had not made it known he was seeking a wife.”

  “Lady Winthrop is the daughter of Lord and Lady Etheridge,” Nathan said.

  Lady Carlton reared back. “I-I’m acquainted with your mother.” For a brief second, she lost her polite composure. “She is an—er—unforgettable lady.”

  Lottie bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. “Indeed.”

  “Quite so.” Nathan didn’t hold back his wry smile. “However, please let it be noted that my wife takes more after her father’s side of the family.”

  “How delightful.” Lady Carlton visibly relaxed, and then noticed her gaffe. “For your father, I mean. I’m certain he’s quite proud.”

  “He was reluctant to see her go.” Nathan nodded to their hosts and pulled Lottie further into the house, pausing to introduce her to people as they pass
ed.

  The room was heavily weighted towards the men. Several military lieutenants and sergeants were present, their bright red coats standing out among the crowd. As the drinks flowed, some younger corporals gawked openly at her as if they hadn’t seen a female in years. Nathan rested a possessive hand on top of hers.

  “Good to see you back, Winthrop.” An impeccably dressed man with a tightly trimmed beard clapped Nathan on the arm. Nathan introduced her to the man, who he said was a planter from Sandy Point. The fellow inquired about business and dealings before turning his attention upon Lottie.

  “And how did you fair on the long sea voyage, Lady Winthrop?”

  Lottie’s heart skipped a beat as she searched for a proper answer.

  “Lady Winthrop found the open sea air refreshing.”

  Nathan’s creative response welled up a fit of giggles in the back of Lottie’s throat. His dry sense of humor heightened his appeal, drawing her like a ship into shore. She turned her head, pressed her cheek against his shoulder, and feigned a cough in an attempt to smother her laughter.

  A footman jingled the dinner bell, and the guests made their way into the dining room.

  Silver tiered candelabras illuminated the room and sparkled off the crystal goblets and silver flatware. Footmen dressed in livery pulled out their chairs and placed silk napkins on their laps. Soups were ladled into fine china bowls, and rum punch flowed freely. Lottie chatted amicably with a man from Bristol, Lord Sperry, who’d recently returned for the harvest. He prattled on about who they knew in common in London, and Lottie, surrounded by the comforts of home, almost forgot she wasn’t there.

  Nathan’s presence by her side and his clean tropical scent returned her to her senses. He relaxed into his chair, and his arm brushed hers. That slight touch invigorated her senses. He regarded the lieutenant with relaxed indifference, as if only half paying attention, but he was qualifying every word the man spoke. The realization spread warmth through her chest. She’d come to know her husband’s slightest nuances. For the first time, she truly felt like a wife.

  Nathan, Captain Fielding, and one of the lieutenants discussed the slave revolts in Jamaica and the costs of Britain, once again, waging war with America. Each time Nathan commented, his baritone voice enlivened a part of her brain, and she found herself politely disengaging from Lord Sperry. Nathan’s masculine baritone flowed over her skin and reverberated through her.

  “If Britain wants to win this war, they must first take New Orleans.” Nathan lifted his dark gaze to the lieutenant.

  “New Orleans is already in His Majesty’s pocket. The area is a conglomerate of French, Creoles, and Spanish. They hold no loyalty to America. They will happily step aside and let our royal troops take control to avoid a bloody battle.”

  “It may prove to be more challenging than that.” Nathan cleared his throat. “It will depend upon where Lafitte’s loyalties lie.”

  “What influence could a dastardly pirate hold? Not enough to battle a fleet of frigates.”

  “Bah.” Captain Fielding waved a dismissive hand. “You forget Lafitte was trained at our military academy here on the island.” Captain Fielding inclined his head toward Nathan. “Isn’t that right?”

  Nathan answered with a single nod.

  Julia set down her glass, and her lips curved into a shrewd smile. “Isn’t there a rumor of Lafitte putting a reward out for Governor Claiborne’s arrest?”

  The lieutenant, whose face had become red with drink, perked up. “Indeed, I have heard of this tale regarding the Louisiana statesmen.”

  “Of course.” Captain Fielding smiled wide. “Lafitte is a wily one.”

  Eyes all over the table stopped and stared at the captain.

  “Governor Claiborne wanted to put an end to Lafitte’s smuggling.” Captain Fielding met the eyes of each of the guests to ensure their attention. “So he posted a five hundred dollar reward for the capture of Jean Lafitte. Lafitte strolled down the main street, carefree as a wren and confident as a falcon in flight, and stopped to read every posted proclamation nailed to the lampposts. Each time, he grinned like a thief and chuckled to himself.”

  The lieutenant swigged his drink and hissed out a bout of laughter. “’Tis the very truth.”

  The captain glared at the man, apparently irritated by the interruption. Then he continued. “The next morning, all the notices were torn down and new proclamations were posted stating a fifteen hundred dollar reward for anyone who captured William C. C. Claiborne, the Governor of Louisiana, and delivered him to Grand Terre.”

  The few women present gasped. Several men appeared indignant, but most of the men raised their glasses and saluted the pirate for putting one over on the American government.

  A crooked smile curved Nathan’s mouth, but he didn’t participate in the toast.

  Several more tales were told about Lafitte before the topic turned to the blight of pirates and privateers increasing their business in the area. Although owning slaves was condoned, slave trading had become illegal. Unfortunately, its ban brought an entire underground trade to life. The term black ivory was spoken in hushed tones during several conversations. Lottie deduced from gathering snatches of conversations that it meant the smuggling of African slaves. Nathan remained quiet during the night’s conversation until dinner finished and the guests streamed outside for a bit of dancing.

  Nathan’s firm hand guided her down the steep torch-lit path toward the beach. Seagrass brushed against the edges of her gown. Rich notes of the orchestra serenaded as they approached, having already relocated to a gazebo near a small dock in the inlet. A footman stood where the beach began and collected their slippers or shoes so they could dance without sand filling them.

  Lottie peered up into Nathan’s shadowed face. “If this is common for all island parties, then you truly did grow up barefoot in the sand.”

  The brilliant white of Nathan’s smile reflected the light of the full moon. “Come along now.” He pulled her toward the place where couples had gathered on a makeshift dance floor. “I’ve been longing to dance with you again since the night we met.”

  He’d longed to dance with her? Tingles ran under her skin and settled into the pit of her stomach.

  He pulled her into the closed stance of a waltz. Couples swirled around in the sand, the soft floor not hindering their dancing at all. Nathan held her a bit closer than what would be considered appropriate in an English ballroom. However, Captain Fielding held Julia the same way, and even their hosts enjoyed the relaxed stance. Mother would never approve. But Lottie didn’t care. The thrill of being in Nathan’s strong arms, his focus solely on her, was a heady sensation.

  Couples traded partners for the next set, and Lottie danced with Captain Fielding, then the two lieutenants, and Lord Sperry. With such a shortage of women, it only seemed kind to partner as many dances as possible so that every gentleman could get a turn. The other women of the group appeared as flushed as Lottie felt.

  A younger man in uniform she’d been introduced to earlier bowed and requested the next dance. The potent smell of spirits reeked from his person, and he could barely lift his gaze to her face under weighted lids. She opened her mouth to excuse herself for refreshment, but Nathan stepped beside her and explained the dance was already taken.

  Winded from previous dances, but unwilling to miss out on another dance with Nathan, Lottie accepted his arm.

  A group of slaves dressed in livery lined up on either side of the gazebo. The two on the ends carried long drums. The orchestra paused, but Nathan continued to pull her toward the dancing area.

  The drummers struck a beat. One lifted what appeared to be a cowbell and joined in.

  Lottie hesitated. “I haven’t heard this sort of music before.”

  Nathan gripped her in a closed hold. “It’s common on the islands of Trinidad and Tobago. The planters there allow their slaves’ special privileges to perform. Lord and Lady Carlton stopped there on the return voyage and found the mus
ic so splendid, they purchased a Trinidadian slave to teach theirs to perform. It has become an island favorite.”

  “I’m at a loss as to the steps.”

  “You merely need to move to the rhythm. It’s a slow four-beat instead of the three rise and fall beats of the waltz.”

  He must have felt her hesitation for he said, “Relax and follow me.”

  He promenaded her on his arm, and she quickly picked up the four steps. The dancing went against everything she’d been taught. Instead of a stiff carriage with her back straight and her chin high, they moved with relaxed grace. Instead of the quick high steps and jetés, the steps were slower, looser, swaying her hips. He moved her into several spins, smiling as she mastered them.

  If only her mother could see her now. She’d faint dead away.

  The song ended, and the drummers began another beat. Nathan guided her toward a servant passing out refreshments and handed her a drink. A gentle breeze picked up, cooling Lottie’s warm skin as she sipped.

  Nathan leaned in close enough that she could feel his radiating heat. His breath swayed the loose tendrils of hair and tickled her ear, reminding her of the night of their first dance.

  “You must be overheated. Let’s take in the air and enjoy the breeze.”

  She nodded as she sent him a cautious smile and followed him as they escaped farther down the beach. The moonlight reflected off the waves, and the cool sand softened their steps. He laced his fingers through hers, and they strolled hand in hand as if they were a love match. A vast canopy of stars twinkled above their heads, and Lottie whispered thank you to her maker.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Nathan’s husky voice reverberated above the ebb and flow of the nearby surf.

  “Immensely.” She didn’t bother reining in her smile. With the exhilaration of her fingers encased in the warmth of his strong hand, it would have bubbled up in one way or another.

  “I thought it might remind you of home.” His steps slowed. “Have you been missing…?” He rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand. “Rather…have you been homesick?”

  “Not when I’m with you.” Her breath hitched at the boldness of her statement.