The Perfect Wife (12 page)

“Matt! Would you kindly try to remain serious and keep your mind on the matter at hand.”

“All right.” He sighed in resignation. “But I can think of a number of things we could be doing together that would be far more interesting than studying an old letter.”

“Interesting perhaps, Matt,” she murmured, ignoring the suggestion behind his comments, her gaze scanning the page before her, her mind firmly centered on the scrawled handwriting, “but not nearly so profitable.”

Still standing, she bent low over the letter, her head next to Mart’s. The two studied the words long and carefully, one occasionally drawing the other’s attention to a particular point. Matt concurred with Sabrina’s conclusion as to the approximate location of the gold. The ship creaked around them, the noise a constant blurry background, complimenting their conversation. She no longer paid notice to even the loudest squeaks. After several moments she straightened up and stretched. Matt glanced up at her.

“You say you don’t know where the first page of this is?”

“I have no idea. This is all I found.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “looking at this, I don’t think we need it.” He grinned. “I think we’ve got ourselves real good directions to a king’s ransom in gold.”

Sabrina laughed with delight. “Matt, I haven’t been so excited in years. A fortune in gold, just think of it!”

A wry voice sounded from the doorway.

“I find, my dear, I can think of little else.”

“Don’t you ever knock?” Sabrina snapped.

Nicholas smiled grimly from the doorway. “I thought we had thoroughly discussed that. Remember, this is my cabin.”

“Yes, I know.” She shot him a scathing glare. “Your cabin, your table, your chairs, your bed—”

“My wife.” His icy tone shivered through her, but he directed his smoldering gaze at Matt. Matt leaned back in his chair, his attitude issuing a casual challenge.

“I think we are all well aware of that relationship,” she said sharply.

“Excellent. I feared you had forgotten it.” He raked his angry gaze over her. “Would you care to explain why you are here with Madison? Alone?”

Sabrina glared, exasperated and more than a little annoyed. Surely the man couldn’t believe there was anything improper in her being alone with Matt? She had given him absolutely no reason to distrust her. And jealousy was no longer an acceptable excuse for his maddening and insulting suspicions.

“No, I would not care to explain. I do not believe an explanation is necessary.” She nodded toward Matt. “I believe I made my relationship with Matt perfectly clear earlier.”

“Oh?” Matt tossed her a knowing grin. “What did you tell him?”

Sabrina drew her brows together in an irritated frown and cast him a quelling glance. She turned to Nicholas. “I told you exactly how I feel about him. Therefore, there is no reason for you to storm in here like an avenging angel or a—”

“Betrayed husband?” Matt asked innocently.

Nicholas’s anger was almost palpable. Fury sparked in his eyes. Sabrina had never seen him this irate, and she sensed he was hard pressed to contain himself. His voice came as hard as the set of his jaw, and a trickle of foreboding lodged in her midsection. “Yes, my dear, you have more than explained your feelings for this man. However, I am not aware of his feelings for you. Furthermore, I suspect he is not to be trusted when it comes to such matters.”

Sabrina’s gaze shot from Nicholas to Matt. He couldn’t possibly take Nicholas’s insults seriously, could he? Matt lounged in his chair.

“That sounds suspiciously as if you’re accusing me of being lacking in honor.” His indolent drawl belied the steely glint in his eye. Sabrina’s apprehension grew with every word.

Nicholas raised a scornful brow. “I must say, you surprise me. I didn’t expect you to be perceptive enough to comprehend my meaning.”

“Nicholas!” His comments appalled her. In spite of their longtime affection, she feared Matt would not allow this insult to pass. The knot in her stomach tightened. Friend or not, Matt could be a very dangerous man.

Matt unfolded his long frame from the chair and rose to his feet, his nonchalant manner in stark contrast to his eyes, dark and stormy and dangerous.

“I will explain this to you once, Wyldewood.” Matt’s voice came surprisingly calm, cool, controlled. Hope of diffusing the rapidly escalating confrontation flickered within Sabrina. “Bree and I have known each other for many years. At one time we enjoyed a business relationship. We share a certain amount of affection. I care for her as if—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Nicholas interrupted impatiently. “As if she were your sister.”

“Exactly.” Matt nodded firmly.

Nicholas snorted with derision. “That should give Sabrina scant comfort, considering you could not properly care for your own sister.”

Confusion colored Matt’s face. “My sister?”

“His sister?” Sabrina echoed.

“Yes, his sister!” Nicholas snapped, glaring at them as if they had both lost their minds. Sabrina and Matt exchanged puzzled glances.

“What sister would that be?” Matt asked cautiously.

“The one who was cut down in the prime of life. The one who couldn’t cope with all the problems she had to face. The one Simon told us about.”

“Simon?” Matt was obviously still baffled by Nicholas’s words.

Sabrina’s bewilderment equaled Matt’s. What on earth was Nicholas talking about?

“He told us everything.” Frustration at their blatant incomprehension sounded in Nicholas’s words. “About your sister!” he yelled in exasperation. “The one who became a nun!”

Realization struck Sabrina. Nicholas’s rantings dealt with that ridiculous story Simon had fabricated about the name of the ship.

“What nun?” Matt’s forehead furrowed in bewilderment.

“The nun,” Sabrina jumped in. “Your sister, the nun.”

Matt had the look of a man struggling to decipher an unintelligible code. “What sister?”

“The one who became a nun,” Nicholas roared.

“The one you named the
Lady B
for!” Sabrina said, her voice sharp with rising panic.

“The
Lady B
?” Matt floundered for understanding. “But I named the
Lady B
for—”

“For your sister,” Sabrina cut in desperately, her gaze trapping his, praying he could somehow understand her silent plea.

“Bree, I...” Matt stared straight into her eyes. His widened slightly as he finally grasped the full meaning of the conversation. “... named the ship for my sister, of course.” He turned to Nicholas and shrugged. “It’s been such a long time, and we were never really close.”

Nicholas’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I had the impression you were extremely close.”

“Well, yes.” Matt shook his head. “We were close once, but... then we weren’t.” He laughed awkwardly and cast a withering glance at Sabrina. “When she had her, um, problems we drifted apart. She would never accept anyone’s help, you see. Stubborn little wench.”

Sabrina clenched her teeth against an angry retort. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

Matt sighed in resignation. “Just pride and sheer mulishness. The woman never did know what was best for her. Especially when it came to men. Always made the wrong choices and found herself stuck in extremely difficult circumstances.”

“Very likely nothing she could not handle,” Sabrina snapped.

“What are you two talking about?” Nicholas exploded. “Nun or no nun, I don’t give a damn about your sister! Sabrina is my only concern. And whether you think of her as a sister, or whether you think of her as a blasted nun, I want you to stay away from her!”

“Nicholas, you can’t tell me what to do,” Sabrina protested, resisting the impulse to stamp her foot for emphasis.

“Oh, yes, I can!”

She shot him an angry glare. “No one has told me what to do for thirteen bloody years! If you think you of all people are going to start telling me now what I may or may not do, how I shall and shall not conduct myself, you are in for a rude awakening.” She whirled to face Matt. “Tell him, Matt. Tell him he cannot order me around like a servant. Tell him he cannot run my life.”

“Bree ...” Matt looked down at her with an apologetic expression. “Annoying as it may well be, the man is your husband and has certain rights.”

Nicholas smirked triumphantly. It was all Sabrina could do to still the urge to smack him, and Matt too. Surrounded by people who insisted on informing her of her husband’s rights, she was bloody tired of hearing it.

“Although,” Matt’s gaze shifted from Sabrina to her husband, his voice quiet, “he certainly has no such rights when it comes to telling me what to do.”

Nicholas quirked an eyebrow in an obvious challenge, his voice as measured as Matt’s. “You shall stay away from her, Madison.”

“I will do as I please. This is my ship, and Bree is a very dear friend.”

“And there you have it.” Nicholas’s hooded eyes and icy tones stilled Sabrina’s heart. “She is not my friend at all; she is my wife. As such, I will not look favorably upon a repetition of the cozy scene I witnessed here.”

Matt crossed his arms over his chest. “It seems to me you’re demanding quite a lot in the name of husbandly rights. Particularly for someone who has yet to establish his claim on that title.”

“Explain yourself, Madison,” Nicholas said coldly.

Matt shrugged idly. “It is my understanding that there has yet to be a wedding night.”

Only the creaking of the snip’s timbers cut through the stark silence that fell like a blow. Tension in the cabin lay thick and stifling, and Sabrina gasped for breath. The two men traded icy glares from across the cabin, each sizing up the mettle of the other, judging strengths and talents, weaknesses and faults. Any attempt on Sabrina’s part to avoid a direct confrontation now seemed effort wasted. Nicholas’s hands clenched into fists and relaxed so quickly, Sabrina thought she was mistaken.

Nicholas’s black eyes gleamed. “I believe you have pushed me too far, Madison. Although, I must say, I expected nothing better from... an American. In my experience Americans are coarse, crude and ill-bred.” He fairly spat the words, and Sabrina groaned to herself.

Matt registered little outward reaction to the insult. Only the throb of an angry vein in his neck gave any hint that he was as enraged as Nicholas. “Well, at least when an American marries, the wife in question knows she’s been good and truly wed.”

“Matt!” Sabrina erupted, shocked by the innuendo. “That is quite enough! As for you,” she turned to Nicholas, “he doesn’t like Englishmen any better than you like Americans. So both of you, halt this ridiculous arguing at once.”

Sabrina glared at first one and then the other. Both were too stubborn and too irate to pay her any mind. She feared the inevitable outcome of their rage.

“I must demand satisfaction, you know,” Nicholas said, his manner cool and formal.

“I expected no less,” Matt replied, his voice equally controlled.

Sabrina stared at the two in disbelief. It was almost as if, having exchanged their challenges, rational thought returned. Both were calm and composed. Only the light in their eyes revealed their true feelings. It was an eager light that told her they were actually looking forward to their battle. It made absolutely no sense at all.

“I hope you both understand, there shall not be a duel of any kind.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “I shall not permit it.”

Surprise reflected on the faces of both men, and she wondered if they’d forgotten her presence.

“Tell your wife she cannot tell you what to do, Wyldewood.”

“Sabrina, this is none of your affair.”

“Of course it’s my affair,” she snapped.

Nicholas raised a dark brow. “You’ve known her far longer than I have. Has she always intruded where she did not belong?”

“Always,” Matt confirmed.

“Would you cease discussing me as if I was not here!” Sabrina demanded. “I will not have you killing each other!”

Nicholas smiled indulgently. “Oh, I daresay we would not both be killed. Typically, one is left standing.”

Matt nodded sagely. “That is the usual outcome.” He turned to Nicholas. “Since it was your demand for satisfaction I assume I may choose weapons?”

Nicholas shrugged his acknowledgment.

“In deference to Bree,” Matt inclined his head in her direction, “I won’t kill you. But I’d like nothing better than to beat you to a pulp with my bare hands.”

Nicholas’s eyes gleamed darkly in contrast to his pleasant smile. “And I have an abiding desire to batter you senseless.”

“Shall we go up on deck?” Matt strode to the door and swung it open.

“By all means.” Nicholas marched through the exit, Matt one step behind him. Sabrina stared openmouthed in the center of the cabin. By their manner, one would have thought they were off to an outing in the country.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered and scrambled after them.

Moments later the two were stripping off their shirts on the main deck. The crew had gathered in a loose circle around them.

This can’t be happening
, Sabrina thought, gripped by a tight hand of panic. She wanted neither of these men hurt. Sabrina spotted Simon, wagering with several sailors on the outcome of the match. She caught his gaze and scowled; he too appeared excited by the promise of the fight.

“Can’t you do something?” she insisted.

Genuine surprise shone on Simon’s face. “Why in the name of all that’s holy would I want to do that, lass? This will do them both a world of good, and provide a bit of entertainment for the men, as well. You may have missed it, but this has been brewing since the moment those two met.”

“That was scarcely an hour ago! I can’t believe this much animosity has built up in so short a time.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten their meeting?” Simon bent low and spoke softly in her ear. “When his lordship there first saw the captain he was giving you a greeting no husband wants to see his wife getting from another man.”

“I explained that to Nicholas.”

Simon raised a shaggy brow. “And he understood?”

“Well, no,” she hedged, “not quite.” She gestured toward the men still preparing for their encounter. “But I still don’t see the need for all this.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re not a man, lass.” Simon nodded wisely.

She stared at him in amazement. “If that’s the way men’s minds work, then I count myself lucky.” Fear for the harm Nicholas and Matt could do to each other vanished with her words, replaced by an irritating sense of frustration.

“Well, if none of you men are going to do something about this, I am,” she muttered, pushing her way through the circle.

Nicholas and Matt stood in the center, feet squared, ready to do battle. Sabrina glared at them both. “Are you two determined to go through with this?”

Nicholas’s grim smile did not reach his eyes. “I am.”

Matt nodded. “Looking forward to it, in fact.”

Sabrina wondered if she shouldn’t simply beat them both herself and be done with it. Annoyance rapidly turned to anger and she thought she was enraged enough to do just that. Sheer stupidity always incensed her, nearly as much as did arrogance. Here she was face-to-face with both. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm. For just a moment the serene Lady Stanford returned.

“Very well.” She bestowed a tranquil smile on them and looked around curiously. “Where, then, would you propose I sit? To get the best view, of course.”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “You plan on watching?”

Even Matt appeared uncomfortable. “It’s really not suitable for a woman, Bree.”

“Nonetheless,” she said airily, “I have no intention of leaving.” She spotted a water barrel and perched comfortably on the edge. Like a queen granting her favors upon a knight before a tournament, she gestured for them to begin. “Whenever you are ready, gentlemen.”