Much Ado About Marriage (15 page)

And now that he considered it, the thinness of her gowns drew attention to her shocking lack of underskirts. He would bet his finest horse that she purposefully refused to wear proper clothing in order to vex him.

He strode down the passageway, his steps determined. Once he had Fia in London, he would see to it that she possessed more petticoats than the queen. He would purchase them in green, blue, red, purple—every color imaginable. She would have an entire wardrobe devoted just to the underskirts he would buy her—and she would wear them.

He reached Fia’s cabin and paused to listen at the door, expecting Robert’s deep voice.

All was silent; no voices could be heard.

They must have retired, exhausted from the events of the last few days. He was exhausted, too. Yawning mightily, Thomas turned toward his own cabin, unlacing his shirt. A refreshing wash and the familiarity of his own bunk called to him. He reached his cabin, flung open the door—and came face-to-face with
wool.

“Och, now,” came Fia’s rich voice as she muttered to herself from where she was bent over the edge of one of her trunks, her feet almost off the ground, her rounded ass covered with that damnably fine wool. “Where did I put
that box? I know ’twas in here when we left.” She struggled to reach deeper into the trunk, her ass wiggling with her efforts.

An immediate onslaught of hot, burning lust hit Thomas.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he snapped.

Fia jerked upright, her head hitting the trunk lid. “Ow!” The rabbit scampered from behind the trunk and began to race wildly around the room, skidding under the bed. Zeus announced his presence on that very bed by emitting a low growl.

Thomas scowled at the dog, who showed his scraggly teeth in a weak snarl. “Bloody hell! Get that mangy hound off my blankets!”

Fia, flushed and breathless, turned to the bed. “Zeus, come!”

The dog slowly ambled to his feet, then came to stand at the edge of the bed, swaying back and forth as he eyed with misgiving the jump to the floor.

“Oh, for the love of—” Thomas strode to the bed, scooped up the dog, and placed him on the floor.
“Out!”

Zeus wagged his tail, shuffled off to a corner, and plopped down with a huge sigh.

Fia noted how Thomas’s gaze narrowed on the dog, and she hurried to distract him. “I’ll never,
ever
find it,” she announced loudly.

Thomas’s gaze immediately turned her way. “Find what?”

“My writing desk. I think ’tis in this trunk.” She peeped at him through her lashes and noticed the weary lines around his eyes.
Poor man, he must be as tired as I am. It’s been an eventful week.

“Shall I look in the trunk for you?” he asked courteously. “I’m a bit taller and it might help.”

Her heart flooded with warmth. “Yes, please.”

He pushed the trunk lid higher and began to search through it, glancing at her as he did so. “Forgive me if I startled you upon entering the cabin. I didn’t expect to see you here; you were to be placed with Mary in the cabin next door.”

“But Lord Montley said I was to stay here.”

“He did, did he?” Thomas said grimly. “Montley’s sense of humor is odd.”

Fia realized she should have known. “He’s quite charming, as well. That always bodes ill when it’s paired with a sense of humor.”

Thomas’s lips quirked and she felt a stab of longing to feel those lips on hers once more.

“I don’t see your writing desk in this trunk. Are you certain this is the right one?”

“No,” she answered truthfully. “I thought ’twas so, but I’m not certain. If ’tis not in these two, then it could be in some of the trunks in the hold.”

Thomas closed the first trunk and opened the other one. “How many are there?”

“Too many. Duncan was far too generous; I don’t even know where he found some of these treasures. There are lengths of silks and brocades, spools and spools of silver and gold thread, and boxes of jeweled pomanders and necklets, bracelets and rings. I feel as if I’m a princess.”

“’Tis obvious he cares about you very much.”

She smiled almost shyly. “He raised me since I was a child, when my parents died of smallpox.”

“He was certainly generous with your bride clothes.”

“Yes.” She looked at the large trunks. “Not all of them would fit in the smaller cabin, so these two were stowed here. Do you wish them moved to the hold?”

“They may stay here. We can slide them against the far wall and . . .” He continued on, telling her how he’d secure them to the rings bolted to the cabin walls.

Fia tried to listen, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d been imagining what Thomas might be like away from Duncan’s ominous presence, once he wasn’t being held prisoner, beaten, or having horses fall upon him. She’d imagined that he would be relaxed, talkative, perhaps even charming. More like Lord Montley.

She eyed her husband. He was more at ease now but talkative? Nay. He answered questions, explained things, but no more. Now that his explanation about her trunks was over, he merely continued his search for her writing desk.

“I don’t see it in here,” Thomas finally said.

Partially bent over the trunk, he was at eye level with her. Dark, rich brown, flecked with amber lights, his eyes made her feel warm and shivery at the same time.
No man should have such beautiful—

“Are you well?” His brows quirked down.

Fia realized that she was holding a bolt of velvet to her like a shield. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she tossed it back into the trunk. It had been a long day, and she was stretched as taut as a bowstring. “I don’t need the writing desk this very moment. I—I’ll just take Zeus and my wee rabbit to my own cabin.”

He straightened, rubbing his back. “That dog belongs in the hold with Thunder. There’s hay there and he’ll be warm enough.”

“Perhaps.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No.” Fia walked past him and pulled a lawn night rail from the trunk, tossing it over her arm. “But I’m too weary to argue.”

Thomas leaned against the bedpost and crossed his arms over his broad chest, and Fia’s attention was caught by the ripple of muscles under his shirt.

Her mouth went dry.
This is my husband.
The thought sang through her mind and washed away some of her tiredness. Why
shouldn’t
she look at his fine chest? He belonged to her now.

She eyed him more boldly. His white shirt was unlaced all the way to his breeches, and she was fascinated by the crisp curls of black hair that were sprinkled over his broad chest and then narrowed to a tantalizing trail that pointed straight to his belt. Her breath quickened in her throat.

“Fia?”

Fia couldn’t look away from that muscular chest or those beckoning curls. How would they feel beneath her fingertips? Would they feel crisp or soft? Would they be warmed by his skin? Would she?

“Perhaps I should remove my shirt?” Amusement laced his deep voice and finally drew her gaze to his face.

His look of arrogant satisfaction told her that he knew what she’d been thinking as clearly as if she’d spoken every thought aloud. Her face heated and she stammered, “Y—your cabin is quite large.” It was a stupid comment but all she could manage at the moment.

His lips quirked. “Are you certain you’re referring to my cabin, and not my—”

“Nay!”
Her cheeks burned even more, though she
couldn’t help but smile a wee bit. “I meant exactly what I said. Your
cabin
.”

He looked around as if regarding it for the first time. “’Tis a grand one, for this is my home when I’m away for months at a time.”

“Och, that must be lonely for you.”

“No, ’tis far too exciting to be lonely.” His grin turned wolfish. “When I go to sea, ’tis to fetch things for Her Majesty.”

“Fetch what sorts of things?”

“Spanish galleons loaded with gold and silver, French merchant ships returning from China with silks and teas, Dutch ships loaded with furs and spices.” His eyes crinkled in the most attractive way. “’Tis amazing what you can find at sea.”

She leaned forward, mesmerized. “You’re a
pirate
?” It seemed so at odds with his proper demeanor, and she realized how little she knew about him.

“Nay, my lady. I’m a
privateer
, my ventures condoned by the queen’s decree and perfectly legitimate. Pirates are outlaws.”

“King Philip might disagree with that.”

Thomas chuckled. “So he might. But since his own ships do the same, it matters not.”

She shook her head. “You enjoy a dangerous game.”

His warm brown eyes gleamed. “Aye. My family is known for its luck, and I like to test it.”

“My family is known for having a short temper, as Duncan has already proven.”

Thomas’s amusement faded. “So he has.” He paused a moment, then said in a far more serious tone, “Fia, I know you’re tired, for neither of us had any sleep last night, but
we should speak about our circumstances while we have the opportunity.”

Apprehension caught her, but she managed to say, “Aye?” in a steady voice.

He paused, as if choosing his words with care. “I think you will agree that this marriage cannot stand.”

Her heart sank, though she forced her lips to smile. Somehow, in her imaginations of their first conversation as man and wife, she hadn’t thought of his explaining why they shouldn’t be.

But he was right, of course. The marriage couldn’t stand. If not because of the complications it could cause, then because of the determination she saw in Thomas’s gaze.

She refused to be an unwanted wife. “Of course we cannot allow this union to stand.”

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? A life without the fettering bonds of a husband. Still, she was stung by the flicker of relief on his face.

“As soon as we reach London, I will ask Walsingham to approach the queen for permission to seek an annulment.”

Hearing him say it aloud pinched her pride, and in some inexplicable way, she felt . . . rejected. Hurt. Dismissed.

She tossed her head. “I wish we could undo the marriage before then. I dislike waiting so long.”

His smile faded. “It will take but three weeks, perhaps less, to reach London.”

“Three
weeks
?” Three weeks of being on ship with this man, finding out more things about him that fascinated her? Like that he had a streak that craved excitement just as she did? That he had a gentle sense of humor? That his smile crinkled his whiskey brown eyes and made her stomach do the oddest flips? She didn’t know if she could
maintain her spirits being around Thomas for such a length of time, only to give him up when they reached shore.

But I don’t want a husband! I’ve told Duncan so a thousand times before, only . . . somehow, now that I have
this
one, I don’t wish him to go away. I want—
She bit her lip, suddenly beyond exhausted.
I don’t know what I want.

Thomas’s frown deepened. “Trust me, my lady, I am in as much of a hurry as you.”

She doubted it but managed a stiff nod. “Good.”

His jaw tightened. “I will do my best to make our trip quicker. You are not the only one anxious to end this farce.”

She had to look down to keep him from seeing the sudden tears his words had caused.
What’s wrong with me? Isn’t this what I want?

Fia blinked away the tears before she shrugged and said, “Aye, ’tis a pity we were forced to wed, but there’s no discouraging Duncan. Once he sets his mind to a path, he’s like a great rock, rolling over everything and everybody.”

“I noticed.” Thomas’s gaze narrowed on her and he said in a silken voice, “I find it oddly convenient that your cousin caught us not once but twice, and both times in most compromising positions. I can’t help but think ’twas a bit
too
convenient.”

She stiffened, snapping her gaze to his. “Are you accusing me of trapping you into this marriage? For ’twas
you
, Lord Lackwit, who fell from a window whilst trying to break into the castle. I had no notion you were arriving.”

“Perhaps.”

“There is no ‘perhaps’ about it. ’Twas also
you
who brought such a silly mount that was scared by a poor mite of a dog with no teeth. Had you brought a proper mount, no one would have prevented your departure.”

His face reddened. “The horse might have been high-strung, but he was also fast.”

“I am also not the one who decided to run through the castle with my hose falling about my ankles. I hear not coincidences but the decisions of a fool!”

He shoved himself from the bedpost, his mouth pressed into a forbidding line. “I wouldn’t have been running at all had you not stolen my damned boots!”

“Look, Sassenach, I wouldn’t have taken your boots except you were threatening to leave without us!”

“I’m not ‘Sassenach’; I am Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Rotherwood, and you’d do well to remember that.”

She plopped her hands on her hips. “Whatever your name, you have no right to suggest that your misfortunes were caused by anything more than your own behavior. You’re fortunate that I calmed my cousin when he was calling for your head!”

“I never asked for your help!”

Fia’s shoulders tightened and she stomped forward to jab a finger into his chest. “You dolt, if it hadn’t been for me, your body would now be floating out to sea with fish nibbling your toes!”

His eyes flashed. “If you’d wished it, you could have convinced your cousin to free me without this marriage. Not once did you suggest such a thing.”

“Which shows how little you know Scottish ways. My cousin is laird first and foremost. You’re fortunate he didn’t determine that your presence was dangerous to the clan, or there would have been nothing I could have done to save you.”

“Really?” he jeered. “You certainly were quick enough to agree to the ceremony.”

“Fool! Duncan was determined that I wed, and soon. If it hadn’t been you, I would have had to marry—” She stopped, her face heating.

“Exactly,” Thomas said in a quiet voice that was more condemning than any shout. “But for me, you would have wed Malcolm Davies.”

Even to Fia’s ears, Thomas’s reasoning sounded damning.