Much Ado About Marriage (22 page)

“Damn Montley! I knew this was his doing. He’s trying to irk me.”

“No, he’s trying to help
me.”

“Montley knows the court is infested by the vultures who constantly encircle the throne. ’Tis not the place for a tender-skinned halfling like you.”

Fia stiffened. “A tender-skinned halfling? Must you act
as if I am a mere child and not a grown women well over the age of twenty?”

“I have never treated you like a child.”

“You’re doing so now.” She flicked the fan open and shut to show her irritation.

Thomas regarded the fan with distaste. “Whatever nonsense Lord Montley has been teaching you, you are to forget it forthwith. I’ll have that blackguard’s head for his arrogance in attempting to transform my wi—” He caught himself and snapped his mouth closed.

“You will not say a word to my Lord Montley. I
asked
him to teach me how to present myself.”

“Mistress, let me remind you that at this moment you carry
my
name. And as long as you do, you will do as I say.”

“Oh?” She lifted her chin and gazed directly into his eyes. “And who will make me obey?
You?
”

Irritation flickered through his eyes, followed just as quickly by interest. “You don’t even come up to my shoulder and yet you dare challenge me.” The tiniest flicker of humor warmed his brown eyes. “I’m nonplussed, my lady.”

’Twas the humor that was her undoing. With his expression softened, his brown eyes warm with laughter, she couldn’t say him nay. The realization frightened her no end.

As if he sensed her weakness, he leaned closer and placed his hand on the wall over her head until she was partially caught between his chest and the wall, the delicate fan her only barrier. “So that there will be no confusion, comfit, when it comes to my wishes I
will
make you obey. Only I will not use sharp words and a heavy hand. I will use one like this.” He lifted his hand and brushed
her temple and cheek with a feather-light touch, his warm fingers causing her heart to thunder.

Fia shivered, though she tried to hide it. “I-I don’t need anyone to make me do anything. I am not a child.”

“No, you’re not.” He leaned forward yet more, until his cheek brushed her temple and lingered there. “Far from it.”

His deep voice rumbled against her ear and warmed her head to toe.

Fia’s skin tingled and she had to fight to keep from leaning against him.

“Fia?” His voice was deeper now, almost lazy sounding.

“Yes?”

“I wish to ask something.”

“What?”
Anything. Right now, I’d give you anything. Ask me for an embrace, or a kiss, or a—

“Leave this preposterous idea of becoming a lady-in-waiting.”

Why couldn’t he have asked for a kiss?
“Why should I? I must have a plan for when we’re no longer married.”

He pulled back and smiled into her eyes. “Comfit, I never planned to throw you out into the streets, annulment or no.”

“I know you’ll find a sponsor for my plays, but I will need more than that.”

“Aye, and I will see to it that you receive it—funds, servants, a house.”

“You’d . . . you’d give me a house?”

“Aye, a fine manse on the river. I don’t wish you to be destitute.”

“I . . . I didn’t know.”

“Aye. But until then, I must ask that you behave with more decorum than Montley is wont to teach you.”

She stiffened. “I have done naught but act with decorum.”

“Aye, but you’re far too beautiful to—” He hesitated, his face turning faintly pink.

“Too beautiful?” she prompted hopefully.

His face fairly flamed now. “Never mind. I meant only to say that there are circumstances that can make even normal actions seem scandalous. Like your presence on this ship.”

Fia blinked at him. “Thomas, I don’t know what you’re asking. You must speak more plainly.”

“Fine.” He straightened, his face definitely redder. “I must ask you to cease visiting the deck so often. It distracts the men.”

“The men like it when I visit the deck; Simmons has told me so.”

“I’m sure they do, but I do not. And I am the captain.”

“Not of me.”

“Especially
of you. Furthermore, there will be no more dancing on deck. Your skirts were flying about, your ankles exposed to one and all to see.”

“Your own queen dances in just such a manner.”

“But when she does so, it doesn’t—” He shook his head and then leaned forward, pressing his warm length against her, cupping her cheek with his large, warm hand. “She’s not my wife.”

Fia didn’t answer, equally irritated and mesmerized. ’Twas just like the scene she had written in her play
The Merry Maids of Azure.
Ramonda, the warrior queen, was being seduced by Thelius, the handsome hero intent on stealing her birthright.

What was it Ramonda had said? Oh, yes . . .

Fia tossed back her head and held her hands up to ward off his advances. “Do not try my will, man of my heart! Though you tempt me with chosen fruits and forbidden caresses, I will not turn from—” She paused. “My people” didn’t exactly fit. “—dances.”

Thomas blinked.
“What?”

She grinned, pleased she had remembered the whole passage. “’Tis a passage from
The Merry Maids of Azure
, one of my plays.”

“Oh yes.”

He spoke as if her plays had no importance at all.

The realization that Thomas—her husband and the man who, with a mere touch, could make her knees quiver like jelly—could so cavalierly dismiss her plays irritated her greatly. “Fine. You don’t enjoy the theater. I’m sure it doesn’t matter though it shows ’tis a paltry marriage we have.”

His smile faded.
“Paltry?
I am the wealthiest man in England!”

“Oh, are you? I wouldn’t know. I’m your bride and yet I have no ring.” She wiggled her hand in his face.

He stared at it, his brow lowered. “I didn’t have the chance to—”

“Pssht. As if you tried. Admit you never thought of it until now.”

“Perhaps I hadn’t, but as this is no real marriage—”

“If ’tis no real marriage, then why should I listen to you at all? I will flirt with Montley, learn the ways of court, and dance upon the deck. I’m my own woman and belong to no man.”

His brows lowered. “Damme, I came to warn you, and this is the thanks I get to—”

“Hold. You came to
warn
me?”

“Aye. You may think Montley is earnest in his attentions, but he’s merely amusing himself with the only woman available. He will feed on your regard and then leave at the first flitter of another skirt, forgetting you.”

“He sounds quite callous.”

“Nay, nothing so intentional. ’Tis just his way.” Thomas frowned. “Fia, you’ve been protected by your cousin and haven’t faced the guiles of a sophisticated soul like Montley, who charms simply because he can. You are a passionate woman and so you must have a care.”

“Thank you for the warning. I will make certain to protect my heart from Montley’s flirtation.”
Not that it needs it, for ’tis you who have captured my thoughts.
The realization lowered her spirits. Why couldn’t she have developed thoughts of Montley, instead? He may have been a flirt, but at least he would have welcomed some interactions.

“Good. We will both benefit if you do so.”

Fia wondered if Thomas was thinking back to his mother’s elopement and its horrible effect on his own life. Suddenly, looking into his eyes, she could see him as the small boy who’d waited desperately for his mother to return, who’d vowed to find a place for himself in his father’s affections, only to be denied over and over.

Behind the bravado and strength, she thought she’d caught sight of flashes of sadness, but it was more. It was deep and abiding loneliness.

Fia’s heart caught in her throat and she turned away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
How lonely was he as a child that it eventually became a permanent part of him?

Tears blurred her sight and Fia realized that in fighting her emotions, she’d clenched her fan too hard. With fumbling
fingers she attempted to open the delicate silk, but the bent and wounded spines refused to part. The once glorious fan lay like a broken bird in her hands.

To her horror, Fia felt her lip quiver.

“Fia?” Thomas’s voice sounded strange.

She swallowed with difficulty. “I—it’s nothing.”

He cupped her chin with a warm hand and lifted her face to his. “You are crying. I didn’t mean—God’s blood, I’ve made a mull of things. I just wished to warn you and—” His gaze dropped to her bottom lip and he paused as if unable to continue speaking.

Fia’s heart tripped and then sped up, her body tingling.
Please let him kiss me. Please let him.

He slowly bent toward her, his gaze locked upon her lips. She leaned toward him, lifting her face to his as—

“Aye, Simmons!” Robert’s voice drifted down the hold opening. “I’m going belowdecks now. I’ve set the course and that’s the last thing I’m doing.”

Thomas pulled back, sending a dark glare at the ladder. “Damn Montley’s hide.”

“And don’t think you can send someone to wake me every hour as you did last night.” Robert’s voice was closer this time. “You were merely trying my patience and I won’t have it. If someone knocks upon my door this eve, they’d best expect a blunderbuss to be their answer.”

Thomas gave a muffled curse and, without warning, swept Fia into his arms.

She gasped and clasped him tightly about the neck as he stalked down the hallway. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to finish this conversation without that damned fop getting in the way.” With one well-placed kick, Thomas opened his cabin door and carried her inside. He placed
her upon the bed, then turned away to bolt the door. “If that knave is foolish enough to knock, don’t answer.”

Fia sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, adjusting her skirts as she sent him a sour look. “I had no desire to speak to Montley right now. I spent all morning in his presence and ’twas enough.”

Thomas turned a surprised look her way. After a moment, he said in an odd voice, “Aye, ’tis said Montley would make conversation even with the dead, given the chance.”

“While I am grateful to him for his assistance, he wears my ears out.” She bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have said that, for he’s been so kind and I’m most grateful for his assistance.”

“’Tis not treason if you speak the truth.” Thomas leaned a shoulder against the door. “Now, my lady, we were talking.”

“Were we? I thought we were about to kiss.”

His gaze became hooded. “You mistake.”

“Nay, you were thinking about kissing me. I could see it in your eyes.”

“About why
not
to kiss you, more like.”

She smiled smugly. “Be that as it may, I am glad that you are at least speaking to me. You’ve been very distant since we came on ship.”

He was quiet a moment. “I was. I thought it safer for the both of us. We’ll not win an annulment unless you remain a maid, and I have difficulty remembering that when you are near.”

Put that way—especially when combined with his grudgingly admiring glance—’twas quite a compliment. She peeped at him from beneath her lashes. “And now?”

“Now I’ve decided that anything is better than leaving you to fall prey to Montley’s tutelage.” He regarded her for
a moment, absently rubbing his chin. “Milady, I think what we need are rules.”

“Rules? For what?”

“For your behavior. Something simple, yet useful in knowing where to draw the line with knaves such as Montley. You are a scribe; why don’t you write these rules down? Once we have them fixed, we will all breathe easier.” He motioned for her to sit in a chair by the windows that kept the cabin bright and airy.

“Hmph. I don’t know if I agree to your idea of rules, but I’m willing to listen.” She sat, noting that while the chair was bolted to the floor, the cushions were snuggly and soft.

Thomas took the chair opposite, the sun glistening off the tanned skin of his throat. “If we know what we expect of each other, then there won’t be any more misunderstandings. Four or so rules should suffice.”

It was obvious that he already had some specific rules in mind. She nodded. “Then there will be two for you and two for me.”

“For me? That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Surely you didn’t expect me to have rules whilst you have none?”

“God’s breath, woman! There’s no need to make this complicated.”

“I have no wish to make this complicated, but I do demand that it be
fair.”

He scowled. “’Twould be easier were you less fair and more agreeable.”

“Alas, the fates did not bless me so.” She held her pen over the paper. “Begin.”

“I’m trying to decide how to word this.”

“Then I shall go and—”

“Nay, give me a moment!” His lips twitched. “I begin to fear what rules you have in mind.”

She grinned. “I think you’re going to dislike them.”

He chuckled and leaned back, more at ease than Fia could remember seeing him. “Rule one: no dancing on the deck.”

“None?” she asked, her humor fleeing.

“Nay.”

She nibbled on end of the quill. “What if we just write ‘No Italian dances.’? Robert says they are more lively than the others.”

“No. None.”

She sighed and wrote the phrase. ’Twas inconvenient to her plans, but she supposed she could work with Robert on some other area of her instruction. “Very well.”

“Rule number two: no com—”

“Nay!” she interrupted. “’Tis my turn to make a rule.”

His gaze narrowed, but he inclined his head. “So speak, Mistress Impatience.”

“Very well: no more shouting.” She wrote it in her elegant scrawl.

“Shouting? I don’t sh—” He must have realized that his voice was lifting with each word, for he grimaced. “I don’t shout. I merely make my requests in a firm voice.”

She waved the quill in his direction. “Be that as it may, now you must use a more reasonable voice. We are now to rule three; ’tis your turn.”

“No more conversing with Lord Montley,” he answered promptly.

“I see. And just what should I tell him? That you’ve forbidden me to see him?”