The Patriot Bride (10 page)

“But, you said - ” Hannah had let herself hope too much, and she was devastated by his blithe statements. “I’m not going back to England. My life is here.”

The glare that he gave her when he turned away from his paperwork would have smote a less stubborn woman. But Hannah merely gave him back a glare of her own.

“I’m not going to keep repeating myself, Hannah, and you are not going to create any sort of a scene. Am I making myself perfectly clear?” he asked, glancing at the strop that he’d coiled on top of the dresser.

Hannah bit her lip as tears flooded her eyes and overflowed down her face, but she didn’t bit her lip. “You, Sir, for all your titles and your land and your military rank, are a cad of the lowest sort.” She presented him with her staunch back, refusing to acknowledge him any further, or give in to the impulse to wail out loud. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

But she couldn’t stop the tears from dripping from her chin, or the occasional sniffle, no how much she tried to stifle it.

Wolf barely spared his intractable wife a glance, until more than an hour later, she was still standing there, staring blankly out the window. Everything had been moved and their smallish cabin was awaiting them on board. He figured it would be better just to get it over with and get them settled the night before, but looking at that starched back, he knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

Somehow, she’d gotten it into her mind that he was just going to let her stay here without him. But she couldn’t have been more wrong. Apparently she still hadn’t adjusted to the idea that she was his wife. She’d have the next month or so to come to grips with it, because they probably weren’t going to be seeing that much of anyone else.

He stood next to her, looking at her pale, unhappy profile, noting the evidence of her recent tears, and wishing he knew of something he could do – besides disappearing all together - to bring a smile to her face. If they had had the time, he would have taken her to a dress shop – perhaps even the one she used to work at – and ordered her a new wardrobe, which she desperately needed. But that wasn’t an option.

Steeling himself, he offered his arm. “It’s time we left, Hannah,” he said softly, but she didn’t acknowledge him in any way – until he grew tired of waiting and simply picked her up. He’d carried her into the room, he supposed it was only right that he carry her out.

Chapter Seven

As soon as her feet left the floor, she began to thrash around, struggling and yelling about how he was kidnapping her and screaming for help. Hannah was having such a fit that she probably didn’t even see any of the stares he was having to endure. She kept it up all the way onto the boat and into their cabin, where he set her down and proceeded to give her no chance to even look around before guiding her into the corner.

He knew that if he touched her right now, he probably couldn’t keep himself from killing her. She had embarrassed him more than any person had ever managed to in his life, even his mother, and that was saying something. He considered ripping every stitch of clothing off her painfully thin body, but then decided against it, since he knew she didn’t have any dresses to spare.

So he settled for tucking the skirt of her dress up around her waist, and making her hold it there, so that her bloomers were exposed – at least until he brought them down to her ankles.

“No, don’t!” she dared to cry, but Wolf paid no attention whatsoever.

His voice was ice cold when he ordered, “I have things to do. You are to stand there and not move one muscle. If you so much as nod your head, I’ll know it, and what’s going to already go badly for you because of your abominable behavior, is going to be that much worse.”

Hannah hadn’t figured that she’d ever be able to get herself into more trouble than shooting him, but apparently she was wrong, as usual around this annoying, overpowering man.

He turned and left without another word, and Hannah stood there, becoming progressively more uncomfortable as every minute passed. The ship was rocking, however gently, but she knew from previous experience that even these gentle swells were going to be more than enough to make her need to empty her stomach in a frequent and violent manner.

And she did, staying exactly where she was told. She did, however turn her head, so as not to soil herself or her clothing. But she knew that all her sympathies were going to lie with whoever ended up having to clean up her mess. The sicker she was, though, the closer she drifted towards fainting, and she could only imagine what the big man would do to her for that.

It wasn’t too long, though, before she heard someone at the door. The man himself, speaking to someone else as he entered the room. “ – better not have come and gotten me on some sort of fool’s errand, corporal - ” But Wolf stopped mid sentence and crossed the distance between himself and his errant wife, his arms closing around her just as she appeared to faint.

“Hannah!” he patted her cheeks and her head lolled to one side. The stench in the room was horrid, and he set the young soldier to cleaning it up. He would be happier with the acrid scent of lye than the other. He lay his tiny wife down on their bed, which was small by his standards but probably about what she had been used to in her little shack, but when she bent right back over the side of the bed and wretched agonizingly, he called out to the young man he’d just sent to get something to clean up the mess. “Bring two buckets, James!”

It was like that for so long that Wolf seriously considered taking her back onto land, but he did need to get to his mother, and he figured that it had to get better sometime within the next day or so, when she got her sea legs under her. Sailing wasn’t his favorite thing, either – he’d much rather have a horse beneath him than a ship any time. That’s why he’d joined the Army rather than the Navy.

But, a day later, it wasn’t any better. She had nothing more on her stomach, and yet she continued to be sick every hour or so. Wolf was beside himself. They were under sail – he had made the decision to leave, and if she died, it would be his own fault.

He sent young James for the ship’s doctor, who arrived and proclaimed that she had the worst case of seasickness he’d ever seen. He didn’t know why, but it struck Wolf at that point that seasickness might not have been the answer.

“Could it be that she’s pregnant?” he asked grimly.

If Hannah had been healthy, she would have slapped him across the face. As it was, she settled for a weak glare that he didn’t so much as notice.

Luckily for her, the doctor chuckled. “I’ve never seen a case of morning sickness that was quite this violent. She was fine on dry land?” Wolf nodded. “And got sick as soon as we got under way?” He nodded again. “It’s sea sickness all right. Try to keep some weak tea or broth in her. She’s a slip of a thing and she doesn’t have an ounce to lose.”

Hannah would have preferred to have been allowed to die. Anything would have been better than the awful contrary rolling between the ship and her stomach. There was no comfortable position, even on the big, fluffy bed, and she continued to empty nearly all of her organs into the buckets he provided on a routine basis, despite the fact that he kept trying to follow the doctor’s suggestion and keep a light fluid on her stomach.

It was the corporal, who, like Wilkins, seemed to have become instantly enamored of his wife, who came up with the only thing that seemed to help. At one point, when Wolf was about at the end of his rope, and Hannah was sleeping fitfully, he knocked timidly at the door with a slice of dry, toasted bread. “Me mum gave it to us when we was feelin’ poorly, Sir. I ‘ope it’ll help Milady, Sir.”

Although he was doubtful – and gave the eager, puppyish corporal a jaundiced eye – he still took the plate and lifted Hannah against him, touching the tip of the toast to her lips. “Here, sweetie, try this.”

Hannah was so weak she just did what she was told, quite sure that nothing could make her any worse, and, as a matter of fact, several minutes later her stomach quit rumbling as loudly, and she was able to stretch out from the fetal position she’d assumed while trying to calm her tummy. She didn’t feel quite human, yet, but she was definitely feeling better than she had.

Wolf wasn’t about to let her up and about yet, even if she had had the inclination, which she apparently didn’t, thankfully. He did thank the corporal, though, before dismissing and packing him out the door before the drool flooded the cabin.

That night, she slept deeply for the first time in almost a week, although it wasn’t undisturbed sleep. In fact, it seemed to be quite fitful at times. Wolf remained awake and watchful of her, not trusting the sickness not to come back, and he knew what he was watching when he saw her rolling violently from side to side, arms up to cover her face. His own was grim and white.

She was being beaten, and he didn’t like to see it even though – right now – it was only a dream. It made him want to throttle whoever it was that was accosting her in her sleep – and seconds later, when she woke herself up screaming, “Daddy! No!” – a serious suspicion was planted in his mind, one that he didn’t like the thought of in the least. He couldn’t believe that any man would take his fists to his daughter, and Hannah – even full grown as she was – was more delicate than most. He couldn’t imagine what a small waif of a child she’d been.

He made a mental note to speak to her about it when she was feeling better.

Wolf kept Hannah in bed for almost another week, since dry toast turned out to be the only thing she could keep down and she was still extremely weak. He tried to occupy her as much as possible himself, reading to her from some of his own books – censured, of course. He hadn’t at all liked some of the choices he’d found in her own small collection of books, feeling they weren’t at all suitable for a genteel woman.

Entertaining her became more trying the better she began to feel, and she seemed to recognize that his threats of spanking her when she was looking and feeling so puny were completely empty. He could no more physically discipline her right now than he could have cut off his own right arm.

So he produced a deck off cards and taught her how to play Solitaire, and she entertained herself for a while, then roped him into teaching her other games. Eventually, they ended up playing Euchre with Corporal Richmond, who, much to Wolf’s disgust, had become her hero by producing a piece of toast, and the Captain, who was the only other person on board who knew – or had the inclination – to play.

They had had a standing invitation to Captain Standish’s table for dinner, but had never been able to accept it because Hannah had taken so sick. The first time she’d met him, Wolf had had to wonder if it was such a good idea to have him in the same room. It seemed she could charm every man who came in contact with her – himself included. But none of the rest of her sycophants saw how stubborn she was to her husband.

Gabriel Standish could count Miles Standish – the second man to stand on Plymouth Rock – among his ancestors, although he had added practically added a foot to the smaller man’s stature. He, too, eschewed the usual white wig in favor of his own slight queue in back, and under normal circumstances he and Wolf might have been friends.

But Hannah made that largely impossible, from the first wan smile she bestowed upon the other man, she’d sealed his role as Wolf’s rival. She’d never smiled at him like that.

Captain Standish had bestowed her first bow upon the shy duchess, then had reached out and taken her pale hand and pressed his lips to the back of it, saying with as impish smile a man of his size could have, “My Lady, your beautiful presence does the Rogue a great honor.”

Wolf rolled his eyes, but Hannah was shyly sopping it all up, which made him wonder if this had been such a good idea.

It was the first time in a while that she’d been both up and dressed, and sitting in the chair - where Wolf had warned her she had better stay if she knew what was good for her - made both Wolf and the Captain seem just that much bigger. The two of them were a huge pair – both of them broad in the shoulders but slim hipped, with trunk like thighs and thickly muscled arms. They dwarfed poor Corporal Richmond, whose nervousness rose to such incredible proportions that he was constantly losing all control of the cards.

It seemed they were well suited to the play, however, and it was several hours before the Captain scraped his chair back from the table, whispering, “I think we should agree to continue play tomorrow, perhaps,” nodding towards Hannah, whose eyelids were drooping visibly.

Wolf was irked at himself that he hadn’t been the one to notice her fatigue, or remember that she was likely to get tired more quickly than she might.

But Hannah’s eyes drifted open on a frown. “I’m awake, I’m awake!” she drawled slowly, belying her words.

Wolf scooped her up, ignoring her protests about being handled thus in front of their guests, and lay her down on their bed, pulling a light blanket over her. “Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” Hannah barely breathed. “I had a wonderful time.”

Both men had strange, soft smiles on their faces, and answered their welcomes in unison, one alto, one bass, as they made their way as quietly as possible out of the room. Wolf, for one, was just as happy to see them go, but he’d also enjoyed watching Hannah do something other than scowl at him or reach for a bucket. She was not quite up to par, but she was doing much better than she had been, or he would never have allowed this little gathering.

Despite her protestations, she was asleep minutes after he put her down, and Wolf decided to take a few minutes and go topside. He was nearly alone at the bow when he heard someone coming up behind him, and the rich scent of the Captain’s cigar wafted to his nostrils.

“May I offer you a cigar, your Lordship?” Gabriel held one out, his tone one of mocking deference.

Wolf turned, glaring at his friend and reluctantly reaching for the cigar. “You’d better be offering me something after the way you ogled my wife all afternoon,” he snarled, snatching it away from him and lighting it angrily.