Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (53 page)

“I will not share her bed for anything other than sowing my seed,” I said. “I will not have you put out so that I must steal away at night to find you. I will not live in that manner.”

“I do not wish that, either,” he sighed. “And I will take no pleasure in puppies if I am not allowed to hold them. I will honor whatever decision you feel you must make.”

My heart was racing and I felt my Horse ready to bolt, yet he was so very calm.

“Is that you talking, or your Horse?” I asked quietly.

He frowned. We had had little cause to speak of his Horse for weeks.

“My Horse insists we do not tell her not to drink the water, and that she definitely must live at the plantation and eat the food there.”

I chuckled. “I see.”

“You make a very good point, though,” he said solemnly. “I cannot guarantee how I will react if you marry her. I feel much calmer over this bride than I did about the Brisket, even sight unseen, because I know you will not favor her in any way, and she will not favor you. And, of course, now I know you to be truly mine and have no doubts over that matter.”

“Yet, there is still much that will be assumed and implied by others that we must face.”

“Oui,” he sighed, “For my Horse, it will be as if we wade through nettles.”

“I think it likely we will not,” I said carefully, “and how will your Horse feel on that?”

He considered me thoughtfully. “My Horse cares little for titles, other than it would see you have what is due you.”

I frowned. “You are not giving me any great incentive to say yes. I can sire puppies elsewhere.”

He stopped and faced me. His eyes were kind. “Your father thinks you will fail in this. It is likely he picked the most miserable harridan he could in order to insure it.”

My breath caught as I realized he was indeed correct. I swore.

He smiled sadly. “Marry her, and we will let the tropics kill her, and then we will find another bride.”

“All right, but it will be on my terms.”

He nodded somberly. “If it is not, she will probably anger the Horse such that I will kill her.”

“And we will no longer be welcome on English soil,” I said with a sad smile.

He shrugged. “Perhaps the Dutch will take us.”

“The Spanish surely will not,” I teased.

I kissed him deeply and he returned it in kind.

We said no more as we finished the distance to the King’s House.

Gaston kissed me one last time and stayed across the street at the wherry landing. I walked to my supposed doom alone in body, but feeling well-loved in spirit. And I did not fear the outcome of whatever might occur.

Coswold was no more pleased to lay eyes on me this time than he had been before.

“I will meet with your mistress now, alone,” I told him.

“Very good, my Lord,” he said with barely-disguised disdain. “Her guests have departed. If you will wait in the dining hall, I will announce you.”

As he led me to the dining hall I wondered why I would not wait in the parlor, and then I saw that a maid was cleaning that room: clearing many little China cups and trays of sweetmeats. And so I waited in the dining room, peering out a window at a lovely little garden tucked in on the side of the house. It reminded me of the garden at Christine’s, and here I was to meet another prospective bride, and yet this time I was locked away from the fragrance and beauty of it. I snorted with amusement at the turns my mind is prone to take.

I seemed to stand there for quite a time, and I thought it likely she was making me wait. Then at last the door opened and in she walked.

We stared at one another with guarded curiosity.

She was indeed lovely: a fine figure nipped into the tight stays and bodice of a regal blue gown; voluminous coils of honey-brown hair pinned atop her head; hazel eyes behind long lashes; delicate though somewhat pinched features; and soft white skin gracing her long neck and arms.

She curtsied. “Lord Marsdale.”

I bowed. “Miss Barclay.”

“You are not as I expected,” she said.

Her voice, though pitched a little high for my liking, would have been as melodious as her image if it had been devoid of anger. As it was, every word seemed a kitten’s snarl.

“And what did you expect?” I asked with amusement.

“Someone less manly, perhaps,” she said with challenge.

I smirked. “The lady is burdened by incorrect assumptions about sodomites. We are not all effete; you only see the ones who are.”

She sniffed and tossed her head prettily. “I suppose.”

“Shall we sit?” I pulled a chair from the table for her.

She gave a brief incline of her head and accepted the chair. As I pushed her chair in, I noted she had quite the inviting décolletage, and that she smelled faintly of rum along with powder and the usual feminine musk.

I sat opposite her. “I understand you are no more enamored of this marriage than I am. I wish to apologize for your having to sail halfway around the world to meet with me on the matter, and I am sincerely sorry that my family’s recent troubles forced such a voyage upon you in haste.”

She frowned, and I could tell that she did not know precisely of what I spoke.

“Your sister made mention of her having to leave in haste,” she said carefully.

I smiled. “Aye, there was a bit of trouble involving our cousin.”

“Mister Jacob Shane?” She appeared to throw the name out to see my reaction.

I gave her little. “That would be the one.”

“I have met him,” she said.

“Truly? I am sure he was charming,” I said calmly.

Her eyes narrowed. “He spoke of you when he heard we were betrothed.”

I wondered if he were the one who told her I was a sodomite.

I smirked. “I am sure he said nothing kind, and there is a great deal I could say of him in the same vein.”

This did surprise her, but she recovered quickly.

“Why would he have anything to do with your sister’s leaving England in such haste?” she asked.

“He endeavored to secure his place in my father’s house by marrying her,” I said drolly. “After learning more of his nature, she spurned him.

He was quite put out, and he broke into her room while drunk with intent to harm her. She shot him. Unfortunately, he still lived when you sailed.”

Her eyes had widened considerably. “That explains a great deal. If true.”

I chuckled. “Ask my Uncle. But we digress. Let us now be succinct with our expectations and conditions, so that we might determine if this marriage will take place or not, and be done with it one way or another.”

She snorted incredulously. “Or what? If we cannot reach an agreement, you will not marry me? Whatever will your father say?”

“If I choose not to marry you, I do not care what my father says.”

“You think highly of your place in the order of things,” she said with smug amusement.

“Nay, I know if I thwart my father on this, it is likely he will disinherit me. I care not. I would like to retain my title and eventually claim his, but not if it involves living in misery.”

She was quite stunned. “You jest,” she breathed.

“Nay, nor do I bluff. So let us see if we can reach agreeable terms.

First, in the matter of offspring. Any children will remain with me on Jamaica and I shall be the sole arbiter of how they are raised and instructed. Once you have produced them – and by them, I shall assume that, unless your health dictates otherwise, we will aim for two males – once they are birthed, you are free to return to England, and I care not what you do or who you sleep with.”

She flushed. “My Lord, you are direct.”

“Would you prefer I were circumspect?”

“Nay.” She shook her head, but would not meet my gaze.

“Do you take issue with my stipulation that the children shall remain in my keeping?” I asked.

“Nay,” she said quietly. “I rather imagine they will be seen to by governesses no matter where they are. I do not have my heart set on coddling them or any such thing. If we are agreeing to terms, I will stipulate that you provide an adequate wet nurse.”

I was not sure how that would be arranged on Jamaica when women were in such short supply, but I was not going to allow it to slow the proceedings down.

“Agreed,” I said. “Second, there will be a house built for you at the plantation, Ithaca.”

She held up her hand. “I will not share it with your paramour.”

It was my turn to snort. “Lady, I will not quibble with you over titles; you may call him what you like. But his name is Gaston, and I will reside with him. If you do not wish to share our house, then I will ensconce you someplace convenient enough for me to do my conjugal duties in the name of producing progeny. And rest assured, we will not be in port for most of the year.”

She was livid. “Nay, sir, that is not acceptable.”

I shrugged and stood. “Then we are done here. I will make arrangements for your return voyage.”

The anger fled her and she regarded me with astonishment. “You would truly abandon your title over this?”

“Aye,” I said amicably.

She took several deep breaths and seemed to have great difficulty deciding whether to continue staring at me or to pull her gaze away: her eyes jerked about in her sockets ever so slightly for a few moments. At last she did look at the table.

“Wait,” she breathed.

I took some pity on her. “I do not stipulate that I will remain with him as an affront to you. It is simply that he is my partner and I love him dearly and I will not live without him. I put him before all things, including my title.”

“So,” she nearly whispered, “I might have my own home, and you will visit but live elsewhere with him while in port, or be at sea?”

“Aye.”

“I can live with that,” she said at last.

I returned to my seat.

She looked up to meet my gaze again. “I will not have him at my table, though, or about me in any fashion.”

“He wants nothing to do with you, either,” I said with some amusement.

She nodded. “Is this plantation far from town? I would like to be able to entertain on occasion.”

I thought of all the little tea cups and the plantation wives with houses in town. I sighed.

“We will see that you have a proper house in town,” I assured her. “It must be built, though.”

She nodded. “Do you have other stipulations?”

I shrugged. “None that I can think of. If something else should arise, let us agree to discuss it before assuming the other party will not be cooperative.”

“I will agree to that,” she said with surprising sincerity. “When do you wish to marry?”

“I suppose… tomorrow.”

Her eyes widened again, only to narrow quickly into a glare. “Why?”

“I sail in three days. I will be gone for several months.”

She considered that with a speculative frown.

“It is unlikely I will become pregnant in a day or two,” she said calmly. “Can you not wait to disappear until after we are sure I am with child: in order to avoid any wasted time in the endeavor?”

I had to admit she was correct, but I did not see how we could forestall sailing, unless we did not sail at all, and that was not wise; Gaston would probably kill her if seasoning did not. And then I had it.

“I agree with the point you are making; however, I was not sure when or if you would arrive, and I made prior commitments. Besides, many sicken upon coming to the tropics. It is considered wise for one to season for a time. It would be best if we were sure of your health before getting you with child. There is no reason for you to be doubly miserable, or dead.”

“Oh,” she sighed, “I had not thought of that, but aye, the other ladies mentioned it.”

“We will consummate the marriage, and if the… if God should happen to find favor with us, then so be it.”

She nodded, but there was a cunning glint in her eye for a moment.

“Will you make the arrangements?”

“Aye.”

“Then please send someone around to apprise me of the time, and I will see you on the morrow.” She pushed her chair back and stood before I could assist her.

I nodded. “Aye.”

And then she was gone in a swirl of blue satin.

I let myself out and went to find Gaston. He was standing near the place where we parted, watching the activity on the docks.

“I will wed her on the morrow,” I said.

He blinked with surprise. “She is more agreeable than we were led to believe.”

“Nay, but apparently she needs this marriage more than I do.” I relayed all that had occurred as we walked to our house.

When I finished, Gaston said, “Let us hope the Gods are not mocking us.”

Theodore was delighted at the news of the impending nuptials; everyone else was surprised. However, our barrister was the first to question it.

“Why, Will?” he asked. “Did you agree to her demands?”

“Nay, I made stipulations of my own: to wit, that any offspring produced will stay in my keeping, and secondly, that I will not share a house with her.”

“And she agreed to this?” he asked.

I smiled. “Aye, once I made it clear I would walk away from my title over the matter. Though she did not say so, I feel she has more to lose than I if the marriage does not take place.”

“Amazing,” Theodore sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

I wondered if he had continued drinking wine in my absence at the same rate he had consumed it while Sarah told her tale.

“Will you be able to assist me in making the necessary arrangements at the church?” I asked. “I wish to be married on the morrow.”

“Of course, of course,” he said. “Let us bring the matter to conclusion. Will you accompany me there now? The clergy are most likely dining, but as a wedding brings coin, I am sure they will be happy to see us.”

Gaston chose to remain with Sarah, and as I did not want her to remain there with only Pete and Striker, I was pleased in this.

“I am honored by you,” Theodore said thoughtfully as we began our short journey to the church. “And I now understand your hatred of your father.”

“Would you call it hatred?” I shrugged. “He avows he does not hate me, he has merely been disappointed in me and disliked my behavior: long before I grew old enough to know who or what I favored, by the way. The only time he ever showed any interest in me at all was when I returned home after ten years of proving I could do without him, his money, or his name. He seemed to think that proved something of my character, and I suppose it does.”