Much Ado About Marriage (16 page)

He continued, his voice deep and even. “You and I both know that clan Davies would have never allowed you to go to London. You had plenty of reasons to spoil those plans by presenting another suitor, no matter how unwilling he was.”

“I would never do such a thing!” Fia’s eyes stung with unshed tears. “With you or without you, London is my destiny.”

“London may well be your destiny, my lady—but I am not.”

Fia’s pride was stung. “Lord Rotherwood, allow me to explain something. I never thought you were my destiny, which is why I’ll be
happy
to get an annulment the second our feet touch London soil.”

The events of the day suddenly seemed more than she could bear. She’d never felt so lonely in all her life, and the bite of it filled her throat with a lump the size of a pillow.

She lifted her chin.
Let Thomas rant and rail. Let him decry our marriage and wish to be free of it. I will not cry in front of him.
“I am done here. I will retire to my cabin now, if you’ll show me the way.”

For a long moment, he merely scowled at her, but then he rubbed his chin, his expression softening. “I’faith, Fia, don’t look so. I’m sorry if I’ve allowed my temper to get the best of me, but this marriage cannot—”

“I agree. We will do what we can to get an annulment and we’ll both be the happier for it. How do we do that?”

He hesitated. “I will ask Lord Walsingham to approach the queen.”

“And?”

His face reddened. “We cannot—” He looked as if he could not say the word.

She frowned. “We cannot what?”

His gaze met hers, and he turned an even deeper red. “You know what I mean but cannot say.”

She shook her head uncomprehendingly.

“You must be a maid,” he burst out.

“Ah. Of course.”

“Which means you must be willing to vow it before the queen.”

Ah! So he needed her cooperation, did he? He might
try
to toss her out like a discarded shoe, but when the time came to leave, it would be on
her
terms.
Good.

“Which leaves us with one matter to address,” she said.

“Which is?”

“Once we are no longer married, I do not wish to return to Scotland. London is where I have always wished to be.”

His gaze grew suspicious. “So?”

“So I will need a sponsor for my plays.”

He shrugged. “
I
will sponsor your plays.”

“Nay. I wish someone else to do it.”

His brows snapped down. “Why?”

Fia wished his eyes were warm with laughter, as they’d been a few minutes ago. More than that, she wished that the two of them were back beside the fire that first night, before Duncan found them. Thomas had kissed her then, in a way that had left her remembering that moment over
and over. What she wouldn’t give to feel his arms about her now.

God’s wounds, what is wrong with me?

She’d always yearned to be in love, but only with someone who enjoyed life as she did, someone who loved theater and animals, the thrill of a brisk canter through the moors, and the joy of a good book. These simple things made up her life. Thomas was not that man.

“Fia, answer. Why can’t I sponsor your plays?”

Because I want a sponsor who believes in them and me.
She shrugged. “’Twould cast suspicion if we continued to have a connection after the annulment.” She straightened to her full height. “The truth is, I’d prefer to find a more
artistic
sponsor. One who understands the theater.”

“But I—”

“Lord Montley said that you don’t enjoy the theater at all. Not even a little.” She fixed her gaze on him. “Do you?”

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I occasionally attend a play.”

“Don’t count the ones that are performed at court; you’re forced to attend those.”

He grimaced. “Very well, I don’t often attend the theater.”

“Then you will not do.”

“But I—”

“When you look for a sponsor for my plays, not only must he be well funded and trustworthy, but he must possess an artistic nature. Montley mentioned several possibilities: Lord Leicester, Lord Essex—”

“Essex? That philanderer?”

“I didn’t ask for moral recommendations, so I don’t know. Let’s see, also Lord Steeleton, Lord Montjoy—”

“Montjoy!” Thomas snapped the name as if it burned his tongue. “He’s a lecherous old man who has twelve by-blows from twelve different maidservants.”

“
I
am not a maidservant and would never allow someone to treat me that way.”

“You allowed me to kiss you in the forest.”

Fia’s face heated. “That was different.”

“Why?”

For an instant, he thought he caught a glimpse of an answer in her remarkable eyes, but then she lowered her lashes and said in a cool tone, “I had no intention of ever seeing you again after that night, so what was the harm? Besides, I didn’t consider you as a potential sponsor, so there’s no comparison.”

“Yes, you did. I promised to sponsor you and you thought it was for your plays and you
kissed
me.” He still warmed to think of that kiss. Had her cousin not arrived when he did—

She waved her hand through the air. “Och, do not make more of a mere kiss than there was, Sassenach. We Scots are simply a passionate people.”

Thomas found that he couldn’t swallow. How could he allow a woman so full of passion that she kissed strangers on a whim loose upon the world? And what would happen when he found a patron for her plays and she became grateful to the wretch, or simply found she enjoyed his presence? Would she kiss
him
, too?

Thomas’s jaw ached, and his chest felt like an iron band had tightened around it. He gazed down into Fia’s fathomless eyes and wondered why he felt such a strange hollowness at the thought of her kissing another man. All he wanted was his freedom . . . didn’t he?

But no. If he was honest, he wanted more than that. He wanted more of Fia—but not at such a price. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met. She tantalized and teased without the least knowledge, and that, added to her beauty and wit, intrigued him more than any powdered and perfumed court beauty ever had.

But it wouldn’t last; passion never did. Even his mother, who’d run away for love, had eventually been thrown aside by her new lover. Love—passion—didn’t last.

Duty was all one could count upon, all one needed. And duty had nothing to do with the lush woman who stood before him, her chin raised in challenge, her mouth begging to be tasted.

“Fine,” he said harshly, irritated at his reaction to her impudence and spirit. “I’ll find you a damned sponsor for your plays, and we’ll have our annulment.”

She flashed him a smile. “Excellent.”

Thomas found himself looking at her full bottom lip, and suddenly the air grew thick with desire. It was all he could do to keep from reaching for her, holding her against him, sinking into her softness.

She must have felt the change, too, for her breath quickened, her lips parted, her skin flushed. He could see where her heartbeat pulsed in her slender neck, and his gaze traveling down to her full breasts where they were so warmly displayed by her wool gown.
God bless Scottish wool. Thin Scottish wool.
Soft
Scottish wool.

And then somehow he was no longer looking at that wool but feeling it. That wool filled his hands as he hauled her against him, capturing her mouth with his. She melted into his arms, her sweet curves pressed to his.

Thomas ran his hands down her sides to the gentle
swell of her hips, and then on to cup her ass, her gown clinging to his fingers.

She gasped against his mouth, murmuring “Och, Sassenach!” in such a sweet, husky voice that his passions fanned into a blazing flame.

He held her tightly, plundering her mouth as ruthlessly as he plundered Spanish galleons. Fia eagerly accepted his embraces, sliding her hands over him in return, seeking and touching until he couldn’t think or breathe.

He slipped a hand through her long hair and her curls clung to his fingers like silken kisses. God’s blood, she was as sweet as fresh snow, yet warmer than a summer day. He slipped both hands around her firm, delectable ass and lifted her against him. To his bemused delight, she parted her legs and clung to him, her skirts riding up to her thighs.

He couldn’t take her.
Could not.
The knowledge made the kiss wilder, the embrace more daring. Desire flared fiercely through Thomas, filling his sails with a hot gale so suddenly, he feared he might capsize. He knew he needed to stop the embrace, but his mind was no longer functioning beyond the immediate sensations that crashed over him.

Fia grasped at his shirt, her legs clutching him tightly, as desperate as he was. He slipped his hands from her ass to her thighs and walked the two steps to the wall, pressing her against it. She arched into him, squirming with desire.

It was almost more than he could bear. He shifted her until his turgid cock rubbed between her legs. His breeches and her chemise were the only barriers, the only protection, but it was enough.

Though Thomas ached with the need for her, for the
taste of her, for the feel of her, he knew this was as far as they could go. As far as they dared to—

The door flew open. “Thomas, Simmons says the course to—” Robert’s voice stopped short.

Fia’s eyes shot open, and she looked over Thomas’s shoulder with a horrified gasp.

Damn you, Montley!

Her face red, Fia squirmed free of Thomas’s embrace, frantically trying to pull down her gown.

Thomas turned to glare at their intruder, but all he faced was an open door. Montley was gone. Left boiling with desire, his cock achingly erect, his heart still thundering in his chest, Thomas yearned to punch his friend’s face.

An adorably mussed and red-faced Fia had gathered her rabbit and was trying to pull her snoring dog to its feet. “I-I really must go—Zeus, wake up! I’ll just return to my cabin and—blast it, Zeus, get
up
!”

A twinge of conscience caught Thomas. “Fia, I’m sorry Montley—he acts as if this is his ship. Still, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have imposed upon you.”

“Imposed? I’m as much to blame as you.”

He frowned, suddenly realizing that her cheeks weren’t rosy from embarrassment. Instead, they appeared sunburned, as if . . . He lifted a hand to his chin, which was rough with stubble from the days inside Duncan’s castle. “Damn it! Fia, I fear that my whiskers have scraped your skin. I’m sorry.”

She touched her cheek and winced. “Whiskers will do that?”

“Aye, they can.”

She is such an innocent
, he told himself fiercely.
But she
won’t be if I keep finding her alone.
“I must admit something, Fia. I have trouble resisting you.”

She sent him a surprised look. After a moment, she said quietly, “And I have trouble resisting you.”

“That bodes ill for our decision to remain chaste. For the safety of our plans, we should make sure Mary is present whenever we meet.”

“I can do that.”

He turned toward the door. “I’m needed on deck now, so I’ll leave you.”

“I—yes. Thank you.” She nodded, her motions jerky, her gaze averted.

A million words crowded to Thomas’s lips, but not a single coherent sentence. With one last glance, he turned and left, leaving the door open behind him.

Scowling, he strode down the passageway to the ladder.
Damme, how did I allow myself to lose control in such a way?

The wind whipped across him as he reached the deck, cooling his ardor even more and calming his thundering heart. He began to pace the length of the ship, hands clasped behind his back, the wind whipping his hair as he locked gazes with the white-crested sea and wrestled with his thoughts.

There was something about Fia MacLean that befuddled him. She was such an intriguing mixture of innocence and sensuality, guile and beguilement. And he could not be in the same room with her without yearning to taste her.

He thought of their conversation in his cabin and had to shake his head. She was a cheeky wench, he’d give her that. She’d accepted his demand for an annulment but had added the price of finding her a sponsor. She was never at a loss for words, and he’d do well to remember that.

She was from a different world than his. She didn’t care or know that his family name was tied to the ancient Norman conquerors or that he was from one of the purest bloodlines in England. All she cared about was seeing her plays upon the stage.

Oddly enough, after working so many years to maintain and build his reputation, it was intriguing to find someone who didn’t value it at all. And if that was the case, then her interest in him wasn’t caused by his position or wealth, but in him as a man. That, too, was unique.

Shaking his head, he paced faster, ignoring the side-glances from the men as they went about their work, the cool air calming him. Over and over, he relived the scene in his cabin, lingering over the new memories: the scent of her hair and how it had clung to his hands; the sweet taste of her skin beneath his lips; the way her voice had deepened and grown husky as passion had overtaken her, too.

Then he remembered her embarrassed air when he’d left, and he winced. Whatever her flaws, she hadn’t intentionally led him into temptation. He’d done that all by himself.

She needed to know that she was safe upon this ship and that he’d never again cross the boundaries of good behavior. He owed it to his own good name as captain of the
Glorianna. It’s what I’d do for any woman aboard ship, not just Fia.

He gazed at the ladder that led below deck. He should reassure her of his intentions, yet that would mean facing her again, and he wasn’t certain he could. Not while his body still ached for the feel of her.

A shiver ripped through him at the memory of her strong legs gripping his hips. His body ached anew, and he
had to stifle a groan.
Damn it all, but she’s too sensual for a wife. As a mistress, though . . .

He gripped the railing and stared unseeingly out to sea.
How can I even think such a thing? She is an innocent. Am I like my mother, so governed by primal urges that I cannot even perform my duty to my family and queen?