Salting the Wound (15 page)

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Authors: Janet Woods

Tags: #Romance, #Historical

BOOK: Salting the Wound
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She believed him. ‘I doubt if Charlotte would allow it.’

‘You’re old enough to make up your own mind, Aria. We’re laying over for a few days while repairs are made – we’re shipping a little water and a couple of seams need caulking. We can make our vows at that little chapel up the road.’

‘Is that legal?’

‘We’ll have witnesses, and a certificate.’

‘Do you want to marry me?’

‘I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t. I intend to give up the sea and open a retail establishment after my next journey to Australia. You can help me.’

‘What sort of retail establishment?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t like to sell food, since it attracts rats, and I hate rats.’

‘No. I meant a large emporium that has different departments and sells different goods, clothing that’s already made, pots and pans, nursery furniture and perambulators. My uncle scoffs at the idea at the moment, but I know he’ll bring back exotic goods that can to be sold at a profit once I’ve started out and he’s grown used to the idea. Japanese pots and ornaments et cetera.’

‘Can I have a little time to think about it?’

‘About what, becoming my wife or helping me to run a shop?’ Nick’s eyes were dark against hers, and his amusement was plain to see. He was sure of himself, expecting her to say no. He gazed at his watch. ‘You have ten minutes, after which I withdraw the offer. But while you’re thinking, perhaps this will help you make up your mind.’ He took her face between his hands and his mouth sought hers with a persistent gentleness that took her breath away.

She’d read him wrong, she thought. He was expecting her to say yes. Then she became incapable of thinking, and the need she felt to experience physical love was almost overwhelming. It was exciting. He was exciting.

When he finished kissing her he said gruffly, ‘Can I assume it’s a yes, then? It will be all right, really. I’d never hurt you.’

She laughed because the only alternative was to cry, but it was a watery affair. ‘You had me convinced in two minutes.’

‘And you wouldn’t mind being married to a shopkeeper, when being the wife of a sea captain would be a much more romantic occupation?’

She touched his cheek. ‘At least I wouldn’t be lonely all the time and wondering if you were safe.’

For a moment he looked vulnerable and Marianne saw the motherless boy in him emerge as he instinctively turned his face against her caress. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.’

Her heart slowly churned and a warm ember settled in her chest. At the same time she wanted to cry. Lor, how could any woman resist him?

He drew her hands against his chest and a pulse beat against her palms. ‘You know, I’ll make good use of those remaining eight minutes when we’re wed.’

‘You could make use of them now.’

His eyes flew opened. ‘Now?’

‘Oh, don’t look so shocked, Nick. I’m curious.’

A smile played around his mouth. ‘You were always curious about everything, as I recall. Are you sure this is what you want?’

At that moment she’d never wanted anything more. What was the matter with her that she could cast aside her feelings for Lucian so easily, and for someone as brash as Nick Thornton?

He gazed into her eyes, his expression unreadable. ‘There’s something I want to say first. We’d best keep this, and our marriage, quiet until after I return from my next voyage to Australia. I don’t want to let my uncle down because he’s been good to me, and won’t be able to replace me at short notice. I’ll tell him that I’m relinquishing command of
Samarand
after the Australian run. I’ll be gone for about five months. I also don’t want you to be at loggerheads with your sister and her husband because of your accident. My guess is that they’ll give you a lecture about your behaviour, then pretend you were visiting your elderly aunt to try and hush it up.’

‘My elderly aunt died ten years ago. Father was furious because Constance Jarvis was left a wealthy widow, and apart from a small bequest for Charlotte and myself, she left her fortune to the orphan’s home she’d founded. Our father soon lost our legacies at the gambling table.’

Nick was right though, Charlotte would probably resurrect Aunt Constance for the occasion, and they’d try and hush her adventure up. All the same, Charlotte would never forgive her when she was informed of the marriage. Nick had always belonged to her sister, she was used to his adoration and she wouldn’t relinquish it happily, even if she had married Seth.

But now he’ll belong to me, and I’ll make him love me just as much – or even better. Marianne thought fiercely, and without any notion how she’d make such an event happen.

She smiled. ‘All hell will break loose I expect, so I’d rather we told them together. I can keep it a secret for a few months. And yes, Nick . . . that is what I want.’

‘Then we’d best wed as soon as possible. I do happen to have a licence.’

‘But—’

‘But nothing, Aria my sweet. You’re in enough trouble as it is. I said I’d never hurt you, and I meant it. There will be a ring on your finger before your curiosity is satisfied. Fetch your shawl and we’ll go and find someone who will tie the knot for us. It shouldn’t be too hard.’

The marriage was performed by a reverend who was willing to cut corners, and it was witnessed by four complete strangers.

‘Will you, Marianne Elizabeth Honeyman . . .’

‘I will.’

‘Will you, Nicholas Alexander Thornton . . .’

He gazed down at her and smiled. ‘I will.’

The ring was placed on her finger and Nick kissed her with infinite tenderness – as if he’d always loved her, instead of her sister.

They found themselves outside the chapel afterwards, gazing at each other. His smile had a satisfied edge to it as he gazed at the gold band she wore on her finger. It had two hands clasped. They’d bought it from a goldsmith’s shop on the way, along with a chain to hang around her neck, with the ring attached, when they got back on board.

‘Well, Mrs Thornton, shall we go back to our hotel room and eat dinner?’

She suddenly felt doubtful. What had she done?

‘It will be all right, I promise,’ he said again, as if he’d read her thoughts.

The champagne Nick had given her before dinner had made her head spin. He’d chuckled when she giggled, said, ‘We’d better get some food into you.’

After eating ship’s food for three weeks the dinner tasted delicious. A delicate soup was followed by succulent chicken surrounded with roast vegetables. There was fresh fruit, trifle and cream served as a pudding. The meal was served by a young black boy.

There came a knock at the door. It was a woman, elegant, with fair hair pulled back into a bun. ‘Good evening, Captain Thornton, I’m here to enquire if the arrangements I made were satisfactory.’

Nick’s smile was friendly, but impersonal. ‘Yes thank you, Mrs Crawford, and the dinner was delicious. Will you join my wife and I in a glass of champagne? We’re celebrating our recent marriage.’

The woman’s eyes, which were as green as her gown, flicked to Marianne’s ring finger. There was something amused about the smile she gave. ‘Your bride has a shy innocence to her that’s like a breath of fresh air. She’s very lovely, and unexpected. Just half a glass for me please, Captain.’

Mrs Crawford lifted her glass in a toast. ‘Congratulations to you both, I hope you’ll be very happy together, Mrs Thornton.’

‘Thank you. I’m sure we will.’

Mrs Thornton! The name alone would set Charlotte fuming for a year when she found out, she thought.

‘If there’s anything else you need for your comfort ring the bell, otherwise you won’t be disturbed.’ She turned to the boy. ‘Clear the dinner things away, please, William.’

After they’d gone Nick filled her glass and his own and placed them on the table next to the armchair. The fire had been lit, for the days were warm and the nights chilly at this time of year. Nick made himself comfortable and pulled her on to his lap. ‘Sit there and have your champagne.’

‘It will make me giggle.’

He dipped a finger in it, rubbed it gently against her lower lip then licked it off.

‘How did you happen to have that licence?’ she asked.

‘Mrs Crawford knows a judge. She arranged it all.’

‘So you arranged it in advance. Why?’

‘You have a tendency to do things on impulse, so I decided it would be better to arrange things in advance just in case you said yes then changed your mind. You’re a woman, after all. And that’s why I only gave you ten minutes. If you’d thought past the adventure of it you might have decided against the marriage.’

She took a sip from her drink, then a gulp. She gazed at him. ‘You have a strange and devious way of going about things, Nick Thornton.’

‘I never promised to be perfect, and I didn’t want you to slip through my fingers.’

She didn’t know what to make of that statement, but smiled because it made her feel as if he cared for her. ‘Oh, I see.’

She held her glass to his lips and he sipped. They finished the glass between them. Marianne felt relaxed when Nick took the glass from her fingers and set it aside. He began to undo the buttons on her bodice, then he kissed the hollow of her throat.

‘I feel nervous.’

The soft chuckle against her ear weakened her knees, ‘I know. You’re quivering like a mouse waiting to be pounced on and swallowed by the cat.’

‘You’re not purring.’

‘But I will be soon . . . and so will you.’

When her gown slid down to her ankles she thought in desperation, Oh, God, she was down to her petticoats. And was that his tongue . . .? The ineffectual hand she placed against her bared breast was carried away and placed between his thighs.

‘You have absolutely no regard for a woman’s finer feelings.’

He plucked the pins from her hair and laughed. ‘I most certainly do. Just tell me what those fine feelings are when I get to them. Do you want me to stop?’

‘Yes . . . no . . . I don’t know.’

He kissed the swell of her breast. ‘Do you like that . . . tell me.’

‘Yes.’

‘And this . . .’

She nipped the end of his ear and his hand moved down. ‘What about this?’

‘I love it . . . don’t tickle . . . no, don’t stop! Would you like me to pose in a wisp of cloth like the woman in the picture.’

‘Later perhaps.’ He laughed and swelled against her hand and she tentatively explored what she discovered. Now his purr was more like a growl. There was a dampness growing in her and her body was reacting wildly in all sorts of places. ‘Yes, Nick . . . yes. I like that.’

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Before her startled eyes he stripped naked, tossing each garment aside. He was lean and well muscled, standing proud. Her eyes widened as she thought, Lor . . . he’s as big as a horse! Well, perhaps not quite. Well, Miss Prim and Proper, you never expected this when you stepped aboard the
Samarand
.

He unlaced her corset, tossing it with her pantalettes in the general direction of his own clothes.

He gazed down at her. She’d crossed one arm modestly across her breasts, and placed the cupped hand of the other, lower down.

He drew her arms aside and pinned them over her head with one hand. ‘You didn’t think that your token attempt at modesty was going to stop me, now did you, Mrs Thornton?’

She grinned at him. Being naked together was actually quite liberating. It made her feel as though she was a hussy. ‘I admit, I expected you to put up more of a fight, Captain. I’m sure I’m blushing all over.’

He laughed when she gave a nervous giggle. ‘Now, my delicious little morsel of woman. Let’s see how long I can make you purr for,’ and his head dipped, and his mouth closed over hers. He kissed her long and tenderly, so she thought she might die from that particular pleasure, alone. He moved on. Kissed her again – and again . . . Her cry at the fulfillment of the most ultimate of pleasures came a little while after, and it was lost in his.

Land had been sighted. They were nearing the end of the journey. Generally the weather had been kind to them, except they’d caught the tail end of a storm halfway, a series of squalls that had sent the ship reeling, and had shredded the flying jib and the lower fore-topsail. Aria had coped easily with the storms, thank goodness.

Nick had gone to the cabin to make sure she was comfortable. She’d grinned at him, dispelling any thought he might have had that she might succumb to seasickness. The ship had canted steeply and she’d let go of the table and slid into his arms, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Can I join you on deck, Nick?’

Even though she seemed to be as sure-footed as a goat he couldn’t risk it. ‘I’m sorry, my sweet. I haven’t got time to look after you and you might get washed overboard, especially if you keep sliding down the deck like that.’

He’d kissed her, and she’d clung to him for a moment, her eyes blue and intense. She’d touched his lower lip with her forefinger.

‘Take care, my love,’ she’d said, and those four words had sent all his defences tumbling down, and they’d painted him with such tenderness that he was warmed like a glass of amber wine.

Nick fully expected a delegation to be waiting for him ashore. He hoped it wasn’t the constables, and he hoped Charlotte wasn’t there. He didn’t think he could stand any of her threats, or her tantrums.

It had been a lucrative run in more ways than one. His hold was full of tobacco and he had himself a wife – and Aria was a delight. He smiled when he heard her singing. Even though they’d kept up a pretence for the benefit of the crew, he’d managed to find time to enjoy what she had to offer on at least one occasion on the way back, and though it had been a hurried affair, the thought that they might get caught together had added a touch of spice to the act. Afterwards, she’d laughed, and so had he.

Six months without her suddenly seemed far too long, and he toyed with the idea of taking her with him. But sailing to Australia took far longer, and was more arduous.
Samarand
was lacking in any real comfort and he didn’t want to risk it. Too, he needed this last run to earn him enough money with which to retire from the sea, and to give his uncle time to find another master for her.

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