The Bridegroom (18 page)

The first person she saw when she arrived on deck was Pegg. The giant had turned out to be a gentle man and had become her only friend on board besides Freddy, who was kept busy with shipboard chores. She searched out Clay and found him standing at the wheel, his face turned to the wind, looking as devilishly handsome as ever—and just as dangerous.

She crossed to the rail near where Pegg was sitting on a keg, braiding rope. She leaned across the smoothly varnished English oak, staring out at the horizon, making certain her buttocks in the skin-tight trousers were aimed in Clay’s direction.

It was a blatant invitation to be mounted.

Clay had warned her, the first time he caught her bent over the ship’s rail with her bottom in the air, that it was unseemly. She had laughed at him and replied, “Would you rather I wore a dress and allowed your sailors to ogle my bosom?”

A muscle had jerked in his cheek, but he had conceded the battle and stalked away.

Reggie leaned recklessly far over the rail to watch an albatross skip across the waves.

“Ye’re a born sailor, lass,” Pegg remarked. “But better ye should stay on board. The sea is cold and deep.”

Reggie flashed the older man a grin, then turned her nose into the wind. She loved the salty smell of the sea, the rhythmic splash of the waves against the hull, the flap of the sails in the sea breeze, even the sea chanteys the deckhands sang as they went about their work.

“My father’s first ship, the
Twin Ladies
, sank in a storm off the coast of Scotland years ago,” she said.
“But he had another built, the
Scottish Lady
. He often took my sister and me sailing with him. Becky never found her sea legs, but I learned to love it.”

“Best not let his lordship see ye again in them breeches,” Pegg warned. “He’ll have yer tail and mine, too. He near stripped my hide for askin’ Danny for the loan of them.”

Reggie flashed a glance in Clay’s direction, but he was pointedly ignoring her. “My husband knows better than to complain, since he is the reason I have naught else to wear.”

Reggie gripped the ship’s rail tightly. Since that first night, Clay had not come near her. She knew he must sleep beside her, because the pillow bore an indentation. But he came to bed after she was asleep and left before she awoke. She also knew he must desire her; she felt the sparks whenever their eyes met. But she did not understand why he was not taking what he wanted.

She was clever enough to have figured out that the physical closeness between a man and a woman was a powerful means of binding them together. She needed Clay to give in to temptation. She needed him to want her.

Reggie turned to look at Pegg. The Scotsman knew Clay better than any other man. She felt awkward approaching him, but there was no one else to ask. She let go of the rail and crossed to where Pegg sat, his peg leg braced on the deck, his deft hands still braiding twine into rope. “May I ask you a question about the earl, Pegg?”

Pegg’s fingers never missed a move, though his one
good eye left his work and focused intently on her. “What is it, lass?”

“Do you think perhaps Carlisle does not want …? You see, he has not … Is it possible he did not …?”

“Spit it out, lass.”

Reggie swallowed hard. “I believe there must be some flaw in me that my husband cannot excuse. Perhaps he was offended by what he saw when he came to rescue me. Or perhaps I am not the sort of woman he desires. You see …” Reggie leaned close and whispered the rest in Pegg’s ear.

The Scotsman stared at her in disbelief, then slapped his knee and guffawed. “I dinna believe it, lass! Are ye saying he hasna touched ye since that first night? Not once?”

“Shh!” Reggie cautioned, pressing her fingertips across his lips and glancing around her in search of the nearest sailor. “Someone might hear you.”

Pegg made a
tsk
ing sound and shook his head. “Stubborn, he is. And honorable to a fault. It comes of having been accused of wrongdoing when he was innocent, ye see. ’Twas yer father did the blaming, and Clay canna forgive him for it. And he canna forget. Nay, I canna either, if the truth be known.”

“Were you falsely accused, too?” Reggie asked.

Pegg chuckled. “Not me, lass. I was a thief, right enough.”

“A highwayman?” Reggie asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Nothin’ so fancy. A simple card sharp. I cheated the
wrong man and got caught.” Pegg shrugged. “I had cheated more than him what caught me, so I suppose I deserved what I got. But it turned out more terrible than any of us ever guessed.”

“What happened?” Reggie asked. “I have never heard the whole story.”

“I shouldna be tellin’ ye this,” Pegg said.

Reggie shot him an imploring look and said, “Oh, please, Pegg. Please.”

“Them bright blue eyes of yers turn my spine to mush,” Pegg grumbled. “Here’s the long and the short of it, then. We got caught in a storm, and the ship foundered. One of the guards took pity and began unlocking the chains, but it was too late for most. I was free … but Clay was not.”

“Then how did he escape drowning?”

“Well, that’s where I come in. Ye might have noticed, I’m a wee bit of a brawny fellow.”

“A giant of a man,” Reggie agreed with a grin. “Did you save him, Pegg?”

“I did,” Pegg said, bowing his head modestly.

Reggie leaned over impulsively and kissed his grizzled cheek. “Thank you, Pegg. I’m glad you did.”

Pegg’s eyes focused on his hands again. “I pulled the rotten board that held his chains right out of the ship, I did, and hauled him with me up on deck. That was not the end of it, though.”

“Because you were marooned at sea on a piece of flotsam,” Reggie guessed, imagining in her mind’s eye what it would be like to be caught in such a storm, to be certain one would drown, and then to be miraculously
saved. “With no food or water and the hot sun beating down on you—”

“Who’s tellin’ this story?” Pegg asked.

“You are,” Reggie said sheepishly. “Go on.”

“When we saw sails on the horizon, we slapped each other on the back and grinned, though our lips cracked, they were so dry. It was one of His Majesty’s frigates.

“The captain saw the metal cuffs on our legs and knew we were convicts, so he gave us a choice. We could go back to England and be transported again to serve out our sentences. Or we could serve with him for five years. So Clay and I joined the British navy.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Reggie said. “It must certainly have been a better fate than becoming a bondservant in Australia.”

“Aye, lass, so ye would think. But Captain Taylor was fond of the lash, and yer Clay was not a man to suffer fools gladly.”

Reggie’s eyes widened in horror. “Are you saying the English captain whipped him?”

“Aye, lass. We served with Taylor for five long years, but at the end of it, the captain said we’d misunderstood, that we must serve the full seven we’d have owed if we’d been transported. Not long after that, Clay and I slipped over the side at one of those Caribbean islands where the captain stopped to take on water.”

“And that’s where Clay won his ship and became the Sea Dragon?”

“Ye have the right of it. And a menacing creature he was, especially whenever he spied a vessel escorted by a ship in His Majesty’s navy. To tell the truth, I think he
was lookin’ for Captain Taylor. Someone else got to the captain first, though the story told is that he fell overboard in a storm.”

“None of this explains why my husband is avoiding me,” Reggie said.

“Dinna ye see, lass? Clay likes ye more than he wants to. But he canna let himself love ye, not when he hates yer father. He canna give up his vengeance. Not even for you.”

“Then why did he marry me?” Reggie asked.

“Ye must see it, lass. Do ye need me to draw a picture?”

“Just tell me, Pegg. Why?”

“To punish yer father, lass. To make him wonder and worry if Clay is mistreatin’ ye. To take from yer father what he thinks yer father stole from him—a beloved child.”

Reggie stared at Pegg in horror. “You cannot mean it.” How had she fallen into Clay’s web? How could he have dissembled so thoroughly?

“ ’Tis sorry I am, lass. Ye asked, and I told ye. With all the demons the lad’s fightin’, ye should be grateful he’s left ye alone.”

“I will give him more than demons to fight,” Reggie muttered.

“Now, hold on there. What are ye plannin’, lass?”

“Nothing that should worry you, Pegg,” she said. She focused her eyes on the earl. “But Carlisle had better batten down the hatches!”

• • •

Clay saw Reggie coming and called a sailor to take the ship’s wheel. He crossed to the rail and waited for her to reach him.

The wind had whipped her hair into curls around her face, and the blue ribbon that held her long black hair had come half undone. The sun had brought out freckles across her nose, and her cheeks were burned pink.

She was wearing one of his old shirts, open at the throat, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her bare forearms, the cotton so thin he could see a faint outline of her nipples beneath the flimsy chemise she wore under the shirt.

But the shirt was not the worst offense. She was wearing a pair of breeches that lovingly hugged her figure, making it easy for him to imagine slipping his hand between her legs to palm the heat and the heart of her.

He arched a disdainful brow. “Breeches again, my lady?”

“Would you rather I wore one of those dresses fit for a doxy?” she replied with a brow arched as high as his own.

“I have made my preference clear,” he said.

“As I have made mine,” she replied.

He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest—to make certain he would not be tempted to reach for her. “Then what has you so bedeviled, my dear?”

“I have been a bride for three days,” she said, closing the distance between them. “But I do not feel like a wife.”

He perused her body in a way that suggested she most certainly was.

She looked up at him, temptation in her body, surrender in her eyes. He knew there must be a good reason why he should not enjoy her, but right now he could not think of it.

“Pegg said you only married me to punish my father, to make him know how it felt to lose a child.”

“Bloody hell!” What the devil had Pegg been thinking, to speak so frankly? Of course, he had told her nearly as much himself on their wedding night.

Reggie reached out and laid a hand on his arm. Goose bumps rose the entire length of it.

“I’m your wife, Clay. If we are to have any hope of happiness—”

Clay snorted and pulled away, denying the need that made him quiver like a beast in rut. “My chance for happiness ended when your father watched me board that convict ship in chains. I lost everything I had, everything that was dear to me. Well, I have taken something dear away from him.”

“I suppose I am dear to my father,” Reggie said. “How were you planning to separate us? Are you going to make me walk the plank?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Reggie raised a brow. “I promise you, nothing less than death could keep us separated for very long. I will seek him out when we arrive in Scotland. I love my father. I do not intend to give him up.”

Carlisle did not argue with her, though the subject demanded discussion. He turned his face toward the horizon—and saw the faint outline of the rocky Scottish
coast. “I intend to travel directly to Castle Carlisle once we reach port.”

“You cannot keep me from seeing my father,” she said. “You cannot guard me every minute of every day and—”

He turned to look down at her, feeling the blackness roil inside him. “I do not have to guard you,” he said. “I will merely make it plain to the duke that if he ever speaks to you, if he ever so much as lays eyes on you, you will suffer for it. He will make certain he is never at home when you come to call.”

Clay saw from the stunned look on Reggie’s face that he was right. It was a diabolical plan, but it would work.

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but none fell. “Am I correct in assuming you would have no objection if I see my stepmother or my brother Gareth or my new sister?”

He shrugged. “My fight is not with them.”

“How long must my father and I be parted?” she asked.

“I only ask that he suffer what I suffered,” the earl said. “A child taken away for a child taken away.”

Reggie’s face blanched, and she wavered on her feet as a rogue wave rolled under the ship. Clay reached out to steady her, but she jerked herself free and said, “You are blaming my father for something over which he had no control. Your son died in childbirth.”

“And do you know why my son died being born?” he asked in a ragged voice.

“It must have been God’s will,” Reggie said.

“God had nothing to do with it! My wife could not bear the shame of being married to a convict, a man who had been stripped of his title, a man who was nothing
and nobody. She wanted to be free of me, and she most definitely did not want my son!”

Reggie put her hands over her ears. “Do not say any more. I don’t want to hear—”

He grabbed her wrists and shoved them behind her back, forcing her against his rigid body, forcing her to listen.

“She murdered my son. She tried to rid herself of the child growing inside her and died herself in the killing of him.”

Reggie stared at Carlisle in horror. “No woman could do such a thing!”

“But she did,” he said coldly. “And who shall I blame for such a tragedy? An abandoned woman too weak to deal with the vagaries of life? Or your father, who helped sentence an innocent man to transportation and left that woman to fend for herself?”

“I’m sorry—”

He released her abruptly and stepped back, his features contorted with rage. “A nice, neat apology will not bring back my wife or my son or my life before your father ruined it.”

“I should never have married you,” Reggie said.

“But you did,” Carlisle said. “Till death us do part.”

Reggie stared at the man sitting on the opposite side of the carriage. She could hardly imagine the horrors Clay Bannister had suffered in his lifetime, but every time she thought she had heard the worst, there was worse to be told. She still could not believe his wife had killed herself and their unborn child. No wonder he was such a bitter man. No wonder his heart was filled with so much hatred.