Prince Charming (11 page)

He glanced down, caught her staring up at him, and wondered what had come over her. She was blushing. She was such an innocent, he thought. Taylor looked mesmerized, almost dazed. What in thunder was the matter with her?

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“You're very handsome,” she blurted out. She immediately regretted telling him the truth. He looked exasperated with her. Her face felt as though it were burning. God, she wished she were more worldly, more sophisticated. “Of course, I'm a horrible judge of men,” she hastily added. “You've probably figured that out by now.”

“Why's that?”

Now she was exasperated. “I was going to marry William,” she reminded him.

He shrugged. She didn't know what that was supposed to mean. “I should hate all men, I suppose.”

He laughed. “You're too young to hate anyone.”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Old enough to hate the world.”

He was through discussing the matter. Lucas grabbed hold of her hand and started walking. She had to run to keep pace. Fortunately, the crowd swelled near the corner, and he was forced to slow down.

He had a firm grip on her hand. Taylor felt safe. It was an interesting feeling, overwhelmingly pleasant, actually, for she hadn't felt safe in such a long time. Things were looking much, much brighter.

They threaded their way through the chaos. The wharf was ablaze with light and activity. Carts piled high with trunks and suitcases stood unattended in the center of the street. Vendors shouted their prices and waved their wares as they pushed their way around the obstacles, while couples huddled together in a waiting line outside the ticketing office. Pickpockets darted in and out of the crowd, some as young as eight, others as old as eighty, but no one got within spitting distance of Taylor. Lucas wouldn't allow that. Men did gawk. They didn't touch. She noticed several gentlemen staring at her and believed her formal attire was drawing all the attention. With her free hand, she pulled the dark cape close and held the edges together against her chest.

Lucas noticed the action. “Are you getting cold?”

She shook her head. “I'm trying not to draw attention,” she explained. “I'm not dressed appropriately for travel,” she added when he continued to look down at her.

It wouldn't have mattered what she wore, Lucas decided. She couldn't change what she looked like. Her curly hair cascaded down her back. The color, as pure a gold as a stalk of prairie wheat, was like a beacon to anyone who happened to glance their way. Taylor was of medium height, yet she held herself like a tall, regal princess. There was a definite sensuality in her walk, too, Lucas had noticed that right away, and those were just a few of the hundred or so reasons why he didn't believe it was possible for her not to draw attention to herself. She was damned beautiful, and when she looked directly at a man with those big blue eyes, he might as well give up trying to do anything but stare back. Even if Taylor were dressed in beggar's britches and an oversized man's shirt, she would still attract notice and lustful stares.

He didn't like the attention she was getting any more than she did. He felt possessive and couldn't understand why. His reaction to her didn't make any sense, yet the need to protect her fairly overwhelmed him. Hell, he barely knew her. Yet she belonged to him. She was his wife now. And what in God's name was he going to do about that?

He was glaring down at her. His moods, she decided, were as contrary and unpredictable as the weather.

“I should have changed my gown after the ball,” she announced for lack of anything better to say.

“It wouldn't have helped.”

He sounded surly. He was still frowning something fierce, though Taylor was happy to notice the focus of his displeasure now seemed to be centered on a group of young men lounging against the metal hitching posts.

She didn't waste time speculating about his sudden change in mood, however, because they turned the corner then and she spotted the
Emerald
in the distance. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. The ship was a magnificent sight. The moon cast a golden glow upon the mighty vessel, making it appear mystical in size. White frothing caps from the churning waves of the Mersey slapped against the sides but the ship didn't appear to move at all. Why, the
Emerald
looked as sturdy as a mountain and as welcoming as a preacher on Sunday morning.

Taylor was awed by the sight. She came to a dead stop and stared in fascination. “Isn't it beautiful, Mr. Ross?”

The wonder in her voice made him feel like smiling. He looked at the ship, then turned back to her. “Yes, she is beautiful,” he agreed.

“She must weigh at least five thousand tons.”

“Not quite two,” he corrected. “We aren't in church, Taylor. You don't have to whisper.”

She hadn't realized she'd been whispering; she laughed over her own behavior. “She's very majestic looking, isn't she?” she remarked in a louder tone of voice.

Lucas didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm. He had sailed on larger, more impressive ships, but the look of pleasure he saw on her face made him keep that bit of information to himself.

Taylor was turning out to be a bit of a puzzle. He knew she came from an extremely wealthy family and, therefore, he assumed she'd had every advantage. Yet now she acted as though this were her first journey into the big city. She wasn't a country farm girl, but damned if she weren't acting like one.

She caught him staring down at her. “Am I gawking, Mr. Ross?”

“Just a little.”

She smiled. “I fear I'm not very sophisticated,” she admitted.

“Have you never left England before?”

“I've gone to Scotland many, many times,” she replied. “But I've never gone on the ocean. I'm looking forward to the experience.”

“Let's hope you don't get seasick.”

“Oh, I won't. I'm a very strong woman,” Taylor boasted. “I never get sick.”

He gave her a look that suggested he didn't believe her. She decided to turn the topic. “My grandfather Taylor and his brother-in-law, Andrew, sailed on the original
Emerald.
Andrew was too young to remember the adventure, but Grandfather was full of stories about life aboard ship and his friendship with the notorious nearsighted pirate named Black Harry. Have you ever heard of him, Mr. Ross?”

Lucas shook his head. “Do your grandfather and your uncle know you're sailing on yet another
Emerald?
”

“I told Uncle Andrew, and he gave his blessing. Grandfather Taylor died over ten years ago, but in my heart I'm certain he knows. I believe he watches out for me. You may laugh, if you're inclined, but I think of him as my protector. He won't let anything happen to me.”

He was married to a crazy woman. Lucas didn't know what to say in response to such foolish beliefs. He was a realist. She obviously wasn't. Such naivete would get her killed in the wilderness. But she wasn't going to Montana Territory, he reminded himself. She was going to Boston. It was civilized there and somewhat safe.

Still, to his way of thinking, she needed a live protector, not a ghost. “Did you say your uncle Andrew knows? Does that mean he's alive?”

“He's very much alive,” she replied. “He lives in the Highlands of Scotland. He's considered the black sheep of the family,” she added with a good deal of pride in her voice. “Madam often worried I would become overly influenced by her younger brother.”

They were hemmed in by traffic circling the corner now, and since it was impossible for them to go any further until the mail carts were unloaded, Lucas had an excuse for continuing the conversation. He was becoming fascinated by his bride. She was extremely open about her family and her past. Her honesty was refreshing. He was used to guarding every word he said. The less people knew about him and his family, the better off everyone would be. Taylor appeared to believe differently. She told her every thought, or so it seemed to him.

“Why did your grandmother worry you'd be influenced by her brother?”

“Why? Because he's peculiar,” she answered.

“I see,” Lucas replied for lack of anything better to say.

“My great-uncle is a wonderful teacher, and he taught me many valuable lessons.”

“Such as?”

“He taught me how to play the piano in grand style.”

He didn't laugh. “I suppose that will come in handy in the chamber rooms of Boston.”

He sounded a little condescending to her. “He also taught me all about guns and rifles, Mr. Ross. Uncle Andrew is a respected collector. If I were going to live on the frontier, I would be able to take care of myself,” she added. “He trained me well, sir. And so, you see, his lessons gave me both polish and practicality.”

“Could you shoot a man?”

She hesitated a long minute before answering. “I suppose I could,” she said. “It would depend.”

“Depend on what?” He couldn't help smiling. He couldn't imagine her holding a gun, let alone firing the thing.

She thought he was making fun of her. Why else would he be smiling? Her spine stiffened in reaction to her own conclusion.

Her voice was full of authority when she explained her position. “It would depend upon the circumstances. If I were protecting someone I loved, I most certainly could injure someone. I wouldn't want to,” she hastily added. “But I would. What about you?” she asked then. “Could you take another man's life?”

He didn't hesitate in giving his answer. “Without blinking an eye.”

It wasn't what he said as much as how he said it that made Taylor start worrying. They might be discussing the weather, so matter-of-fact was his attitude. It was unnerving. She couldn't seem to stop herself from asking, “Have you killed before?”

He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I was in the war against the South, Taylor. Of course I killed.”

“For duty,” she said, relieved. “I read all about the conflict between the States.”

“So you were named after your grandfather.”

It was apparent he wanted to change the subject. She was happy to accommodate him. “Yes.”

He nodded, dismissed the topic, then tightened his hold on her hand and started walking again. He shoved his way through the crowd. She kept trying to watch where she was going and to keep her gaze on the ship at the same time. She stumbled twice. Lucas noticed the second time. He slowed down then, and when the crowd became too pressing, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

It wasn't until they were standing side by side in the center of the throng of passengers inside the steam tender and on their way to the
Emerald
that the magnitude of what she was doing hit her full force. She should have been terrified. She usually worried over a plan of action until it became as worn as an old rosary bead, but she didn't have a single qualm or a second thought this time. Madam had suggested the marriage and Taylor had gone right along with the idea. What was done was done.

She was content. She wasn't saddened or filled with regrets because she was leaving her homeland. She wouldn't even look back toward the shore as some of the other young ladies were doing. One woman was dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. Another was openly weeping. Taylor's reaction was just the opposite. She felt like laughing, her joy barely contained. She was overwhelmed by the rightness of what she was doing. Lucas still had his arm around her shoulders. She moved closer, trying to gain a little more of his warmth. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. She felt that safe with her escort; she couldn't bring herself to think of him as her husband yet, and it really didn't matter anyway she supposed, since they would soon part company.

Taylor thought about the babies. Soon she would be able to hold them again. She wondered if she would recognize them. When last she'd seen them, they weren't even crawling. Now they must be walking and talking, and Lord, she could barely contain her excitement. She closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanksgiving because she was finally on her way, and then she said another prayer in anticipation of the new life she was about to begin.

She would collect the little girls as soon as she reached Boston, and then she would take them to safety. She would hide them where Uncle Malcolm would never think to look.

A glimmer of an idea came into her mind. Redemption. My, but she liked the sound of that. Could it be the sanctuary she was looking for? She let out a little sigh. Redemption.